#nour writes stuff

[sinfulscorchings]

𝕗𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕦𝕡 . *. ⋆ 𝕛𝕠𝕙𝕟 𝕡𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕖

➼ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ ⋆ ᴊᴏʜɴ ᴘʀɪᴄᴇ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

➼ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ ⋆ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴠᴇ ꜰᴇʟᴛ ꜱᴏ ᴇᴍᴘᴛʏ ᴀʟʟ ᴅᴀʏ. ᴊᴏʜɴ ʜᴇʟᴘꜱ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴅʏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀɪʟᴍᴇɴᴛ.

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ⋆ ʙᴇᴡᴀʀᴇ ꜱᴍᴜᴛᴛʏ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ᴏʀᴀʟ ꜱᴇx (ᴍ ʀᴇᴄᴇɪᴠɪɴɢ), ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴏʀᴀʟ ꜰɪxᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ᴡʜɪᴘᴘᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴠᴇʀʏ ʜᴏʀɴʏ (ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ ꜰʀ), ᴛᴏᴘ/ᴅᴏᴍ/ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴊᴏʜɴ ᴘʀɪᴄᴇ, ɪᴅʀᴋ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴀɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʙᴜᴛ ʙᴇᴀʀ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇ

➼ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ⋆ 2.7ᴋ

➼ ᴘᴏᴠ ⋆ ꜱᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ

➼ ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ ⋆ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ -ᴀʀɪᴀɴᴀ ɢʀᴀɴᴅᴇ, ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴇᴀʀᴅ - ꜱᴏɴᴅᴇʀ, ᴄᴀʀᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ - ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀʀɪᴀꜱ

⋆ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛᴏᴏᴋ ᴡᴀʏ ᴛᴏᴏ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ꜰɪɴɪꜱʜ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ ꜱᴏʟᴇᴍɴʟʏ ᴀᴘᴏʟᴏɢɪᴢᴇ. ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ.

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 . *. ⋆

Your first day of work after the holiday season is like a douse of cold water over your body.

You’d spent your break on indulgences; staying

Especially since John has been home.

That morning at dawn when you began to stir awake you’d become acutely aware of his body pressed firm behind you, his mouth kissing down your neck and shoulder, practically begging as he mouthed into your skin that he wanted to feel you on his tongue. You gladly let him part your thighs and make you come once before you inevitably have to rise and get ready for work, unbeknownst the ache it would cause you as the day went on.

Since then, all you feel is empty. Incredibly, brutally empty .

The workday ends up melting and mushing into a blend of nonsensical demands from your boss, placid, gossipy chatter from your co-workers, and absentmindedly tapping at a keyboard and thumbing through cabinets until you’re able to return home. No doubt you could return at the end of the day and fall right into John’s arms again. But the day drags and drags and drags , and by the time you’re free, you sluggishly make your way back home without much excitement.

You arrive to a quiet house, the door locked and blinds shut as you turn on the light and slowly take off your shoes.

“John?” You call out, tilting your chin up as you wait for a response. As you get none, you huff and thump your feet as you walk to your bedroom and begin stripping yourself, rather carelessly, throwing your clothes onto the floor and pulling on lazy wear, rubbing your face and looking toward the window.

It’s barely evening, but the sun has already come down in favor of the cold, dark night. You frown and turn on a lamp before returning to the living room.

John’s dark figure with his legs leisurely spread on the couch makes you yelp. He’s positioned casually, holding a cigar that looks freshly lit between two fingers with a hand resting on his thigh, stare already placed on the door as though he was waiting for you to emerge out of it. You gaze quickly to your left toward the kitchen; two plastic bags that weren’t there before are on the counter, probably some snacks from the liquor store just down the street, you see his pretty blue eyes and watch him gently stroke his beard as he lets you process, then finally relax.

“Shit,” you sigh, smiling softly as you rake your eyes over his appearance, taking him in. “You scared me.”

He hums,

“Sorry, love,” he apologizes. You sigh and roll your eyes, paying no more mind as you walk over and wrap your arms around him, sighing gently as you finally feel his body pressed up against yours again.

“It’s okay,” you mutter into his skin, wrapping your arms around his waist. You don’t care for the feeling of his hand barely curling around your back so he could still hold his cigar or the fact he’s still wearing his jacket. Just getting to feel him again after such a long day is all you require.

John’s hand comes to softly brush your hair behind your ear, tracing the curve of your cheek with the back ever slowly, ever gently, before taking your chin between two fingers and pinching it until you look up into his eyes.

“There she is,” he rumbles.

The dark purr of his voice reminds you just how much you need him on a given day. Even more after feeling so void of his touch, his fingers, his tongue, his cock the whole damn day. You whine, melting into his touch and slumping your shoulders.

A grin makes the corners of his eyes scrunch together. He has his other hand resting on his thigh, a dimly lit cigar held tight, and you’re distracted by the sight that the feeling of his thumb on your bottom lip takes you back to his stare.

Your lips part. He presses his thumb past and without hesitation, you suck, slow and unrushed, and flutter your lashes.

John groans and adjusts his stance, nestling your calves on either side of his thighs so you sit curtly on his lap.

“Pretty girl,” he says, tongue darting out to lick his lips, and his thumb leaves your mouth, the slick you leave dribbling down your chin as he trails his hand down. “Talk to me.”

“I felt so empty all day,” you whine exasperated, as if you’d been holding your breath underwater and have finally come up for air. Your breath hitches again when you feel John’s hand slip past the leg hole of your sleep shorts and rubs his wet thumb over your clit. You whine.

“Aw, is that so, baby?” he probes gently, but there’s still that underlying tone of condescension like you’re just this helpless little thing in his arms. Well, you are , sort of; not that you’d say or admit such a thing. You swallow shallowly and nod.

“So empty.” his thumb rubs slow and deep and you buck your hips into it, aching for just a little more. His other hand gently guides yours to grip his shoulders, and you hold to him like an anchor. “‘Just need your cock to stretch me full. In my throat. Pussy. `don’t care.”

“Oh, you poor thing…” he coos, bringing your face closer to his. He leans in so slowly you barely even register that he’s parting his lips to kiss you, gently gliding his mouth over yours. His steady rubbing stops in favor of kissing you firm, and you furrow your eyebrows as you moan sweetly.

“John,” you mutter hot into his mouth.

He pulls away and grins.

“Alright, love,” his insistence to draw this out is no longer a tantalizing tease; it’s just frustrating. “`You want me to fill you up?”

You nod. His free hand, cigar still between two fingers, runs up and down your bare thigh.

“How about you get on your knees for me, then?”

You adamantly hop off of his lap and get into position below, letting your knees hit the floor firmly. John tuts and quickly rises, holding a small throw pillow to you.

“`Want you to be comfy.”

God, this man. 

As you place the pillow on your knees you scoot closer to his inner thighs, hands hovering over his belt. He undoes it for you quicker than you would’ve, but he lets you take out his cock, warm and heavy in your hand, and you gently run a hand over it, thumb pressing to the tip.

With a groan, John’s hand grasps the base and leans forward to place it right at your bottom lip. Your hands curtly rest in your lap, gaze set up to his.

“Rub that little clit if you need to, love,” his voice is low, kindling and steady as the rest of his movements; he relaxes slightly as you remain watching and awaiting his next action, at ease with your submission. “Warm yourself up. Make yourself come if you need it.”

You whine and nod oh so softly, but he grunts; John wants a verbal answer.

“Do you understand?” He rumbles, low, threatening, a deep fire that sets off right in your cunt.

You answer obediently.

“Yes, John.”

“Good.” he relaxes fully into the cushions, barely gripping onto the base and letting it weigh heavy in the air, awaiting your touch. “Now go on. Get filled like you’ve been wanting to be.”

With his permission, you lean forward, grasping the base with one hand as you let your tongue flatten over the bottom and lick a long stripe to his tip. Your lips stay perfectly poised around him as you take your sweet time licking his length, languid as if you had no care in the world. John grunts deep in his throat, barely exhales, and leaves you with no large reaction. You lick a long stripe again, moaning softly as you feel his taste coat your tongue and flutter your eyelashes for extra measure. This time, he simply tilts his chin up and brings his hand up again, curling his lips around his cigar.

A pout droops your lip watching him act so casual and unbothered by any of your actions. You’ve seen him groan and roll his head back in full pleasure and satisfaction before; you’ve felt his hands curl around the back of your neck as he bucked his hips and fucked your face, feverishly close to his finish. But to see him act so casually as if he was watching a football game on the TV and not getting his cock worshipped by his loving girlfriend touches a nerve you didn’t even realize was exposed.

You jerk him forcefully, a little too tight and a little too fast, to try and get his attention. The only thing you get is a hum, and he taps the end of his cigar and lets some of the ash fall into his thigh, dangerously close to your hand. You look up at him; he isn’t looking at you.

“John.” Your words aren’t anything harsh or rude, just a calling to get his attention. His tongue darts out again to wet his bottom lip.

“Thought you wanted to get filled, love,” He quips back, tone harsher than normal as he brings the cigar to his lips, taking in a small puff and finishing his sentence as the smoke trails past his lips. “And I’m giving you opportunity to do just that.”

Well, his statement isn’t incorrect.

“I, I did–” You stammer, scooting your hips a little further. Your voice dies on your tongue as you watch him lock his jaw left and right, left and right, something that borders on disappointment storming in his eyes.

“I don’t understand why you’re demanding more, then,” it’s only a light scolding, could barely even be considered something worth being upset over, but it still makes your stomach uneasy and your headache and overthink with swelling disappointment. “`M giving you my cock to suck and to fill you up, what could be the matter?”

This bastard knows what the matter is. Not that your retorting would benefit you at all.

Wordlessly, you purse your lips together and give his tip a long, wet kiss, as an apology. John lightly grunts in approval.

“That’s better.”

It’s not long before the solemn feeling of hollowness crawls back up to you and you eagerly take him fully in your mouth. Your lashes flutter and you choke out a pleased sigh around his length, sinking further and further, fighting the urge to shut your eyes and just feel the sensation of his cock in your mouth, his bottom vein running against your tongue. But you keep them at least half-lidded to get a good look at the man you’re so piously sucking off.

Your hands grasp his base, firmly rolling your wrists over any part your mouth can’t reach without making yourself gag, breathy noises that border on just gargling as you get filled like you’ve been hoping to be the whole day.

Eventually, you pull away, but not very far as you press another kiss to the tip of his dick and lift it up to access his balls better, closing your lips over one with a little whine.

You look up again.

John continues to finish his cigar and absentmindedly watches the infomercial playing on the television, his gradually more apparent heavy breathing the only indicator you have any effect on him.

The sight isn’t as offensive as you’d thought it be. It’s almost arousing, seeing him pay no attention no matter what you do to him. As you cup one ball and suck on the other, you test his abrasion as you lightly, oh so lightly, run your teeth over the sensitive skin. Something throaty peeps past his lips. He clicks his tongue.

“That’s not a fair way to get my attention, love,” he tells you while a tense hand runs up and down his thigh, watching you still slobbering all over his balls. There’s a physical pout that downturns your mouth as you nod against him, switching over to take his other ball in your mouth and entirely dismissing any idea of trying to rouse his attention again.

Your hands come to stroke his cock while you finish soaking him in your spit.

The pool of heat between your legs gets to be too much. You slither your hand past the waistband of your panties and press your hand to your cunt, lazily rubbing your fingers through your folds. You have no goal to finish at this moment. You only need to satiate the aching need temporarily and get back to getting John to shoot his load right into your mouth and down your throat. The other remains steadily stroking him back and forth, pressing the pad of your thumb to his opening repeatedly when you reach his head.

You sigh pleasantly once again, finally feeling you’re filling that throbbing need for him you’ve had all day. Your hand strokes up and down once, twice, pressing to his tip once, twice, before you finally feel his hips buck slightly to your touch; at last, he gives you just a slimmer of a reaction.

“Good job,” He mutters, and you watch him rub his hand up and down his thigh again. Your mouth disconnects from his ballsac, leaving a trail of spit connecting you two as you position your mouth back to his cock. You keep his hand curled around, doing nothing with your mouth as you watch him bite his lip and look down at you.

“Are you close?” The question comes out way more desperate than you intend. John nods robotically, the hand once curled around his thigh coming back to lay at the back of the couch, puffing out his chest when he watches you take him in your mouth again, stuffing your mouth full until your nose brushes against the hair at the base.

“I am,” He confirms, chunky and gruff as he lifts his hips again to press you in further (you can’t really go much deeper at this point without his assistance, and you’re sure he wouldn’t give it to you tonight) before pressing his ass back down on the couch to allow you to do most of the work. “C’mon, girl. How about you finish me off?”

You don’t need to be requested twice. The hand slowly rubbing your folds and teasing your clit reaches out of your pants and cups his balls, running the pads of your fingers and the blunt ends of your trimmed nails over the tender skin while the other holds his base, acting as steady catalysts while you rock your mouth over his cock, slow enough you can take your time to appreciatively suckle at him when he’s inside fully.

That barely gets a grunt out of him. A gentle, ashamed purr as he tilts his chin down to get a better view. The slightest twitch of his thigh and a gentle brush of it against your cheek. All little, minuscule things that give you little indicators that he’s close to finishing.

When he does, there’s no warning; he takes a deep breath and holds it until you take him down to the base again, and you feel a sudden gush of creamy warmth hit the top of your mouth, tantalizingly close to your throat as he pulls his hips to you one last time, grunting softly. You whine gently, feeling your tongue coated with his warm, sweet finish, and you open your mouth to slowly slide your mouth off of his cock. His cum seeps past your lips, dripping slightly over your bottom lip, and you smile and let a drop drip onto your knee, legs still folded neatly.

John hums contently and leans forward, elbows pressed onto his thighs as he takes the side of your jaw in his hand and angles his thumb press to your mouth.

“Full?” He asks, smugly huffing softly as he rubs his spend onto your lips, smearing it on like some sort of chapstick. You smile brusquely and nod, posture blissfully lax while you press and pucker your lips together, feeling his cum spread over them. 

“Thank you.”

#nour writes stuff #john price #smut #call of duty #call of duty fanfic #john price smut #john price x reader #john price x female reader #john price x you #john price x y/n #captain john price #captain price smut #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #captain price x reader #captain price #call of duty fanfiction #cod fanfic #cody #cod mw2 #cod fanfiction #cod smut #cod x reader #cod #cod mwii #call of duty modern warfare #price x reader #call of duty mw2 #cod modern warfare #modern warfare

[sinfulsalutations]

Quote the clones/tbb characters getting caught staring at reader: "if undressing me with your eyes isn't working I can do it for you?"

the reader is obviously joking.. or are they? You can do whatever you want but I would like tech and Fives reaction? NSFW or sfw it's up to you!

𝕔𝕝𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕓𝕒𝕔𝕜 ⋆*･ﾟ 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕒𝕕 𝕓𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙 + 𝕔𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕒𝕚𝕟 𝕣𝕖𝕩 + 𝕒𝕣𝕔 𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕠𝕡𝕖𝕣 𝕗𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕤 + 𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕦𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕛𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕖

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛʟʏ ꜱᴜɢɢᴇꜱᴛɪᴠᴇ ɪɴ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴛꜱ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴋɴɪᴠᴇꜱ (ɴᴏ ᴜꜱᴀɢᴇ ᴏʀ ᴅᴀᴍᴀɢᴇ ɪɴꜰʟɪᴄᴛᴇᴅ)

⋆ ★ ᴏʜ ᴍʏ ɢᴏꜱʜ ɪ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴍʏꜱᴇʟꜰ ᴀɴᴏɴ ᴜʀ ꜱᴏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ, ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴇᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘʀᴇᴍɪꜱᴇ ꜱᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ! ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴀʏ, ɪ ꜰɪɴᴀʟʟʏ ɢᴇᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ꜰɪᴠᴇꜱ! ʜᴇ'ꜱ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴇᴠᴇʀ ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ɢᴏᴛ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ɪᴛ.

➼ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ 18+ ᴅɴɪ

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 ⋆*･ﾟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴍ

You see how he catches glimpses at you. Always carefully and politely, afraid to be caught or overstep. Not that you’d mind if he did, in reality; you’re just as interested in him as he is in you.

But one day, he slips up; his eyes rake over yours almost hungrily just a few feet away, unable to satiate how he’d want to ravish you if he had your permission. Suddenly, you can’t stop yourself before you’re saying:

“If undressing me with your eyes isn’t working, maybe I can do it for you, huh?”

Your tone is (mostly) joking, of course. But hopefully, if you cross your fingers, he'll pick up on the suggestiveness laced in oh-so discreetly…

Hunter

Before he's fully able to process what you just said, he begins to stammer.

Kriff, he even drops his vibroblade straight onto the ground;

that never happens.

For just long enough for you to bask in it, Hunter looks at you dumbfounded.

Any casualness or relaxation he exuded is gone now.

You can't help but feel a little prideful and laugh; it's not often you get to see this absolute bastard (affectionate) not in total control of himself.

He scoffs at how you laugh at him, and he quickly gains his composure again to your dismay.

He signs and leans in onto his knees with his elbows, eyes lingering on yours as he leans into your ear and murmurs,

"Don't tempt me."

Tech

"Puh-pardon?" Is the first thing that comes out of his mouth.

Your eyes snap up to him, worried that you'll begin to regret your decision, but as you look at his furrowed expression, you realize he's just confused.

"What is... 'undressing someone with your eyes' mean to you?" He repeats your words like something new, yet fascinating, a tone you do not expect.

He talks it out.

"Perhaps it has suggestive connotations, that would make the most sense, and you accused me of doing such a thing while I was-" He pauses for a moment, eyes flicking to you and to the ground. "And offered to-" He stops completely.

"Oh."

Before your stupid open-mouthed ass can do anything, he's already turning to hide his face, a coat of red flushing behind his hands.

A breathy, disbelieved chuckle escapes you unintentionally. You don't mean to be mean or teasing though. Honestly, you just think it's really cute.

Both of you just nod it off after that.

Little to your knowledge he tosses and turns in bed all night, cussing himself out for not just taking the damn opportunity right in front of him! You buffoon!

Wrecker

This poor boy gets so nervous.

He'll immediately want to deny:

"My eyes weren't doing that- they'd never do that. I mean, I wasn't even really looking at you, so, er-"

Don't blame him for that though; half of it is instinct, and the other half is that he's so scared of frightening you off. Both with his subtle (charming) perviness and his overall stature.

A small bead of sweat forms on his neck the longer he talks, eyes flitting up to you then back to the floor, pushing himself into a corner.

"It really wouldn't be appropriate for me to think of you like' that. In that way. I don't wanna ever step past your boundaries- your privacy, yeah? And I'm really sorry that you thought I-"

Quickly, you lean in and cup his cheek softly, softly handling him to look back at you.

"Hey," You say it in a way that feels as though a secret between the two of you that never dare be shared. "It's okay. I was joking."

You can feel the tightness in his chest ease, though he still has that worried expression on his face.

"Oh. Well, I mean I kinda knew that from your voice, but I still don't want you to get the wrong idea... Kriff, I'm such a karkin'"

Only a sickly smitten giggle comes out of you, interrupting him, and without any hesitation, you lean in and place a chaste peck on the tip of his nose.

You've never seen Wrecker's face this red in your life.

Crosshair

Eats it up.

Crosshair, the snarky little shit he is, adores when you indulge him like this. Endless teasing that could come off as jokes, but beneath the surface, you both know what is at play here.

He's loving that you're initiating this.

Doesn't even think that you might've just been joking before he's got a stupid smirk plastered over his face, chuckling softly as he leans in close.

"Well isn't that a delectable offer."

His serpentine voice so close to your ear sends a delightful shiver down your spine. You don't back down, because, well, deep down this is what you hoped would come out of this; it's just surprising it's actually happening, is all.

Before you know it, he's tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and looking at you like a delicious meal.

"How pretty, even with all that fabric. And you still want me to see all of you?"

You fold.

Like, immediately.

But, *cough cough*, worth it ;)

Echo

By instinct, his signature surprised/confused face appears; he doesn’t even initially process it how he usually processes the words you say.

“Why are you-wait…”

His mouth opens slightly. You can’t help but giggle. His cheeks dust the fairest tint of pink.

He then washes (most of) it away, and looks at you incredulously, unsure of what to say.

Was that… flirting? His skills and knowledge about this stuff can’t be that rusty. It most certainly had to be some form of it.

But then again, a strong part of him doesn’t want to believe that it is.

So, like most interactions with you, he laughs lightly through the back of his throat, rubbing his neck to ease the buildup of tension there and (failing miserably to) forget about it.

Why am I like this… he dares to think.

Rex

He processes what you say quite quickly, and just reverts back to his basic way of reacting to things: nodding with a small smirk. But his eyes give away his unease and uncertainty.

This man has got negative rizz. Doesn’t know at all how to respond to a flirtatious comment or even initiate one himself.

So this is a straight up curveball.

“Heh… if you say so, nehutyc’ika.”

JANGO ABOVE WHAT ARE YOU SAYING-?

You see his nervousness (not surprising, of course, you know Rex well enough, so you decide to deter the conversation from there.

That manages to ease him up, but his mind is still on the comment you made;

it makes him realize that, kriff, he’s really got to make a move…

note: nehutyc’ika means feisty one in mando’a!

Fives

The first reaction that’s elicited out of him is a brief raise of his eyebrows; the only hint that he might’ve been surprised.

He then leans in and smirks, muttering “Oh?”

Suddenly, you get a little nervous under his stare; just like every time he’s been suggestive with you.

You stammer for a moment, careening away and throwing a hand in the air.

“N-nothing,” You tell him.

He groans, shaking his head, but his blinding smile doesn’t dissipate.

“Oh, come on,” He says. “Don’t do that now.”

Your eyebrows knit.

“Do what?” There’s a very small grin on your lips that you dare not to let spread, lest you wanted him to annoy tease you the entire night.

“Pretend you didn’t just say what I know you said,” He shakes his head, leaning in closer to you. The voice that comes out of him is hushed, not necessarily close to your ear but close enough it sends a thrill through you. “Don’t be a minx.”

Without a moment wasted, he leans in further. You have to push against his chest to get him out of your personal space.

“Fives!” You squeal. “Just forget it!”

He looks into your eyes, then down to your lips, so close to kiss, but he only gives you the faintest of winks and pulls away.

“Hm. Kind of hard to.”

You just roll your eyes and allow the two of you to fall into blissful silence.

When he finally has to get up and leave you, he tells you discreetly with a laugh.

“Sorry, cyare, don’t think I’m gonna forget. Gonna wait to see if the offer was serious or not. Gotta be worth it... don’t you think?”

You’re left totally dumbfounded and tugging at your sleeves.

Jesse

This sly guy retorts easily. With a striking smile, he gets comfortable beside you.

"My eyesight's doing me wonders, babe."

You laugh softly, leaning the side of your head on your arm and waiting for him to continue. He does so gladly.

"But the real thing must be stunning, eh?"

It's unintentional how your breath hitches.

The nature of your relationship has always been playfully flirting and teasing, sweet encouraging words to each other that, hopefully, one day, will escalate into something more.

Maybe this is the day?

"Worthy of worship," You praise yourself with a glint in your eye, even purposefully pursing your lips to emphasize it.

He eats up your praise, agreeing wholeheartedly and leaning in.

"I'd love to, if you'd let me," He says.

"Your barracks or mine?"

tags: @starstofillmydream @pb-jellybeans @corrieguards @badbatchbabe @ladytano420 @jediknightjana @sleepycreativewriter @shinyshayminflower @heidi-lc28 @thebahdbitch

#nour writes stuff #the bad batch #star wars #tbb #the clone wars #captain rex #captain rex x reader #arc trooper jesse #jesse x reader #arc trooper fives #fives x reader #arc trooper echo #echo tbb #tbb echo #echo x reader #tbb crosshair #crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair x reader #tbb x reader #bad batch x reader #the bad batch x reader #bad batch wrecker #tbb wrecker #tbb wrecker x reader #wrecker x reader #tbb tech x reader #bad batch tech #clone trooper tech #tech x reader #hunter x reader

[sev-on-kamino]

hi lovely! for the ofc nsfw ask game… 1, 4, 13, 18, and 25 for my lovely blizzard 👀 hope ur having a wonderful day!

Hi Nour! Having a great day so far, and I hope you are too. Thank you for sending these in 🥰 I love Blizzard, and could talk about him all day tbh.

NSFW OC Questions - Fun stuff below the cut! MINORS DNI!!!

1. Are there any names they like to be called in bed/names they call their partner? Any names they wouldn’t use/can’t stand?

- He loves sweet names, so call him “love” or “baby” and he’ll melt. He leans towards using those as well, but would also come up with one specific to his partner’s personality. There aren’t any that are totally off of the table, but he would be surprised if someone called him “daddy.” He wouldn’t know how to respond.

4. Are they more of a dom, sub, or switch? If applicable, are they a top, bottom, or vers?

- Blizzard is a pleasure dom. He’s sweet and encouraging, but firm and a natural leader. He’s a top, which often surprises people.

13. Morning vs evening sex—do they have a preference?

- He likes morning sex when the sun is barely coming up. That soft morning light on his partner’s skin gets him going so fast.

18. Their favorite actions during sex—chin-grabbing, hair-pulling, wrists being pinned, etc.

- Hip-grabbing. Pulling his partner down on top of him, or into his lap, or onto his face. It gives him such a thrill.

25. Share a sample line of dirty-talk

- “Oh, beautiful, you’re shaking with my fingers inside you. Are you ready for more? I wanna hear you say it in that sweet voice of yours.” -Blizzard, definitely 👀

taglist: @secondaryrealm @dystopicjumpsuit @dukeoftheblackstar @wolffegirlsunite @808tsuika @sleepingsun501 @starrylothcat @ladyzirkonia @sunshinesdaydream @wings-and-beskar @pb-jellybeans @clio3kantarella @staycalmandhugaclone @stardusthuntress @idontgetanysleep @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @anxiouspineapple99 @littlemissmanga @mandos-mind-trick @amorfista @kimiheartblade @freesia-writes @sinfulsalutations @523rdrebel @clonemedickix @multi-fan-dom-madness @mooncommlink @1vlouds @moonlightwarriorqueen @starqueensthings @dangraccoon @idoubleswearimawriter @wizardofrozz @trixie2023 @dreamie411

#oc: blizzard #oc sundays #spicy oc questions #seven answers #thank you for sending these in!!! 💙💙

[deejadabbles]

hello love 🤍🤍 hope you’re doing amazing, and maybe this song will get you out of your writing rut, who knows

do whatever you feel like it as the prompt says :)

Thank you so much, these have been helping some I think, if anything it just feels good to post stuff <3

and for you Nour, you get my attempt at writing Crosshair. Hopefully I did okay 🤍

Warning for: smoking/detailed descriptions of smoking, Crosshair being Crosshair

You heard rumors long before you saw him.

Him, the altered clone who had chosen the empire over his brothers. Who was loyal without his chip, who held his rifle closer than anything else. Who spat at anyone who dared step close to him.

He was dangerous.

The first time you crossed paths was late in the night, you had wandered from your quarters, wanting to get closer to the storm raging outside, only to freeze as the crack of lightning backlit a tall figure. He was standing under the durasteel awning, the torrent of rain framing him in a stormy haze as he took a long drag from a deathstick.

Even if you had never seen him, you knew who he was.

No one but the infamous Crosshair could have a presence like that. Standing among smoke and storm as if both were a part of him. Long fingers made for pulling a trigger plucked the stick from his mouth and for a moment, he just stood there. Stood with his eyes closed, face turned up as if he could feel the rain coming down an arms length away, smoke billowing from his mouth.

You should have turned back, but you were caught in a trance watching him.

The man who was always compared to other clones, but who was more dangerous than any of them. You couldn't see much of his expression from your distance, but from what you could tell he looked...pained. Brows drawn in, mouth tight, and nostrils flared. Maybe he was lost in memory, maybe he was trying to forget his latest mission, maybe he-

"It's rude to stare."

His voice sounded like a coiled snake, and it sent shivers down your spine. Those eyes finally opened, and cold irises slid down to meet yours. For a moment he continued to just stand, watching you watching him. Then his eyes narrowed, his head tilted down to level with yours.

"Are you going to tell me what you want, or just stare like a frightened bogling?"

That made you stand up a little straighter, an ounce of ire mixing with that strange fascination. You opened your mouth to retort- only to snap it shut again. Why were you suddenly speechless?! You were an agent of the empire, no one, not even this walking visage of danger should be able to shake you. Then why did you feel your skin tingle when he flicked the deathstick away and start towards you.

"Well?" he snapped.

His movements were long and purposeful, and he closed the gap between you fast. So fast you found yourself taking a step back despite yourself. That made him smirk. Again something shivered through you as he eyed you up and down. Then, teeth bared and gaze narrow, he leaned in even closer.

"If you're going to take up my time, at least made it interesting for me."

He was dangerous, and you really should have turned back.

IDK if I should bother with the tag list for these but I figured why not? lol @blueink-bluesoul @anxiouspineapple99 @starrylothcat @sinfulsalutations @commander-sunshine @dystopicjumpsuit @wolffegirlsunite @sunshinesdaydream @arcsimper5

#*sweats nervously* #i swear i feel like idk how to write characters like him #crosshair x reader #deeja writes

[almondtofus]

@ALMONDTOFUS ?! ୭ 🧷 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 💌

welcome to @almondtofus, i’m nour! this blog is mainly for writing imagines, headcanons, short drabbles, etc.!

✶ requests are currently: open! i currently write: mainly genshin impact, honkai star rail, persona series, bandori, haikyuu, jujutsu kaisen and chainsaw man, as well as some other stuff i’m interested in but these are my main ones! feel free to ask anything and i might just be interested in that fandom.

masterlist | carrd | ask | regulations | about me

please give credits if any inspiration is taken from this account! do not repost my work on any other platforms! thank you! ˖ ♡ ₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 📍 ࣪. ›

#x reader #chainsaw man x reader #nour speaks #self promo #pinned post #jjk x reader #bandori x reader #haikyuu x reader

[surplus-of-sarcasm]

Also for the WIP game:

How the team studies

I know they're probably studying, but the "how" has me curious 👀

Okay!

So, this was just me coming up with different methods for how each member of the main cast usually studies. Each have their own methods that factor into their personality and weaknesses/strengths/interests. Character quirks basically.

For context: Karim is good at drawing, and his memory relies mostly on visuals rather than text, so he draws quick and rough sketches/diagrams to remember things better, or to mark the important stuff. He has another habit of writing stuff down a ridiculous number of times because using his hands works wayy better for him than verbally.

He also consumes an unholy amount of caffeine (like both coffee and energy drink straight after) because he pretty much has an addiction to that stuff. He might get a small snack if he's feeling up to it. He also uses painkillers because studying gives him migraines. He takes short and frequent breaks.

Nour is a guy who likes to eat. His crazy fast metabolism helps. So you bet anything that the guy is going to eat a ton of snacks while he works. He likes to stick all these random, brightly coloured post-its in his textbooks to make brief notes. He changes positions a lot, and he's really weird about it. See, he's pretty flexible, so you might find him hanging upside down while reading something. He generally has a good memory, so he only needs updates on the details (hence the post-its). His handwriting sucks. He takes a few very long breaks and works for long periods of time.

Asser prefers to watch videos to study because it helps him understand better than reading, since obviously it stimulates more senses. He takes notes on a computer because surprisingly he's faster at typing than writing. See, he's the team's designated hacker, and he's been hacking even before he met them, so his fingers are super used to it. He needs sugar to function, so he usually ends up drinking very sugary tea or eating something equally sweet.

He takes one break because it's really just him falling asleep in the middle.

Laila procrastinates a lot. So when she actually gets to the studying part, she has to do all the work in blocks. She doesn't eat or drink anything aside from a big cup of coffee. Just one. She doesn't have her brother's addiction. She has the best memory out of all of them, so just reading the material aloud well is enough for her to memorise it. In rare cases, she recites things. Whatever she solves, she scribbles down furiously. She writes very fast and it's somehow neat. She's a one-night crammer, but has the best grades. Her 'breaks' are honestly just procrastination.

Thanks for asking! I hope this satisfied your curiousity. ❤️

#the little gremlin answers #not writing #staying alive #my ocs

[heartslogos]

HELLO I HAVE FOLLOWED THEE FROM AO3 BECAUSE I LOVE YOUR WRITING SO MUCH

nour aunty is a favorite as always and I totally didn't spend an hour re-reading every single alhaitham/kaveh fic you had. absolutely LOVE the fake-marriage one shot genuinly the best thing to ever exist.

that one snippet that you have buried of al-haitham cyno nahida and kaveh made me grin SO HARD i'm incredibly excited to see what comes of it! (also I know your ask box says to read the info page but it doesn't exist for me? i deeply apologise if i've said something terrible)

Thank you very much! Yeah I haven’t been on here forever but I know a lot of my links and stuff are super outdated/broken. I need to carve out time to fix them lol!!!

[insurrectionaryam]

We were clean, we don't have any financial benefit from this, or we wanna be doing our PhD or something to put our information in there—you know a lot of people do stuff like that. I am just saying that it happens. I never thought about it. And when I see people getting involved and want all this information. Everyone I see is writing. Why? It's because they're doing their Master's degree or something. — 'Save Nour / Fight the Tower: a group of Brixtonians and friends who came together to oppose the eviction of Nour Cash and Carry - and won!' http://dissidentisland.org/episode-267

#dissidentisland #radio #SaveNour #Brixton #London #UK #Europe #PhD #Masters

[terinour]

Harvey and the old lady / Harvey et la vieille dame

Harvey and the old lady

Harvey walked his loneliness as others would walk their dogs. He would collect the little things, a mundane event, the weather of the day and sometimes take a picture with his polaroid. He would slip his views and writings into a notebook. After a few years Harvey had become an explorer of the everyday and a collector of a new kind.

He did not believe that everything had been discovered and that nothing new could happen. For Harvey, there were still untapped and infinite resources, starting with the human interior. He had decided to dedicate himself to this research for the rest of his life. He was not in pursuit of precious stones, works of art or forgotten temples in the depths of inhospitable jungles, but of something that he himself could not define.

Harvey had many notebooks filled with notes and photos. That morning he sat on one of the park benches next to an old lady.

She turned to him and asked:

- Are you a writer?

- I write but I am not a writer

- It's just for you

- That's what it is

The old lady squinted her eyes as she looked towards the kindergarten. After a long silence she said:

- Excuse my indiscretion, but what are all these notebooks for?

- I am looking for some light, I am trying to understand myself

- It is normal not to understand everything. It is our way of living this incomprehension that distinguishes us from one another. I just have to come here and observe. Look at these children, for example. What does that inspire you? - They are not aware of the passage of time and this may be the source of their happiness. They easily get in touch with each other. They have fun with little, pieces of wood, stones. They succeed most naturally where others fail throughout their lives. It makes me think of this sentence of Nicolas Boileau: "He who lives contentedly with nothing possesses everything".

- Is this the kind of stuff you write in your notebooks? - Yes, I must have written it down somewhere

- Yes, but where did you write it down? In your notebook, in your brain or in your heart? Do you have children?

- No, I don't. For a while I lived with a woman who wanted them

- And you didn't want them?

- In fact, it was a time when I was very often annoyed and for nothing. One day I found myself alone with my anger.

The old lady nodded her head. She moved closer to him, stretching her wrinkled neck:

- You remind me of a penitent. You've never actually forgiven yourself.

Harvey didn't know what to say. Deep down he knew the old woman was right, but he couldn't accept it. She continued:

- You've gone from one extreme to the other

Harvey remained silent as she continued: - One day anger and the next day penitence. A long time ago someone said "stop doing, and just experience being". Perhaps you should accept yourself, and especially forgive yourself.

The old lady got up with difficulty, leaning on her cane. Before leaving him alone with himself, she concluded:

- When you get there, you will find that light. Then you won't need to search anymore.

Teri Nour

Note: I had translated my own text below in french. I apologize for this appoximative translation with www.DeepL.com/Translator (free version).

Harvey et la vieille dame

Harvey promenait sa solitude comme d’autres auraient promené leur chien. Il collectait les petites choses, un événement banal, la météo du jour et parfois prenait une photo avec son polaroid. Il glissait ses vues et ses écrits dans un carnet. Au bout de quelques années Harvey était devenu un explorateur du quotidien et collectionneur d’un genre nouveau.

Il ne croyait pas que tout avait été découvert et que rien de nouveau ne pouvait arriver. Pour Harvey il demeurait des gisements inexplorés et infinis, à commencer par le territoire intérieur humain. Il avait donc décidé de se vouer à cette recherche pour le restant de ses jours. Il n’était pas à la poursuite de pierres précieuses, d’œuvres d’arts ni de temples oubliés au fond de jungles inhospitalières, mais de quelque chose qu’il n’arrivait lui-même pas à définir.

Harvey avait beaucoup de carnets noircis de notes et garnis de photos. Ce matin-là il s’était installé sur l’un des bancs du parc, à côté d’une vieille dame.

Elle se tourna vers lui et demanda : – Vous êtes écrivain ? – J’écris mais je ne suis pas écrivain – C’est juste pour vous en somme – C’est ça

La vieille dame plissa les yeux en regardant vers le jardin d’enfants. Après un long silence elle reprit : – Excusez mon indiscrétion mais, à quoi il vous servent tous ces carnets ? – Je cherche un peu de lumière, j’essaie de me comprendre – Il est normal de ne pas tout comprendre. C’est notre façon de vivre cette incompréhension qui nous distingue les uns des autres. Il me suffit de venir ici et d’observer. Regardez ces enfants par exemple. Que cela vous inspire-t-il ? – Ils n’ont pas conscience du temps qui passe et c’est peut-être là la source de leur bonheur. Ils entrent facilement en contact les uns avec les autres. Ils s’amusent avec peu, des bouts de bois, des cailloux. Ils arrivent le plus naturellement du monde là où d’autres échouent tout au long de leur vie. Cela me fait penser à cette phrase de Nicolas Boileau : « Qui vit content de rien possède toute chose » – C’est ce genre de trucs que vous écrivez dans vos carnets ? – Oui, j’ai du le noter quelque part – Oui mais où l’avez-vous noté ? Dans votre carnet, dans votre cerveau ou dans votre cœur ? Vous avez des enfants ? – Non. Un temps j’ai vécu avec une femme qui en aurait voulu – Et vous vous n’en vouliez pas ? – En fait c’était une époque où je m’énervais très souvent et pour un rien. Un jour je me suis retrouvé seul avec ma colère.

La vieille dame hochait la tête. Elle se rapprocha de lui en tendant son cou ridé : – Vous me faites penser à un pénitent. Vous ne vous êtes jamais pardonné en fait. Harvey ne sut quoi répondre. Au fond de lui il savait que la vieille avait raison, mais il n’arrivait pas à l’accepter. Elle reprit : – Vous êtes passé d’un extrême à l’autre Harvey resta silencieux tandis qu’elle poursuivait : – Un jour la colère et le lendemain la pénitence. Il y a longtemps quelqu’un a dit « arrêtez de faire, et faites l’expérience d’être, tout simplement ». Peut-être devriez-vous vous accepter, et surtout vous pardonner.

La vieille dame se leva difficilement, en s’appuyant sur sa canne. Avant de le laisser seul avec lui-même, elle conclut : – Lorsque vous y arriverez, vous trouverez cette lumière. Alors vous n’aurez plus besoin de chercher.

le 21 mars 2021

#short stories #writing #écriture

[sokkagatekeeper]

I love ur stuff and I agree zuko is a homo but tbh I think it’s kind of a reach to say zukos arc had anything to do with femininity or masculinity. like idk i just don’t see it? I don’t think there’s an implication that he was harsh or mean because it was Masculine or that kindness was being put down for being Feminine. if u remove the association of kindness with femininity and anger with masculinity is there really anything else that implies there’s a masculine/feminine war going on there? like idk is there anything to ur take on that besides the … idk morality aspect of it? genuinely want to know not trying to checkmate u or anything

#hate mail #nour [me] had a breakdown in the tags so read at your own risk #how about you read a book. how about that #checkmate?? CHECKMATE???? im gonna checkmate your ass into the sun are you kidding me #how do you come into this blog's ask button and put THIS SHIT ON IT #with your whole face. as if we were ever gonna say 'yeah maybe we were dramatic and dumb to critically analyzing and engaging #with this piece of media we like' what Other purpose would you have other than to 'checkmate' us. literally leave #this blog and never look back #bc it sure seems like ur trying to do a stupid checkmate bc u are coming onto OUR blog where we are smart and in control and youre an ANON #i hate you so much anon im gonna cry #i put soooo much effort on those posts. so much time writing this stuff when i already understand it as it is and youre TELLING ME #THAT IM DOING A REACH???? #this is literally just literary analysis nothing about what i wrote is a reach. You Are Stupid #and im sensitivr and i hate this ask and im gonna cry how about that check fucking mate. god #such a sunday today isn't it #and you also ““GENUINELY”” want to know well guess what. YOU ALREADY KNOW!!!!! #those two posts are a perfect example of the basics of ALL you need to know. all of what you are GENUINELY asking for #you already read it and made the stupid decision to say this to us anyway!!! so #us: [uses multiple methods of literary analysis to break down atla's gender themes and subtext] anon: idk i just don't see it!! #anyway. #shosh made the meme btw <3 an angel

[thelastspeecher]

Stanuary ‘19 - Week Three: Dreams

I struggled to come up with what to write for this particular prompt, so I asked for suggestions.  And I really liked what @nour386 suggested: my version of the Reverse Portal AU, with Stan talking to his aspiring dancer son about his dreams in life.  I had to do some research on ballet for this, so now I know that male ballet dancers don’t really use pointe shoes.

              Stan leaned against the back wall of the practice room, waiting for his son to finish getting ready to leave.  He yawned.  There was a small commotion from one of the changing rooms.  A boy rushed out.  In his haste to leave, he stepped on Stan’s foot.

              “Look where you’re goin’, kid,” Stan rumbled.  The boy glanced at him.  He scowled and held his bag closer.

              “Shut up, old man,” the boy shot back.  Stan straightened with a glower.

              “Watch it.”

              “Whatever.”  The boy ran out of the room.  Stan sighed and leaned against the wall again.

              Who the hell was that kid?  I haven’t seen him here before.  After a few minutes, another boy emerged from the changing room.  Stan beamed at him.

              “Hey, sport.”

              “Hi, Dad,” Emmett said quietly.  Stan frowned.

              “Somethin’ wrong?”

              “No.”

              “C’mon, Emmett,” Stan cajoled.  Emmett sighed.

              “Fine.  I dunno if you saw that kid earlier-”

              “The one who ran outta here like a bat outta hell?  Yeah, I saw him.”  Stan scowled. “Rude.”

              “That was Ricky.  He’s not normally that mean, he was just a bit startled.”

              “Startled?  By what?”

              “Me,” Emmett mumbled.  Stan raised an eyebrow.

              “You?  Kid, you’re not that scary.”

              “Not- not me, per se,” Emmett said.  He gripped his duffel bag tightly.  “Just my- my feet.”

              “Your-” Stan started.  He narrowed his eyes.  “Does that mean what I think it does?”

              “Ricky’s new, so even though most of the kids in town know I’ve got two extra toes, he didn’t, and he- he was- like I said, he got startled.”

              “What did he do, exactly?” Stan asked.  He looked back at the door Ricky had raced out of earlier.  “We could probably still catch him.”

              “No, Dad.  I just wanna go home,” Emmett said softly.  Stan nodded reluctantly.

              “If you’re sure that’s what you want.”

              “I’m sure.”

----- 

              Stan waited until Emmett had buckled himself into the passenger seat before speaking.

              “You know whatever that kid says was bullshit, right?”

              “Ma wouldn’t be happy that you swore in front of me,” Emmett responded.

              “Junior.”

              “I thought I told ya to stop callin’ me that.”

              “Emmett.”  Emmett looked at Stan.  “I went through all of this with yer uncle, when we were kids.  I need to hear you say it.”

              “Fine,” Emmett muttered.  He propped his elbow against the window.  “Ricky was wrong.  There’s nothin’ bad about bein’ a polydactyl.”

              “There ya go.  That wasn’t too bad, was it?”

              “No.”  Emmett looked out the window silently.  Stan waited for him to say something else, but Emmett remained quiet.  After they had pulled out of the parking lot, Emmett spoke.  “He was a bit right, though.”

              “Emmett, I told you-”

              “Not the insults.  But he did bring up a few things I’ve been thinkin’ about.”  Emmett continued to stare outside, steadfastly avoiding eye contact with Stan.  “Uncle Ford had to get custom-made gloves fer lab work.  If I really wanna go into ballet, I’ll have to get custom shoes.”

              “You’ve been fine with the normal ones so far.”

              “They’re startin’ to get tight again.”

              “All right, we’ll take you to the store,” Stan said.  He glanced over at his son.  “You’ll stop hitting the growth spurts eventually, and when that happens, you won’t grow out of shoes every other month.”  At sixteen, Emmett was already taller than Stan, and his height showed no signs of slowing its climb.

              “They’re tight in the toes.  Not anywhere else.”

              “We’ll get you new shoes.”

              “No, yer not listening,” Emmett insisted.  “My feet are an awful shape!  They’re long and thin, but then my toes aren’t proportional, ‘cause there’s too many of ‘em! It’s like if Uncle Ford tried to wear mittens.”

              “What do you want, Emmett?” Stan asked.

              “I wanna be a ballet dancer.”

              “Then we’ll get you the custom shoes, okay?”

              “Dad, they’re too expensive.  And with how fast they wear out?  We can’t afford ‘em.”

              “Your ma and I will figure it out.”

              “I don’t want you to,” Emmett said.  Stan pulled over.  He turned off the car.  “…What’s goin’ on?”

              “That’s what I wanna know,” Stan said.  “Look at me.”  Emmett reluctantly met Stan’s gaze.  “Talk.”

              “Bein’ a ballet dancer is all I’ve dreamed of.  Ever since we got to see a production of Swan Lake durin’ a field trip. It’s graceful and beautiful and difficult.”  Emmett paused.  “I like that it’s difficult.  Difficult in a dif’rent way than, like, math or science or whatever.”  Stan nodded.

              “That’s how I felt when I started boxing.  I took to it pretty fast, but eventually, it got tough.”

              “Exactly!”  Emmett swallowed.  “What if it gets too tough?  I’ve managed to figure everything out so far, but what if it was all a fluke?”

              “Then you take up boxing.”

              “Thanks, Dad, but I’m too much of a beanpole to be a good boxer,” Emmett said, gesturing to the slender frame he had inherited from his mother.  “And anyways, I don’t like boxing.  I like ballet.”

              “I know.”  Stan sighed. “If it’s your dream, ya just gotta keep at it, kid.  Work hard, and it’ll pay off.”

              “Did it pay off for you?” Emmett asked quietly.

              “You know the answer to that question,” Stan said.  “No, the dreams I had when I was your age didn’t pan out. But that’s different.”

              “How?”

              “My dream was to be a sailor-slash-treasure-hunter with your uncle.  Your uncle decided that he didn’t want to do that.  Your dream doesn’t need someone else for it to turn out.”

              “Uncle Ford’s dreams didn’t work, either.”

              “Damn, kid, you really wanna shoot down every good thing I’m saying, don’t ya?” Stan said, frustrated.  He took a breath.  “Fine. Mine didn’t work out.  Your Uncle Ford’s didn’t.  But your ma’s did.  She wanted to study lizards in a forest, and that’s what she does.”

              “She studies salamanders.”

              “Same difference.”

              “Not really.”

              “Let’s get back on track, okay?  You want to be a ballet dancer.  You’ve been takin’ ballet lessons since you were nine, you love it to bits, and you’ve never had any doubts about it until today.”  Stan stared intently at Emmett.  “What did that Ricky kid say?”

              “That I’m not good enough.  Most ballet dancers start earlier than I do, and when they start, they train with real professionals.  I like my ballet teacher, but she’s not exactly a prima ballerina.”

              “Yeah, I know,” Stan said.  “She told me that today.”  Emmett blinked in surprise.

              “Huh?”

              “While you were still gettin’ all your things, she talked to me.  She said that you’ve got what it takes to be a…I forget what word she used.  It was somethin’ French.”  Emmett’s eyes widened.

              “A danseur noble?”

              “That sounds right.  Anyways, the point is, she knows she can only teach you so much.”  Stan shrugged.  “She gave me the number of some instructor she knows in Eugene who can start givin’ ya lessons.  See, kid? I’m not the only one who thinks you’ve got talent.  Ricky was just jealous that you’ve got two extra toes to help with dancing.”

              “I am better at balancing than everyone else,” Emmett said.  Stan nodded.

              “That’s what I said.  So what if you didn’t get trained by the best French people or start when you were three? You’ve still got a leg up on everyone else, natural talent, and best of all, the stubbornness of a mule.  I’d say the last one was from me, but yer ma’s pretty damn stubborn, too.”  Stan ruffled Emmett’s unruly brown hair.  “When the chips are down, you don’t give up.  You find a way to come out on top.”  Emmett grinned.

              “I am pretty stubborn.”

              “Hell yeah, you are!” Stan enthused.  Emmett chuckled.  His smile suddenly disappeared.  “What?”

              “I mean, I’m glad that you think I can be a ballet dancer like I want. But you never got what you dreamed of.”

              “What makes ya say that?” Stan asked, turning on the car and pulling onto the road again.  He glanced in the rearview mirror.

              “Yer not on a boat with Uncle Ford, fer one.”

              “So?”

              “That was your dream.”

              “One of ‘em.  Another one I had when I was your age was of bein’ a dad.  Havin’ a son that I could teach to shave and vandalize.”  Stan winked.  “That one worked out.”

              “…I’ve never vandalized anything.”

              “Huh.  That’s right.”  Stan paused. “Do you know where Ricky lives?”

              “Yeah.  Monroe Street.”

              “Good, that’s near the supermarket.  We can pick up eggs.”

              “Why?”

              “‘Cause I have to teach you how to vandalize, kid.  And eggs are a good starter.  We can move on to things like paint and fertilizer later.”

#this was fun and good to write #thank you for the suggestion nour #I don't write nearly enough stuff with Emmett in it #Stanuary #Reverse Portal Stanley McGucket AU #Stanley Pines #Emmett McGucket #ficlet #my writing #speecher speaks

[sinfulscorchings]

(𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕤𝕜𝕪) 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕞𝕪 𝕛𝕠𝕙𝕟𝕟𝕪 . *. ⋆ 𝕛𝕠𝕙𝕟𝕟𝕪 '𝕤𝕠𝕒𝕡' 𝕞𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕤𝕙

➼ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ ⋆ ꜱᴏᴀᴘ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

➼ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ ⋆ ᴀ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴜʙ ʜᴀꜱ ᴀ ᴅʀᴜɴᴋ ᴊᴏʜɴɴʏ ᴛʀʏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ɢᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀꜱᴋ ꜰᴏʀᴄᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱɪɴɢ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛʏ ꜱᴇᴀ ꜱʜᴀɴᴛɪᴇꜱ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪᴅ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ꜱᴀʏ ɪᴛ ᴡᴀꜱ ʜᴀʀᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴇɴʏ ʜɪᴍ.

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ⋆ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ, ʜᴜᴍᴏʀ, ᴅᴏʀᴋꜱ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ, ᴘɪɴɪɴɢ, ᴅʀᴜɴᴋᴇɴɴᴇꜱꜱ, ᴅʀɪɴᴋɪɴɢ, ꜱᴇᴀ ꜱʜᴀɴᴛɪᴇꜱ (ꜱᴏᴀᴘ ꜰᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ʟᴏᴠᴇꜱ ᴇᴍ), ᴛʜɪꜱ ʜᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏꜱᴛ ᴡᴀᴄᴋ ᴘʀᴇᴍɪꜱᴇ ᴏɴ ᴇᴀʀᴛʜ ʙᴜᴛ ʙᴇᴀʀ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇ, ɢᴀᴢ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴛᴏᴛᴀʟ ʜᴏᴍɪᴇ, ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ꜱᴏᴏᴏᴏᴏᴏᴏᴏᴏᴏᴏ ɪɴᴛᴏ ꜱᴏᴀᴘ ɪᴛꜱ ᴀʟᴍᴏꜱᴛ ꜱɪᴄᴋᴇɴɪɴɢ

➼ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ⋆ 2ᴋ

➼ ᴘᴏᴠ ⋆ ꜱᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ

➼ ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ ⋆ ʀᴀɴᴅʏ-ᴅᴀɴᴅʏ ᴏʜ, ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ ʟᴀᴅɪᴇꜱ, ᴡʜɪꜱᴋʏ ᴊᴏʜɴɴʏ ᴏ'

⋆ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʙᴇ ɢᴇɴᴛʟᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ɪᴍ ᴘᴏꜱᴛɪɴɢ ᴀɴʏ ᴄᴏᴅ ꜰᴀɴꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴍ ꜱᴄᴀʀᴇᴅ

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 . *. ⋆

The unmistakable sound of stentorian banter echoing through the pub walls leaves no room for your eyes to linger anywhere else. Price reluctantly allowed his men to have a lax night off base before they were off on another long op in the Afghan valleys, and you’d been hooked by the arm and asked so cordially to join by the dashing scot sergeant. 

Soon enough, you’re being led by the hand out of the base and piled into the back of a cabbie squished between him and Gaz and headed straight to the nearest pub. You stood no chance against that handsome smile and bright blue eyes, anyway.

His laughter now demands all your attention and brings your heart to a halt every time you catch his gaze.

Soap is drunk. Very, very drunk. You’re unsure if you’ve seen him so loose with his body, sturdy shoulders swaying to an invisible tide, firm hands twitching and curling around his glass. He leans against the booth the rest of the task force is sitting, smile bearing low, lazy yet purposeful, lashes so perfectly framing those little pockets of sky.

No matter how long you look at him, you don’t think you’ll ever get over how pretty he is. Whether or not he’s aware of how smitten you are doesn't stop you.

You wouldn’t say you had a crush on Johnny. That word was so… juvenile. And putting on labels on feelings like this are too difficult, anyway. Rather than trap it in a box, you’ll just let your feelings roam and flourish how it pleases. 

Your feelings have previously decided to make your heart leap every time you see his handsome smile, then even more when it’s directed in your direction. They also decided his words are gospel worth wrapping your mind around for hours late at night, hoping your over-analysis will lead to a hefty payoff instead of delusion. 

His loud groan takes you out of your slow descent into dissociation.

“Bunch o’ baws, ye are,” he complains. Ghost leans back further into the booth cushion, getting more comfortable as he observes Johnny’s state. He doesn’t have to worry about getting up any time soon; he knows you would lunge immediately to pick him up when he inevitably flounders his way to the ground.

“Baws?” Price asks, bringing his glass of half-drunk whiskey to his lips.

“Aye,” Soap responds, “Baws. th’lads that hang under ye knob.”

The party stares in absent confusion. Soap groans.

“J’st forget it.”

His hand waves through the air dismissively before landing on Gaz’s shoulder. 

“At least ye can join me for a song, aye?”

Gaz tilts his chin down, lips pursed.

“A song?” His tongue slips over the sound he tries to make. Though still drunk, Soap makes him look merely the slightest bit tipsy beside each other.

Johnny mutters something along the lines of ‘yes’ before he leans down, hollering in the quietest, yet boisterous voice, barely in tandem with the staff notes,

“Now we are ready to sail for the horn!”

Gaz immediately jolts up from his seat as though summoned, hand landing on his opposite shoulder and gripping it. They sing in unison, louder than before,

“Weigh hey, roll and go!” 

Soap cheers as he successfully recruits another to his cause. 

“Our boots and our clothes, boys, are all in the pawn—“

The two wrap an arm around each other. Johnny still has his fingers curled around a half-nursed glass but pays no mind to how it sloshes and spills while he belts proudly.

“To be rollicking randy dandy-oh!”

“ Christ ,” Simon rumbles, rubbing his forehead over his balaclava, elbows braced on the table. “Didn’t come to the pub to hear Johnny’s damn singing.”

Your attention shifts from the singing muppets to the two remaining men sitting in the booth with you. Price nods in agreement.

“Didn’t expect anything more or less,” he remarks. Simon shrugs and leans back into the cushions.

“S’pose so.”

You tilt your head, lips downturned in an almost pout, and beckon,

“Well, I find it entertaining.”

Price huffs, rapping his fingers against the table.

“‘No surprise to us, love.”

The squeak you barely manage to keep in your throat constricts any chance you had of coming up with a quick, witty reply. Instead, you cough and push your eyebrows together.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Price opens his mouth, but then a large, warm hand is placed on your shoulder and coaxes you to turn. You turn just your head to face Johnny. He flashes a toothy grin. Your heart melts for him even more.

“Won’t ye join me, bonnie?”

You frown, hesitantly placing your hand over his, and whine gently,

“I dunno, I’d rather not strain my voice or—“

“Ah, c’moan!” He leans in further, and you can practically taste the liquor on his lips from the proximity. “Ye ken th’words, dinnae ye?”

His insistence has you rolling your eyes yet still equally pliant. Of course, you know the words. You know them to every single one of his shanties, only due to his constant singing. Practically every time you pass by the men’s showers or the barracks or the rec center or the damn shooting range you hear his cheerful croons; in vans and trucks and plans on ways to ops, he entertains himself with the music and gets Kyle to sing along with him in grand, rather silly voices. It doesn’t help that you're so infatuated with the sound of his voice and the glow of his presence that it’s hard not to pay attention.

You sigh.

“I do, but–”

“Then ye should join me!”

Barely managing to resist, you curtly shake your head. Soap leans his head back, gaze piercing the ceiling, and boos.

“Fine,” He concedes, or at least you think; his lips curl into a mischievous grin. “If ah’ament convincing ye, listen to one more song.”

He releases you from his grasp and winks cheekily before he wraps an arm around Gaz and begins the next song. But the mere moment you hear the first lines, you know he deliberately chooses it for the reaction it would elicit out of you.

“We are outward bound for Kingston town, with a heave-o, haul!”

It does exactly what he intends. Your mouth falls ajar and you giggle, crossing your legs and adjusting to face him better. The two sergeants sing loud and in an expanse that reaches the whole bar, but not once, does Johnny sever the connection between the two of you with your eyes. He keeps his stare right on you.

“And we’ll heave the old wheel round and round, good morning ladies all!”

At this point, they’ve easily caught the attention of other patrons, cheers ringing from different corners and agreement with the sentiment. They’ll gladly say hello to any ladies that might find a liking to rowdy drunkard men. Gaz turns to rile the crowd further, but Soap doesn’t.

As he reaches the end of the final verse, the words begin to slur.

“So a long goodbye to all you dears, with a heave-o, haul!”

His swaying comes to a gradual halt, but Gaz puffs his chest out and belts out proudly instead to compensate. Johnny’s eyes are on you, steady while he sings.

“Don’t cry for us, don’t waste your tears, good morning bonnies all!”

The subtle lyric change comes so naturally you barely register it. They finish their song and the bar cheers, delighted and inebriated, while Johnny stumbles back to the booth and leans a hand on the cushion, caging your body with his.

“Did that convince ye, hen?” He speaks in a brash, cheeky manner. You chuckle softly, cheeks swelled with unbridled delight, before belting out strong and proud,

“Whisky is the life of man—“

As if they couldn’t get any brighter, Johnny’s eyes light up. He finishes the phrase for you.

“—Whisky, Johnny!”

Without warning, his warm hands grasp your waist and lift you to your feet; you yelp quietly and he smiles. 

His grasp leaves quickly thereafter; you solemnly droop your shoulders with the loss of sensation. But then his hand clumsily interlocks with yours and he pulls you to the center where Kyle bends at the knees in eager anticipation. 

It must have been those pesky delusions of yours again, but everyone’s eyes were on you. You and Johnny with your hands interlocked with yours and his little smile that’s so intimate that you could be certain it was only meant for you.

It was so much. Maybe a little too much.

Flushed, your lips seal shut and you cover your mouth, face red and warm. Johnny’s hand comes to grasp that wrist, his hold surprisingly firm.

“None o’ that, bonnie,” his voice is hushed, as if it’s a secret between you. “Dinnae hide that pretty face. Sing wi’ me.”

Your lashes flutter when you finally look Johnny in the eye. Instantly, the moment his stare seeps into your skin and travels down your body, through your spine, lands in the pit of your stomach and makes the hair on your legs stand up, you look down again. Fuck, bad decision. Even when he’s this plastered his stare is intense enough for you to hitch your breath and anticipate a flush rushing to your cheeks. He’s a goddamn warlock; there’s no chance you’ll break free from his spell.

He starts for you.

“O, I drink whiskey when I can–”

You continue the song, lips gently parted.

“--Whiskey, Johnny!”

The smile he graces you ( and just you ) with makes your stance weaken even more. His hand is still interlocked with yours though, and something in you thinks he wouldn’t let you sink to the floor.

Gaz appears between the two of you, a hand on one shoulder each.

“I drink it out of an old tin can–” He belts.

“--Whiskey for my Johnny O!” You finish for him. Johnny cheers and raises your conjoined arms in a lazy air fist. 

“That’s whit a’m talking about!” He exclaims. Before you realize it, his hand is slipping from yours and reaching to ruffle your hair with a kind of joyfulness only he could wear so casually and still make your chest swell. It's that damn look again, isn't it? That's the one that makes you so defenseless to anything he might throw your way. 

If one day you could see him look at you like that without the aid of alcohol, you’ll have earned the smile you adorn.

Price flashes an unimpressed look in your direction through the rim of your glass. You frown and move your stare to Simon. He's wearing a similar look. 

Buzzkills.

"Let me have this," You mouth. Their reaction remains unknown to you as Johnny spins you around and grins wickedly.

"`Another dram?" He offers.

"Oh, no," You respond, pressing your hands against his pecs. You disguise it as a means to push him away to give yourself space to breathe, but truly it might be another excuse to feel his body. "You've had enough. And I think the boys are about ready to leave."

Before there's time to process it, Johnny is leaning down, pressing his forehead to yours, noses squished together. Every move is lazy yet so deliberate at the same time (though that might be your delusion speaking). You can smell the lingering taste of alcohol on his lips and every time he exhales, too close to see, hear, breathe anything else but him.

"If ye say so, bonnie," he sighs, lashes fluttering. "But before we leave, how about one last song?"

Johnny leans back and licks his lips before taking your hand in his. You sigh, equally disappointed in yourself and lovingly admiring the sergeant.

Really, could you ever say no to him?

#nour writes stuff #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #cod modern warfare #mw2 #cod #cod mwii #cod mw2 #call of duty fanfiction #cod fanfiction #cod fanfic #cod fic #call of duty fanfic #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #john mactavish #johnny mactavish #soap cod #soap mw2 #call of duty x reader #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty fluff #x reader #reader insert #simon ghost riley #john price #kyle gaz garrick #fluff #fem reader

[sinfulsalutations]

What do you think each of your favorite clones’ guilty pleasure is? SFW and NSFW? 🤣

𝕘𝕦𝕚𝕝𝕥𝕪 𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕦𝕣𝕖𝕤 ⋆*･ﾟ 𝕔𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕒𝕚𝕟 𝕣𝕖𝕩 + 𝕔𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕠𝕡𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕦𝕡 + 𝕔𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕠𝕡𝕖𝕣 𝕔𝕣𝕠𝕤𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕚𝕣 + 𝕔𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕠𝕡𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕖𝕔𝕙 + 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕨𝕠𝕝𝕗𝕗𝕖

➼ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ ☆ ʀᴇx, ᴛᴜᴘ, ᴄʀᴏꜱꜱʜᴀɪʀ, ᴛᴇᴄʜ, ᴡᴏʟꜰꜰᴇ x ɢɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ꜱᴘɪᴄʏ ꜱᴛᴜꜰꜰ, ᴛᴀʟᴋ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴇx

⋆ ★ ᴏʜ, ᴍʏ ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ᴄʟᴏɴᴇꜱ? ᴛʜᴀᴛ’ꜱ ʀɪᴅɪᴄᴜʟᴏᴜꜱʟʏ ʜᴀʀᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴘɪᴄᴋ… ᴀʟʀɪɢʜᴛ, ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜɪꜱ, ɪ’ʟʟ ɢᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʀᴇx, ᴛᴜᴘ, ᴄʀᴏꜱꜱʜᴀɪʀ, ᴛᴇᴄʜ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴏʟꜰꜰᴇ!

➼ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ 18+ ᴅɴɪ

Rex

SFW: Likes to be bathed or taken care of in the bath. While it doesn’t happen often, he loves it when you sit on his lap and scrub off the dirt on his skin, slowly massage soap onto his scalp and soothe him. Rex is not used to being taken care of or sitting back and just allowing things to happen without at least a little control, so it’s hard for him personally to come to terms with just how much he likes it, as well as even indulge himself too much when he gets the chance too.

NSFW: He wanted to record you two going at it to watch while he’s away for some time. You’d already sent him photos of yourself, domestic videos of you doing simple tasks, but none very vulgar. Now that he does have that recording, he watches it so damn much. One of his favorite ways to wind down after a hard day. Not that he’ll really admit it…

Tup

SFW: This boy LOVES self-care days. If he has the chance, he’ll beg to do one. Paint each other's nails, wear face masks, braid hair in intricate patterns, moisturize, he lives for it. It's just an excellent way of doing the little things to keep his spirits up, expressing his own self-worth, and showing how much you’re worth it. As well as just having some sweet bonding time with his cyare.

NSFW: Loves receiving a lot. He doesn't really ask for it necessarily, and don't get me wrong, making you buck into his face and gasp from all the pleasure he's giving you is still one of his favorite things to do. He just also really enjoys sitting back and watching the person he loves on their knees, doing their utmost to please him and make him feel good. Also, Maker have you perfected it. The moment he sees you slowly sink down he's already anticipating the filthy noises that will leave his mouth.

Crosshair

SFW: MASSIVE sweet tooth. It's his guilty pleasure for a few reasons. Firstly, well, it's unhealthy of course. They also don't get those kinds of pleasures or indulgences as a soldier. But if he gets a chance? He's gonna munch on some sour candy like a child on Halloween. It's a pretty interesting, delightful sight.

NSFW: Crosshair really, really likes it when you ride him. You rarely do it, mostly because he just can't give up that much control to you, albeit anyone, but on the rare occasions he allows it, Maker he comes so fast. You look so damn sexy on top of him, commanding his movements and taking pleasure for yourself equally without his say being a large contributor. For once, he's not in control, he's in your hands and so vulnerable and desperate... it rubs the strangest parts of his mind.

Tech

SFW: This feels a little obvious, but sleeping late. Tech knows it's bad for him, but he just gets so much work done! His brothers aren't up distracting or pestering him, he can be left to his own devices to stray from the task at hand and deviate to another interest of his own volition, it's great! ...Yeah, you have to drag him to bed all the time.

NSFW: 👏Tie👏him👏up! Tech's hands are the most dexterous part of him and give him so much control over things- including you. And if you tie him up and render him subject to whatever you want to do, he becomes a whimpering mess. He'll suddenly be begging for any salvation, bucking his hips up and attempting to grind against you `cause you're just that damn sexy to him.

Wolffe

SFW: Obsessed with holo dramas. Once you caught him screaming at the holo because apparently, the leading lady had made an unwise decision between the two men she was in a love triangle with, and when you asked him about it he immediately denied it. You didn't catch him watching it after that but saw him discreetly trying to find times when he thought you were asleep or working. So then you pretended that you showed interest in the drama to make him feel less bad about watching it. So now you always catch up on the latest episodes when he returns from a dispatch.

NSFW: Enjoys it when you make sorts of animalistic noises in bed. He hasn't expressed it directly, but you're beginning to catch on. He likes to sprinkle on some extra praise if you yelp or howl like a hurt puppy dog, give him those sickly eyes and whimper. And he always comes a little too hard, even letting a few growls rupturing in his stomach out to bless your ears. So in conclusion Wolffe is a furry

a/n: definitely gonna do more of these with other characters, this was really fun! if you guys have any other characters you'd like to see with these headcanons, let me know :) ~ @starstofillmydream @pb-jellybeans @corrieguards @badbatchbabe @ladytano420 @jediknightjana @sleepycreativewriter @shinyshayminflower @thebahdbitch @secondaryrealm

#nour writes stuff #the bad batch #star wars #the clone wars #captain rex #captain rex headcanons #captain rex x reader #tup x reader #clone trooper tup #tbb crosshair #crosshair x reader #tech x reader #tbb tech #commander wolffe #tcw wolffe #wolffe x reader #sw tcw #wolffe smut #wolffe x you #clones #rex x reader #tbb #clone force 99 #rex x you #rex x y/n #tup x you #the bad batch crosshair #bad batch crosshair #clone trooper crosshair #crosshair bad batch

[twiceasmanystarsthanusual]

Skele matchup basic info

Just so I have something down until I can do art and posts for all of them :)

These are of course, based off of @ratsoh-writes skele guys

Sans: I matched sans with Candela Esteban! She’s an archaeologist and comes from a pretty wealthy family though she doesn’t really act like it

Papyrus: I matched Papyrus with Chloe Archuleta! She’s a park ranger and when she’s not working she still likes to spend time in nature or around people

Star: I matched Star with Marlene Sauer! She moved from Germany to become a pro soccer player and she did exactly that B)

Honey: I matched Honey with Nkosenye Ethulo! He’s a marriage counselor and just a really cool guy in general (Nkosenye ily)

Red: I matched Red with Andres Tidwell! He’s a history teacher and a total sweetie <3

Edge: I matched Edge with Syuhada Atilia! She’s a blacksmith and the only one so far with a post up already, in case you want to check that out

Mal: I matched Mal with Damira “Love” Cacpenov! She’s an indie pop singer whose aesthetic could best be described as if Valentines day threw up a person (but a really cool person)

Cash: I matched Cash with Nour Fabre! At the moment she sort of moves from job to job, but she’s getting it all sorted out, she also has sensitive eyes when it comes to light so she’s almost always wearing these giant black sunglasses

Oak: I matched Oak with Giselle Lopez! She’s a vet with a good head on her shoulders (and she’s short so get wrecked)

Willow: I matched Willow with Alicja Wojciechowski! She’s a dance teacher and former ballerina (she stopped early bc she wanted to teach dance and she didn’t really enjoy dancing professionally)

Lord: I matched Lord with Peter Marlow! He’s an architect and he’s smart as hell when it comes to figuring people out, not that he makes a show of it

Mutt: I matched Mutt with Pastelle Torres-Molina! She’s a private investigator with a strong sense of justice, she just doesn’t trust the system to do it’s job as well as it should. She went through a lot early in life and it’s only been fairly recent that she’s learned how to have fun and relax again

Wine: I matched Wine with Lauren Li! She’s a news anchor and a sharp lady to boot. She can keep up with just about anyone and she loves a good debate

Coffee: I matched Coffee with Rosa Marconi! She’s a gaming youtuber (she never shows her face for reasons) and the youngest on this list at 25 

Charm: I matched Charm with Miriaishe Muza! She’s a nail tech and a really fun lady that loves going out and making friends, just as much as she likes staying in and hanging out. 

Sugar: I matched Sugar with Camille Hart! She’s a brain surgeon and likes to be as nice as possible to everyone she can. (Though she’s a little tired of people treating her like she’s dumb just bc she’s blonde and bubbly)

Pluto: I matched Pluto with Salvino Marconi: He mostly goes around doing odd jobs or taking seasonal positions, usually he does stuff that requires little socializing and plenty of physical labor. He’s naturally quiet and a little protective of people around him (He’s also Rosa’s big brother)

Jupiter: I matched Jupiter with Giannis Lanthimos! He’s a firefighter and a total (HIMBOOOOO) sweetheart who just wants the best for the people around him

Pop: I matched Pop with Leo Stein! They currently work the night shift at a diner, and they tend to make friends with the weirdest people in the weirdest situations

Rhythm: I matched Rhythm with Jamal Vega! He’s a landscaper and produces saxophone music on the side. Mostly contemporary blues since that’s he liked to listen to all the time when he was little (he’s really good at it too)

Peaches: I matched Peaches with Adele Kelly! She’s a writer (she writes in a range of genres) and is a bit on she shyer side. She gets overwhelmed easily and likes a calmer, domestic sort of lifestyle

Rancher: I matched Rancher with Ever Baldock! He’s an auto mechanic and he’s fond of routine and the cars he repairs. (He and Rancher are two ND boyfriends and I vibe with it)

Snipe: I matched Snipe with Harley Suzuki! Harley is partially in charge of a casino/nightclub and I promise he’s nowhere as sleazy as those things usually tend to be. He’s genuine and responsible and when he isn’t very busy he likes to take his younger siblings out to have fun

Bruiser: I matched Bruiser with Nia Sullivan! She’s a beekeeper and a really chill person in general. Her deal is more or less, “I just want to sit here and tend to my bees, maybe sell some honey”

Butch: I matched Butch with Iris Abernathy! She’s a florist and she’s pretty adventurous (as long as the adventure doesn’t take her too far from her shop/flat on a work night) and is a ride or die type of girl

Boss: I matched Boss with Ahn Ji-Yoo! She’s currently a receptionist and is one of the sweetest people ever. Ji-Yoo is like the poster child of having every right to be angry at the world and choosing to be kind anyways and I love her more than anything

Ace: I matched Ace with Beelzebub “Zee” Grimm! They’re a tattoo artist with a very unorthodox upbringing (and name jfjfhdj) and it shows, Think stargirl mixed with the Addams family

Slim: I matched Slim with Sofia Bridges! She works at an ice cream parlor and is one of those people who just gives off nice comforting vibes. Also I feel like she just smell like coldstone creamery so if you know, you know

G: I matched G with Espen Rasmussen! He’s a sculptor mostly, and has a bit of a fiery streak. Usually though he keeps his mouth shut (and when he talks people listen) 

Green: I matched Green with Andreas Ross! (not to be confused with Andres)  He’s an engineer and just a very gentle, sort of old soul. He’s very curious though, and has this sense of wonder about him.

Rust: I matched Rust with Valerie Worthington! She’s a chiropractor, and while she normally is the cool mom friend, she also wont take people’s shit and probably has a deadly side eye

Noir: I matched Noir with Thalia McCoy! She’s a personal trainer and a total people person. She likes cheering people up and trying new things (though she does enjoy her days in too, don’t get it twisted)

Lilac: I matched Lilac with Lorena Gomez! She’s a chef at a fun little downtown restaurant. She’s got a bit of a wild spirit but is actually an introvert. She really enjoys when she can get home and recharge (usually by listening to music or podcasts while she works on recipes, orders. meal planning and such)

Basil: I matched Basil with Anita Goldberg! She’s a librarian and she actually works mostly in the children’s side of the library, reading to kids and helping them find stuff. She’s sweet but she also has plenty of opinions and if someone decides to be an ass she can and will chose to express them far from politely

#i'll work on tags later bc im #tirrrreeedddd

[deejadabbles]

hi love! ✨🎀🎉💌 hope ur doing amazing 🤍

Hi darling! Thank you, I've had a good day so far and you're making it even better 💙💙💙

✨What's a fic you've posted you wish you could breathe life into again and have people talking about it? (or simply a fic you wish got more credit)

Honestly, I kinda wish Echo and Comms had more attention? It has a couple of readers, whom I greatly appreciate, but I've had trouble getting motivated for the third part since Echo's not as popular as some of his brothers 😅 Still gonna finish it tho, because I adore Echo and know others do too 💙

🎀give yourself a compliment about your own writing

Oh boy, okay, time to think positively! Um, I really like the way I write dialogue. Back when I was a teenager and started improving my writing, it was one of the first (and repeated) compliments I got, that people liked my dialogue and how they can hear the character's voices when reading 😊

🎉how often do you celebrate completing & posting a work? how often do you give yourself the credit/validation that you seek from others when you post? (if you don't, you should!)

That's something I've gotten better about recently, I usually feel really nervous and paranoid about pressing the post button(as I'm sure we all do), but I try my best to feel pride that I completed something when I do. I've also gotten better about rereading my stuff later and noticing "good" things rather than just criticizing myself, it's a slow progress, but I am improving on it <3

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

Okay so !!!! My next contribution to @tcwmatchmakingau is going to be with Echo, and I'm super excited about the premise! The reader is someone who's had people take advantage of their kindness in the past, someone who's told they're "too nice" or too naive, all that toxic crap, and Echo one of the first people they meet who genuinely admires and praised their kindness. I think a lot of us need a man like that and I'm super excited to explore that concept!

thank you Nour!

Come ask me some writer questions

#ask game #about me

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8 Unpopular jobs in Egypt

Each region has its components. No doubt that these components form the personality of the labor market. Now, we're going to talk about some unpopular & funny jobs.

 1- Bereavement coordinator

This job is a type of consulting service as they mainly focus on arranging for the funeral and settling down all things related to this event including paperwork, appointments, supervision, and volunteers so the family doesn't have to go through this rough stuff.

2- Color expert

Yes, it's what you expected. Someone who uses color phycology to recommend sufficient color for particular things such as homes, offices, and products.

3- Online dating ghostwriter

It's uncommon to have dating apps but if we get the chance, I suppose that we will require this job. This ghostwriter will write profiles for lovers to make it catchy.

4-Flavorist

This isn't unfamiliar especially for the 90s generation as they were taught at school about a famous chief called "zawaka" his primary job was savoring food and give instructions to reach the ideal dish.

5-Clinical ethicist

A clinical ethicist is a job that requires you to take an unbiased position regarding certain medical decisions to help doctors, patients and families make informed decisions. A community like ours demands this job during the absence of medical decision awareness.

 6- Nail Polish Namer

If you ever wondered about the silly and unique names of nail polish, this job is the answer.

7- Live Mannequin/Human Statue

Live mannequins are a new and unexpected form of advertising. They grab attention and provide an experience that sticks with potential customers. And the position is what it sounds like. You will stand as a live mannequin in storefronts where you could occasionally change poses and possibly outfits. You may interact with customers or just strictly act as a conventional mannequin. Having this type of mannequin should have a progressive use on the Egyptian economy, yet are you curious about sexual harassment against women if they took part in this profession?

8- Doula

A doula is a woman who offers professional pregnancy and birth support services. She does not take on a medical role. She is closely a supportive person for the expectant mother by submitting emotional and physical assistance.

A doula typically offers three types of services: pregnancy, childbirth, and postpartum support. Fortunately, this line of work has started late in Egypt by the corporation of Nour Emam the founder of "mother being" and the first Egyptian doula.