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feyhunter78 · 3 months

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Split Lips and Busted Knuckles - Nerd!Miguel

Description: A chance meeting with Miguel's half-brother Kron leads to you seeing a different side of Miguel.

Nerd!Miguel masterlist here!!

Seriously you hate men, maybe not all of them, obviously not Miguel, but a lot if not most of them, and you really fucking hate Kron. Tall, blond, an extremely punchable face and an attitude that screamed “I waste my daddy’s money on cocaine.” He was a complete and utter rich asshole. One who seemed to be intent on talking to you.

You had a Mid-18th Century History class together, and he always tried to catch you after class. Luckily, you had a few sisters in your class as well, and you could hide within the pack to avoid him. Then he tried to catch you before class, but your professor called you over, safe again. But now here in the courtyard, an open space filled with frat boys you stupidly decided to wander through on your way to meet Miguel, there was nowhere to hide.

“Y/N, hey y/n, wait up.” Kron calls, waving wildly to get your attention.

You stop and press your lips together, before putting on a fake smile. He was the social chair for KA, and you know some of your sisters have been dying to be invited to their parties. “Hey Kron, what’s up?”

He gives you a smile, one that you think is supposed to be friendly, even nonthreatening, but it gives you the creeps. “Not much, just wanted to ask you about something I heard from a few people.”

“Oh?” You rack your brain trying to come up with some semblance of an idea about what he’s talking about but come up empty.

“Yeah, I heard you’ve been hanging out with my brother.” He says, his blue eyes hold you fast, like a butterfly pinned to a board.

“Your brother? I didn’t know you had a brother.” You say, brow furrowing as you try to remember meeting someone who looks like Kron but isn’t actually Kron.

“Well, he’s my half-brother, my dad is the ultimate stud, so you know, things happen and then Miguel just showed up.” He explains, not even seeming fazed or upset that his dad had an affair.

You blink owlishly, his words echoing in your brain as you try to put two and two together. “Miguel, as is Miguel O’Hara?”

He nods, “that’s the one, weird ass nerd, he refused to join KA with me, even though I told him that’s the only way he’ll make friends.”

“He’s not weird.” You bristle, crossing your arms over your chest.

Kron holds up his hands in surrender. “Whoa, whoa, chill, I’m just saying.”

“Yeah, okay, so I’ve been hanging out with him, who cares?” You glance at your watch; you’re going to be late.

There’s a very real and slightly concerning pain in your chest at the thought of Miguel sitting alone in the student center, waiting for you like a lost puppy, thinking you abandoned him.

Kron rests a hand on your shoulder, and you fight the urge to shrug it off. “Look Miguel, he’s my half-brother and yeah, he’s fucking annoying, and a try-hard, but he’s a nice guy, too nice. Don’t waste your time with him, it’s social suicide. He’s a nobody, a fucking loser who cares more about Legos and fucking science or whatever than getting laid.”

“I really don’t care about social suicide, but thanks, I think I can make my own decisions.” You tell Kron, giving him that same, perfectly crafted customer service smile.

“Y/N, you don’t get it, I’m trying to help you. He’s a loser, back in high school, no girls gave him a chance, he’s a total virgin okay, and you need a real man.”

And there it is, the real reason Kron doesn’t want you hanging with Miguel.

“A real man, huh? Well, you know what Kron, why don’t you let me know when you’ve found one and then get back to me.” You pat his hand that’s still on your shoulder.

His face goes red, then the color drains and his eyes harden. “I’m trying to help you, bitch.”

“Appreciate it, don’t need it, thanks though.” You walk off, head held high, hands shaking in anger as you shove them in your jacket pockets.

Miguel is sitting at your normal table, the one tucked in the corner secluded and shaded by large hedges, his head in a book, his glasses slipping down his nose.

You set your stuff down and push them up, smiling at his startled look. “Hey, sorry about the wait.”

He shakes his head, pink tinting his cheeks. “No worries, I was reading up on next week’s lecture for my genetics class.

You slide into the seat across from him. “Oh yeah? Anything interesting?”

You can’t believe he’s a virgin, he’s so…hot. Your mind starts to wonder for a second, imagining what it would be like, how he’d sound, how he’d feel, the flustered look on his face when you straddle him.

He nods, and begins to explain, talking wildly with his hands, pulling you from your lewd thoughts, then he freezes, his shoulders tensing, his hands deathly still.

“Miguel? Everything alright?” You ask, casting a glance over your shoulder in the direction of his gaze.

Fucking Kron.

When Kron gets closer you yell out, “so what are you like a stalker now or something?”

He laughs, it’s that specific laugh that reeks of arrogance and an inability to see women as people. “You wish.”

“I really don’t.” You grumble, turning back to look at Miguel.

His knuckles are white, his jaw clenched, his back ramrod straight, his shoulders set back, the expanse of his chest on display as if he’s trying to make himself look bigger than he already is, which is a feat in itself. There’s a look in his eyes that sends a shiver of something akin to fear down your spine. You’ve never seen Miguel look this way, ever, it’s like you’re looking at a whole different person.

“Migs, how you doing, bro?” Kron asks, standing between you and Miguel, who both remain seated, resting his hands on the table.

“Kron.” Miguel says curtly, turning that ice-cold gaze fully onto his half-brother.

Kron rolls his shoulders back and glances at you. “I thought I told you there’s nothing to be gained from hanging with this loser.”

Your eyes flicker back to Miguel, who’s giving Kron a harsh look you can’t quite decipher, then to Kron. “And I thought I told you I can make my own decisions.”

Kron clicks his tongue. “What’s he gonna do for you, he’s a fucking virgin. Just gonna try to make you cum by explaining science facts to you? Build you a dildo out of Legos?”

You nearly choke on your own spit. “What the fuck is wrong with you?

“If you’re that desperate for dick, you can always swing by the house, I’d be more than happy—” Kron hits the ground with a strangled yelp.

Miguel is on him in seconds, fist cocked back, his back muscle rippling as he brings his fist down, again and again and again. “Di esa mierda otra vez. Dilo de nuevo, te reto a la mierda.” Trsl: Say that shit again. Say it again, I fucking dare you.

Kron manages to get one arm free and tries to grab Miguel’s face, shirt, arm, anything he can reach. “You’re fucking crazy, you and your sorority slut.” Kron lands a solid hit, and you wince at the sight of Miguel’s head turning—even if it’s ever so slightly—with the force, Kron’s smug laugh ringing through the air once more.

“You never know when to shut up, huh?” Miguel snarls, forcing Kron’s arm down with his free hand, the other connecting with Kron’s nose, a sickening crack filling the air.

The sound prompts you into action, and you ignore the way your stomach flips at Miguel’s tone, at the way he moves, like a panther, powerful, stalking its prey, delivering that fatal blow.

Be so for real y/n, you cannot be turned on right now, that’s so embarrassing.

You grab Miguel’s shoulders and try to pull him away, it’s useless, but you try anyways. “Stop, stop, you have to stop, fuck come on Miguel—if they catch you fighting on campus you could lose your scholarship.”

“Shit, okay, I yield, I’m sorry.” Kron coughs out, blood gushing from his nose as his voice joins yours.

But Miguel doesn’t stop, he’s cursing under his breath, and at Kron in Spanish, his hand bloody, Kron’s flailing helplessly in his vice grip.

You try to grab Miguel’s bicep, fear flooding your system. “Miguel, stop, please, you’re freaking me out.”

That catches his attention.

Miguel mutters something to Kron then gets up, shoving his stuff in his bag and walking away, his shoulders tense.

In shock, you grab a bunch of napkins and your things, before chasing after him.

Why is this still kinda hot? You wonder, before mentally smacking yourself upside the head.

Miguel’s legs are much longer than yours, his steps bigger, faster, and you grab onto the front pocket of his backpack, his name spilling from your lips. “Miguel, hey, wait up.”

He stops, and you drag him into a nearby alcove with a bench pressed flush against the stone wall.

You both sit and Miguel refuses to look at you, his hand and lip bloodied.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” You ask, taking his hand in yours and dabbing it with a napkin, trying to clean him up the best you can.

“I’m sorry.” Miguel says quietly, eyes downcast.

“Why?” You turn his hand over and start cleaning his palm.

“I scared you, and I—I let my anger get the best of me, I should’ve just walked away.” His eyes meet yours for a brief moment when you gently dab at his lip.

“You didn’t scare me, I mean yeah that was a little intense, but…” You trail off when you realize he’s trembling. “Hey, I’m not afraid of you, you’re Miguel, my sweet boy, who can apparently throw one hell of a punch.”

He laughs at that, albeit weakly, but it’s still a laugh.

“And Kron is an idiot, don’t listen to him.” You continue, spending maybe a bit too long cleaning Miguel’s split lip, mesmerized by him.

“I don’t care what he says about me, he’s been a jerk since we were kids, but…he can’t just—you don’t deserve that.”

You exhale forcefully out of your nose, a small, contained laugh. “He’s just a dumbass saying dumbass stuff, like really, who would build a dildo out of Legos? That would hurt like a bitch.”

“And you don’t—you’re not weirded out by what he said?” Miguel asks carefully, you can feel the embarrassed heat radiating off him.

You set the napkin down and grab his chin with one hand turning his face side to side, inspecting him. You know what he means, not the Legos, or the science facts, the virgin part. It’s such a dumb thing to make fun of someone about something you’ve always been against. Why shame someone for such a personal choice? It’s their body, they can do what they want.

Plus, it’s kinda hot, being the first one to have him? The first one who gets to hear him, see him like that? Fuck, you wish that was you. Maybe you should offer? No, no, y/n, seriously, keep it in your pants.

Once you’re done with your inspection, you turn him to face you. “No, I’m not, who cares if you have or haven’t slept with someone, it’s not a big deal. Though I am surprised, a smart, handsome, sweet guy like you? I thought you’d have tons of girls under your belt. Bunch of math and science prodigies following you around like groupies, fighting to get in your pants.”

Because that’s who Miguel deserves someone smart, someone who can keep up with him—shit pull back, you’re making yourself insecure.

Miguel ducks his head, nuzzling into your palm as a result of the movement. “Thank you, for cleaning me up, and...you know.”

You smile, heart fluttering as Miguel leans into your touch. “No problem.”

You’re in wayyyy too deep.

Virgin Miguel bitchesssss

TL: @bat-bae, @nyctophilic0vitnir, @smokeywhalee, @obi-mom-kenobi, @prowlingforfood, @penggion, @crystal-crax, @oharasfilipinawife, @generalkenobitrash, @melsimps, @chrishy973, @farrowroyale, @palesatan, @scaryplanetdestroyer

#meg's writing #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #nerd miguel #nerd!miguel #college!miguel #college!reader #sorority!reader #nerd!miguel o'hara #college au #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n

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michelle-is-writing · 2 months

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Clothes Shopping, Spencer Reid

Word count: 1.6k~

I have never felt more award in a store. Looking around me, I find myself a bit weirded out by the store I'm currently in while waiting for Spencer. Mannequins dressed in fancy suits litter the male clothing store while shelves hold the same pairs of oxfords, each pair barely changing with the shades of black and brown they possess. The men at the front registers wear what the store advertises, and their posture is so straight and unchanging that they could be mannequins as well. When Spencer said he needed to shop for some new work clothes, this place wasn't exactly what came to mind.

"Spence, you almost finished?" I ask from behind the blue curtain of the changing stall. The clanking of a belt against the floor sounds through the dressing rooms before the constant thump of Spencer's jumping feet follows it. "Need any help?" I ask him with a smirk, gaining an odd and almost annoyed look from the worker at the changing room desk. These people are really stuck-up.

"I'm almost done, (Y/n)," I hear him say, his voice showing mild frustration. A little concerned, I pull back the curtain to see my husband having trouble getting his pants on, my eyes quickly catching the error in his ways.

"Spencer, honey," I state, walking into the small room with him and placing my hand on his shoulder. Spencer doesn't stop in his movements, however.

"It's okay, I got it," He assures me, making me smile and shake my head. I probably shouldn't be so amused at Spencer being so uncoordinated, but who wouldn't at least be a little tickled by their husband putting on his pants backward?

"Spencer, you really don't," I tell him, sliding my hands over his. He stops in his actions before looking up at me with pleading eyes. No matter what, he will never audibly ask for help, but the pitiful puppy eyes I get from him sells him out every time without fail.

"You kind of..." I begin, only to cover my mouth with a hand as I try to conceal my oncoming laughter. "You have them on backward," I quickly explain to him in a whisper, his eyes immediately shooting wide open before he turns in the mirror to see himself.

"Oh my God," He mutters, finally smiling in amusement. Turning back toward me, he sighs before looking down at the front of his pants that are technically the back. "That explains why this," He gestures to the middle seam line fighting for its life. "Felt weird."

Laughing again, I shake my head before handing him his original ones. "I think this is a sign," I note, gaining a quizzical look from Spencer as he begins to take off the pants.

"Why do you say that?" He asks, sliding the ugly pants off before putting on his original pair, meeting my eyes once he's pulling his zipper back up.

"Because these clothes," I start, gesturing to the area around me. "Are not you," I point out, earning a slight nod from Spencer. "You are sweater vests and black converse, not... tight-ass jackets with leather shoes that need more care than a small child."

He smiles at me before nodding in agreeance. "Rossi recommended the place," He explains, "I didn't say anything when we came in, but..." He leans in closer, beginning to whisper. "I hate everything I picked out."

Shaking my head, I stifle a laugh before gathering the unbought clothes together over my arm and hanging them up on the rack by the dressing room doorway. With Spencer back in his original clothes, we head out of the store, but not before gaining a few pointed glares from the mannequins at the front desk, of course. Hand in hand, we head across the mall to another clothing shop, one that I think will be better for us.

Last time I came here to the mall, I noticed the mannequins in the windows were wearing outfits that Spencer would wear - you know, clothes for a mid-century banker. Without hesitation, I went into the store and found a few things for him, to which I purchased and brought home. When I gave the sweaters to him, I didn't know if he liked them or not, but whenever I noticed he started to only wear the three jumpers I got him without switching back to the other ones he already owned, I knew he liked them.

"Go crazy," I tell him, gesturing to the men's clothes section. Watching as Spencer's eyes scan over the many shelves and racks of his type of clothing, I smile. "I'll be looking at the dresses," I inform him, pecking his cheek before heading over to the women's section.

A few minutes pass, leaving me to myself while Spencer fills his arms up with clothes he likes. I'm glad he's finding a lot of things he deems wearable and his style. He hasn't gone clothes shopping since he first joined the BAU, and even then, I was the one to find everything for him since most of it was from magazine catalogs sent through the mail. Now those clothes are so old and worn out that everything either has holes in them or the color has faded a few shades.

Only finding one dress and a pair of heels, I head back to the dressing rooms where Spencer's trying on his clothes. I knock on the wall beside his stall before pulling back the curtain and walking in. Spencer stands in the mirror, smiling proudly at himself and his new clothes. A dark brown wool coat sits on his shoulders while a black, soft-looking button-up lies beneath it followed by a matching pair of dark brown pants.

Turning toward me, he smiles with a light laugh that shows his happiness. His innocent smile is like that of a child's smile on Christmas. I guess finding clothes that he genuinely likes feels like a blessing to him, and for me, it truly is a blessing.

"Do you like it?" Spencer asks, making my smile turn into a grin. Walking forward, I adjust a few things before smoothing down the fabric of the blazer.

"I do," I tell him. "It looks very nice on you; it's sharp," Turning my eyes up to his, I furrow my eyebrows together. "This isn't all you found, right?" I ask him.

Turning toward to the chair beside the mirror, he points at the gigantic stack of clothes. "No, this just happens to be my favorite," He sheepishly admits, making me laugh. Kissing the handsome man, I rest my hand on his chest before looking back at the mirror.

"It looks nice on you," I repeat myself from earlier. "I hope you're getting it," I tell Spencer, his eyes going down to the dress over my arm as he nods.

"What did you find?" He asks. Smiling, I pull the dress from my arm and hold it up for him to see. "I like that," He notes. "You should try it on."

Agreeing with him, I begin to pull my shirt off as Spencer moves his news clothes onto his lap while sitting down in the armchair. Moving onto my pants, I unbutton my jeans and slide them down, giving Spencer a small show at the same time. Peering back at him, I see his eyes watching me intently while resting his chin on his hand.

"Enjoying the view?" I ask him with a smirk, his smile reappearing above his perched arm.

"I'll never stop loving my wife's amazing body," He answers proudly, making me blush. Four years of marriage, and he still manages to make me feel the same way I did when we were dating.

Pulling the dress over my head, I push it down the rest of my body and watch as it nicely conforms to my legs and waist. Grazing my hands over my clothed curves, I smile at my reflection in the mirror just as Spencer had done with his. The dress is long-sleeved and made of a black, silky material that clings and spans down to the space above my knee. The neckline is a little low too, showing the tops of my shoulders which makes it appear seductive, yet sweet. Sliding on the silver pumps only add to the seduction of the look, making me smile. It's not a bad look for me.

Turning my eyes to the new reflection behind me, I feel Spencer slide his arm around my waist before tugging me close to him. "You look..." He begins, his eyes lingering on his grasp on my hips in the mirror. "Absolutely gorgeous... and sexy."

Smiling even more now, I turn toward him fully and wrap my arms around his neck as he wraps his other arm around my waist to match the other. Looking back at the mirror with me, Spencer smiles. "We look like we're ready to jump back in time," he points out, making me giggle.

He's not too far off, we do look as if we're trying to recreate a picture of Marilyn Monroe and Marlon Brando, and I love it. What I don't love is the sweater that my eyes catch peeking out of Spencer's stack of clothes.

"Spence, honey, why'd you pick out a sweater with armadillos all over it?"

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid one shot #criminal minds fanfiction #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds oneshot #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds imagine

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winterwhisperz-blog · 1 month

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Hey i just read your touchstarved headcanons and I LOVE IT!!!

And Here’s my request is that can you do a scenario of TS boys with MC who can speak different languages??? (like Italian or French)

Don’t worry i am a patient person and I won’t rush you. And i hope you’ll make more scenarios of the TS boys in be future.

YES HI HELLO !! I am, SO SO SORRY for taking two thousand centuries to respond to this—I’ve been pretty stressed over work so I haven’t been able to write headcanons as much— BUT TYSM FOR THE ASK !! IM SO HAPPY YOUVE ENJOYED MY HEADCANONS !

I do want to apologize in advance that these are going to be shorter and less one-shot like, than my others. These will be more like my Kuras Headcanons I made awhile ago—(Life has been kicking my butt lately so my motivation has been LOW)

But I hope you still enjoy them !!

Also huuuuge thanks to @danyvhell-writes

For helping me with these ideas !! You’re a saint 🙏

ALR LES GO

Note: gn reader! Fluff

Warnings: PROBABLY OOC PLS DONT HATE ME

Ais

ALR ALR AHAHAHAHA

So, one of my besties would do this A LOT where she would just switch into Spanish and I’d just be there like ???

So I thought it would be funny if you did that with Ais here

Imagine you’re in some kind of argument, a stupid, light one you know— and to annoy him

YOU JUST SWITCH INTO A WHOLE DIFFERENT LANGUAGE

He’s completely stunned, red eyes wide as you just start rambling, (very passionately) in a language he doesn’t understand

As you go on though, he just becomes utterly impressed, watching your mouth as he studies the words coming out of it (and just because he’s flirty LMAOOOO)

After you’ve had your fun, he comments something like “Impressive, Sparrow.” And then asks you, ofc, if you can teach him what you said

To tease him a bit more, you don’t tell him for a bit until he BRINGS OUT THESE GIANT PUPPY EYES

So you do start teaching him, just long evenings hunched over books or a paper as you teach him different phrases and words, the candle light dancing on his focused gaze.

And one day, out of the blue, he starts calling you Sparrow in the language you were speaking(and you also hear him practice words while talking with Princess—AND ITS SO ADORABLE)

After he’s becoming pretty good at it, you then proceed to tease other people(Leander) by randomly switching mid-conversation into a different language <33

Leander

NOW WITH THIS ONE, it reminded me of this really cool video of a guy switching between loads of languages in one song

IMAGINE showing this off to Leander one rowdy night at the Wet Wick

Maybe it’s even one of his favorite songs ??? And hearing you sing it in so many languages would absolutely knock him off his feet.

Another thing I think he’d go CRAZY FOR

Pet names, in whatever language.

Like ?? You call him something like “Mi amor…” for Spanish, or “Tesoruccio.” For Italian ??

He’s done for. Doomed. Dead. Will beg you to repeat it over and over while he showers your hands or arms with kisses.

He’s also one that would definitely be okay with you calling these pet names in public—he wants to be all smug that HES the one called yours.

He probably also learns whatever language you speak as well, might already know it because bro probably had tutors that taught him so many languages man.

In return for the pet names, he probably calls you something like “λατρεία μου” or “latria mu” (My adored !!! 🥹 in greek)

Kuras

NOW, THIS IS INTERESTING

I’m guessing since Kuras is an Angel, he knows like ??? Every language?

So when he finds out you speak others, he’s instantly curious, impressed, and now it’s quiz time.

You pass by a certain object, plant, anything, and he asks you how to say it in your language(s). Even if he may already know, he likes to hear it coming from you, enjoying the glint in your eyes as you explain things.

Another thing he’ll do, is when you’re having a library date, he’ll hand you a book and request you translate it. Either from your language to—whatever language people speak in Eridia ?? Or from that language to yours.

These will turn into nightly strolls with you translating a poem or book as he strides beside you, golden eyes locked on every word.

In return, he’ll translate whatever text into a language you don’t know. (I wonder if angels have a specific language??)

A name for him, I think it’d be cute if you called him 아름다운 천사 (Beautiful Angel in Korean !!)

Whether this is after or before you know he’s an Angel, he finds it both amusing and endearing. (Or painfully ironic if his life as an Angel is a tough subject)

Mhin

OKAY SOSOSOSOSO !! Mhin evidently thirsts for knowledge, they’re a lil nerd and they’re rlly bad at hiding it (A mood really. one of the reasons I love them <3) and my friend mentioned they’re more of a listener? So like I can see them just—paying very close attention to every word you say

At times they may not seem to be listening to you as you ramble, or catch a few words of slang from your language(s). But they’re actually secretly a sponge and soak up every little detail.

And now this may be just me but Mhin gives off such I must impress you with all my random facts vibes.

They ask questions about the languages you speak, the slang, the meanings, how to pronounce things correctly, everything

And then they do their own research, soaking up all they can before appearing to you one day and just starting the conversation in your language(s)

When you show any sign of being impressed, they will look away blushing and try to act cool but nahhh buddy you aren’t fooling anyone we know you spent forever working on that

Similar to Ais, lots of late night lessons where you get to teach Mhin about your language(s)! Just you two looming over an open book, Mhin scribbling down notes, looking so concentrated and you even spot a smile starting to form as they start getting better and better. (I love themmmmm 😭)

Mhin asks you to quiz them a lot, and looks so !! !! Just proud of themself when they pass. (Before realizing it and their self loathing kicks in and they revert back to >:( ) You want to tell them that they don’t need to be quizzed but look at their face !! Let them impress you okay !! They’re top 1 student !!

If you want you can joke about them having to call you Professor(Mc) or something but ur just gonna get a deep frown and glare like 😒 nuh uh AHAHSHS

Vere

Ohhh vere my nemesis. (He’s the toughest for me to write i have to like mentally and physically ambush him in a fast food parking lot before I can get anything outta him)

(I love him so much though so here we go !! Thanks to my friend for giving me a lot of help in this one because otherwise I’d be a doomed woman)

My friend brought up since he’s a fox, he’s very sensitive to sound !! So when you’re speaking in your mother language, he notices how your tone might change, watches as your tongue moves against your teeth or the top of your mouth, idk but he makes it a sensual thing somehow 😭

Definitely flirts with you in your language(s), says the most outrageous thing and watches as you get stunned or flustered by it, absolutely delighted that no one but you (or anyone who’s unfortunately being nosy and can understand) knows what he’s saying.

Okay this may be dumb but it’s so funny to me imagine Vere like putting on his most smooth, seductive tone, convincing the people around that he’s gonna say like the most erotic thing but he ends up just saying something like 💀 “Avocados” in your language(s) or like “Leander looks like a chicken breast” he does it to see you laugh but also because Leander overhears and could tell his name was said and thinks Vere is like— finally coming around but only you two rlly know Vere is just sexily roasting him.

Due to recent lore being dropped, and in his lil character sheet, it says Vere has a huge love for the arts. I think it’d be really neat if you introduced him to things specifically written in your language(s) !! Like books that originated from your country, plays that are only acted in that language(s), just a tour of the language! And if he doesn’t know your languages(s) then teaching him is gonna be like 💀 somehow so flirty

Will definitely call you Professor(Mc) but he makes it sound absolutely horrendous and cringey and you will regret it you probably should turn back

Jokingly will ask if you’ll give him a golden sticker if he behaves—do it, just to humble him.

OKAY WE’VE REACHED THE END WOOOT WOOT !!!! I DIDNT THINK I’D MAKE IT !!! Been stuck in this endless void for ages !!

Hem hem, thanks so much for the ask !!! I’m so so sorry it took forever 😭 writer’s block nearly had my head this time uh oh

Thank you again to my bestie for helping me out !!

Now I hope you see the most beautiful sunset, eat your favorite dessert, learn something new, and have a happy spring !! 🫶🩷✨

#touchstarved headcanons #touchstarved game #answered asks #thank you for the ask !#touchstarved x reader #touchstarved mhin #touchstarved leander #touchstarved ais #touchstarved kuras #touchstarved vere #winterwritings

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mrsrookhunt · 1 year

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request: fyodor is kinda obsessed with reader, but reader isnt sure how they feel about him

A Little Love, A Little Obsession

Fyodor, Sigma, Mushitaro, Jouno x reader

Warnings: NSFW!! COME NEAR ONLY IF YOU DARE, GOT IT?!?!? Yandere, manipulation, mention of weapons, mentions of erotic thoughts, sadism

Fem reader for Mushitaro (felt like a 'blushing bride' comment fit right in)

A/n: Nobody writes dark yan!Sigma so I'll just put this out here to test the waters--

Fyodor

Fyodor is absolutely and completely obsessed with you.

From the moment he saw you, he knew he'd found his new little play toy. A grin not quite like any other graced his face as you blushed when you caught him staring.

Fyodor doesn't believe that he loves you-- he knows that very well. It's just what he wants you to believe.

You're not really sure what you think of him. On one hand, he seems kind and sweet. On the other, it feels very forced.

In a rare moment of unease, Fyodor realizes he's slipped up too many times, scaring you off with occasional words too harsh for his innocently smitten portrayal of himself. You're not playing into the traps he's set-- instead simply confused by his advances. He's aware that you're not sure what to make of him; you blush and your eyes dart away from him, but at the same time, when you look back to meet his gaze, your expression is that of renewed determination and strength to turn him down.

Fyodor, however, is a very patient man.. he can wait. He can wait as long as you need to come around to him. He already has a new plan, lined out just for you.. After all, how could you not come around to agreeing to be his play toy go out with him? Not when he so gently removes your other "conflicts of interest", as he calls them, out of the picture? When he brings you flowers that you can't put too close to your nose because you're afraid of what poison could be sprinkled on the petals?

You know you like him, but you also know the danger Fyodor poses to you. It's not worth it. It's not worth it. IT'S. NOT. WORTH. IT. Keep telling yourself that. That's what Fyodor wants.

Sigma

Dear, sweet Sigma. What has he done to you to deserve this? The way you haunt his dreams? Fill him with rage at the very thought of how your sweet scent takes over his mind?

He's like a mid century man ready to accuse the witch, and you're the one who'll burn.

The first time he realizes he's not merely in love with you, but obsessed, absolutely consumed with you in every aspect, he wakes up in a cold, dead sweat, panting and heavy-lidded, with erotic thoughts still stuck in his head and half-sobbing. For a moment, he thinks about putting that little black revolver on his bedside table to his head.

He didn't want to burden you with his selfish love to begin with, and this foolish obsession of his takes the cake. You make every aspect of him light up with passion unknown and unbound.

He takes his hand off the cold metal and with shaky, heavy breaths, vows that he'll ignore your countless rejections and refusals of his presence, and make you his. He knows he's gone too far. But he's already too deep to care.

Whether you overcome the indecisiveness of your complicated feelings towards him, it won't matter. You've waited too long and his gaze has changed. It's no puppy-dog love anymore, it's obsession.

Mushitaro

Getting Mushitaro to admit his feelings to himself, let alone you, is a monumental challenge.

He thinks he loves you but you're certain it's something much deeper-- he looks at you with all the feverant passion of a vicious dog ready to devour innocent, unsuspecting prey.

At first you think it's simply lust-- that pitiful urge everyone was prone to fall at the knees of. But his glares feel far more intense to you, attempting to pierce into your soul at needlepoints and split you apart, string by string.

Your avoidance of him only aggravates the issue further. He loves you, can't you see that? You must- in fact, he sees you! You, who hides away so shyly from her lover, like a blushing bride. You love him. You love him. He loves you.

He's giddy when he realizes- no, when he mistakes you for loving him.

You know what he thinks, and even more infuriatingly, you're not even sure that he's entirely wrong. Your cheeks heat up and a smile twitches at your lips when you hear the little notification sound on your phone that indicates it's him. Sometimes you feel like you're a sweet hot mess for him, until you remember his leers, his unnerving comments on your outfits and too-long waves out the window as he watches you leave work.

Mushi doesn't mean any harm.. he simply wants you. In every way. Married to him or tied up and muzzled, he doesn't care. He just wants you.

Jouno

Jouno is shamelessly infatuated with you. He may not see you often, but when he does, he meticulously informs you of just how obsessed he is.

Because, he knows. What could you do? Call the police against the police?

He loves the subtle notes of fear in your voice when he tells you about his fantasies, the way your shoulders twitch in discomfort as he tells you how much he would enjoy ripping them away from your body to hear your screams.

And then, each time, he asks you on these little dates again. He senses your hesitancy, your indecision on whether you should accept-- but he knows you always will. He's instilled both fear into you and a natural arousal from his seductive words. He's trained you-- if nothing else, just to prove to you that he can.

The hitches in your voice, he promises, will get higher and higher as he whips you over the bed. You've no desire to test the theory, because you know he's right, and he's aware of that absolute fact as well.

You may as well submit yourself to him; nothing will get you out of this situation now.

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fromthedust · 3 months

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netsukes

Kaigyokusai Masatsugu (Japanese, 1813-1892) - Sleeping Cat - ivory with sumi, red pigment - latter half of 19th century

Naitō Toyomasa - Wasp on Hive - wood - Japan - Edo period, 1800-1850

Sleeping Man with Monkey Steals Contents of Basket - ivory - Japan - 19th century

Rat atop a Bale of Rice - Japan - mid-19th century

Yamaguchi Okatomo - Hen and Chicks - ivory - Japan - mid- to late 18th century

Puppies at Play - ivory - Japan - Meiji period - late 19th century

Asahi Gyokuzan - Raven Perched on a Skull - wood, ivory - Japan - mid-19th century

Daruma - wood - Japan - 19th century

Roaring Shishi - ivory - Kyoto school - Japan - early 19th century

Snarling Tiger - ivory, inlaid eyes in horn - Japan - early 19th century

#netsuke #Japanese #art by others #other's artwork #sculpture #ivory #wood #critters

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storiesbyrhi · 2 months

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Witch!Reader x Bat/Vampire!Eddie Munson Series Masterlist The Grimoire The Timeline

Warnings: canon typical violence, horror genre typical violence/some infrequent gore, swearing, animal death, no beta, death in childbirth (mentioned, not described), abusive parents, suicide, spiders/bugs, grief/mourning; light smut; warnings updated each chapter.

Synopsis: No witch has stepped foot in Hawkins since 1845, but when Vecna opens the ground and poisons the town, a voice begins to call to you. Have you been brought back to this cursed place to heal the townspeople’s wounds, to save a hexed bat that always finds its way to you, or to redefine your history with a reunion 150 years in the making?

Chapter Summary: Homeward bound. 2738 words.

1986

Every now and then, you’d catch a glimpse of Eddie swooping by, keeping pace with your car. It was mid-afternoon by the time he grew tired, burrowing into his front seat nest and sleeping until twilight. As soon as the sun was safely locked away on the other side of the world, Eddie chittered and you responded by turning him back into himself.

He stretched out, making dramatic noises and pulling faces.

“You okay there?” you asked him, laughing at the show of it all.

“Only trying to make you smile, my little witch.”

Damn.

“So, you were right,” you changed the subject. “About not being the only non-witch,”

“Wolf, right? I could smell him.” Eddie’s face screwed up in disgust.

“What happened to the support group for monster lovers?”

“I draw the line at lycans.”

The seriousness of his expression made you laugh. “Well, you’ll have to redraw it, because Ev has it bad for him. The others already knew all about it too,”

“And we believed we were special,”

“I mean… We still are… Witches and werewolves aren’t mortal enemies…”

“Of course. Wolves’ mortal enemy being their own tail and all,”

“Eddie! Stop,” you laughed, hitting him with the back of your hand.

He grinned at you, then looked out at the road. “And the other?”

“That one is a bit more of a secret. Ash is seeing one of the fae folk. It’s still very new. Taking it slow… Making sure they’re not actually trying to lure her into some centuries old curse. You know how they are,”

“Trickster sprites,”

“Exactly,” you nodded. “And then there’s Steve fucking Harrington… who has elected to inexplicably haunt Mel,”

“Why? I assume he never met her,”

“Yep, but she came and asked me if the ghost in her house was him. It was. He says he’ll leave her alone but had this stupid puppy dog look on his face… So… Maybe there is a whole new world of witch romances to come.”

Eddie grinned, he liked the sound of it. Though, he really didn’t want a werewolf as a brother-in-law. “Do you want me to take over?” he asked then, pointing to the steering wheel. “I’ve been practicing,”

“And here I was thinking you disappeared in the middle of the night to eat,”

“Oh, I do. I find the worst person I can. I eat them. Then, I take their car for a lesson,”

“A two birds, one stone, kind of thing, huh?”

Eddie nodded with a disconcertingly innocent smile on his face.

“I was thinking about that actually. I think I can help,”

“With which part?” he asked. “The eating or the thieving,”

“Neither. The choosing.”

The joy left Eddie’s expression. He looked away from you, suddenly studying the hardly visible horizon out his window. “You don’t need to be a part of it. You don’t have to have it on your conscience,”

“Neither do you. Not in the same way, at least. What if I can take some of the guesswork out of picking who is, you know, bad,”

“It’s not guesswork. I watch them. I find them while they’re-”

“I know. But what if you didn’t have to wait for them to do something bad? What if you could tell what they had already done?”

Eddie stayed quiet. There was a gas station up ahead, the lights shining brightly. You pulled in and cut the engine.

“I know it’s always going to be on you. You’re always going to have to make that call, about if they have sinned and if the sins are…”

“If they justify death,” Eddie finished for you solemnly and still not looking at you.

“Yes. But what if you could see them? The sins. If you could, I don’t know, just touch someone and see the worst of them. And only when you wanted to. Would that help?”

He was clicking two fingernails together, pensive or maybe anxious. Eddie got out of the car and looked around. There was a family inside the gas station. The kids were screaming about peanut butter cups and soda.

“Would it help you?” he asked after you’d got out and walked around to him. His hands were shoved into the pockets of the sweatpants he’d been getting in and out of, vampire then bat then vampire then bat. “It might make it more precise. But it’s still conjecture. Still a judgment. Still a human death.”

You tried to read him, but he’d locked you out for the moment.

He continued, “Sometimes it hurts. Or, sometimes I think it hurts. Or, I think it should hurt. I don’t know if I can tell the difference. I don’t want to hurt anybody. I can stop myself from hurting them. But I don’t know, really know, if it weighs on my conscious. I don’t even know if I have one.”

It had been easy to get lost in Eddie’s goodness. It had been the important thing to show your coven. But it was never going away, the darkness. He might have been a good vampire, not a properly made monster, but it didn’t change the fact that he was still a vampire.

“If I say it would help me-”

“Then, I am sure, it would help me. What is good for you is good for me,” Eddie told you. “But I can tell which of them are more like me than you. I can see it in their faces. But if this makes you feel more in control of it, then I’ll do anything you ask of me.”

The neon sign of the station buzzed and crackled, the cicadas trilling back at it. The family got in their car and hit the road again, the radio turned right up to drown out the noise of bickering children.

You could see the station’s clerk watching you and Eddie from behind his counter.

“Loving you doesn’t make me feel guilty. I’m not ashamed of what you are,” you told Eddie then, looking back at him. “I’m not trying to make you into something you’re not.”

He nodded. “I know.” He saw it on your face, a flash of exasperation. “What are you trying to do?” he asked. “Because I’m not ashamed of what you are either… You don’t have to be a lawful, virtuous witch.”

There was a small smile playing on Eddie’s lips and you knew it meant he’d cottoned on to the fact that the seed of darkness that lived inside you was working its magic.

“It’s not just about making things easier for you or for me. It could be… A kind of justice…”

“Ohhh,” Eddie almost laughed. “I am your weapon, and if you can point this blade in the right direction, then well fuck, it might work faster than the humans’ courts and witches’ spells?”

Eddie had only recently started to swear, a habit he was picking up from you most likely. Fuck, in particular, sounded terribly good coming from his mouth.

You looked at him and slowly nodded. He threw his head back and laughed into the night. The gas station clerk sighed in relief at the sudden change of atmosphere around you both.

“Oh, my little witch. You do continue to delight me.”

Eddie pulled you into a rough kiss, letting the tips of his sharpest teeth run along your bottom lip. You were warm and tasted so sugary. He had been itching to eat you up since leaving the Catskills.

“I love you,” you said breathlessly when he let you come up for air.

“I love you too. Entirely.”

…

Waking up alone was bittersweet. Although you missed the weight of Eddie next to you, the immediate crawl of his body to yours, it did mean he was likely up to something. Mostly, it was innocent domestic work.

Pre-turning, Eddie never really had a place to call his own. As a vampire, the idea of home meant something different too. But now, the boy could nest. He cleaned and picked flowers to put in vases and glasses all across the trailer. He was also dabbling in cooking, though he could not eat the fruits of his labor.

So, mostly, it was domestic work, but now and then, you would wake up to him doing something different. A week after returning from the Catskills, you and Eddie had fallen back into routine, but this morning was out of the ordinary.

Eddie had stacks of books crowded around him. Pages of handwritten notes were spilled across the coffee table, your altar supplies stacked neatly below it.

“Looking very witchy there,” you greeted, voice gravelly with sleep.

“Hi, my love,” he replied without looking up. “I’m almost finished.”

Looking around, you realised it wasn’t just the books Eddie had been combing through. Herbs and other potion-brewing bits and pieces were lined up along the kitchen bench.

“Almost finished what?” you asked.

“The spell.”

Nodding slowly at him, you waited for the explanation. It never came. Instead, you let him work on his craft and went about your day.

By mid-morning, he was ready.

“Little witch!” Eddie yelled loudly. You were outside, watering your potted plants and herbs. “Little witch! Come!” There was childlike enthusiasm in his voice and it made you smile.

“Where do you need me?” you asked him, but he was already ushering you to the couch.

“I have written you a grounding spell,” he announced.

“A grounding spell?”

“Yes. Something to reconnect you to the natural world. To promote health and healing.”

Eddie was wide-eyed and on the verge of mania. He had a little dirt smeared across his cheek, and it was caked under his nails. Although his hair was pulled back in a bun, single coils of curls had fallen out throughout the night. He was beautiful.

“Go on,” you urged.

“It starts with malus domestica,” he began.

“It always does,” you noted, already holding back a giggle. He could have just said apple. Still so very dramatic.

“They connect you to the earth. Sacred. Biblical.” He really had been doing his homework. “Then, black hellebore root.” Eddie was at the kitchen bench, holding up a jar that he’d already dug through. That explained the dirt.

“I hope you’ve been careful with that,” you warned.

“I know. Extremely toxic. Even witches sometimes wear gloves to handle it,” Eddie said, reciting one of the books he’d read. “But it is also symbolic of rising from the past. And has a long history of use in witchcraft.”

Eddie had read about hellebore poisoning, how it brought on hallucinations but could also cure mental affliction. He read about how it could be harnessed and used in banishing spells and for purification. About white versus black hellebore and all the folklore surrounding them.

“Okay. What do we do with this apple and root?” you asked, playing the part of a captive audience.

“Core the apple and thread the root through it. Let it air overnight, by moonlight. Come morning, it gets wrapped in willow then cooked,”

“Willow?” you tested.

“Willow that is strong and true. Willow that takes pain and fever and grief and releases you from it.”

You nodded and smiled.

“When the apple is cooked through, falling apart, you take the hellebore root and powder it,”

“Then what?”

Eddie hesitated. “Alas, I do not know…” he admitted. “I can’t find a way to close the spell,”

“Do you have any ideas?” you asked, standing up and coming to the kitchen counter. You looked at everything he had pulled out of the apothecary.

“Moreso, bad ideas. What not to do. Consume it, for example,”

“Yeah. That could kill me. Maybe even turn me into a werewolf,” you joked. The look on Eddie’s face was priceless. “Kidding. Hellebore is an active ingredient in lycanthropic ointment though… Mostly it’s used in what we used to call flying ointment, or magic salve. So no, I cannot consume it,”

“Yes… Well… I thought then, returning it to the earth. Burying it. That didn’t feel right,”

“Mmmhmm… I think you have a clue here,” you told him, pulling a bowl of eucalyptus seed pods forward. “Did you read about these?”

Eddie shook his head.

“They’re kind of amazing. Eucalyptus trees are native to Australia, but are planted ornamentally around the U.S. They produce a highly combustible oil through their leaves. Little fire bombs, basically. They catch ablaze easily. But, these little seedpods are fireproof, and when threatened with fire, they drop lots of seeds and fertilise the scorched ground. Within a couple of years, the burnt earth is already returning to its gloriously green form,”

“Very smart of them,”

“Very smart,” you agreed. “Maybe we can learn from them. We can not just withstand the blaze, but add fuel, let it all burn, and start again,”

“The powder… we let it go free…” Eddie said slowly, catching on to what you’re saying.

“Ah-huh. We give it to the wind.”

Working side by side, you and Eddie cored apples and filled the void with black hellebore root. You set them on the kitchen windowsill ready for the moonlight. (You’d have to take down all the window’s covers though, sunproof house and all.)

Eddie was proud. It was written all over his face.

“Now who’s the little witch?” you whispered to him, stepping up to his body, pressing yours to his.

In reply, Eddie pulled you close, wrapping his arms tightly around your frame. He kissed the top of your head then pressed his cheek to it, resting on you.

“Thank you. Nobody has ever written a spell for me before… Well… Not a good one…” You looked up at him. “You are good, Eddie. And you’re allowed to be. You can be… both. Everything,”

“Everything,” he repeated quietly.

“Yeah… So… What now? We can’t work on them until tomorrow.”

Eddie swept you off to the bedroom by the time you opened your eyes after your next blink.

“But it’s not bedtime,” you said voice saccharine and purposefully dumb.

Eddie grinned. “It’s not. I don’t want you to go to sleep now anyway,”

“No?” You sat on the edge of the unmade bed, looking up at Eddie.

He stood between your legs, reaching out to cup your face in his hands, his thumbs running softly across your skin. He smiled wide, teeth sharp. “I’m very, very hungry.”

Eddie rarely let himself taste your blood, though the occurrences were becoming more regular. He was scared of a multitude of things. Not being able to stop. Seeing something in your magic blood he couldn’t unsee. Pissing off some ancient and unknown creature that would resurrect if ever a vampire munched on a witch.

Sometimes, if you begged pretty enough, you’d get a small bite out of him. But it was better when he came asking for it. The soft inner thigh was his greatest weakness.

Lifting your arms up, Eddie followed the instruction and took your shirt off. You fell back against the bed and let him push your skirt up. He dropped to his knees and kissed the tops of your thighs. Up, up, up, until his mouth was bruising the skin above where the femoral artery was pumping blood.

You still didn’t know how he did it, how he could make it feel so good. You didn’t want to know. It was his own secret vampire magic and it was one mystery that would never appear on your murder board.

Eddie’s teeth sank in and your hot, red blood began to flow. He pushed you further back on the bed, then held your leg up, so the blood would pour down towards where you were already wet. His tongue lapped at blood and arousal fast. He didn’t waste a single drop.

You writhed under him, eyes screwed shut, and body on fire. The vibration of his tongue was pulling you ever closer to climax, but he wouldn’t stay in one spot long enough to let you get there.

Eddie grabbed your hand and smashed it to where he’d bitten you. “Heal it,” he growled, barely able to form words. You did what he said and he licked your palm clean of blood as a thank you. He hooked his arms under your legs and ripped you back to the edge of the bed. Then, he was positioned exactly where he needed to be to let you get there.

End Note: We're back in Hawkins... Now what? Reblogs and comments are appreciated!

Fic Taglist: @paranoidmunson @idkidknemore @paprikaquinn @stardustworlds @loz-brooke @wyverntatty @vintagehellfire @dark-academia-slut @scarletwitchwhore @becks1002 @mrsdollardog @heyndrix @luceneraium @rosaline-black @devilinthepalemoonlite @goldencherriess @iamwhisperingstars @wiltedwonderland @blueywrites @breezybeesposts @jadehowlettthewolf @spikesvamp79 @foreveranexpatsposts @tortoiseshellspells @wingedpeachjudgegiant @stardustmunson @live-love-be-unique @fangirling-4-ever @reanimated-alice @b-irock @gh0stlybunnie @myown-worstenemy-2003 @woozzz @cyberxlust @hiscrimsonangel @buckysbarne @m00nlight101 @word-wytch @spicysix @briasnow-blog @goth-cowgirl-03

All Eddie Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @sweetpeapod @thorfemmes @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @mel-the-fangirl @eddies-hid3out @siren-lungs @aheadfullofsteverogers @hiscrimsonangel @dashingdeb16 @cultish-corner

#Mine #Burning Yarrow #Eddie Munson #Vampire!Eddie Munson #Bat!Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson/You #Eddie Munson x You #Eddie Munson/Reader #Eddie Munson x Reader

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susoriginals · 3 months

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Vintage Poodle Dog with Puppies Ceramic Pottery Figurine Japan Mid Century Modern Kitsch Only $4.99

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leibal · 1 month

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GOB 17 is a minimalist home located in Valencia, Spain, designed by DG Arquitecto. The narrative centers around a family, including a couple and their playful puppy, who decide it’s time for a lifestyle shift. They move from the structured American Mid-Century aesthetic to embrace the layered history and culture of the Mediterranean

#minimalism #minimal #minimalist #minimal interior #minimal design #minimalist design #leibal

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mathiwrites · 1 month

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the justice league's moms' book club's guide to vampire slaying, a martha kent, alfred pennyworth, atlanna & hippolyta fanfic

Chapter 3 - Atlanna

“We’ll probably be there by mid,” Atlanna pauses, blocking the ear that isn’t covered by the phone receiver.

“We’ll probably be—” She stops again.

This is ridiculous.

Atlanna once boasted being the most disciplined and fiercest warrior in Atlantis, but she cannot focus. Her home is sheer chaos, worse than it had been when her boys were children. The bickering is incessant and whenever she looks over her shoulder, her husband sits quietly beneath total war.

“I’m so sorry, Martha, give me one moment.” She can hear her friend laughing on the other line, clearly hearing the nonsensical argument in the background.

“The Little Mermaid takes place in Atlantica!”

“Yes, but their genetics are congruent with the Fishermen, not Atlanteans.”

“Their upper halves are human! Everyone assumes Atlanteans would have fish-bottoms.”

“That is offensive and prejudiced! To think, you are the chosen hair. I cannot let this go on. I, Orm Marius, challenge you, Arthur Curry, for the throne of Atlantis,” Atlanna’s youngest son tips his trident towards his older brother, lip curled in a snarl. It’s the fourth challenge this week, and though he really, really means it, this is Atlanna’s house and she has voided every single one.

“Boys! What did I say about tridents in the house?”

“Mother!”

“Mom!”

“I am on the phone . Behave. You are both in your thirties, yet you bicker like children.” Atlanna snaps, embarrassed. She has raised them better than this. For Atlan’s sake, they can at least give her husband peace. Tom is simply trying to watch television.

“Okay, but can you settle this?” Arthur pleads, looking at his mother with big puppy-eyes. The kind of expression that Orm admonishes.

“I do not know why you are so concerned with The Little Mermaid when Atlantis: The Lost Kingdom is far too close to the Kingdom of Bright Lights. The imagining of our technology should be worrying, considering Atlantis’ desire to stay hidden from the surface.” Atlanna glances at her phone, worried that she’s making her friend wait.

“That is because Atlantis: The Lost Kingdom is a documentary,” Orm supplies.

“No, it’s not!”

“Yes, it is!”

Atlanna sighs, stretching the phone’s cord as far as it can go into the other room. “I am so sorry, Martha. Ever since they were reunited, they have been reliving much of their missed childhood, including the bickering.”

Across the line, Martha laughs. “Oh, it’s alright. I’ve always wished for Clark to have a brother. It’s nice to hear Arthur reconnecting with his.”

“Trust me. This gets very old very quickly,” she laughs with great affection. No matter how stubborn they are, she loves her boys. “Now, where were we?”

“Yes, so Clark and Barry have left. We are home free. Alfred said he’ll be here shortly after lunch, around one to be exact. Does that still work for you?”

Between the four of them, they’ve decided to keep their get-together a secret. Their children have been in League—pun intended—with one another for years , and yet as their parents, they have been reluctant to befriend one another. Not as a group. Martha has always been close to Alfred, and Atlanna’s history with Hippolyta is enduring, but it had always felt like they were one facet of their children’s lives—a secret to be kept like their civilian identities.

“It’s been over a century since Hippolyta has ventured into man’s world, and the last time, she only emerged from her home to save it. I cannot promise that she will take well to it this time, but I will try to make it on time. Is there anything I should bring?”

“Just yourself and Lyta. I think you’ve already got enough on your plate with just that,” Martha laughs softly. “I can’t wait. It will be nice to be all together, just the oldies.”

“I prefer the term ‘well-seasoned’.”

“That makes us sound like a plate of food!”

“That’s the whole point. Has Clark not told you? You look like a snack. Truly, the highest surface compliment I have ever heard.”

“Arthur is rubbing off on you.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’ll see you soon. Hopefully, with Hippolyta in tow. We are still keeping it a secret from the children, yes?”

“Please. It’ll be nice to be just… us.”

#dc fanfic #dc comics #aquafam #atlanna #arthur curry #orm marius #aquaman #my fics #ao3feed #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #older characters #parental figures

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thewritetofreespeech · 1 year

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Clueless noe is the cutest thing ever.. do you think you could write something abt noe accidentally making the reader shy and not knowing why shes acting strange?

*I realized that I haven’t gone headcanons for Noé in a while, so let’s do that!*

So we all know Noé is a big puppy of a person. This is canonly confirmed.

Maybe it’s because he was not properly socialized as a child.

Maybe it’s because he’s just one of those people who finds personal space as more of a suggestion than a boundary.

But here we are.

He’s also canonly a gentlemanly himbo, so he would have no idea why [Y/N] is acting strange.

Which would cause him to want to find out. Which would cause him to butt-in and try and get into their personal space more. (if you give a mouse a cookie….)

Eventually [Y/N] will finally confess that his overly affectionate ways makes them uncomfortable.

Not that his attention is unwanted, but they are just no used to it.

This is mid 19th century France after all. Where two people of mix genders were not allowed in the same room alone in cultured society.

Noé, of course not knowing this, would immediately apologize.

He never wanted to make [Y/N] uncomfortable. So he would make great effort to respect their boundaries.

He would try to be more cautious in his approach. And often check in with “is this ok?”.

He’ll let [Y/N] set the pace now, but there are still times when excited!Noé races ahead of them.

#;ask and ye shall receive (request answers)#noe archiviste #noe archiviste x reader #noe x reader #noe archiviste hc #noe archiviste headcanons #the case study of vanitas #vanitas of the blue moon #vanitas no shuki #vanitas headcanon #vanitas hc

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ab4eva · 1 year

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Congratulations on 500 followers! You're awesome and your blog is awesome! I have a request for your celebration: I was wondering if you could do some domestic headcanons for '60s era movie Elvis (I know that's super specific 😂). To me this is his husband-material era, and I was wondering if you could do some HCs along those lines!

Oh my gosh, this is incredible. YES, darling anon! 60s movie Elvis is who I grew up on, so I love this. Apologies that I have taken forever to get this out, I hope it finds you and I hope you like these! Also, thank you for being so sweet? You’re awesome! 💗

• You and Elvis get married in the early 60s, quietly, in Palm Springs. It doesn’t stay quiet for very long, but you enjoy two weeks of bliss before the world finds out.

• Holed up in Frank Sinatra’s former home, the mid-century modern dream Twin Palms Estate, you make the most of your honeymoon, spending much of your time in the pool…and making good use of every bedroom, every table, every countertop.

• Shortly after your honeymoon, you and Elvis return to Hollywood where he begins work on a new film. He’s gone for long hours every day, working closely with gorgeous starlets, which starts to mess with your head a little bit. But he does the sweetest things to reassure you of his love and affection.

• Elvis arranges for you to be in a scene of the film, a pretty girl at a bar that his character hits on. You have the best time on set, Elvis carting you around to each department, showing off his “beautiful bride, ain’t she just the peachiest?”.

• After your day on set, Elvis can’t bear to be away from you for such long hours all the time, so he asks, rather shyly, if you’d bring him lunch every day and stay to eat with him. Your little heart leaps at the thought and you eagerly start planning out a menu.

• On his days off, you wake to the smell of bacon and coffee. You find him not in bed beside you, but in the kitchen in his robe and slippers, standing at the stove, scrambling eggs. His face lights up when he see you, and he sets his coffee down to scoop you up in a hug, kissing and nuzzling at you until the eggs almost burn. Almost.

• One day, towards the end of filming, you answer a knock at the door, only to find a white box with a big blue bow. Curious, you kneel down to open it and up springs the cutest little puppy you’ve ever seen. A tiny little black and white thing with sweet brown eyes and a jingly pink collar. You lift her up and cradle her to your chest, everything else forgotten, until you feel Elvis’s arms encircle your waist from behind.

• “You like her, Satnin?” he murmurs in your ear. “She reminded me of you, just had to bring her home for ya.” You turn in his arms, the puppy now cradled between you, and kiss him sweetly. “She’s wonderful,” you say, “just like my darling husband.”

—

This was the last of my 500 follower celebration asks - thanks so much to everyone who sent in requests and thanks to all of you amazing lovies who are here! I love and appreciate you! Xox

#ab4eva’s 500 celly #written by ab4eva #darling anon #elvis headcanons #elvis presley

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coulsons-fullmetal-cellist · 1 year

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A Weekend at Dieter's

(Dieter x horror loving female)

Summary: you spend your first weekend at Dieters place

Warnings: Dieter is an adorable chaotic puppy, saucy suggestions, lots of fluffy goodness

I actually found a place in Sherman Oaks to act as inspiration! Check it out here and here

Also check out my masterlist here

Friday afternoon:

Dieter Bravo was excited. He was rarely excited about anything, but he was excited about this: you were going to be spending the weekend at his place for the first time.

You hadn’t seen each other for almost two weeks and Dieter was missing you terribly. You were lucky to be having an easy Friday, so you’d be heading over after work and picking up supplies along the way, suspecting that his kitchen wasn’t that well equipped. And you were right.

Dieter bought the mid-century bungalow after his first big role. He bought the place because it was quiet and out of the way of any nosey and noisy neighbours, plus it had a spectacular view.

He furnished it like a typical bachelor pad, only ever living on his bed or couch. It was only him living here, so why bother?

It wasn’t until he got his first Oscar nomination did people take an interest in him. A high-end home-style magazine was wanting to do an article about him and his dwelling. They sent people in to tidy the place up and furnish it like a celebrity display home. Years later, it was still a display home as nobody asked for any of the stuff back. Probably, he never answered his phone.

He spent the entire day cleaning which meant moving all his random stuff into what’s supposed to be the spare room but became his room of randomness. He then cleaned away all the dust that had accumulated on the untouched furniture. Then he had a nap on his now decluttered couch.

Now, the hour of your arrival was approaching. Dieter was perched on a chair by the front window, perking up whenever he thought he saw your car, but then deflating when it wasn’t.

Finally, you were here. Dieter bounded out of the house like an excited puppy that forgot how big its feet were and wrapped himself around you.

“Hi”

You muffled back a reply.

He finally unwrapped himself from you and was ready to drag you inside.

“Dieter, my stuff…”

He bounded back over to your car, hastily grabbed everything that was inside your opened boot of the car and bounded into the house. After closing the boot and getting the rest of the stuff from your passenger side, you followed your obviously excited boyfriend inside.

For a man who dressed like a homeless man, he had surprisingly good taste. It looked exactly like the magazine article Debbie showed you. It was clean but there was something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. It didn’t exactly feel like Dieter.

“Okay quick tour: living room, kitchen, now let me show you the bedroom…”

He had a firm grip of your hand and started to lead you there, but you were busy looking at the rest of the place.

“Oh wow, a fireplace!” you were looking at the living room.

“There’s also one in the bedroom if you wanted to…”

But you were already heading to the door that led outside.

“What’s outside?”

He seemed frustrated that you seemed to be more interested in actually seeing the place, it can all be done later.

“It’s a pool” he mumbled out.

“It’s a lovely view!”

He was already looking at a lovely view. He was drooling at the thought of having you on every clean surface at least once, twice if it was comfortable. But you seemed to be too distracted with practical things like looking at the place.

“What’s that?” you were pointing at a small shed off to the side of the pool.

“It’s a guest house which is now my studio. Can we…?”

But you’d already headed over there, so now he had to show you. He grumpily opened the door to show you the artwork on display.

“These are so good!” you were looking at the pieces in fascination.

“If you want to pose for one, we could go to the bedroom and…”

“You’re so talented” then you gave him a quick kiss on the cheek as you headed out the door and back into the house. He followed in horny hopefulness.

“You know we haven’t looked at the bedroom yet…”

“I need to get to the kitchen first.”

Well, if you wanted the first place to be the kitchen, he wasn’t going to complain. But you seemed preoccupied with the supplies you brought that Dieter didn’t quite remember bringing in in his excitement. You ignored his horny pout as you were looking through drawers and cupboards and putting things away in his almost empty fridge.

“Honey cakes?”

“Yes, Dieter?”

“What are you doing?”

You smirked as you knew he was looking at you wish those puppy dog eyes which you happened to be immune to.

“I’m stocking up the kitchen.”

“Why?”

“Because I suspected there would be nothing in this kitchen and I can’t survive the weekend on snacks alone.”

He sidled up to you. “I’m a snack. You can have as much of me as you want.”

You patted him on the chest, “I know you are. But, if you’re planning what I think you’re planning, then we’ll need sustenance. I want to make sure you eat well.”

“I know what I’ll be eating first.”

At this, he picked you up, flung you over his broad shoulder and marched towards the bedroom.

You could make dinner later.

Sunday morning:

Dieter snorted slightly as the sunlight streamed through his eyelids. He patted around the bed, not feeling your lovely soft body. He finally opened his eyes, finding you gone, then looked under the bed covers hoping you were hiding but then still gone.

He gave a whine only a sad puppy would make, and he slunk out of bed to try and find you.

His face brightened as soon as he saw you in the kitchen and immediately bounded over and wrapped himself around you.

“Morning Dieter”

He mumbled a reply to the back of your neck. “You weren’t there.”

“I’m sorry, I’m making breakfast.”

“You’re always sensible.”

“Someone has to be.”

He remained hugging you for a while longer.

“Stay with me.”

“Tonight? I can’t, I have work tomorrow.”

“I mean forever.”

You turned around so you could look at him in the face. “Are you asking me to move in with you?”

He nodded, looking completely serious.

“I spend one weekend with you and now you want me to live with you?”

“Yup”

“But what about my place? My lease isn’t up yet.”

“I’ll pay the deposit or whatsit.”

You looked him in the eye, “Are you serious?”

He held your face in his soft hands. “I have never been more serious about anything in my life.”

Your eyes filled with tears as you nodded, “Okay, let’s do it!”

He smiled even more than he could and hugged you with as much love as he could with all the happiness he was feeling.

“Now, can you please put some clothes on?”

#pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #the bubble netflix #the bubble #dieter bravo fanfic #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter fanfic #dieter x reader #dieter bravo #love of horror fanfic #love of horror #dieter x honey cakes

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