#none of this is absolute and is my take and what I’ve learned

[aldisobey]

My brain will forever tell me I’m horrible at writing. Turn that shit into spite. Tell your brain FUCK YOU Just Watch!! Then dive back in. If you keep writing and if you keep reading. You will keep improving. I find a lot of my joy in the work of it. Gods the ways I wish I could write. Keep at it folks this is love.

OH and Ai (I spell it this way because it always looks my name fuck you Ai). If you use Ai you’re just slopping out product. You’re not creating thought.

The love of creation is in the toil. Not some finished ‘product’. A completed thing is lovely to have, but instant gratification will ruin you. Find your joy in the practice. Your voice shapes in the work.

Last point. I do consider myself a writer even if it’s a hobby, and if you’re writing I consider you one as well. And the fact you’re spending time creating and not living a life of pure consumption can be so fulfilling. There is delight in a thing even if it’s not perfect. I’ll forever treasure everything my son makes for me. Even if I don’t have room for it in the physical, that takes a place on a shelf within me. What a lovely thing to have, with all its jagged edges. You made that, it wouldn’t exist without your thought, your love of it. Isn’t that delightful?

I feel like too many people think they can’t write fanfic. And you can! ANYONE can!

That’s part of what makes fanfiction so beautiful.

I can already hear the arguments you’re coming up with for why I’m wrong. Why someone, or you specifically, can’t write fanfic. So let’s just answer those doubts I see most often.

“I’m bad at it.”

We were all bad at it when we started. Whoever your favorite fandom authors are? Their earliest stuff wasn’t the quality their stuff is now. I started writing fanfiction in middle school, eons ago, and whether my writing is considered good or not now I’m sure no one would recognize the stuff I posted back then as mine today (except maybe @vael-fire). But writing is a skill that you improve through practice. If you keep going you will eventually write something you are proud of.

Find friends in your fandoms, exchange ideas, participate it fun little writing memes and prompts. All of that is practice. You can absolutely write quality fanfic if you try.

“I don’t know how.”

Totally fair. No one is born just knowing how to write fiction. So find authors in your fandoms you enjoy and ask them questions! I have never met a fanfic writer who doesn’t like talking about their creations and how they crafted them! I promise, even your fandom’s BNFs (or whatever they’re called these days) are just people doing this because they love it, like you are.

Just ask! You’ll probably get an answer.

So go write! You can do it! Join the fun and the insanity!

(And for the love of whatever you consider holy, please do not use AI.)

[pathologicalreid]

buried alive | S.R.

in which the BAU races against the clock to rescue you from a killer team

who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader

category: angsty

content warnings: kidnapping, case stuff (murder yk), suffocation, being buried alive, hospitals, blood, nausea, CPR, funerals, use of pet names, guns, and drugs. i think that's all.

word count: 2.9k

a/n: okay, so i've been reading so much spencer fanfic and i started writing it and yesterday i realized i have 20 fics written and they're doing no one any good just sitting on my computer. i decided to finally try posting one. i wrote fanfic in high school (so like seven years ago) but this is my first time writing for a TV show. i've also never really posted on tumblr so please bear with me while i try to figure out formatting. tysm for checking out my post.

part two part three

You walked into the conference room and dropped the file on the table, allowing it to land on the wood with a satisfying splat. “The unsub’s burying them alive,” you said, letting the rest of the team know the conclusion you had come to with the medical examiner. “The M.E. found metal shavings and satin threads under the nails of our last victim. The most common materials to make up a casket.”

“There’s no way someone could bury someone alive in a casket alone, we’ve got to be dealing with a team, at least three people,” Emily concluded, standing in front of the evidence board.

It was the team’s third day on a case in Nebraska, four women had been discovered dead. Asphyxiation by hypoxia. Carbon dioxide poisoning.

“Approximately 420 people in the United States die from accidental carbon dioxide poisoning every year,” Spencer said, grabbing the file off of the table and flipping through it, taking a few seconds to read through it.

Rossi looked over Reid’s shoulder to look at the file, “but there’s nothing accidental about these deaths. Who would have access to these caskets?”

You shook your head, placing a hand on the back of Spencer’s chair, “A funeral director seems most likely.” You looked around at the Omaha field office, different agents running about in an attempt to solve these very murders. “They’d have the most access, write it off as displays. It could be hard to match the materials since they’re so common.”

Hotch leaned over the table and pressed the conference phone, “What can I do you for?” Garcia’s bright voice rang through the speaker.

“Garcia, I need you to look into funeral homes within the comfort zone. Look for a director who’s ordered more caskets than they’ve had funerals. Find anything, nothing is too small.” He told her.

“Absolutely, I’ll hit you back when I’ve got something,” she said, hanging up the phone.

There ended up being four funeral homes in the unsub’s comfort zone, so the team split up. You went with two locals to a family-owned business, Garcia had sent you all of the files you’d need on the location. “It looks like the Varn family has been in the funeral business since the seventeenth century,” you read aloud to the two agents you were in the car with.

“Does it mean they’re more or less likely to be the killers if they’ve been in business for so long?” One of the agents asked you, a younger man named Harrison.

You pursed your lips as you continued to look over the files, “I’m not seeing any glaringly obvious stressors before the murders started, but over the years I’ve learned that’s no reason to write someone off. Psychopaths can be tipped off by the slightest thing. Things none of us would bat an eye at.”

Harrison nodded in the passenger seat, looking over to his partner Jimmy, “You and your guy sure do make an interesting pair.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment, so thank you.” You and Spencer never explicitly stated to the field office that you were dating, but you walked into the precinct this morning holding hands. The agents must have drawn their own conclusions.

The younger officer cleared his throat, “It is a compliment, ma’am. The two of you are very impressive, your whole team is.”

You smiled, “Thank you, Harrison.”

The funeral home was run by a mother and her two sons, you held up your credentials for the mother when you knocked on the door. “Are you Sheila Varn?” You asked her, raising your eyebrows.

“Yes, what’s this about?” She inquired. She didn’t really look the part of a serial killer, a middle-aged woman who was running her family business.

Pocketing your credentials, you spoke, “We’re investigating the recent murders in the area and we were wondering if you had samples of the materials your caskets are made out of. Might we be able to come in?” You asked, adding a charming smile for effect.

Something flashed across her face before she returned your smile, opening the door and welcoming the three of you inside. “Hold on, let me get my boys up here. They’re so much more versed in the goings on of the town than I am,” she said, opening the door and calling for her sons. Felix and Joss came up the stairs from the basement, now they definitely had the physique to load dead women into caskets and bury them alive.

“Why don’t you two men come with me? I’ll get you those samples,” Sheila said, motioning for the agents you were with to follow her. To your horror, they followed her around the corner. “Felix, Joss, show this young lady what you know,” she instructed.

You took a deep breath before you looked up at the two men.

They were tall, maybe Spencer’s height, but they were built like wrestlers. There was no way you could physically subdue them on your own.

You passed out before you even had the chance to pull your gun.

Hotch was in full Unit Chief mode, Spencer watched from the corner of the room as he separated people into groups and gave them specific instructions. JJ and Morgan walked into the precinct, “What’s going on?” JJ asked looking around the room.

“The Varn Family is the team; two agents were found drugged on the side of the road and when we went to the funeral home Y/N was missing. Her badge, gun, and phone were all there, covered in blood,” Spencer said morosely, watching as Hotch finished giving orders and called the rest of the team over.

Your picture was up on the evidence board with the word “missing” written in bold letters beneath it. All of your belongings had been put into evidence for the time being. “Reid?” Hotch said his name, causing his head to snap up. “Are you okay to keep working?”

Spencer nodded affirmatively, “Yes.”

“Good, I need you to estimate how much time we have, I want a clock on these screens,” he ordered.

Morgan turned to Reid, “What do you think she has, kid?”

“The tidal volume for the average adult is point five at rest. That ends up being about six liters per minute. The average casket is approximately 886 liters in total volume and the average volume of the human body is 66 liters, leaving 820 liters to be filled with air for her to breathe. If she’s been gone for half an hour already, I’d estimate she has less than five hours of breathable air left.” Spencer explained, doing all of the math in his head while Emily put a timer on the screen next to the evidence board.

After a moment, Hotch continued, “Rossi, JJ, go back to the funeral home. Tear it apart, there has to be something there we haven’t found yet. The rest of us will split the list of cemeteries in the comfort zone and search them.”

“That’s a lot of ground to cover, we don’t have anything else to go on?” Morgan asked, looking at the list of burial sites he had been handed.

Hotch looked at Spencer, but Spencer stayed silent. “That’s all we have right now,” Hotch responded, “hopefully we’ll come across leads as we go.”

It smelled like a garden around you. The memory reminded you of spring with your mother, tending to the vegetable garden.

The only difference was that instead of the sun beaming down on you, it was pitch black. The space surrounding you was so dark that you weren’t totally sure your eyes were open.

Your head was throbbing just above your right temple, and you observed your surroundings. Slowly, you lifted your arm until it hit a ceiling.

Not a ceiling. A lid. You were in a casket. You pressed one hand to your chest and tried to slow your breathing. Chances were that the casket was already buried beneath the surface of the earth, trying to open it could be catastrophic. You patted the pockets of your jeans, only to find your phone missing, so the team wouldn’t be able to trace the location.

Even if you had it, there likely wouldn’t be service six feet under.

Your team would find you. They had to find you.

They found Spencer, they found Emily, and they would find you.

Spencer shifted in the passenger seat of the SUV, “You know, carbon dioxide poisoning is a rather peaceful way to die.”

“Reid,” Morgan said, turning the vehicle onto the main road, they had just finished scouring over another cemetery with still no sign of you.

He sighed and stared at his hands, “No, it’s good. We see so many people killed in so many different ways that it’s good that she won’t be in pain when she runs out of air.” He tried to convince himself.

Morgan cleared his throat, “We aren’t out of time yet, kid. We can still find her. Y/N’s smart, I’m sure she found a way to make more air or something.”

But they were running out of time, less than an hour remained on the timer set on all of their phones.

They pulled into the next cemetery, “There’s some fresh dirt over there, what are the names on the graves of people who were actually recently buried?”

Spencer starts to recite the names, and the two of them start to comb through the cemetery.

You had done enough research on this case to understand what was going on. The light-headed feeling had started not long ago, but now you felt like you were spinning, despite the knowledge that you were stuck in place.

It was a high. Not unlike the good kids high. Except instead of trying to chase a feeling, you were dying.

The timer went off when they were still scouring graves, shovels in hand. Derek stopped in his tracks, but Spencer kept going.

“Wait,” Spencer called out, reading the name on the card next to the fresh grave he was standing at, he moved to start digging. “Essie Dunbar was a thirty-year-old woman who was mistakenly buried alive in 1915,” he said, digging. “This has to be it.”

Derek called Hotch, putting the call on speakerphone so he could help Spencer dig. “Hotch, we got her, but she’s buried.”

“We’re on our way, Omaha police have one of the brothers in custody,” Hotch told Emily to have an ambulance dispatched.

What Reid knew that Derek didn’t was that it could take four hours to dig a grave by hand. The soil had been overturned, so maybe call it three. Your odds were still negligible. He didn’t stop, he didn’t stop when a caretaker came running at them, and he didn’t stop when Derek told him to get his digging equipment out here now.

Derek flashed his FBI badge to get what they needed. He had to physically pull Spencer back from the grave so the backhoe could dig, only going until there was less than a foot between them and the casket.

Spencer crudely attached a chain to the casket and the caretaker's vehicle. Carefully, the caretaker dragged the white container out of the earth and up a slant they had dug. It was locked shut, “Reid, move,” Derek ordered.

He leaned back and Derek fired at the lock, taking it off and opening the casket. Spencer gasped, there was blood on the side of your head, dried and raked through your hair. He was vaguely aware of Hotch and Emily arriving as they pulled you out of your satin prison. You had no pulse, but you were still warm. Immediately, Spencer started CPR.

“Reid let me do it,” Derek insisted.

What he was trying to say is that he shouldn’t have to be the one to try to save your life.

Morgan repeated himself and Spencer pulled away, allowing the other agent to immediately take over. There was a siren in the background, an ambulance. More people showed up, Spencer heard their voices, but he just kept watching you. CPR was effective if it was done shortly after your heart stopped, and even then, permanent brain damage was likely.

It had been eight minutes since they pulled you out of the ground. Clinically, you were dead for eight minutes before you gasped.

Spencer smoothed your hair back, away from your face, while you desperately tried to catch your breath. You weren’t moving, and Spencer started running through symptoms of hypoxia. His biggest fear was brain damage, that they had done more harm to you in bringing you back than they would have had you died.

The EMTs came running over to where everyone had gathered, dispersing the crowd, and placing an oxygen mask over your face. As they were loading you on the stretcher, you started trying to talk, reaching your arm out to your side. “Wait, what’s she saying?” JJ asked.

“Sometimes it’s hard to talk after CPR,” the male EMT said as they moved you closer to the ambulance. He listened to what you were saying, “It’s not coherent.”

Spencer didn’t move, all of the adrenaline that had been coursing through his body all day was leaving.

Aphasia. They were saying the lack of oxygen to your brain was causing aphasia. “No,” Emily said, realization dawning on her features as she strained to listen to you. You were whispering, rasping the same word over and over again. “She’s saying ‘Spence.’”

He stood quickly and looked at you, sure enough, you were reaching out your hand and whispering, “Spence, Spence.” Your voice no more than a whisper.

Grabbing your hand, Spencer squeezed it, “I’m here,” he answered. “It’s okay, it’s over,” he told you, moving your hair out of your face. Spencer secured your oxygen mask over your face as you tried to take it off, “You have to keep this on, angel.”

To his relief, you squeezed his hand back.

You had been instructed to get some rest, but you couldn’t close your eyes. You asked Spencer to go back to the hotel and change his clothes because he smelled like dirt, and it made you nauseous. Your head had been bandaged, you’d been run through an MRI, and you did an EEG, so far, the only brain damage that had been incurred seemed temporary.

According to the doctors, the nausea and fatigue should wear off, but they hadn’t been able to fully assess if any permanent damage was done. At this point, the worst of your injuries had been caused by being given CPR, resulting in cracked ribs.

Despite your headache, you kept most of the lights on in your hospital room, not quite ready to be left in the darkness again. “Hey,” a voice called from your doorway, Spencer stood, waiting to be invited in. He was wearing different clothes, a button-up with a green cardigan thrown over it, and clean pants. “How are you feeling?”

A nasal cannula slightly restricted your movement, but you were sat up in the hospital bed, “Better than I was, but not perfect.”

He shook his head, walking in and taking a seat next to you, “No one expects you to be perfect right now.” Gently, he reached out and took your hand, skimming the pad of his thumb over your knuckles. “They found the mother and the other son, and all three of them are going to go away for a long time,” he told you, speaking in the kind of hushed, reverent tones that are reserved for hospitals.

You sighed and tilted your head back, “Good,” you maundered. “That’s uh, good,” your voice was barely audible.

“So why do you look so worried?” He asked, leaning in closer to you.

In an attempt to dismiss his concern, you joked, “I think I owe Morgan some sort of life debt now.”

Spencer offered you a soft smile, “The two of you tend to trade those off, I’m sure you’ll find some way to make it up to him.” He inclined his head towards you as if to silently say, So what is it really?

You swallowed thickly, “I’m scared to close my eyes, Spence.”

His shoulders dropped, “oh, Angel,” he breathed. “Is there anything I can do for you?” He asked, looping a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. “Wait, what are you doing?” He asked, watching you as you lifted yourself, so you were on one side of the bed.

Shyly, you patted the new empty half of the bed, inviting him to sit next to you.

He had no choice but to comply, he had the hardest time saying no to you. Leaning the bed back slightly, Spencer kicked off his shoes before he laid down next to you, wrapping an arm around you as you set your cheek on his shoulder.

Your body relaxed into his and you sighed, “Spence?” You murmured.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, “Yes, angel?” He whispered back to you.

“Thanks for coming to save me,” you mumbled, slowly relaxing enough to fall asleep.

Spencer exhaled, “I’m always going to come to save you.”

part two

[moonlitwitchdaisy]

geto was undoubtedly a very doting father to your daughter. from the moment she was born, he hadn’t let a single second pass without fussing over her. he was attached to her in a way that was completely different, almost indescribable.

the other person who was just as devoted to your daughter was none other than gojo and his identical mini-me, his five-year-old son.

yes, your daughter had no chance of escaping this duo.

gojo was absolutely determined that your children would get married. as if being “close enough” to his best friend wasn’t already enough, he insisted that you should officially be “family” and constantly nagged about it. whether his son or your daughter fell in love with someone else didn’t matter to him one bit. gojo had already started planning their wedding.

the interesting part was that gojo’s little replica (both in personality and appearance) was genuinely in love with your four-year-old daughter and grew more attached to her every day. he scared off every boy who approached her at preschool, always held her hand, and never failed to show up with a small bouquet of flowers whenever he saw her.

how did he even learn all this at five years old? then again, being satoru gojo’s son, it wasn’t exactly hard.

but you loved watching them like this. they were adorable. only gojo jr. could give your princess the attention and love she deserved.

“i hate that little devil.” your husband was watching your daughter and gojo jr. play with a displeased, irritated look on his face.

oh, and there was that problem too—suguru geto was absolutely, positively against his daughter being with gojo’s miniature version.

you turned your gaze toward the kids playing in satoru’s large garden and gojo chasing after them with a camera, trying to take pictures. “god, how many more photos is gojo planning to take? there isn’t a single moment he hasn’t documented.”

your husband’s frown deepened. “he and his little version never leave my daughter alone. obsessive creatures.”

his words made you burst into laughter. it was true—gojo was obsessive about the things he loved. his six-months-pregnant wife, his son, you and your husband, and, of course, his future daughter-in-law.

“you love those two creatures, and you know it,” you teased. and he absolutely did. gojo was his brother, blood-related or not, and his little copy was like his own firstborn. in fact, he got along better with gojo jr. than with satoru himself.

“not anymore.”

“love, i’ve got bad news for you, but your daughter is definitely—”

geto spun around to face you. “no. no, she’s not.”

the smile on your face widened. “oh, but do you know what she told me yesterday?”

“no, and i don’t care.” your husband’s mood was clearly worsening.

leaning in closer to rile him up even more, you whispered in his ear, “our little princess said she wants to live in the same house as gojo jr.—”

“she did not.” his eyes widened.

“oh yes, she did.” you chuckled, watching his face turn bright red.

geto turned his gaze back to the garden. “i guess there’s no escaping the gojo family, huh?”

you kissed his cheek, realizing he had finally accepted defeat, and his strong arms pulled you against his chest. his hands gently stroked your hair. “deep down, you know he’s the only one who truly deserves our princess, don’t you?”

there was no denying it. you did want them to be together. he was the only one you trusted with your daughter.

geto placed a kiss on your hair and took in your scent. “unfortunately, yes.”

“hey, how about we have another baby? a girl would be lovely.” excitement sparkled in your eyes as you lifted your head from his chest to look at him.

“do you want me to have a heart attack, woman? to give the gojo family another bride? no thanks—i don’t want to send another daughter off to them.” geto rolled his eyes, bouncing his right leg in frustration.

because if you had another daughter, gojo would definitely want her for the son he was expecting in three months.

cupping his face with your hands, you kissed him deeply. “don’t worry; i’m here for you, always. and your daughter will always be by your side too. even if she starts her own family someday, you’ll always be her number one.”

a small laugh escaped him. “i love you,” he said, pressing a kiss to your lips. “and about this other baby idea, we could definitely discu—”

“daddy! daddy!” your daughter’s voice interrupted as she ran in from the garden, and you laughed, watching her approach.

geto stood and scooped her up, peppering her face with kisses. “my princess. are you having fun with uncle and gojo jr. ?”

your daughter nodded eagerly. “daddy, look what gojo jr. gave me!” she extended her left hand. geto held her tiny fingers in his large palm and saw a small ring made of yellow flower on her finger.

“princess, what’s this?”

“we got married!” she threw her hands in the air and cheered in excitement.

meanwhile, you were stifling your laughter as your husband glared at his future son-in-law and his father with eyes that practically burned with flames. a fight was definitely brewing tonight.

your husband had no intention of giving his daughter to anyone.

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Can you do a Tom blyth x reader where in a interview , the interviewer asks him if he wants to marry and have kids in the future and he answers that he already has a daughter with the reader and after few days he posts on Instagram a photo of his daughter playing in the grass when he was filming the movie nad the fans going crazy ( about how cute she is and smth like that )

My Girl || Tom Blyth x Actress!reader

A/n: baby fever right now is astronomically high 😭😭 also this song is my absolute fav and feels like it matches with this so def go listen to it!!!

Warnings: none :)

Wc:

Divider by @pommecita

“Tom, your fans have been asking if you plan on marrying and having children in the future,” Tom nods his head, a smile forming on his lips, “What can you say to them?” The interviewer directs her mic to Tom.

He could feel your eyes burning into the side of his face as his grip on your waist squeezes. “Marrying and having children?” Tom repeats. You watch in anticipation as you give him an encouraging smile. The two of you had been waiting for a moment like this.

It’s been three years since you gave birth to your daughter, Elsie, three years since Tom became a dad. The public had no idea whatsoever and you intended to keep it the way for a few years longer. Well, after a long conversation with Tom, it was time to stop hiding from the public.

“This is the first time I’ve actually spoken about this to the public but I have a daughter already,” His words make the women holding the mic gasp out loud as you both let out a chuckle at her reaction. “I know, shocking right!” Tom smiles.

“You have a daughter Tom? With….” She trails off as her eyes move to you. Tom pulls you to his chest as you give the woman a grin, nodding your head as she puts her hand on her chest and lets out another gasp. “Am I the first to know about this outside your close circles?” She asks.

“Yes! We’ve thought long and hard about releasing such private information but we decided it’s time we tell everyone. We can’t hide this forever,” You say as Tom watches you and nods. “Well there we have it! Tom Blyth and Y/n Y/l/n have a child together!” The interview says to the camera as you wave her goodbye and move along with the other cast members.

“That felt good,” You look up at Tom, happy to get it out. “It sure did, darling” He rubs your arm as the two of you take pictures for the paparazzi. Safe to say, that interview was blowing up.

Fans had mixed reactions to the news. Some were incredibly happy for the two of you, and some were utterly shocked at the news and were surprised at how the two of you kept this information on the low.

As you and Tom were doing the world promo tour with the rest of the cast members, there was always a question that popped up relating to your daughter, Elsie.

“Tom, Y/n! I think the internet is in shock to learn that you are parents to a three year old daughter, am I correct?” The man infront of you says as you both nod. “Yes! Our daughter’s name is Elsie, and we had a feeling this would shock fans quite a bit,” You quietly chuckle to yourself.

“It definitely has! How did you two pull this off? You know, not making fans suspect anything?” He asks as Tom replies, “Uh I think it was just mainly being super private about our personal lives. We both don’t share such information like that which lets us live peacefully without cameras following us around.”

“And you’ve done a wonderful job at that since we never knew about your three year old daughter,” He smiles as Tom thanks him, “Can you tell us more about Elsie? If you can?” He politely asks as you nod. “Of course. Well uh Elsie is very much a daddy’s girl,” You all chuckle as Tom holds your knee affectionately.

“She loves the outdoor so much, that’s where she wants to be most of the time.” Tom adds. “And how was it that you found out that you were going to be a dad, Tom?“

“Yes, so Y/n told me she was pregnant on my birthday in February I think it was?” He looks at you in confirmation as you nod, “It was actually during my auditioning progress for Billy the Kid. So when I got the role and started filming mid to late 2021, Elsie was already born”

“We were both 25 at the time and we felt like we were ready to you know, move onto the next chapter of our lives. I remember for my birthday, Y/n’s present to me was this baby onesie that said ‘daddy’s girl’” The man awes as Tom reminisces the moment.

“I was so shocked and happy that I started crying,” He laughs, “Correction, we started to cry,” You butt in with a small giggle. “I do have to mention, Y/n! You went through your pregnancy without the public even noticing! How in the world did you manage that as a public figure.

“It wasn’t hard, but at the same time it sort of was,” You let out a low chuckle as Tom rubs your thigh, listening to you talk. “I didn’t have any roles booked for that year so I just stayed on the low. I did what any other typical people did when they didn’t want others to notice your pregnancy which was to wear baggy clothes, covering my stomach and stuff like that.”

“I also made sure that people wouldn’t be able to recognise me when I was out in public and it worked very well.” “It did indeed. I think everyone wants to know, how’s life with a three year old daughter while filming. Was Elsie with the two of you went you filmed tbosas?”

“Yes she was actually! Everyone on set knew that we hadn’t said anything to the public about our daughter and they were such wonderful people and respected that. My mom also was with us to take care of Elsie when we weren’t able to.” “I don’t know how we would have lasted all those months without her honestly. She made everyone on set laugh, I actually think the cast members will start posting pictures of bts with Elsie now that we’ve released this information” Tom laughs as his mind goes back to all the time the crew would laugh at Elsie’s cuteness.

~

“You posted a picture on your instagram a couple days ago of you and your daughter, can you tell us a little bit of background information of this picture?” “Is this the one of you and Elsie in the forest?” You turn your head to Tom as he nods. “Yes! So that was the last day we filmed all the scenes in the forest. We’ve already said this I think but our daughter absolutely loves nature.”

“During takes she would just play around and I remember this one time, We were going through a scene and then Elsie just came up to me and clung around my leg while the cameras were rolling, do you remember that?” Tom grins at you as you recall the moment.

“I do, I have a video of it in my camera roll, it made everyone awe at her.” You let out a giggle as the interviewer smiles at the two of you. “It seems to me that the crew was pretty close to Elsie? Am I right in saying that?” You nod in agreement with her.

“We felt incredibly grateful of how everyone was so kind and supportive of the idea of Elsie being with us during the entirety of the filming process. The cast members would always be playing with her during our takes, and Elsie grew very fond of all of them.”

“Especially Viola actually!” Tom interjects as the interviewer gasps, “Really?” “Yes! Viola is such a sweetheart I honestly love her so much. Even when she was in her costume and she kinda looked terrifying, Elsie would always run up to her after the cameras stop rolling.” He chuckles.

The two of you honestly loved talking about Elsie during all your interviews. Your face would always hurt from smiling too much when you reminisce all the moments of your daughter during filming.

[shadow4-1]

“Dying alone.” You hummed, running the brush through your horse’s hair. “Y’know, it’s been weighing on me.”

Price huffed out a soft breath and nuzzled his graying muzzle against your palm. You smiled at him, rubbing your knuckles over the soft fuzz of his snout. When you’d first got him he’d been a young workhorse too ornery for any ranch hand in the county. After doing some research, you figured out he was a European breed, one not meant for the rough hands of your fellow Americans. You’d gotten him cheap, and yet his training came at a ‘price’. It took awhile for you to learn his ins an outs but he quickly grew to become your favorite - as well as your oldest. He was the first member of your ranch after all.

“I’ve never wanted to look for a man. They’re so gross, Price.” You sighed, working a few tangles out of his short, dark mane. “They always say they want me for me, but really they just want the ranch.”

There was a short bark from the door of the barn. A black and white, muscular dog stood waiting for your command. You tsked at him and he slowly came trotting up to you, head low to the ground in a submissive posture. The closer he came, the more you noticed the white fur surrounding his eyes and snout - starting to gray like Price’s.

“C’mere Ghost.” You hummed.

The dog obliged and pressed the top of his head into your hand. Ghost was such a mutt. You’d picked him up as a pup from a mean roadside vendor. If you had to guess, he had some kind of German Shepherd in him. Maybe some Rottweiler or Pit Bull? You couldn’t be sure. But what you did know, is that -

“Aw, look at my best boy! You’re my best boy!” You baby talked, squishing his chunky face. Ghost just licked his lips in indignation but made no move to escape your hold. Price snorted loudly and pawed at the ground, upset that you stopped brushing his mane.

“Okay okay. I get it.” You laughed. “Let me just finish up here!”

-

There wasn’t any field tending that needed to be done, so you sent Price off to the fenced in pasture. Despite his age, he kicked up dirt and pranced about in delight. You smiled at the old horse before heading back to the barn. Ghost sat patiently outside, his metal tags glinting in the sunlight.

“Okay, boy. Show time.”

And just like that, all hell seemed to break loose. Ghost ran into the barn and started to bark. While usually subdued, this time his bark was loud and mighty. The sheep and cows stirred in their pens. The chickens squawked from their roosts. You threw open the barn with a mighty heave. And just like that, the animals were also let out into the fenced pasture.

The cows bounded out happily, their bells clanging. Then came the half dozen sheep and their young lambs, followed by a dozen assorted chickens. You sprinkled chicken feed and enjoyed the morning mayhem. A rooster made himself known from the pack by standing up straight, puffing out his chest, and crowing with so much might you thought he might hurt himself. You poured a bit of feed in your hand before crouching down.

“Here Johnny, Johnny.” You giggled, shaking your hand.

The large rooster strutted up to you with absolutely no fear. He ruffled his feathers and clucked at you before eating the feed right out of your hand. When he was done, he let you pet him. If you wanted to pick him up, you easily could’ve. Most mornings you spent with him on your hip. Despite how amazing of a rooster he was, he never got violent with you. Now, any other hired help, it was a different story. Come to think of it, none of your animals really worked for anyone else but you.

“Sorry Johnny.” You sighed, standing up and taking a step back. “Gotta trim-woah!”

Something hard nudged firmly against your rear. You regained your balance and looked behind you.

“Kyle!” You scolded. “Yes, yes! You’re going out to the pasture too!”

The large billy goat bleated at you and rubbed the top of his de-horned head against your hip, as if to scratch himself on your belt. With a soft pat to his head, you lead him through the pasture and farther into the green grass. It took him a minute, but after taking a glance at Price on the other end of the field, he began to run towards him. The two creatures met in the middle and began to play.

You weren’t entirely sure why those two got along so well, but they certainly did. Price playfully nipped at Kyle’s short tail. Kyle just bleated in excitement and tried to ram his head into the old horse’s leg. They were a funny little duo, that was certain.

And with that, you began to finish up your morning chores. You collected the eggs and the fresh milk from the gallon jugs in the barn. You cleaned up the stalls and polished Price’s riding tack. Once you made sure everyone had fresh food and water you decided to go inside and clean up. Today was an easy day. All you would be responsible for was to bring the animals back in as well as feed yourself.

You showered, dressed in a flowy white sundress, and headed outside. You sat out in the pasture, under the shade of the old oak tree and your floppy sun hat. This day was like no other. After enjoying a bowl of fruit and a glass of iced tea it didn’t take long for you to doze off in your favorite lawn chair.

-

You dreamed that you were taking Price back to the stables after a good ride around the ranch. It was late, and the southern heat was oppressive. You wiped the sweat off Price’s back with an old towel as your removed his tack.

“Y’know. Despite your age, y’ still give a girl a great ride.” You chuckled at the old horse. You rubbed his snout. He snorted at you and you giggled. “You have no clue what I’m talking about.”

With another laugh, you turned to the stall's gate. You opened it just enough to reach to the built in shelf next to it. You dug your hand into a small box and swiped a handful of sugar cubes from within it. You turned, hand outstretched to offer it to Price. Except, when you turned, there was no longer a horse.

Standing there, completely nude, was a human man.

You gasped in shock and took a step back, hitting the edge of the stall’s wall. He took a step forward, blue eyes glittering. He eyed the sugar cubes you now clutched tightly in your palm. He reached forward, prying them from your grip, before hungrily tossing them into his mouth. He ate them with no discomfort and even smiled as he swallowed them down.

“Thanks, Love.” He licked his lips, remnants of the glittery sugar still caught in his mustache.

“P-Price?” You squeaked.

“Who else would it be?”

You had half a mind to run, but you were so enamored with the thought that your precious horse could be a human. He stepped even farther forward, boxing you into the corner of the wooden stall. Your head hit the wall, making the various items hung up shudder from the impact. Price unhooked one of the ancient reins away from the top of your head before dropping it into the fresh hay at your feet. He admired his hands for a second and so did you.

“I-you-wh-what is going on?” You managed out. “This is some kind of joke, right?”

Price didn’t seem to hear you as he tried to get a feel for his own body. You watched in shock and arousal as he flexed his arm muscles and observed the firm ripples of his own chiseled abdomen. He petted down his belly and admired the thick curls that trailed over his cock. He gripped at it, tugged at it experimentally before seeming to realize something important.

“Ready for that ride, Love?”

[barefoothighlander]

Hi luv! Can you please do some headcanons of ghost having a civilian wife who is an absolute RAY of sunshine, but he keeps the fact that he’s married a secret even from 141. And when they do find out they’re just like??? How??? She’s like so cute???

yes ugh, soft!ghost has my heart, he'd be such a cutie obsessed with his wife, I love this, also obsessed with gossipy Soap and Gaz, they'd be so invested in Ghost's life

warnings: none just fluff

You and Simon had been married 3 years, meeting 5 years ago while he was on leave back home and you were visiting family

You bumped into him on accident after losing all sense of direction on a back street.

He was intrigued because most people are frightened by his outward appearance, but you just smiled at him apologizing profusely.

He had awkwardly asked for your number and you gave it to him, going on a few dates before he fell madly in love with you. Completely enamoured with your smile and personality, always giggling and happy, a stark contrast to how he usually was.

You made him see things in a softer light, constantly dragging him to farmer’s markets and gardens, he followed your every whim, just happy to spend time with you.

He had proposed a year after the two of you became official, deciding he couldn’t go another day without being married to you.

A week after the proposal he had to deploy, it broke his heart to leave you but it made him even more eager to come back to you.

You knew most of what his job consisted of, he spared you the more gory parts as they always made you squeamish. The two of you making it a rule to keep your relationship secret, even from the rest of the team.

After you married he made a point of calling you every day from base just to check in, even though he’d see you right as soon as he got home.

On a particularly difficult mission, Simon had gotten hit in the head, his helmet knocked off and thrown to the dirt, a small piece of paper falling out.

Soap rushed over to him to make sure he was okay, noticing the small paper and grabbing at it as Simon reached to tear it from his hands. It was a photo of you, hair messy from the wind, skin glowing from the sun outside, bright smile plastered on your face as you smiled at your husband behind the camera.

“Lt have’ya a lass,” Soap asked, dodging Ghost’s attempts to retrieve the photo. “Tell me and I’ll give it back”. Sick of Soaps games Ghost submits. “She’s my wife”

Word spread quickly through the team on behalf of Soap’s loudmouth, all the men rushing to question Ghost about his secret relationship.

“No shot you married her, she’s so.. Cute? Smiley? And you’re so” Gaz is cut off by Simon’s dark stare.

All the men pestered Ghost about meeting you as he continued to decline, Price offering a simple ‘congratulations son’

One day you came to base to drop off some gear that Simon forgot at home, immediately greeted by Soap. “No way” he says, stepping towards you with open arms, pulling you into a hug. You hug him back confused. “Sorry, have we met” “No but I’ve heard a lot about you lass”

Simon rushes out of the base practically tearing Soap off you, giving him a warning with a quiet stare as you tug on his jacket, reaching on your toes to lift his mask slightly, planting a kiss to his lips and smiling before handing him the bag of gear which he takes before running a hand softly over your back.

“This is so strange” Soap responds taken aback by the sight of you two, one tall and brooding, face covered by a skull mask and the other a practical ray of sunshine, wearing a long flowing dress that leaves the top of your chest open to the breeze.

“I will say, you’re much prettier in person, the picture doesn’t do justice” “That’ll do” Simon warns as you giggle.

Against Simon’s wishes you invite the team over for a dinner, the weather was too nice to not eat outside as you got to meet each member, learning more about them than Simon would ever tell you.

“I’m sorry it just makes no sense,” Gaz says as you quirk an eyebrow in question. “I just mean you’re so nice, and the Lieutenant is so daunting” you laugh, “trust me, he’s not so scary with the mask off,” He bows his head in embarrassment as you break down his strict facade.

“So what do you two even do? Gasp does Lt cuddle?” Soap asks almost giggling, Simon swears that he could kill Johnny right there. You spare a glance at your husband before meekly nodding in Soap’s direction as he and Gaz are taken in a fit of laughter, you shrug your shoulders in a silent sorry to Simon.

The team made it a tradition to now show up at your home at least once a week to have dinner and some drinks, or just play some board games, intent on getting to know you better, almost punishing Ghost for keeping you a secret.

Cleaning up dinner Simon slides behind you wrapping you in a hug, a small show of affection he had been holding off on while the team was in view. “You’re telling them too much” As he kisses the base of your neck, you turn your body to him, “It’s nice to get to know them, I like seeing you around your friends” he scoffs as the term, then thinks about it shit maybe we are friends.

The time spent after at work Simon was constantly pestered about when he’d make Price and Soap uncles while Gaz had proclaimed himself as your future child’s fairy godmother.

Simon grew tired of the constant interrogation but felt like a weight was off his chest finally being able to be open about your relationship, though he’d never let the team hear the pet names you call him in private, nor would he let them in on the more tender moments of your time spent together.

The team always telling him that he was nicer when you visited or called him, always nagging to see pictures of the two of you (there were barely any, maybe one where he didn't have his mask on but it was kept secure in the house), and wanting to know when you'd visit.

Ghost was relieved that the team was so nice to you, he'd kill them for even saying a bad word, but he wasn't surprised given your ability to get along with almost everyone, always stopping to say good morning to people on the streets.

They teased him for days after you dropped him off some lunch one time, he had acted angry but he loved the domesticity of your lives, he loved seeing you in his office, a bright figure in such a beige world, he couldn't help the smile that crept on his face at the mere thought of you.

So the two of you welcomed the team into your lives, enjoying the company after living rather solitary. Spilling secrets with Soap and Gaz as Price and Simon looked on, Price with a small smirk on his face, happy that Simon finally found the love he deserved, while Simon sat unamused at Soap's jokes.

[wonderlandwalker]

After All These Years | Finnick Odair x Reader

THG Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox

Summary: You think he no longer cares, and he thinks you're better off without him. But the reaping for the 75th hunger games puts a dent in both of those thoughts

Content Warnings/Tags: Angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, insinuations of smut, kissing, once again not proofread

Requested by @rottingpeache: absolutely need to see enemies to lovers with finnick. “I really don’t like you.” “And I really don’t believe you.”

Word Count: 1k

A/N: No clue if this is actually enemies to lovers or just a poor attempt at it. I'm gonna go take a nap now but there is more coming cause the requests sparked something in me again so thank you to everyone who sent them!!

None of you had expected it to happen, how could you? But you've learned by now there is no point in fighting it either. So when you heard Mags’ name being called out and you volunteered in her stead, you suppose it was simply out of habit. In a world like this, the only thing that makes you feel like you are surviving is helping others do the same thing. As you stepped forward you could see the cameras zooming in on your face, trying to capture every expression you were making. You saw the cameras do the same for Finnick. Years of being in an unwelcome spotlight had made his poker face almost unbreakable, but the small furrow of his eyebrows and the twitch in his gallant smile told you everything you needed to know.

It wasn't until the next day that he first spoke to you. Over the years you would see each other, of course, you would talk. But at all the events and all the parties you did nothing more than exchange pleasantries. But now he came out of your peripheral vision and cornered you against the wall behind you with his broad arms.

“What were you thinking, this might be the stupidest thing you've ever done.” His demeanour seemed angry, he seemed serious. But you had no reason to match it, you just wanted to get under his skin like he got under yours.

“Be careful what you say, you might actually be the stupidest thing I’ve done.” you wondered if he remembered, if he remembered the night you had spent together so many years ago, it had been the best night of your life, and you had no idea if he even remembered. If he did, he didn't let it show.

“Did you even think it through? You survived the arena once, and only barely, what makes you think you’ll make it out alive again.” His voice was a low rasp, and if you didn't know better, you'd say he sounded upset. But you knew better, Finnick had shown you his true colours when he started avoiding you, and you did remember that.

“I wasn't thinking, how could I? All I could think about was Mags having to go through it all again, you more than anyone else know she deserves better.” you were looking him in the eyes now, and it took all of your willpower not to melt. “My games weren’t that long ago, I did it then and I’m still here, I can do it again.” He stepped closer to you, eliminating the remaining space between your bodies, his chest against yours, and you could feel his heart skip a beat as he spoke.

“Exactly, I was there, and it damn near broke me too. I was there to piece you back together. But I won’t watch it happen to you again, I can’t let it happen. Because what if I’m not there this time, what if I'm not there to put you back together.” There was a stark contrast between his face and his voice. As you looked at him you saw his eyes soften, and it gave you a glimpse of the Finnick you once knew. But his voice was still filled with anger, and it snapped you back to reality.

“And how would you know what I can and cannot handle.” You were challenging him now, but he had you matched.

“Because I know you. Even if you don’t believe so, I know what youre like, I know how you think. You might believe I forgot, that I ignore you and go on with my life as if nothing happened. But if you were to actually think for one second you would see that I’m simply doing what's best for you, I just want what’s best for you but now you’ve gone and ruined all of it in one day. 

You’re at a loss for words, because maybe he was right, maybe you had gone and messed up everything with a single sentence at the reaping. But maybe everything was finally making a turn for the better, because for the first time, he was telling you he cared. And you’re thankful to finally see his thoughts shine through, but you’re overwhelmed too. So you turn around, you turn away from him, wanting to escape the confrontation. Except he’s not letting you go, not this time

“I really don’t care what you think Finnick.” You weren’t sure if you believed your own words, but you needed to get away from him.

“And I really don’t believe you.” You tried shrugging him off again, and you were about to turn away from him when you felt him grab onto your arm and pull you into him. As you looked up you could feel his eyes fixed on yours.

And so you do the only thing you can think of, you do the thing you want most in this moment right here, you kiss him. You tell yourself that consequences be damned, because even if he will hate you for it, even if you’ll regret it later, at least you have this one moment to get yourself through it, at least you didn't let your fears of losing him completely win this time.  You kiss him as if everything will be okay, because when you feel his lips start to move in sync with yours, it is. 

For a moment you think everything will resolve itself and you and Finnick can live together in a small house near the beach. For a moment you forget how much you hate him for everything he put you through. Because in this moment, if life could be like this moment, you’d forgive him for all of it. And you don't know it yet, but he’s even more scared than you are.

[cherrysurf]

Tall blonde and evil! | Katsuki Bakugo x f!reader

chapter 6; eh your not bad.

Just like he said the chauffeur arrived on time, with everything honestly it felt kinda nice to be spoiled by a man since your lack of male attention was little to none you basked in the moment even if it was from your shitty boss. I mean like you said before, rude,ignorant and yells a lot but treats the people who work for him with respect. Even if you two bicker constantly it became the norm it was comfortable and neither of you took it to heart thinking about it made a stupid smirk grow on your face “why am i smiling over this blonde bastard” you say in your head slapping your face to wake you up from this delusion, luckily you arrived to the mall finally bakugou's chauffeur said to call him when you were ready to be picked you, you politely thanked him and headed out into the mall. “mmh a red or black dress…” you say in your head looking over the vast amount of stores seeing what would catch your eye you passed by prada before you could find a store for a dress and decided to get the professional work outfit done and out of the way you walked in a bit nervous about the whole situation “hi how can i help?” a nice lady in her mid 40’s who still looked youthful as ever and looked like she carried herself very well approached you with a smile “hi yes my name is yn im here for an appointment” you say smiling back “ah yes your with me come come darling” she says guiding you to the back of the store and leading you into a room with many options of office like clothes that were all in the dark gray, black color pallets. Your eyes scanned the entire room to admire how beautifully decorated and secluded it was “here miss yn i’ve had a few already picked out for you, if you don’t like any of these or need an opinion im right here to assist you” she says “i’ll bring you some tea for right now while you get started on trying on outfits” she continues “thank you so much, i really appreciate it” you say smiling “my pleasure” she says with a small nod making her way out the room. The first two outfits didn’t look quite right on your figure, bakugou’s shopping assistant walks back in as you finish putting on the third outfit “wow that one looks stunning on you” she says in awe “you really think so? i think it’s really cute too” you say looking at yourself in the mirror “yes i do. We have it in white if you’d like to try it on?” she proposes “uhm do you think he’d mind if i wore white to the interview?” you ask nervously “not at all i think it would look even better, here let me go get it for you” she says “oh- okay thank you again” you say you weren’t entirely sure if bakugou would get upset at you for wearing something that wasn’t specifically laid out but it was just a color change and clearly he trusted her enough so why not take her advice, and oh boy was she right it looked absolutely beautiful on you “i think this is the one” you say feeling confident “i think so too. It’s perfect and professional, you can change and i’ll get that all set for you” she says “thank you so much for your help today i see why bakugou trusts you so much your choices are amazing” you say happy “thank you i’m glad he’s an amazing customer one of my top clients actually” she says “that’s something new i learned about him today i guess” you say “he’s a man of mystery at first but becomes really easy to read after a while” she says with a giggle “come darling let’s go to the front now” she says you collect your things and you both head to the front, you pay and thank her for everything and she bids you farewell.

“Okay dress and heels now let’s do this.” you say trying to hype yourself up but the hard truth was you only found a nice pair of manolo blanhink hangisi kitten-heel satin slingback pumps that were perfect but no dress at all. “why the fuck is it so hard to find a dress” you groan after hours of being at the mall then it suddenly hits you, that one crimson red dress that your mother left for you and told you to bring when you moved out to the city because “you never know when you need a nice formal dress” she said i guess she’s right all along you decided that you were done and over with today and called bakugou’s chauffeur to come pick you up to head home for a much needed nap.

hopefully this long chapter makes up for all the short ones bye guys

taglist; @kalulakunundrum @sweetadonisbutbetter @rednicotine @ikissfade @bakugouswh0r3 @allurearia @themultifandomgirl @junehasnotbeenfound @darhinadadragon @kodzubaby @harryzcherry @kholethecutie @s4ikooo1 @babylambdietcoke @lover-no-lover61 @sikuthealien @sahrii

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

A fluffy/ mild angsty valentines fic with Bucky where reader gets HIM flowers ( because of the whole guys don’t get flowers thing :((( ) maybe there’s some mutual pining and sweet confession? Like she gets the flowers for him because he makes some joke about not having had a valentine for nearly a century and she’s just like “absolutely not will not allow that >:(“ but he thinks it’s just a joke at first :(

Anyway thanks! Love you!

Bloom.

bucky barnes x female reader

warnings - none

valentines masterlist. inbox. masterlist.

“Are we almost done?”

Bucky looks so miserable, you can’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, we are. We just need flowers, and then we have everything on the list.”

He grabs the shopping cart and pushes it across the grocery store, determinedly marching in the right direction. You’re practically running to keep up with him.

“Which ones?”

You look at all the flowers, touching some of the petals gently as you decide.

“I’m not sure. What’s your favourite kind of flower, Buck?”

He looks at you with a blank expression.

“I don’t have one.”

“What?”

Now it’s your turn to look blankly at him.

“I’ve never been bought flowers. Why would I have a favourite type?”

You frown at him. The idea of Bucky never receiving flowers makes you much sadder than it should, but you’re trying to play it cool.

“Oh. Well… which of these do you like the look of the most? They’re going to go in the middle of the table in the kitchen, so they need to be bright. Give the room some colour.”

He circles the flower display a few times, looking around carefully. Eventually, he picks up a bouquet of tulips, all pinks and oranges and yellows.

“I like these.”

You smile softly, nodding your head.

“Good choice.”

You’re somewhat distracted as the two of you check out. You put the tulips in the bag carefully, glancing at Bucky every so often. He catches you looking, and can’t help but wonder what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You’ve been standing outside Bucky’s door for the better part of fifteen minutes.

He knows.

He heard your footsteps, can hear your chest heaving, lungs working overtime. He’s just waiting for you to make your own decision.

Eventually, you do. After thirty minutes, you decide to just do it. You’ve got nothing to lose.

You knock.

Bucky swings open the door as if he’s been waiting for you, standing patiently on the other side.

“Breathe, honey.”

You didn’t even realise you’d been holding your breath. You exhale, never breaking eye contact with the man in front of you.

“Hi, Buck.”

“Hi, you.”

“I got you something.”

“You did?”

You grab the bouquet from where you’ve leant it against the wall, holding it out to him.

He stops in his tracks, brows furrowed in confusion.

“They’re… for me?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

You inhale deeply, willing yourself to find some temporary courage.

“Because tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. And no one has ever bought you flowers.”

He’s smiling now, soft and knowing.

“You’re the kindest person I’ve ever met.”

He says it so sincerely, so genuinely, that it makes you want to cry. You hand the flowers to him, grinning as he admires them up close.

“They’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

That takes you by surprise.

You and Bucky have always had a careful, consistent friendship. Ever since he first barrelled into your life, you’ve thrown tender smiles his way, nodding your head in acknowledgement every time he passed you in the hallways. He warmed to you, slowly but surely. Your kindness, your generosity, your genuineness - you’ve charmed him delicately, somewhat accidentally.

You’ve also been in love with him since day one.

You never thought to mention it - he’s healing, learning, growing as he goes, and you don’t want to halt his progress. So, you’ve pined from a distance, gently and quietly.

“Buck… will you be my valentine?”

He beams at you, the most luminescent smile you’ve ever seen from him.

“Oh, sweetheart. I’ve been working up the courage to ask you that every year since I met you. Knew you’d beat me to it.”

You laugh, stepping in closer to him. He puts the flowers down carefully, reaching out to cup your face in his hands.

“Can I kiss you, my valentine?”

You nod, already leaning in. He presses his lips to yours, and he swears he feels flowers bloom in his ribcage, bright and alive.

[rodolfoparras]

we talk a lot about the characters being "loser boyfailures" and having no game and being rizless but think about the reader being that. guy in his thirties, no relationship ever, negative riz, absolutely no game, my man cannot speak to people without making 13 grammatical mistakes just an absolute pathetic wet dog vibes....

and the 141 boys could not want him more. they're absolutely head over heels for their loser boyfriend. i imagine Simon sees him bump into a chair and apologise to it and he's jumping his bones right then and there. pretty boy Kyle Gaz Garrick never goes anywhere without bringing his wet dog of a man with him. people are wondering how that happened and if he's blackmailing him, he gets very offended and sassy on his boyfriends behalf and when you're back home he rants to him about stupid people while milking his loser dick. Soap is just.... he's just himself the bigger the loser the more he wants the man. his boyfriend fucks up an interraction or fails at something and looks so wet and pathetic that he just has to put his dick in his mouth idk what to say Soap loves his loser boyfriends cock and when he tries and riz him up and falls flat on his face (literally and metaphorically) Soap just has to have him cream his hole im sorry but the man isn't letting his boyfriend go anywhere without having his mans loads in him. Price just loves him for the sincerity and how endearing his loser boyfriend is (just like an old man). the boyfriend will bring him coffee with a treat he tried making for Price and fuck up both the coffee and the treat but that old man will still praise you and give you kisses while his hand wanders bellow your waistband. with him Price gets to get rid of the anxiety of being too old to be useful because someone needs to make his boyfriend into a proper man. and when his boy does things right and suceeds Price rewards him by riding his phat loser cock for the whole night, milking load after load untill nothing comes out anymore

thanks for listening to the ramble i just want some love to the losers of society, there's too many perfect people in fics

Sugar!!!!!!! This is one of my favorite things I’ve ever read why do y’all leave these masterpieces in my inbox on anon you should post this sugar 🧎🏻‍♂️🧎🏻‍♂️

Especially the gaz and price part???

Imagine all eyes on Gaz in whatever room he walks in they barley notice you behind him but he’s always got a hand around your waist, gently nudging you forward and introducing you as his boyfriend to whoever’s there

He lets you take the stage just endearingly staring at you while you try to make conversation with whoever was eager to meet the two of you

And after you’re done you got a goofy smile on your face feeling happy that you managed to get through that conversation without fucking it up

And Gaz? He’s swiftly pulling you into a room crashing his lips against yours and it doesn’t take much before he’s riding your cock marking you up and feeling all possessive because yes this wonderful sweetheart is his boyfriend and he needs the world to know that

Or you, Price’s boyfriend feeling a bit insecure because Price has so much experience and you have none but he loves it, loves how you look at his old man body with such amazement love how eager you are to learn how to get him off, tears trickling down your cheek as you suck his cock, using your hands wherever your mouth can’t reach

Or you being careful as ever when you first fuck, asking him if he’s okay, if you’re hurting him all while he’s looking at you with the biggest smile on his face because bloody hell how did he get so lucky to have someone as sweet as you and he’s even more endeared when you’re swiftly apologizing because you came too quickly

[l0vem41l]

mean when i'm nervous.

「 tws + notes: no tws, unedited as BAWLS, dc writer newbie but im very enthusiastic abt the comics and shows and movies, dog metaphor but insane and unsubtle, explicitly vigilante!reader in dick grayson’s part, dramatic asf but not really angst 」

「 gn!reader, can be platonic or romantic <3 」

↳ ft. bruce wayne, clark kent, richard "dick" grayson, and john constantine

author's note: so. we all know what my favourite thing right now is (⌒_⌒;) i still adore everything i used to write for,,, but i’ve been on my comic motives recently (*ﾟｰﾟ*) ! reading dc mostly but spider-noir and deadpool have been picked up along the way!!! um. anyways. if i get comfy enough, i might do more dc stuff but i get that this isn't my exact audience on this blog— sorry my loves (´＿｀。) </3 might write a part two cuz i love jason. and booster gold. and like every single one of them (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ) halfway through writing this i realized everything feels very literal, so i feel the need to mention that this is not dog hybrid reader stuff but if u fw that u can imagine it that way

perhaps the habit of burning bridges you’re actively crossing isn’t a good idea. and you’re not an idiot, not in the slightest— but even if you were, everyone knows that needless self destruction when developing relationships is counterproductive.

you strike the match anyways, like it’s just a force of habit. another instinct.

if you spent life knowing that the hand only beats. why would you expect it to do anything else when it’s lowered towards you?

you learn to keep your hopes down, ears alert, and teeth sharp. you learn to get used to the taste of blood. to make things messy and complicated, and to end things when they need to be ended, because god knows it’s only self preservation when you do it.

you learn that the only way to survive is to bite— to hurt before something hurts you.

and one day, an unfamiliar hand that extends towards you decides to feed instead.

why do you still bare your teeth?

▸ BRUCE is unsure why he sticks around. he’s understanding, but also reasonably frustrated with your antics. it doesn’t evade him that they stem from something deeply rooted in your past— but he doesn’t know what to do about it. if there is anything to do.

at his core, he's a detective. he's got an eye for digging into strange pasts and a knack for knowing things he isn't supposed to. but in spite of his paranoia and hunger to know, bruce doesn't pry too much. he can do research on his own, without you ever having to realize.

you’re self-sufficient, he’ll give you that. you’re unsure sometimes of whether he’s proud that you can take care of yourself or irritated that you consistently insist on doing so. he’s unsure too. not like he lets you know.

it’s a mutual understanding the two of you share— he stays, you bite. yet bruce, unsurprisingly, doesn’t mind being bitten. he’d hope that the reason he’s sticking around is for the selfless reason of making sure you’re alright. though, the reality is, you’ve grown on him, whether you realize or not.

bruce has always been fond of strays.

▸ CLARK is nothing but patient. and that scares you beyond reason.

he sees the way you bare your teeth whenever someone gets too close for comfort to you. he knows when to back away, when to speak, when not to— he’s always attempting to never make you feel backed into a corner.

somehow, it makes you more anxious seeing just how much he understands about you. he knows just how to coax you out of the corner of your cage, how to bring you in closer, and it almost, almost convinces you to let your guard down.

the thought of that is terrifying.

you try barking, you try biting— and none of it works. clark doesn’t coddle you when you’re wrong— but he’s absolutely nothing but gentle. patient and understanding, sometimes you wonder how a man of steel can be so soft for someone like you.

▸ DICK isn’t dumb. it’s fairly easy for him to put two and two together. quickly, he figures out what he’s dealing with when he encounters you.

his conversations with you are never without a note of levity— a deliberate action on his end, you’re certain. he knows, you know, and because of it, everything feels oddly tense around him, even with the attempts to banter.

it’s too late to run. his observant gaze has caught a glimpse of you through your one way glass, and he’s chosen to meet your eyes with a smile. there's a sense of foreboding that gnaws at your gut, anxiously anticipating what might be lurking under that grin of his.

on his end, there are no malicious intentions. he doesn’t really have ulterior motives when it comes to you.

most times, he chooses to defend you and be the one standing at your side when no one else does. you don't understand why he insists on offering you friendship when all you do is pull away.

after a long night of patrolling the streets of gotham, you find the two of you leaning on the railing of a rooftop side by side. your eyes are on this cityscape of gotham. his are on you.

“you keep on insisting i’m not as bad as i seem,” you mutter under your breath.

late nights make for loose lips. he’s pleasantly surprised to hear you continue the thought instead of attempting to take it back.

“do you just hate being right?” you snort, allowing your gaze to flit over to him just for a second.

"no." dick smiles, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. “i think you just hate the fact that i could be.”

▸ you tried not to bother with CONSTANTINE. the day the two of you met, you didn’t even introduce yourself.

john constantine’s presence alone reeks of trouble, as acrid and suffocating as the cigarette smoke that clings to his tan trenchcoat. you are attuned to things like that. he notices.

one thing you actually enjoy about him? he doesn’t chase. he’s a nosy one, for certain, sticking his nose into places no one in their right mind would— but for the most part, he steers clear of yours. initially, you think it’s because your urge to be left alone by him is so prevalent that he’s just chosen to heed the warning and not approach when unwanted.

but he’s not a man known for abiding by rules. he’s much more curious with you than you notice or prefer. in a way, your distance has made you more myth than man, more tale than tangible— you are a rumor passed through whispers between lips, a silent shadow lurking in the corner of the room… and he loves a good mystery.

“c’mon. you're actin’ like ‘m gonna bite your head off, luv,” he chuckles, lighting up the cigarette between his fingers.

i'd probably be the one doing that if i got any closer. you keep that thought in your head, standing with a gap between the two of you as always.

he doesn't miss how you avoid looking into his eyes like his gaze could murder, instead, focusing your gaze on the cherry of the cig, burning bright red.

“not much for a wee natter, hm?”

the quick shake of your head only makes his smirk grow. you could just walk away… so why exactly were you sticking around?

“fine by me. quiet company’s welcome.” that’s a sentence he’d probably never say to anyone else. in a strange way, he feels like he knows you well enough to be comfortable with the words that hang in the air.

it’s weird. you’re completely unknown, and yet, an irrational part of his mind keeps nagging at him to look just a little closer at you. sometimes, when he listens to it, he catches a glimpse of something silent in your eyes— an all too familiar pain of a person who can’t help but hurt the things that they cling onto.

so that’s why you’re keen on keeping everyone at arms length. it almost makes him laugh to think how similar the two of you are, plain as day, and yet unnoticed by you— a person who won’t even meet his eyes.

— reblogs always appreciated!

[janeyseymour]

Love Thy Neighbor

saw a prompt from @givethispromptatry

So... here we are... as usual, not edited in the slightest and hoping it's alright!

WC: ~3.45k

After your (not so amicable) split from your dirtbag of a husband, you packed your things and moved back to Philly. It was the city that held a special place in your heart, you knew the area like the back of your hand, and your parents still resided in the place that you grew up. It only made sense now that as a single mother to a six year old girl, you would move to be closer to your parents so they could help bear the load of being a working mom. Elizabeth, but you usually stuck with the nickname Ellie, was a rather easy child. But moving from across the country and leaving the life that she knew and loved behind was rather hard for her- and it was even harder knowing that Mom and Dad had split, and that Dad didn’t necessarily want anything to do with either of you anymore.

So, after about a month of living with your parents, making trips from Utah to Philly and back multiple times to gather all of your things from the house, show the house, sell the house, and deal with the divorce lawyers… the two of you have finally found a little apartment that should be an appropriate size for the two of you while still staying within your budget.

You had been granted full custody, not that your ex would fight you on that, but you also managed to get him to fork over a decent amount of child support- and you would need it. You still haven’t found a job in Philly, and while little jobs here and there were helpful (you mostly did DoorDash on your bike, Ellie’s bike trailer attached so you could bring her along and hold the food), you knew that you absolutely needed to find a job- and quick.

In between attempting to unpack all of your things, get Ellie settled, looking for a new job, and Doordashing, you haven’t been able to take a breath at all. You don’t even know who your neighbors are or what they look like. And you feel a little guilty at that, but none of them have stopped by to introduce themselves to you either. You remember though, that Philly folks aren’t nearly as kind as the people that you had surrounded yourself with in Utah… so them not introducing themselves to you isn’t the most unheard of thing in the world.

Today was brutal. You had signed Ellie up to start school next week, searched and applied for a few teaching jobs (one of which would be at your daughter’s school if you could land it), gone grocery shopping, and then done a nice load of Doordashing with your daughter in tow because your parents couldn’t watch her.

The little girl had missed out on the nap that she usually takes after a day at school, so she’s absolutely miserable the entire time that you bike around. You had tried to placate her by bringing along her iPad so she could watch videos while you navigated the city, but she wanted nothing to do with it. All she did the entire time was whine about the fact that she wanted to go home and cuddle.

After hours of delivering food, you’re satisfied with the amount of money that you made today.

“Okay, little love,” you turn and look at your daughter. “Are you ready for home?”

“I’ve been ready,” she grumbles, arms crossed and brows furrowed.

You give her a soft smile. “I know, sweet girl… but Momma has to make money so we can stay here.”

“Why can’t we just stay in Utah where I like it?”

You bite your lip. “I want to be closer to my parents, baby… and this way you get to see Gram and Pop more than you used to. I think if you give Philly a chance, you’ll learn to love it like I do.”

She huffs a little. 

Deciding that you probably aren’t going to get much more out of her, you turn and start biking in the direction of your apartment. As you’re doing so, you silently thank God that you’re in good shape. At least if anything comes out of this, your legs are going to look incredible.

You chain your bike to the bike stand in the garage of your apartment complex, only to remember that you had forgotten what you needed to make dinner tonight. With regret, you begin to unchain it- much to Ellie’s dismay.

“Momma!” she stomps her foot.

“I know,” you say softly, but you gesture for her to get back into her trailer.

“No!”

You take a shaky breath. You really don’t want to have to put up with a trademarked Ellie tantrum, but it seems that’s what is in store for you tonight. “Love bug, please. We just have to go to the store, and then we can come home, I’ll make dinner, and we can cuddle.”

“I want to cuddle now!”

“Well, we have to fill that belly of yours with food first,” you poke her stomach gently, trying to elicit a giggle out of the little girl. 

It absolutely does the opposite of that. She bats your hand away, and you raise an eyebrow before standing back up straight. “Ellie, you know we do not try to hit.”

“I don’t care,” she tells you defiantly.

A redhead that lives in the building comes into the garage, eyeing you and your child. You hope she isn’t judging you for the fit your child is currently in the middle of having. She climbs into her car and rolls down her windows, but she doesn’t quite pull out yet. She glances at her phone instead.

You blow out a breath, eyes closed and trying to ground yourself, before looking at her again. “Elizabeth, we need to get food for dinner. All you have to do is sit in your trailer while I bike us to the store.”

“Why can’t I stay home?!”

“Because you are six and too little to stay home by yourself.”

“This isn’t home!” you daughter stomps her foot and bursts into tears.

The woman that lives in your complex is still sitting in her car, and you know she can hear your daughter’s and your words. Why hasn’t she pulled out yet?

You soften immediately, crouching back down and opening your arms for her to hug you if she needs to. She does. She immediately curls into your arms and clings to you. “I know, love bug. I know it doesn’t feel like home right now… but no matter what, Momma can’t leave you in the apartment alone. So, I need you to get into your trailer so we can head to the store. The faster we get there, the faster we can come back and curl up on the couch together, okay?”

Your daughter clings to you a little tighter, but you feel her nod into your shoulder.

The woman pulls out of her spot and gives you and your daughter a small wave as she drives past. 

You hold your little girl until she begins to pull away, and then you wipe her tears with the pads of your thumbs. “I love you, Ellie.”

She climbs back into her seat before mumbling back the same sentiment.

You’re able to do your quick run to the grocery store, and Ellie refuses to walk but also refuses to sit in the cart like she usually does. So, you carry her on your hip the entirety of your walk through the aisles. As you’re strolling up and down, you see the redhead that you had seen in the garage earlier, and she gives you a questioning look at the sight of you carrying your daughter when she could be in the cart that you’re pushing along.

You just give her a little shrug and continue on your way. Ellie is getting heavier and heavier by the minute though, so you pick up the pace and are out of the store.

You make your way back to the complex, bags around your arms and in the trailer with your daughter. When you lock your bike to the rack, you look in, and the little girl is fast asleep. Shit.

“Ellie,” you crouch down and whisper. “Sweetheart, we’re back. You have to wake up and carry the bread and juice in for me.”

The little girl stirs slightly before repositioning herself and closing her eyes again.

“Baby girl,” you say softly. “Please wake up for Momma.”

You see headlights, and the car that has the redheaded woman in it pulls in. Great. You get to make a fool out of yourself in front of her yet again.

Not being able to hide your stress, you decide to grab a few of the lighter bags, put them on your arms, and then wiggle Ellie out of the trailer. She’s asleep on your shoulder as soon as she’s in your hold. You silently take a moment to pray that your produce won’t get stolen in the few minutes it will take you to get Ellie upstairs before making your way into the building.

The elevator is broken. Of course it is. So you’re forced to carry three bags of groceries and your six year old daughter up four flights of steps. By the end of it, you’re wheezing. You manage to unlock your door before gently setting her on the couch. With a sigh and a wipe of your now sweaty brow, you lock the door behind you and begin to head down to get the rest of your groceries.

There’s that woman again… and she lives in the apartment across the hall. You give her a friendly nod of the head and a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes before you continue your trek back down.

After your second trip up, your body is entirely exhausted. You hardly have it in you to cook dinner, but you dragged Ellie out, so you have to make the meal.

You’re able to wake her with the scent of her favorite meal, but as soon as she’s finished, she’s curling up against you and falling asleep.

After your daughter lays on top of you for quite some time, you know you have to put her in her own room. So, you silently make your way into her bedroom and tuck her in. With a quick kiss to the forehead and a soft “I love you”, you make your way back out to the kitchen.

Ellie is out for the night- she was exhausted halfway through your DoorDash shift- so you grab a glass and fill it with wine. The sweet drink helps to melt away some of the stress as you clean the dishes and settle on the couch for some much needed adult time.

That time is interrupted though when you hear a few rough knocks rattling your apartment. Instinctively, you grab the baseball bat that you keep behind the couch and make your way to the door.

Who the hell could be at your door at this hour? You don’t know anyone here, it wouldn’t be your parents… Could it be your ex-husband? No. He’s out in California with the woman he was cheating on you with. So who the hell is it?

“Who is it?” you yell, gripping the bat so tightly your knuckles turn white.

“You the woman that just moved in?” a gruff voice calls back.

You move a bit closer as you call, “What’s it to you?!”

“Saw you have a kid. Was wondering if you needed help with anything. You look real stressed.”

At that, you move closer to the door and glance out the peephole. It’s the woman that you ran into in the garage and at the grocery store. You open the door just slightly, still unsure of her.

“I ain’t gonna bite,” she teases. “You looked really stressed, so I thought I’d come over, introduce myself, and see if you needed any help.”

You lessen the grip on your bat as you open the door a little further. You take in the woman’s full appearance now that you aren’t trying to calm your daughter and aren’t terrified of being mugged. She’s… she’s really pretty.

You don’t realize that you haven’t say anything back until she’s waving a hand in front of your face. “Hello?”

You shake your head to bring yourself back to the present. “Hi. Sorry… today’s just been… a lot.”

“I could gather that. Can I help?”

You shrug. “I think I’m good at the moment, but I appreciate it.”

“Well,” the redhead purses her lips. “You ever need anything, I’m just across the hall.” 

She turns to walk back to her apartment, but she stops when you call a gentle, “Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“I uh, never got your name,” you say quietly.

“Schemmenti. Melissa.”

“Nice to meet you,” you smile at her. “I’m Y/N, and the little girl you saw me with is my daughter, Ellie.”

She looks at you thoughtfully before nodding. She heads back to her apartment after that.

You run into her a lot in the following few days after that encounter. She sees you haul Ellie with you pretty much everywhere, and she has quite a few questions that she just can’t seem to work out on her own. So, one day after you’ve brought up Ellie and the groceries, she can’t help but knock on your door.

“Who is it?” you call, not bothering to move from your place on the couch with your daughter.

“Melissa,” the familiar voice calls back.

You sigh before making your way over to the door. “Hey. What’s up?”

“Just checkin’ in on you,” the redhead says. “I saw you hauling up Ellie and your groceries.”

“All good,” you chuckle. “Just about to make dinner for the two of us.”

“You haven’t had dinner yet?” She looks concerned.

“About to get the microwave pasta going now,” you admit sheepishly. “I was gonna have it made earlier, but El decided that she would die without Momma cuddles… and who am I to deny my sweet girl of such a request?”

“When’s her bedtime?”

“In about an hour,” you tell her. “Why?”

“Let me make youse two dinner,” she offers. “I’m a damn good cook, and I can make a pasta dish way better than the packaged sh-stuff.”

“Oh,” you say softly. “You don’t have to do that.”

“No, please,” she argues gently. “I insist.”

“O-oh,” you rub your collarbone nervously. “Are you sure?”

“I haven’t had dinner either,” she lies through her teeth. “So let me make us all a meal while you relax and hold your daughter.”

You finally manage to nod- she does not seem like the type of woman who would lose an argument.

“Just give me a couple minutes to gather some ingredients, and I’ll come back over?”

You smile in lieu of an answer. You close the door gently once she’s back in her apartment before making your way to Ellie.

“Sweet girl, our neighbor, Miss Melissa is coming over for dinner tonight. Can you be the polite little girl I raised?”

She nods, but she reaches for you. You pull her into your lap and hold her close until the redhead knocks on your door again. You pull yourself and your daughter off the couch to go open the door.

In her arms are a few different cans, some produce, and pasta that has clearly been homemade.

“Baby,” you tease the ends of you daughter’s locks gently. “This is Miss Melissa. Can you say hi to her for me?”

“H-hi,” Ellie manages to squeak out. “You’re really pretty.”

Melissa smiles at her, and when she speaks her voice has turned to butter. It’s much softer than when she’s speaking to you. “Thank you, hun. I’m Melissa. It’s so nice to meet you, Ellie.”

“How do you know my name?”

“I’ve been talking to your momma,” the woman chuckles gently.

The little girl’s lips form into an ‘O’ shape, and you can’t help the gentle kiss that you plant on her temple.

“Miss Melissa is going to make us dinner,” you tell your daughter softly. “Does that sound alright?”

She nods against your neck.

“I’m gonna make spaghetti,” the redhead tells Ellie. “That sound okay?”

“You might become her new favorite person,” you joke. “Little girl eats so many noodles, she’s gonna turn into one someday.”

You girl giggles against you. “Nah uh,” she scrunches her nose and makes a funny face at you. “That’s not possible, Momma.”

“I know, my love. I’m just teasing,” you chuckle before returning your attention to the woman in your doorway. “Well, come in, come in. Make yourself at home.”

She carries her things to the kitchen before starting her prep. The way that she gets everything done so efficiently is mind blowing to you, and you can’t help but watch in awe as you continue to hold Ellie.

“Sit down, hun,” Melissa instructs softly as she stirs her sauce. “Take a load off. I got this.”

“Are you sure you don’t want any help? Maybe a glass of wine for your troubles?”

“I won’t say no to a glass, but you absolutely are not helping. I got it.”

You pour her a glass and offer it to her before quietly sitting down and continuing to watch as she makes her way through your kitchen effortlessly.

Dinner is placed in front of you before you know it, and Ellie is nearly wiggling with glee at the plate in front of her. She dives in, and her eyes light up.

“This is so yummy!” your little girl cheers as she takes another forkful to her mouth.

“I’m glad you like it, sweetheart,” Melissa smiles. She gestures for you to take a bite as well, and when you do, you can’t help the small sigh that comes out of your mouth.

“Wow,” you say softly. “This is… incredible.”

“Thanks,” she chuckles as she take a bite of her own creation. “It’s a family recipe.”

Dinner is pleasant. The woman does her best to ask Ellie all about herself, to which your little girl answers delightfully. She’s even able to ask Melissa a few questions of her own. But once her plate is cleared, Ellie climbs into your lap and lets out a yawn as she fiddles with the chain around your neck.

“Is my little girl tired?” you coo softly.

She nods against you.

“Why don’t you start getting ready for bed, sweetness? Momma will be in in a few minutes to say goodnight,” you tell her. She nods again. “Well, off you go. But first, what do you say to Miss Melissa?”

“Thank you,” your daughter smiles brightly before climbing off your lap. Surprisingly, she makes her way over to the redhead’s side of the table and hugs her. Melissa wraps her arms around the little girl gently.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. Get some good sleep tonight, yeah?”

Ellie nods before wandering down the hall to get to her bedroom, leaving you with Melissa.

“Thank you for dinner tonight,” you say softly.

“Any time.”

“No, seriously. I usually cook, but I was not feeling it tonight. So, thank you.”

“I’m sure. I saw you biking all around today, starting with this morning when I was heading to work and ending with you coming back from the store.”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “I’m a busy woman.”

“Where are you always biking anyway?”

“I’m in between jobs at the moment, so I’ve just been DoorDashing with El until she starts school next week,” you sigh. “Hopefully I get a job soon… I need all the money I can get to keep this place and give El everything she needs or wants.”

“You’re doing great,” Melissa tells you honestly. “She adores you.”

“She likes you too,” you say quietly. “You’re really good with her.”

“Well, I have some experience with children,” she chuckles quietly. “I guess I should head out so you can get the little one to bed and get some sleep yourself, but I’ll see you around?”

“Next time, dinner’s on me,” you tell her.

“We’ll see about that one,” she laughs as she heads for the door. “If you need anything, don’t be afraid to holler.”

“Thank you, Melissa. Goodnight.”

You see her out, and as you close the door behind her, you sigh. You lean against it for a second, a little confused with the way you’re feeling after this diiner. 

Maybe this new neighbor will become a close friend of yours… maybe something else. Only time will tell. But for now, you have to get back to your daughter. 

Next

[to-be-a-dreamer]

I do acknowledge that the Marvel writers were, to a certain extent, trapped in production hell when it came to adapting Clint Barton into the MCU and I do appreciate the glimpses of his comic personality that they managed to sneak into the MCU. Some of my favorites include but are not limited to:

“Look the city is-is flying. The city is flying. We’re fighting an army of robots. And I have a bow and arrow. None of this makes sense”

When faced with a completely unknown opponent who’s clearly some kind of enhanced the middle of a fight: “We haven’t met yet, I’m Clint.”

“Nobody would know. Nobody. Last I saw him an Ultron was sitting on him. Yeah I miss him already that quick little bastard.”

“Unfortunately, he’s still Barton” “Oh that’s terrible” Because he’s a little SHIT

“You’re no match for him Cap.” “Thanks Barton”

Hits a bullseye on the dart board half a centimeter from Tony’s face with absolutely no warning just because he can

In THE maximum security prison getting lectured by Tony Stark: “Blah blah blah…”

Actively lying on the floor after getting his shit rocked by a child: “Yeah you better run.”

Smugly, towards the aforementioned child: “What? You didn’t see that coming?”

Doesn’t tell his teammates that he’s taking them to his secret farmhouse in the middle of nowhere where he has a secret family. Also does not tell his wife that he’s bringing the entire Avengers lineup to her house. Because he’s a dramatic bitch with abysmal communication skills.

Does a stupid little dramatic flourish just to shoot an arrow into the fucking wall in front of literally no one but Wanda. Just for funsies.

Is played by Jeremy Renner, who I can’t Google without learning about his latest life-threatening injury. On brand.

Turns his hearing aids off at a bad musical

“Good thing they call you HawkEYE and not HawkEAR” “Hahaha. Block. Delete.” (100% did not block and delete)

Casually boards the subway after a whole entire car chase

“And the Challenger gets wrecked anyway!”

“How’s my apartment?” “…crispy”

“Sorry Santa!”

“You rely too much on technology” “Well my weapon of choice is a stick and a string”

“I’ve been taking karate since I was five” “Oh so last year?”

“Oh hey… I know you” Casually hands over the most powerful weapon in the universe.

To an actual literal owl after he just jumped out the window of a skyscraper and landed in the Time Square Christmas tree “…hey”

“Clint where are you?” “I’m in the tree!” “What? Which tree?” “THE three!”

[nahoney22]

Hello! I absolutely love love LOVE your work. I be rereading on here and on Ao3 and your writing is just phenomenal!! I wanted to know if I can please request an NSFW fem reader x Hunter.

Reader is mad or annoyed with “The Great Sergeant of clone force 99” always on top of her ever since she joined the batch like how she almost got injured but it was only Hunter’s overprotectiveness that might have been the problem and at some point they get in to a really heated argument on the Marauder where she wants to leave the batch and Hunter will be glad because he doesn’t have to look after someone…. until something snaps between them and all hell breaks loose. Even hidden feelings are let loose lol. Also, there’s this song that I picture it with for some reason. It’s “when you coming to see me?” by Mawr if you wanna take listen :).

Anyways, again I love your work and ive never requested something to anyone before so idk if the request is well written and/or too long😅 but i know you can execute it so well if you decide on accepting my request. Thank you!!!! ♥️♥️♥️

Later’s Better Than Never*** 🌊

🫧 Pairings: Hunter x Female!Reader

word count: 3.6k

prompts: none

When tensions finally reaching breaking point, your need to leave becomes evident. Hunter however makes it harder than it should be.

warnings: NSFW, 18+ only. Female reader, explicit sexual content and language, dirty talk, light dom!Hunter, very light breathplay ie choking, fingering, finger sucking, cum eating, oral ie blowjob, p in v sex, enemies to lovers, mutual pining, love confessions, Hunter is overprotective, light angst, arguing, not proofread.

authors note: Sorry for the wait my lovely @lamiliani, enjoy, I hope this is okay! 🩵

Hunter had been unbearable since the mission briefing.

The plan was straightforward: infiltrate a high-stakes gala, seduce the host, and extract crucial information about a new Imperial weapon. The client you were working for had specifically chosen you for this task after witnessing your charisma and capability. The rest of the squad respected and trusted you, but a certain Sergeant seemed determined to undermine your confidence at every turn.

"Remember, stick to the plan," Hunter ordered for what felt like the hundredth time as you adjusted your attire in the Marauder. The sleek dress you wore was perfect for the gala, accentuating your figure in a way that was both elegant and seductive. Which was a total change considering your normal attire of battered and worn armour and civvies that were desperate for a good wash.

You sighed, your patience wearing thin. "I know the plan, Hunter," you retorted, turning to face him. The frustration in your voice was evident.

Hunter's eyes bore into yours, a mix of concern and frustration etched into his features. His jaw was set, the muscles in his neck tense. "One slip-up, and it could all go wrong. We can’t afford that."

You narrowed your eyes, knowing he was referring to the time when the plan had not gone exactly as intended. It had been a life-or-death situation, but you had learned from it. Besides, the only person you had put in danger was yourself, so you didn’t understand why he was still bitter about it.

"That 'slip-up' was months ago," you shot back, your temper flaring. "I’ve proven myself since then."

"I’ll believe it when I see it." Hunter’s tone was cold as he stormed off into the cockpit, leaving you staring daggers at his back. How insufferable could one man be?

You took a deep breath, trying not to let it get to you. You mentally and physically prepared yourself, going over the plan in your head with determination. You had this.

It was just a shame someone else didn’t think so.

The gala was in full swing. You slipped into the crowd as planned, your eyes on the target. You were enticing and seductive as you engaged him in conversation, your charm drawing him in instantly. Everything was going according to plan as he began to let slip his plans.

Then Hunter appeared.

His sudden arrival, a shadow in the background, disrupted your focus. The target noticed your concerned distraction, suspicion flickering in his eyes. Before you could salvage the situation, a gentle hand on his arm to draw his attention back to you, his arm wrapped around your neck into a chokehold as alarms started to blare, and chaos erupted.

Cursing under your breath, you freed yourself with ease and struck a punch straight to his gut before ducking to cover as blaster fire whizzed past your head. Everything happened so fast and so slow at the same time. You barely managed to escape with the others, the mission a total failure. And this time, you refused to let it be seen as your fault.

Back on the Marauder, you let everything out. You marched up the gangplank, ripping the bangles off your wrists and the pins that had secured your hair in place, tossing them across the ship carelessly. You let everyone file in, steam practically blowing out of your ears as your eyes landed on the Sergeant.

"What is your problem? Why can’t you trust me?" you yelled as soon as the ramp closed behind you, your voice echoing through the ship. Your chest heaved with the effort of keeping your anger in check, your hands trembling slightly.

"You weren’t getting the job done!" Hunter growled, his tone dripping with frustration. His eyes were dark, his brows furrowed in anger. "You just stood there twirling your drink around all night."

You stared at him in disbelief, looking to the others who avoided eye contact at all costs. "I wasn’t doing anything? Hunter, he was about to tell me his plans, and then you just swooped in like you have some damn savior complex."

His jaw tightened, the tension in the air thick enough to cut. "Maybe if you weren’t so reckless in the past, I could have let you get on with it."

"The client wanted me to do it. I wasn’t being reckless!" You seethed, turning red in the face. Your fists clenched at your sides, nails digging into your palms. "One mistake, Hunter! Just one!" You stepped closer, your voice low and dangerous. "How many times do I have to prove myself?"

Hunter’s eyes narrowed, his fists just as tightly clenched as his jaw. His breath came in short, sharp bursts. "You don’t get it, do you? One mistake is all it takes to get you killed."

His words cut deep, a mixture of anger and hurt swirling within you. Your heart pounded, each beat echoing your frustration and the feeling of being made to feel useless. Your entire body felt like it was on fire, a mix of rage and something more primal simmering just beneath the surface.

"Guys, stop it!" Omega’s voice trembled, her distress clear. Her eyes were wide, shimmering with unshed tears.

Echo placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Let’s give them some space," he said softly, leading her towards the exit with Tech and Wrecker following. "They need to sort this out." He looked at both of you with a stern gaze before he left.

As the door closed, sealing you in the Marauder alone with Hunter, silence fell.

Finally, you both started to speak at once, voices overlapping. Hunter gestured for you to go ahead, his expression begrudging.

"I’m tired of this, Hunter," you began, your voice steady despite the storm inside you that was waiting to tear this ship apart. "Tired of you treating me like I’m not good enough. If this is how it’s going to be, maybe I should leave."

Something flickered in his eyes—hurt, anger, maybe something more—but he masked it quickly. "Maybe you should go," he said, his voice rough. His expression was a mixture of frustration and something else, something softer. "I am done having to watch over you, babysitting you."

You scoffed at him, shaking your head in disbelief. "Has it ever come to your attention that maybe you’re the problem?" You pointed at his chest, your finger almost digging into the fabric of his shirt. "You’re weighing this whole team down recently, and I want to know why."

"There’s nothing wrong with my leadership," he snapped back, his voice sharp. But as he spoke, the space between you seemed to shrink. You were close, so close. His breath was hot on your skin. "You just don’t know how to be careful."

Your heart raced, the anger giving way to a heated flush spreading through your body. The proximity was intoxicating, his scent, his presence overwhelming your senses. You could feel the tension morphing into something you never thought you’d feel.

His breath was on your skin, his presence overwhelming. "Say the word, Hunter," you challenged, voice low into a whisper. "And I’ll go."

He didn’t move, didn’t speak. His pupils were blown the more you looked at each other, breathing shallow. You watched his throat work as he swallowed hard, struggling to find his voice.

Your hands rested on the underside of the console, securing you in place as you were practically backed up into it. And confusingly, you were a different type of riled up.

Then, you saw him wet his lower lip, just a touch that made your heart momentarily stop. And he noticed—he noticed. And he smirked. Of course he would; his heightened senses would be picking up on everything—the quickening of your pulse, the heat pooling between your thighs. You sincerely hoped he didn’t notice.

"Hunter," you spoke louder and hopefully more sternly, but the slight tremble in your tone begged to differ. "Tell me you want me to go."

His eyes momentarily closed, conflict spreading across his features. "Tell me to go," you whispered again, but again came no reply.

You waited for a few more moments before you found yourself laughing, almost pitifully. For yourself, and for him. "I don’t have time for this," you grumbled and turned to move away from him, but there was a sudden hold on your arm, stopping you completely.

Your gaze snapped back to him, eyes wide. His, however, flickered down your body, lingering, then met yours again, blazing with an intensity that made your heart stop once more. The silence stretched, electric, until you could bear it no longer. "Hunter?" you whispered.

Suddenly, he pulled you closer, body flush against his and his lips just inches from yours. With a soft murmur, voice hoarse, he said, "Don’t go."

Your breath hitched, your body responding to the unspoken desire in his words. The bitterness, the anger, it all melted away, leaving only a new and raw need. You both closed the gap, lips crashing together in a fierce, desperate kiss.

His hands roamed your body, finding their way to the small of your back while your hands tangled in his hair, running and tugging the textured locks through your fingers. You gasped as he pulled you even closer than before, his body pressing you back to the control panel. The heat of his touch pushed shivers of excitement down your spine. How was this happening? And why didn’t it feel wrong?

Hunter pulled back just enough to mutter against your lips, “I’ve always cared. More than I should.”

You met his gaze, seeing the vulnerability there, and whispered, “Then show me.”

His response was immediate and fervent. Hunter lifted you effortlessly, placing you onto the console before his strong hands slipped under your dress, his touch rough and impatient, yet undeniably thrilling. His fingers traced the length of your legs, caressing your thighs and emitting electric jolts of desire through you.

"You were so worked up when we were arguing," he muttered, his voice low and gravelly. "I could smell how wet you were for me."

You were speechless. Then, you gasped as his fingers trailed further up, hiking your dress higher until his hands cupped your sex. The realisation that you were bare beneath the dress, no panties to obstruct his touch made him breathless.

"Fuck," he breathed shakily, his fingers slipping between your folds, feeling the slickness there. "No panties? That’s… that’s so sexy of you." He purrs, gauging your reaction as he brushes a thumb over your clit. “And you’re so wet.”

Your breath hitched, a moan escaping your lips as he began to explore you. His fingers moved expertly, teasing your entrance before slipping inside. You arched into him, your body responding eagerly to his touch. “H-Hunter!”

"Is this what you wanted?" he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "To be fucked by me?"

You could only nod, biting your lip hard as your voice lost to the sensations overwhelming you. His fingers thrust in and out of you, his thumb circling your clit with an agonisingly beautiful precision. “Mmm, you like this don’t you? You feel beautiful.” The pleasure builds quickly, a coil of heat tightening in your core.

“I love it, Hunter.” You gasp. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

Hunter’s other hand gripped your hip, holding you in place as he worked you towards the edge. "So tight around my fingers."

You whimpered, your hands clutching at his shoulders, desperate for more as your body shakes. His pace quickened, his fingers curling inside you to hit that perfect spot that made you see stars. Your body trembled, the pleasure almost too much to bear.

"That’s it," he growled, his voice a rough caress as his lips breathe down your neck. "Come for me. I know you can do it. Come all over my fingers, baby girl.”

With a final, desperate cry, you shattered. His fingers, the pace, his pet names, everything makes your climax crash over you in throbbing waves. Hunter didn’t stop though; his fingers continued their relentless thrash on your clit, prolonging your pleasure until you were a quivering mess, your juices pouring down your thighs.

When he finally pulled his fingers from you, they were slick with your cum. His gaze locked with yours, dazed and in awe as you watched as he brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean with a greedy hunger. The sight of him, the feel of his lips around his fingers, sent another jolt of arousal through you. “You l-look good doing that,” you say bashfully, even more so as he collected more on the fingers he just sucked and placed them flat against his tongue, groaning desperately.

"You taste incredible," he murmured, his eyes dark and hungry. "I never thought someone could taste so sweet."

Without another word, he sank to his knees before you, spreading your legs wider to grant him better access as he pushed your dress up again. The sight of him there, between your thighs, was definitely a sight to behold.

His hands grip your hips, pulling you to the edge of the console. His breath was hot against your swollen folds, making you shudder in eagerness. "I want to taste you again," he smirks, his tone low and gravelly. "I want you to come on my tongue."

“Take me, Hunter, it’s all yours.” The first swipe of his tongue was both a shock and a relief. You gasped, your hands flying to his hair, gripping the locks to hold him in place.

"Hunter," you moaned, your voice trembling. "Oh, fuck."

His tongue moved with a desperate hunger, lapping at your folds and circling your clit with a precision that made you writhe. He groaned against you, the vibrations adding to the intense pleasure building inside you. “I love hearing you swear… such a dirty mouth.”

Your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more of his mouth, more of that intense sensation. Hunter’s grip on your hips tightened, almost bruising as holds you steady as literally he devoured you. He alternated between long, slow licks and rapid, flicking movements that had you teetering on the edge of another orgasm. The sounds he made—groans, grunts, and the slick noises of his mouth on your wetness—only heightened the moment as you matched his sounds with tender moans of your own.

You tugged at his hair, needing him closer, deeper. "Don’t stop," you pleaded, your voice breathless and desperate as you begin to roll your hips against his face. "Please, don’t stop."

He didn’t. If anything, your words spurred him on, his tongue working even more fervently. He sucked on your clit, gently at first, then harder, drawing it into his mouth and flicking his tongue over it before plunging his finger into you for that extra push. Your entire body tensed, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter until it was almost unbearable.

You cried out, your nails digging into his scalp as you came again, the orgasm crashing over you with a force that left you shaking, more so than before.

Slowly, he pulled back from your cunt, his lips glistening with your aftermath. He looked up at you, his eyes blown and satisfied. "Stars, I can’t get enough of you… I’ve dreamt about being between your legs.”

His words surprised you, wondering if he was just saying it in the heat of the moment or if he was saying the truth but for now, you could only nod, still trying to catch your breath. Your body hummed with satisfaction, every nerve ending still tingling from the intensity of your release. Hunter stood, his hands sliding up your thighs to rest on your hips.

"You’re amazing," he murmured, leaning in to kiss you again. This time, the kiss was slow, languid, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips, sharing your taste between you. You sighed into the kiss, your hands wrapping around his neck to pull him closer.

When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, both of you breathing heavily. "I’ve wanted this for so long," he confessed, his voice a soft rumble.

“But… I thought you didn’t want me.” You whisper against his lips, eyes closed as you try to get your head around everything.

He sighs, shaking his head slowly. “I’ve been pushing you away because… I couldn’t imagine if anything bad were to happen to you.”

“You’ve been cruel to me,” you reiterate, a little bitter as you pull your head back, “but you…” you piece it all together, his obvious jealousy of you and that guy tonight, his toughness of overprotectiveness. He cared. In a bad way. But alas, he cared. And a part of you always wanted him. You were just too determined never to admit it.

“I’m sorry,” he says with honesty, his hands leaving your hips to take a hold of each of your hands, “I really am.”

You search his face, coming to your conclusion. Hunter's eyes blazed with need as you gently pushed him back. At first he thought you were going to push him away completely, telling him this was a mistake but then, you dropped to your knees before him.

Hunter's eyes widened in surprise but then glowed with hunger while your hands were steady, moving to his belt, undoing it. With your voice husky with desire, you whisper. "Let me?”

He nodded, swallowing hard. You freed his hardened cock from the confines of his pants, the sight of it making your mouth water instantly. “You have such a beautiful cock,” you say sweetly, giving it an experimental pump. You leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the tip, tasting the precum that had already gathered there from earlier antics.

Hunter groaned, his hands finding their way into your hair, gently guiding you. "Fuck, you’re beautiful," he muttered, his voice thick with need.

You took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the head before taking him deeper. His grip on your hair tightened, and you could feel the tension in his body, the restraint he was barely managing to hold onto. You hollowed your cheeks, sucking him in deeper, your tongue tracing the vein along the underside of his shaft.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his head falling back, exposing his throat. You glanced up, taking in the sight of him—the way his lips parted, the way his eyes fluttered shut in pleasure. It spurred you on. It made you want to give him everything.

You started a steady rhythm, bobbing your head up and down his length, taking him as deep as you could. Each time you pulled back, you flicked your tongue over the sensitive tip, making him shudder. You could feel his control slipping, his hips starting to thrust gently into your mouth.

“Just like that,” he groaned, his voice ragged. “You’re so good at this.” His free hand grasps your jaw, holding your head in place as his gentle thrusts become more eager. “That’s it baby.”

His words sent a thrill through you, and you doubled your efforts, sucking him harder, faster and matching his thrusts. You reached up, cupping his balls and rolling them gently in your hand, feeling his body respond to your touch. His breathing grew more ragged, his grip on your hair tighter. Soon his hand on your jaw moved to your throat, chuckling as he practically felt the way your throat contracts and tightens with every time he moves in and out of your mouth.

“Stars, you’re amazing,” he panted. “Keep going, keep going.”

But then he pulled you back, his cock slipping from your lips with a wet pop. He was breathing hard, his eyes wild with need. “I can’t… I need you,” he growled, pulling you up to your feet.

You barely had time to register what was happening before he was lifting you, your back pressed against the console again but with your dress being ripped away from your body. He spread your thighs, and then he was there, his cock pressing against your entrance.

He slid into you in one smooth thrust, burying himself to the hilt. The sensation of him filling you completely made you cry out, your breathing harsh. “Hunter,” you gasped, your voice trembling.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, his hips starting a relentless rhythm. “Such a nice pussy, so perfect.”

He moved with a desperation that matched your own, each thrust deep and hard, hitting that perfect spot inside you. You start to grin, never having been so fucked desperately in all your life. He was disheveled, panting your name like a man starved as his cock sinks deep into you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, needing more. A lot more. “You’re fucking me so good, Hunter! D-don’t stop.”

“You’re mine,” he growled, his lips brushing against your ear. “I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

His sudden words sent you over the edge, your body tensing as another orgasm ripped through you. You cried out his name, your nails dragging down his back, leaving marks and claiming him.

“Yes, come for me,” he urged, his thrusts growing more erratic. “I want to feel you come around my cock.”

You did, your body spasming around him, milking him. His grip on your hips tightened, his own release imminent. He buried his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin. “I’m going to fill you up,” he panted. With a final, deep thrust, he came, his body shuddering against yours. You held him close, your own body still trembling from the intensity of your orgasm. He stayed there, buried deep inside you, his breath slowly evening out.

“I love you,” he whispered again, his voice softer now, more tender.

You smiled, your hands gently caressing his back as you both succumbed to the evening. “I love you too.”

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[purpleph4se]

nsft alphabet - hwei

lukai hwei x reader

warnings | smut, afab!reader, switchy hwei

a/n | can i say how cute he looks in this gif omg i love him sm. but um hello again ykw back again with the most random shit ever. tryna get back to writing slowly but surely, the nsft alphabet is just to dip my toes back into writing since i’ve haven’t i so long. so i got into league of legends which i hate myself for but now im obsessed. i started playing lol for jhin but when hwei came out i was done for. as always enjoy my nonsense.

A - aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

- oh he’s so soft and gentle. doesn’t matter if he was on top or bottom he would just want to lay with you after, he’s absolutely mesmerized by the afterglow, especially how it looks on you. just wants to hold you close, taking every emotion in. 

B - body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

- on you - he could never pick one thing he likes about you just because he simply loves all of you. might sound corny but he loves how you make him feel more than anything, he loves loving you. 

- on him - his hands i think. he’s not self absorbed, but his hands are what help him create his art so he keeps them nice and pretty without really realizing. also he can’t help but melt when you kiss his hands at any moment. and he enjoys the sounds he can pull out of you with just his hands.

C - cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

- loves to cum inside of you. i feel like it's not even in a possessive manner but he feels more intimate and closer to you. like he’s literally part of you now. likes to cockwarm you after. gets extremely embarrassed seeing it drip out after and offers to clean it up for you  <3

D - dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

- oh to be tied up and at your mercy. the desire of being roped and gagged, laid down on the bed and at your utter mercy as begging you with his gaze to straddle his hips and use his cock to your heart's content. he needs you to take your pleasure from him, to use his body to make yourself feel good, while he whines into his gag. 

E - experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

- little to none i feel. he has had crushes before and small flings (jhin) with partners but it never went far enough especially after the incident. but once it does happen i think he’d take it real slow, to really get to know what he likes and what his partner does, super gentle but quickly learns. 

F - fave position (this goes without saying)

- visual link (nsfw!) = 1 2

- missionary or cowgirl, just any position where he can see your face. he just adores being able to look into your eyes. it just makes it all the more intimate. his arms are wrapped around your torso, your chest pressed up against his as he sloppily thrusts into you, wantonly moaning into the curve of your neck. gets so desperate that not even fucking you properly, just grinding himself into you. loves being able to kiss you and swallowing your sweet noises and vice versa. would live in your skin if he could,,

G - goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous?)

- i wouldn’t say he would make jokes but he’s able to laugh something off and he wouldn’t be bothered if something embarrassing happened. 

H - hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes?)

- not super hairy, the hair he does have is sparse and thin. hes quite bare actually, does do a little self grooming to keep himself neat.

I - intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

- so so intimate!!! he doesn’t call it sex or fucking it’s ~lovemaking~ in his book. his main turn on is to show how much he loves you and loves sharing pleasure with you. spoils you from head to toe with adoring kisses, fingers painting the shape of your body as they worship each groove, curve, and imperfection—he whispers quiet praise. to hwei, you are the most precious thing in his life, and he needs you to understand that fact to the very depths of your soul.

J - jerk off (masturbation headcanon) 

- yes and no. my depraved mind is telling me yes, bc i’m just imagining him desperately humping a pillow while whining out your name. but also realistically, he might just be too caught up in his own mind to even think about it, especially if he already has you to take care of him. 

K - kinks (one or more of their kinks)

- praise - he lives to praise you. telling you that he loves you, nudging his face into your neck and moaning, “you’re so beautiful, my love”. and he also thrives off of attention from you, too. poor boy is not used to hearing praise, so when you first tell him, “good boy”, or “you’re perfect”, it sends a shiver down his spine and ensures to pleasure you harder so he can hear it often.

- submission - as well as living to praise you it goes hand in hand with living to serve you. wants to make you feel good at every second of the day, at your beck and call, damn near worships the ground you walk on. (could spend hours in between your legs but i’ll elaborate on that later). but when and if you take control and ~take care of him~ he’s such a good boy and he follows your every command without question. be sure to praise the poor boy to really break him~

L - location (favorite places to do the do)

- his preference is in his own bed or house, where he can be assured that it’s just the two of you and you have all the time in the world together. he’s not really picky about where in your shared home, just as long as he can take his time. however, one days he gets especially desperate for you and he can’t take his time he wouldn’t mind taking you to a secluded little area at koyehn, he’d feel so bad but he cannot deny the thrill of reveling in the desperation.

M - motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

- he wants to make you happy all the time, and he’s learned there is no greater bliss than coming undone for one another. so just just knowing he’s got the power to make you writhe and sob with pleasure is enough to get him going.

N - nope (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

- would never never hurt you whether it be physically or emotionally, he’d never degrade you or hit you. he cannot bear the thought of hurting you. to hwei, your body is a temple for his reverence and worship—never to be hurt by a violent or cruel hand.

O - oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill)

- hwei prefers giving. not because he doesn’t like receiving it but rather that he just too sensitive (and he’d rather just give you pleasure).

- receiving - he gets rather shy, because of all the noise he makes and just how early and quickly he finishes, often without warning. but of course you don’t mind.

- giving - there’s just something so absolutely beautiful about being able to bring you so much pleasure and listening to your sweet voice rise an octave higher while lapping at your most sensitive parts. he gets so pussydrunk and loves to have you on his tongue for hours. when it comes to skill, he wasn't particularly skilled at going down on you at first. but with a little gentle instruction, hwei now makes your legs tremble and give out with only a few swipes of his talented tongue. sit on his face plz 

P - pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual?)

- it could really depend! usually it’s always slow paced and sensual, almost always containing foreplay to worship you. if you ask hwei he can go faster and treat you a little roughly, but he likes to take his time, enjoying the connection of your bodies completely and thoroughly, his every move laced with sensuality and passion. he likes to find that perfect little spot within you and land every hard, deep thrust right against it, making you shiver and curl your toes. however, if he’s feeling particularly desperate….

Q - quickies (their opinions on quickies, how often?)

- on days he’s desperate and especially needy he would actually initiate a quickie, just one look at the vivid pink swirling in his eyes and you know. both of you often have to cover the other’s mouth to muffle any sounds that try to come out. but you do find yourself braced against the wall with your legs around the painter's slim waist fairly often. he walks out with so much shame afterwards tho.

R - risky (are they game to experiment? do they take risks?)

- pretty open minded, likes to explore with you in the bedroom. he’s always interested in trying different positions or indulging you with different kinks and scenarios. when it comes to risks, hwei would not do anything to harm you physically or any heavy degradation to you. 

S - stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

- he really strikes me as someone with low stamina. he's usually spent after one round, poor thing! but you are unbothered by it and hweis lack of stamina certainly doesn't stop him from letting you leave the bed unsatisfied. just because he’s too exhausted for one more round, doesn't mean he can't make you cum in other ways~

T - toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

- now let me think of this realistically in runeterra terms…most likely no, simply because the thought hasn’t crossed his mind before and i don't think vibes would exist. but if they did however! and you told him he’d be very interested to try them with you. and also strap ons particularly piqued his interest! 

U - unfair (how much they like to tease)

- once he gains the confidence he can be a little bit of a tease, but he gives in so easily. just one little pout on your pretty lips has him giving in to you. if he does tease you it’s when he worships you which can sometimes be so long and intense, you actually beg hwei to take you already. but if anything, he loves to be teased and wants you to keep teasing him until he’s sobbing for you. 

V - vocal (how loud are they, what noises do they make)

- whining, whimpering, sobbing the whole nine yards babe. poor boy is always in tears at the end. at first he was so shy about the sounds he makes. he went as far as trying to muffle them by kissing you, or burying his face into your neck, releasing only short whines and whimpers every now and again. as he opened up to you heard how he loses himself in pleasure, his volume rises and his moans and whimpers grow in number and intensity, as well as volume. as he nears his peak, his voice often breaks under the amount of raw bliss. and every single sound that leaves his pretty lips is like angelic music to your ears.

W - wild card (random headcanon for the character)

- CUCK ACTIVITIES!!!!!! this is just my depraved mind speaking but him watching you get absolutely ruined by jhin sends him spiraling, his two favorite things putting on such a pretty show. actually just a threesome with both of them is my personal dream, or let’s reverse it, jhin watching as he orders hwei on how to make you feel~ 

X - x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

- hwei genuinely thinks he’s not big, it's kinda adorable. he’s pretty long but not all slender, his cock has a curve upwards when it's stiff and the tip takes on that pretty, purplish hue when he's really needy, he's also got a few visible veins running up the length of it that are even more sensitive than he is. he can’t help the pang of confidence he gets when you lower down on him that first time and he sees the way you gasp and flinch as you try to adjust. 

Y - yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

- ranges from standard to low depending how he’s feeling. while hwei enjoys sex, to him it’s only one of the many ways in which he can show his affection towards you. cuddling with you under the covers, opening his heart up to you with hushed whispers in the dead of night—all of these are ways in which hwei reveals his yearning for you.

Z - zzz  (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

- it depends! sometimes poor boy is honestly out like a light afterwards, but on other nights he stays up watching you drift off taking the opportunity to trace your body with his hands. admiring the work of art that is you.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Dance Lessons for Writers

Zadie Smith:

The connection between writing and dancing has been much on my mind recently: it’s a channel I want to keep open.

What can an art of words take from the art that needs none?

Yet I often think I’ve learned as much from watching dancers as I have from reading.

Dance lessons for writers: lessons of position, attitude, rhythm and style, some of them obvious, some indirect.

Nobody hopes or expects to dance like Astaire, just as nobody really expects to write like Nabokov.

Writing, like dancing, is one of the arts available to people who have nothing. “For ten and sixpence,” advises Virginia Woolf, “one can buy paper enough to write all the plays of Shakespeare.” The only absolutely necessary equipment in dance is your own body.

The art of not dancing — a vital lesson. Sometimes it is very important to be awkward, inelegant, jerking, to be neither poetic nor prosaic, to be positively bad. To express other possibilities for bodies, alternative values, to stop making sense.

At the end of this seam of logic lies a liberating thought: maybe nobody truly owns anything.