#please enjoy some blurbs and rambles

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

Sugar Daddy!Cooper Howard is sort of a menace when it comes to sneakily getting what he wants. There's a certain level of access you have to the means of getting your way when you're famous and wealthy, so, while he isn't intolerant to being told no, it's not his favorite thing, particularly when he's being prevented from sharing his generosity with you the way he wants to. The fact that you accepting that generosity often happens to come with the added bonus of making you more agreeable to doing what he wants is pure coincidence...if you believe what he says about it.

In particular, he likes to have more than a little say in your wardrobe. He'll fill your entire closet with new clothes just for the excuse to pick out what you wear, right down to the shoes and accessories. He takes your personal style heavily into consideration, so you won't find anything you wouldn't have picked out yourself...save for the occasional piece that shows a bit more leg or cleavage than you'd usually choose (as well as plenty of heels that you will be wearing to bed regardless of whether you ever really wear them out). He can't help himself; it's just so fun to have his own personal doll to dress up. Also loves to drag you out to go "window" shopping, which invariably turns to real shopping, complete with you modeling clothes worth more than you make in a month for him and him trying his best to not drag you back into the dressing room.

Your grocery budget had to be carefully managed before he came along, so you grew quite used to convenience foods and whatever simple dishes were easiest (and cheapest) to prepare. He quickly filled your fridge and pantry with staples when you began to see one another, fretting at you for not eating "real food", but he also knows you sometimes find cooking arduous after a long day. Because of that, he loves to dress you up and take you out to fancy dinners, multi-course, candlelit affairs where he makes you try dishes you've never seen before. When you're too tired to go out, he'll surprise you with takeout, or he'll come to your place and cook for you using ingredients you could never afford on your own. He only really knows how to make a handful of dishes himself, but he's pretty good at them. Plus, the view of him working in the kitchen with his sleeves rolled up is quite alluring.

His biggest challenge in getting his way comes in the form of trying to get you into a better living arrangements; he's not a dick, but he's not impressed by your apartment or the area it's in. Pretty rapidly he begins making little "jokes" and remarks about how you should consider letting him move you to a better place. When you tell him you'd already considered moving, but can't really afford to pay any more in rent, he looks at you like you've sprouted a second head. Obviously he would be paying the rent. Don't be silly. You should be saving your own money, or spending it on what you want. When you're skittish at the idea of him paying such a significant bill of yours on top of all of his, he offers to just let you move in with him instead. That better? He could pay to get you out of your lease and have movers at your place within the week...

Don't bother asking him how much anything he gives you costs, as he won't tell you. If you ever manage to figure it out, any complaints will fall on deaf ears. Actually, don't watch his pockets, period; so much of his self-image and sense of masculinity is tied up in being a "proper provider" for his family, so any voiced concerns about how much money he has, even after his personal wealth takes a pretty big hit post-divorce, really dig at him the wrong way. He's open enough about his financials as a committed partner, insofar as you know his bills get paid on time and he isn't living off of debt or anything, so one of the few ways you can get him somewhat reliably annoyed with you is to question if he can afford something, or stress about "your part" of things. Can't you just let him take care of you? You worry too much.

It's just good luck that spoiling you often gets your motor running, ready to cuddle up close and smother him in kisses (or more) out of excitement and gratitude once you become more accustomed to being pampered. He'd never spend money on you just to get you to put out, he insists. But your enthusiasm towards his largesse certainly doesn't hurt anything. Who doesn't feel more affectionate, physically and otherwise, when they're well seen to? There's no shame in enjoying that, (or the fact that he has somewhat lopsided influence over your decisions) he tells himself.

The Ghoul is used to getting his way almost purely through force and intimidation these days, which is great for dealing with Brotherhood agents and raiders and settlers with wild hairs up their asses, but not so great for trying to actually endear himself to anyone. And god, does he want that with you after he meets you. The shock of his attraction to you bowls him over pretty badly, and he has to take quite a while to sit with it before deciding how to proceed.

However, when he opens up the smallest bit and tries to get back in touch with Cooper Howard, ladykiller, he finds that he's humiliatingly rusty and impatient for you to start to open up to him in kind. Unfortunately, he's almost forgotten how to actually treat people decently, so he has to dig himself out of quite the pit from how big of an asshole he's been to you previously, reactively even more unpleasant than usual, intimidated by his feelings.

Eventually, he remembers that spending money on people usually helps and also doesn't require any emotional vulnerability.

You're a bit put off by it at first, thinking he's essentially trying to bribe you into forgetting how awful he's been to you before (and it's true, he is), your walls up high despite still generally accepting his offerings. It's for the best. He gets pissy and pushy if you repeatedly, blatantly refuse his gifts or gestures, which directly counteracts the desired affect of the action to begin with, but hey, he's got a long way to go before he's a ladykiller again...

He can't take you to luxury boutiques and spend all afternoon watching you try things on for him like he'd like, but he can keep a sharp eye out for especially intact clothing when the two of you are rummaging around whatever bombed-out ruins you find yourself in, occasionally pulling only-slightly-faded dresses and delicate slips from the rubble. He carries these little gifts himself so you're not burdened by having to keep track of them. He can also buy you new armor and take in the view as you sit in your undies by the fire or curled up on the floor maintaining it. Incredibly tarnished jewelry is fairly easy to find, depending on where you look, and he has nothing but time to polish and tweak things while you sleep. Who doesn't like a shiny bauble, even if they don't have the same sort of value they once did? One day, he finds an especially nice ring and tucks it away for the future, only pulling it out to fiddle with when he's sure he's alone. You never know what may happen.

Nice restaurants are exceedingly rare anymore, basically extinct (and most of the ones that do exist don't allow ghouls, not that he would feel he belonged in a place like that, anyway), but he can still spare you the ass jerky and buy you the best quality food he can get his hands on: fresh, un-disesased brahmin meat (a shockingly rare and pricey grocery item in the post-war world and one of the more desirable sources of animal protein), relatively radiation-free vegetables, the sweetest, juiciest fruits. It makes him happy to know that you're getting adequate nutrition, and he more than enjoys getting to watch you eat what he gives you. This is especially true of anything sticky or juicy; he'll blatantly withhold these things until he can sit and properly take in the show, his gaze rather blatantly revealing his thoughts.

Instead of making you sleep on the bare desert ground, or huddle around a tiny fire in whatever shack he's chosen to rest in for the night, he'll often shell out for a room when the option presents itself, especially so if the place has access to water. A lot of the time he has to give you the caps and send you inside to pay for the room yourself, as many places won't rent to ghouls. It's far from how he'd prefer to do things, but he considers the indignity he suffers a small price to pay to see you so carefree for a bit. Sometimes you'll even wear one of the dresses he's scrounged up for you when the mood is right. He's not surprised by it; he knows how much you like to feel clean, how happy it makes you, and the relaxation granted from staying somewhere safe is unparalleled. The fact that he gets to peek in on you bathing when he comes around to "check on you" is icing on the cake. Eventually, you start to give him intentional little peeks at your body when he does, and the physical relationship between you really starts to bloom from that point on.

Initially, he uses gifts and generous gestures to get you to see that he might not be a complete monster, though he has trouble adjusting his other behaviors as quickly as he adjusts his spending habits. Overall, gifts from him are much less a "let me grease the wheels for the future so I can ultimately get what I want" sort of thing and more of a "I'm sorry for how I am, I hope overcompensating in other areas fixes it" sort of thing. He's more than willing to put in the hard, painful work that he knows he needs to be better on other levels, though he's agonizingly aware that the progress on that front is slow. Don't question his commitment to changing for the better for you, however.

He really wants to give you that ring.

[lovebugism]

How about something smutty for the Thunderbolts headcanons 😳 Like how each of them would react to you making them cum in their pants

thank you so much for requesting and feeding my hyperfixation!! below you will find four separate baby blurbs for bucky, john, yelena, and bob. each section will have it's own summary, warnings, and whole lotta smut! enjoy :D

BUCKY BARNES X READER — you're with him in wakanda when he's cured of the trigger words in his head. he's able to touch you for the first time without feeling scared of himself. (established relationship, post-cacw | 1k words)

Bucky Barnes can’t remember the last time he felt this free. Maybe sometime in 1942, he guesses — before he got drafted, before Hydra captured him, before they put those goddamn words in his head. It feels weird that they’re gone now; to be without the dark cloud of impending doom that, at any moment, someone could utter the words and he’d just snap. 

But now, freshly cured and living on the Wakandan countryside, he can touch you for the first time without being terrified of himself.

“You’re so pretty,” he mumbles as his vibranium hand trails up the expanse of your bare back. He keeps his flesh one on your thigh, smoothing his thumb over the plush skin there, and tilts his scruffy chin to smile up at you. He’s got you straddled over his lap, barely clothed and bathed in golden candelight, like some kinda angel brought to life.

“You’re pretty,” you correct with a lovesick grin, raking your hands through his silky, growing locks.

Bucky leans instinctively into your touch. “Don’t make this about me,” he says, squinting.

“It is about you,” you remind him with a giggle, ducking down to kiss his neck. “I’m supposed to compliment you—” Your lips brush his pulse in a chaste kiss. Bucky fights back a shiver. “—Supposed to make you feel good.”

“You do,” Bucky sighs a contented moan, pulling you further into him. “You always do…”

His vibranium hand curls up your back and towards your shoulder. His other one holds tightly to your hip. You wrap your arms tighter around his neck until your bare chest is flush with his scruffy one — until your clothed cunt brushes his cock, half-hard and throbbing within the confines of his boxers.

A moan rumbles in Bucky’s throat. You feel it against your lips when you press them to his adam’s apple. “Do you want to?” you murmur against him, voice low like honey. “‘Cause it kinda seems like you want to.”

Bucky’s head is too clouded to respond properly to your teasing. He just nods his heavy head and flexes his hips beneath you in a desperate attempt to relieve the pulsing ache in his boxers. You let him, and with his consent, begin to rock slowly over his lap. 

“Say it,” you whisper in his ear.

“Want it,” he pants in yours. “Want you.”

“You have me, Buck,” you slur, trying to peer at him through the haze in your vision. Your panties drag over his stiffening cock and leave a damp spot at the center of them. You find yourself chasing your high just as much as Bucky’s. 

You snuck a few sips of alcohol to quell your worry before watching Ayo recite the wretched words back to the man haunted by them. You feel the consequences creeping up on you now and find yourself rambling before you can stop it, half-deluded with pleasure. 

“‘M already yours. My pussy’s already— shit,” you whimper in time with Bucky’s groaning when your clit drags over his lap. Through pants, you beg him, “Say you wanna fuck me. Please. Don’t wanna cum ’til you’re inside me.”

“Oh, fuck,” Bucky whines, face screwed and eyes shut tight. He tries to form the words in his head, but all he can think about is how wet you are — and how his leaking cock has left a damp spot in his underwear — and how the combination of both makes the friction between you so dizzying. “I wanna… fuck—” 

“Uh-huh,” you tease with a slow nod when you sense he’s getting close. “You can do it, Buck. C’mon. There you go.”

He can’t tell if you’re trying to coach him into saying the words or push him headfirst into an orgasm. He hopes it’s the latter, ‘cause he feels himself bursting into his boxers a second later.

“Fuck!” he blurts when he cums, half-muffled and half-whined, like it pains him. 

He holds your hips in both hands, keeping you still above him in a crueler grip than he means to. The quiet bedroom fills with the sound of crackling candles and his groaning. He tilts his face to the ceiling and moans into the golden darkness with his eyes squeezed shut. The sudden orgasm racks through his body in so many shivers up his spine, three warm ropes spit into the confines of his boxers.

“‘M sorry,” he pants when it’s done, still slightly airy from the aftershocks. “I’m sorry, I didn’t— Didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay,” you promise with a soft laugh as your own building pleasure begins to subside. You cup his scruffy face in your palms and try to kiss him through the smile on your lips. “You deserve it, Buck,” you whisper against his mouth, between your delicate kisses. “You deserve everything.”

Bucky shakes his head between your palms and smooths his fingers over the bruises he unknowingly stamped into your skin. “Don’t care about everything,” he murmurs lowly. “Just you.”

Your eyes narrow in a sarcastic squint, though you can’t hide the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Do you think we can get Shuri to erase the cheesiness from your brain, too?”

“Sure,” Bucky scoffs, smiling still, as he shoves you playfully onto your back. You giggle when you hit the mattress, caging your smile between your teeth as the man crawls back between your legs. He lies flat on the mattress, face-to-face with your clothed pussy. “I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You nod, obviously sarcastic. “Mhm. Very much.”

“Maybe I’ll just go get her then,” Bucky murmurs, punctuating his quip with a kiss to your inner thigh as he spreads them apart. You shiver when his scruff scrapes your delicate skin. “Tell her to put me back under the ice—”

Your feet lock behind his back to keep him against you. Bucky laughs and curls his arms around your thighs as you prop yourself on your elbows to shoot him a death glare. “You’re not going anywhere, Sergeant Barnes.”

And, truth be told, Bucky’s exactly where he wants to be.

JOHN WALKER X READER — john hates when valentina pairs the two of you on missions together. until he doesn't. (enemies to lovers, pre-thunderbolts, cw for brief mentions of injuries | 0.8k words)

John Walker can’t stand you most days. You’re too reckless, too impulsive, too quick to put yourselves in situations that might kill you. He hates that Valentina paired you together just as much as he hates that he cares so much about your well-being.

He knows it’d be easier to let you get yourself killed, to have one less thing to worry about, but he somehow ends up kissing you instead.

“I can’t fucking stand you,” he grumbles through labored breaths, with your spit still shining on his swollen mouth. He cages your body between his larger one and the unforgiving wall behind you. The men guarding the vault outside surely won’t mind the sexual tension rising inside it, seeing as they’re half-dead already.

You smile in the face of his anger until the fresh cut on your mouth starts to sting. “But you can fuck me?” you pant, eyes glazed over as they dart back and forth between his dilated ones. “I mean, you want to, right? ’S why you locked me in here, isn’t it?”

“I locked you in here because there were three guys outside trying to kill you, if you forgot.”

“Two,” you correct in a witty deadpan. “I killed the third one.”

“And I killed the other two, who gives a shit—”

“You’re obsessed with me, Walker,” you grin, pulling him close by the belt loops on his suit. 

Despite his near palpable rage, he melts into you with ease. The blonde man stumbles closer until he’s towering over you — hair messy from his helmet, face bruised, ocean eyes staring daggers into you.

“Well, that’s very presumptuous of you,” he gripes.

“I don’t think it is,” you lilt lowly and nudge his clothed crotch with your thigh. 

You watch the words of an argument form and dissolve on his tongue all at once. John exhales hard through his nose as his eyes go glassy. He hadn’t realized how hard he was until you pressed yourself against him — how sensitive he was — how long it had been since he’d had any sort of release.

“Admit it—” you whisper, pulling him closer until his stiff cock is pressed between your bodies. He smells like cologne and copper pennies, likely from the blood darkening his navy blue suit. You’re almost sure you’d be able to feel his racing heart from here, if it weren’t for the thick layers separating you. “—You love me…”

“I hate you,” he corrects, though his dark eyes cloud with lust.

Your smile widens. The cut on the corner of your mouth begins to weep all over again. John reaches for your jaw without thinking, cupping his palm there and swiping the crimson away with his thumb. 

“No, you don’t,” you coo with a shake of your head. The room goes quiet then, filled only by John’s heavy breaths and the clinking of his belt as you undo the buckle. You keep him close with one hand around his belt loop while the other creeps around the front of him. His breath catches in his throat when your fingers dip beneath the hem.

You don’t think he realizes how he’s rocking himself against your thigh. Or the way he subconsciously shakes his head in agreement. 

“You’ve always thought about this, haven’t you?” you continue mercilessly, grinning when your fingertips meet the coarse thatch of hair above his cock. 

John nods his heavy head and leans further into you, propping himself on the wall as his eyes flutter shut. He deserves this, he tells himself, for saving your ass a hundred times over. You owe him one, really.

“I know you have,” you whisper in his ear. “I bet you’ve gotten yourself off to the thought of me a thousand times.”

Again, John nods in response without ever really noticing it. Just like he doesn’t really notice the release building within him — like a creeping hand up his spine, or a tightening knot in his lean stomach. He just keeps rubbing himself against you, chasing a high he barely knows is there.

“But I think when you imagined me making you cum…” you trail off and smile when John moans against your pulse. “…You always thought it’d be inside me.”

John tenses at the thought of fucking you. He’s left trembling above you as a sudden orgasm racks through his body. The quiet room fills with his poorly heldback groans and your giggling while he cums in his pants. He feels the evidence, warm and wet, blooming in his boxers — just like the red-hot embarrassment exploding in his chest. 

He pulls away to find you grinning like the devil.

“Told ya,” you monotone and pull your hand from his boxers, only slightly mourning the fact that you never actually got to touch him. “You’re obsessed with me.”

John scoffs, like he has any room to be ambivalent after humping your thigh like a dog. He zips up his pants, belt buckle clinking as he fastens it again. “You ruined my suit,” is all he can think to say as you walk past him.

You roll your eyes and wrench open the heavy door to the vault, stepping over the bloody bodies littered on the other side of it. “Bill me,” you call over your shoulder.

YELENA BELOVA X READER — yelena is full of adrenaline after a mission, and you only know one way to calm her down (established relationship, post-thunderbolts, cw for very brief mentions of injuries | 0.8k words)

Yelena Belova has you flat on your back. The rest of the Avengers tower is dark, quiet, and asleep — each of you recovering from the latest mission in the sanctuary of your bedrooms. The blonde Russian girl is too full of adrenaline to rest, though, never mind how much she could probably use the sleep. She’s a relentless force on top of you — because of the adrenaline, of course, and not because she nearly lost you.

She tugs your pants down your legs with a pair of merciless hands, bruised knees digging into the foot of the mattress across from you. The mattress squeaks with each of your movements, and you fight back a laugh. “Be gentle, Belova!” you scold in a whisper. “Walker’s gonna hear.”

(John had the misfortune of his bedroom being one story below yours. And the floors were surprisingly thin. Or so he says.)

Yelena scoffs, face screwed. “I don’t care,” she mutters, voice accented and low like honey. “Let him hear.”

She makes a big show of climbing back over your body, moving much more violently than normal over the worn bed frame, so it creaks louder beneath her. “Yelena!” you snap quietly through gritted teeth, but hold her gently by the hips when she straddles you just the same.

“What?!” she exclaims, louder than necessary for the late, late night, as she tugs her shirt over her head. She throws the fabric to the side, discarding it with the rest of your pajamas littered on the floor — leaving both of you in mismatched sets of old, cotton underwear.

“God, you’re such a child,” you grouse and cross your arms beneath your head.

Yelena grins. “Stop flirting with me,” she lilts lowly and ducks down to kiss you.

Your eyes flutter shut when her plush lips trail from your jaw down to your neck. “We should rest, Lena…” you tell her, sighing when her teeth scrape your pulse. “We’re gonna be sore in the morning.”

You feel her mouth curl into a smile against your skin. “I hope so.”

“Child,” you repeat.

Yelena gets relentless rather quickly, feral in a way only a previous world-class assassin could be. She forgets about the exhaustion and the bruises that ache to the bone, littered across both your bodies. Her head fills only with thoughts of making you feel good, touching you like it could be the last time she ever gets to.

“Lena, Lena, Lena—” you echo, reaching for her wrist where her hand’s shoved into your panties. “Slow down,” you laugh.

“Why?” she whines.

You find her pretty face contorted in a girlish pout when you cup her cheeks in your hands. “Because we have all night,” you coo, smoothing your thumbs over her flushed jaw. “We don’t have to rush.”

Your words strike something deep in her chest. She refuses to let the vulnerability show. 

“I know that,” she scoffs, trying to look unbothered as you smooth the top of her tank top down her chest. You tuck it beneath her breasts, and her pink nipples perk when the cool air hits them.

“Good,” you hum, lifting your head to take her left breast in your mouth.

“I just— I wanted to make you feel good—” she whines in her low Russian accent, voice cracking when you nudge her clothed cunt with your thigh. “—Oh…”

You smile into her chest, teeth scraping her sensitive nipple. Yelena keeps you pressed against her with a hand on the back of your head. Your arms curl around her back to keep her flush to your thigh. You feel the warmth of her cunt against your skin, and the wet spot slowly forming there.

The stubborn girl turns into a puddle above you, in more ways than one. You feel her shuddering as she buries each of her moans in your hair. Your mouth leaves her nipple with a quiet pop, and a thin string of saliva threatens to connect you when you pull away.

“Are you gonna cum, Lena?” you coo, swollen mouth curling into a soft smile. “I’ve barely even touched you—”

Her fingers tighten in your hair. “Don’t stop, don’t stop,” she pleads in a broken voice.

You return to her chest, sucking on her sensitive nipple until she keens. She exhales a hoarse moan above you, flexing her hips over your thigh to keep her clit flush to your skin. She lets out several pretty “Uh, uh, uh”’s before tensing suddenly above you. 

Yelena holds her breath, grips you tight by your shoulder and the back of your neck, and begins to tremble over your thigh. “Oh, shit…” she moans, then sighs. “Oh, shit—” 

It comes out more disappointed the second time, as she pulls back from you to flash you a girlish pout. “What?” you laugh, mouth shining with spit, as you smooth a rouge blonde tendril behind her ear.

“I was supposed to make you feel good,” she whines, Russian accent sounding deep in her mouth. “I had it all planned— I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing we’ve got all the time in the world, right?”

Yelena’s frown curls into a more devilish grin at your words.

Neither of you get any sleep that night. Walker, included.

ROBERTY REYNOLDS X READER — a year after the void nearly destroyed new york, you're still teaching bob that it's okay to feel good (new-ish relationship, post-thunderbolts | 1k words)

Robert Reynolds is still getting used to touching you. He’s spent nearly every day with you since you found him — learning how to use his powers for good, how to touch you without hurting you, how to be human again. It’s been a year since then, and he’s starting to get the hang of it. But sometimes he thinks you have more faith in him than he does in himself.

You kiss him hard enough to bruise him on the center of the living room couch, with Sunset Boulevard playing quietly on the large TV behind you. Bob’s anxiety is only partly quelled by the rest of the Thunderbolts’ absence, but he’s still slightly scared of himself — what if The Void returned and swallowed him whole again? Who would be there to stop him from hurting you if it did?

You don’t seem half as panicked about the whole thing as your lips stamp wet kisses up and down the expanse of his long neck. “You’re so pretty, Bobby,” you murmur into his warm skin. “Such a pretty boy…”

Bob swallows hard at your praise, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He shifts uncomfortably beneath you on the sofa when he feels his cock twitching in the confines of his sweatpants. There’s a need for release inside of him that he can’t ignore, but he cares more about keeping you safe. Safe from himself.

You pull back, mouth swollen from your assault on his neck. “Can I…?” you smile and trail off, hands sliding down his clothed, lean chest to the waistband of his sweatpants.

Bob doesn’t know what you’re planning. It excites him as much as it frightens him. His mouth opens and closes like a fish until he finds the words. “Oh. I— I don’t— I don’t know,” he stammers through an awkward chuckle.

You shrug despite the pang of disappointment in your chest. “It’s okay. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to—”

“It’s not that!” Bob blurts, rushing to hold you by the waist when you threaten to move off him. (He forgets, for maybe the first time ever, to be scared of touching you.) He swallows hard at the look you give him, blinking wildly with glassy eyes. “I just… I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You’re not gonna hurt me,” you assure him with a pretty laugh. “You don’t even have to touch me.”

Bob’s brows furrow. “What?” he wonders aloud.

You don’t answer him with words. You just flash him a mischievous smirk and shift on the couch until you’re no longer straddling him. You press your lips to his — once, twice, and then a third time — in a silent reminder to relax before your mouth trails down his neck once more. 

You move past his jaw, to his pulse, and down towards his collarbone, sinking further onto your knees as you kiss down his body.

Bob exhales a shuddering breath and tilts his heavy head towards the back of the couch. He feels his hands start to ache with the urge to touch you. He balls them into fists, instead.

“Relax, baby,” you murmur between the kisses you press to his clothed sternum. “Let me make you feel good.”

Bob tenses beneath you when your hands brush his cock, growing harder in his boxers by the second. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to ignore the need swelling inside him. “Um… Maybe we should…” he stammers, voice shaking. “Maybe we should, like, slow down?”

He covers his desperate plea with a wavering half-smile.

You nod, now fully on your knees between his spread thighs, and give him a kind, tight-lipped smile in return. “‘Course. I’ll go slow. Promise.”

You feel Bob trembling beneath your hand when you lift the hem of his shirt. Your fingers brush the fine hair sprinkled on his lean stomach as you press chaste kisses to every inch of revealed skin. He takes in a shaking breath, burning red hot under your touch. 

He doesn’t know how to tell you how sensitive he is — how, if he thinks about you and your soft touches for too long, that he’ll explode. So he doesn’t. He just squeezes his eyes shut and tries to think about anything other than the way you’re making him feel just now.

“I’ll take care of you, Bobby. I promise,” you slur between languid kisses, holding his shirt up with one hand while your other teases the hem of his boxers. “I’ll make you feel so good—” Your lips brush the coarse hair peeking from his waistline. You flash him a pair of glassy, mischievous eyes. 

“And maybe—” A kiss. “If you’re real good—” Another, a bit lower this time. “I’ll let you fuck me—”

Bob face twists. His brows furrow, his eyes shut tight, his nose scrunches at the bridge. He makes a strangled noise in his throat, growing so tense beneath you that it makes him tremble. 

You just freeze, frightened that you might’ve done something wrong. You did just promise to take it slow, after all — and here he is now, cumming in his boxers. 

He feels the warmth of his orgasm wetting the plaid fabric and sticking awkwardly to his skin. He fails to stave off the pang of embarrassment searing his chest.

“I’m sorry,” both of you blurt at the same time.

Bob’s eyes snap open, still slightly glazed over. “You’re sorry?!” he gapes. “What are you sorry for?”

You falter for a moment. “I don’t know,” you answer and start to laugh. 

The pretty sound fills the quiet tower, and Bob can’t help but laugh along with you. He tilts his heavy head back against the couch as you rise from your knees, straddling him once more and avoiding the sensitive mess in his pants. 

“Did it feel good, at least?” you ask, smoothing your palms over his trembling shoulders.

Bob nods and swallows hard. “Yeah,” he mumbles, then clears his throat. “I haven’t— Haven’t been with anyone in a while, so… I guess you could say I’m… a little out of practice.”

“Don’t worry about it, okay?” you coo, ducking down to press a chaste kiss to his mouth. Even with his eyes closed, he can hear the smile in your voice as you whisper, “I’ll whip you back into shape in no time, Reynolds.”

[fefern]

✧˖° their ways of showing affection. | aalto, calcharo, lingyang headcanons.

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ synopsis: you're in love and happily with these wonderful men! but just how do they show their affection for you?

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ characters involved (separate): aalto, calcharo, lingyang and a gender neutral reader.

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ warnings: none!

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ notes: another one! i love thinking about the little ways people show love , it makes me so happy ;v;! enjoy these little blurbs about how they'd love you! also, requests are currently open, so send them my way! also, i could not find a calcharo chibi drawing... ;;

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ aalto ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

knowledge is power! the more he knows about you, the more he utilizes it in showing his affection for you.

a big, BIG sweet talker. loves to flirt!

also big on compliments, find it cute when you don’t know what to say back.

a big spender in my opinion. oh, you liked that necklace but thought it was too expensive? surprise, it’s on the counter for you when you wake up the next day! you tried to win that plushie at the fair but it just didn’t work out? now you have 20 on the couch!

adores kisses, especially when you pepper them all over his face. (bonus points if you’re wearing lipstick, man is enamored to look at himself and see visually everywhere you smooched him.)

follows the sidewalk rule all the time. does not matter if it’s a safe area, he always is a bit protective in that way.

learns more about your hobbies and likes and begins to learn more about them in his free time. that way, when he sees you again, he’ll be able to engage in conversation with you about it. 

loves the way that your eyes light up when you talk about something you’re passionate about, and stares at you a lot as a result. 

likes to playfully scare you. he seems to have the ability to disappear and reappear as he pleases due to the mist, so he uses it sometimes to suddenly appear behind you and wrap his arms around your waist.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ calcharo ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

not much of a talker, and kind of new to showing affection entirely due to his past, so be patient. 

will wake up early and remind you to bring a jacket if it’s cold.

the type of person to also remind you that you forgot something, but by the time you turn around, he has the missing item in his hand.

will protect you if you’re scared of something. loud thunder? his hands are around your ears. scary part of a show? he’s using his arm to pull you closer to his chest to hide in. 

will quietly work in the same room as you, enjoying your presence entirely as you and him work. 

will sometimes ask those he knows around him for some advice about love, which is sort of strange considering who it’s coming from, but he wants to improve himself to be a better partner for you.

tries to apply the advice after, it’s a hit or miss sometimes, but always coming from a good place. 

iffy on physical touch, but he will slowly come to enjoy the feeling of holding your hand.

he also does the thumb thing where you rub the back of a person’s hand with your thumb while holding hands. his favorite.

will let you play with his hair sometimes in the morning if he’s in the mood for it. even if you do something goofy like braid his hair or put it into a random hairdo, he’ll enjoy the feeling of your hands in his hair as he slowly stirs awake. 

ruthless and cold in many other aspects of his life, he’s a gentle giant when it comes to you, and it’s endearing to see him try.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ lingyang ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

will always love to eat with you, whether it’s going out or cooking with you. 

^ always lets you have the last bite of the meal.

immediately looks for your reaction after he tells a joke with you, wanting to make sure that you enjoy his playfulness.

during the summer heatwaves, will use his glacio powers to help keep the both of you cool.

will sit in your lap and let you play with his ears as he rambles about his day.

loves yapping, and yapping in your presence as the two of you either bounce back and forth or you just listen, he likes both options. 

loves hugs, hugs tight and for a long time, will not let go of you until you let go of him first.

will compliment your scent and comment on it if you change something up like your shampoo or perfume, usually the first to notice those small changes.

shares a blanket with you on cold days and cuddles with you for warmth.

will sometimes, after waking up, just admire your features because wow he got lucky because you’re his.

even if you wake up and your eyes are looking back at him, he does it without shame.

whenever someone talks about you, if they say something wrong, he’ll immediately interject. (ex. “they like strawberries the most.” “no no, they like peaches more!”)

does practice runs of new tricks and dance moves he learns for his lion dances, asking you about your opinion on them because it means the world to him to know you like the dance he’s so passionate about. 

gets matching lucky charms with you and carries his around everywhere. “maybe we’ll win the lottery with this!” he tells you.

(he already did. after all, you’re his partner.)

[baskinbucky]

come back, be here. [2]

pairing: avenger!bucky x fem!avenger reader

blurb: a mission failed, and a broken heart returned back at the headquarters, and despite having to save almost everyone, Bucky blames himself for it.

a/n: this took a lot of time to write because, well, it's emotionally heavy, even for me. please do expect some minor errors, this is not proof-read.

warnings: angst. pre-established relationship between reader and bucky. more of a brief overview to prior events.

“G’morning, doll.” Bucky whispers in your ear as he snakes his arms around your waist, hugging you, his voice still groggy from his sleep. 

“Good mornin’, my love, I assume you slept well last night?” You say softly as you turn around to face him, your arms soon draped around his neck, your fingers toy with the ends of his hair. You lean in to place a peck on his lips, then to his cheeks, and then on the tip of his nose–small gestures that could easily make Bucky’s heart leap endlessly. 

“I did because I was cuddling you, alright? I can’t sleep without having to cuddle my best girl, y’know? I offered you every bit of my flesh, bones, and soul.” Bucky says with a chuckle escaping his lips, immediately burying his face on the crook of your neck and placing soft kisses from there and up to your jaw and the soft skin just under your ear. 

“Going all Shakespeare on me aren’t you, Sergeant?” You responded, a fond giggle escaping your lips as your hands traveled down from his neck and into his face, cupping his cheeks with the pad of your fingers. 

“I cometh bearing loveth, mine own sweet angel.” Bucky says with a smile forming on his lips. The way your eyes crinkle laughing at his Shakespearean impersonation has him smiling stupid, his ocean dew-like orbs look upon you like he is engraving every bit and inch of you into memory. 

If there’s one thing that he wishes to do in every waking day of his life, that is waking up to seeing you brew a pot of coffee and working on your daily crossword while munching on your favorite combination of buttered toast and nutella–yes, nutella. At first, he thought it was such an odd combination because he was used to using strawberry jams, but oh boy, it was like a delicacy sent from heaven down to Earth. 

Bucky knew he wanted this kind of life with you ever since you drunkenly rambled about the world and its complexity, the essence of time and being, the importance of vita activa to the society– basically philosophical shit that takes him so much time to grasp but enjoys listening to you geek out. 

Bucky knew he wanted to live a life with you that is simple–doesn’t have to show any essence of grandeur. A comfortable, peaceful, and loving home just you two–maybe three, or four, but that depends on you. 

He had always dreamt of raising a child with you, ever since he noticed how careful and gentle you are with Clint’s kids every time they visit you at your cabin, something bloomed in his heart that made him think about the future you might have with him. 

And so, he went out with Sam, went to a jeweler and had the ring purchased, no need for ring sizes, one look at it and Bucky knows it’ll fit you perfectly–a two carat Marquise Diamond. He didn’t settle with the half carat because it’s too small, and a five carat is too big. 

“Listen, angel, I’ve been looking for the right time to do this. I tried with the champagne, but the bottle popped before I could even pour. I tried with the after-shower sex but I was worried that it might fall in the floor drain–and I might forget about it too because of how you immediately went down on your knees and–” 

“Babe, come on–” You said with your cheeks heating up, vividly remembering that memory always makes you squirm, but this time, you’re not entirely sure if you feel squeamish or squirmish. 

“Okay, what I'm trying to say is that, I really don’t need the right time to ask for your hand in marriage because every day is the right time. I love you, and I love everything that we do, be it us just playing poker, remaking the brownies that our neighbor gave us. I love your comfort and the warmth that you exude simply because you love me in the very same way that I love you in all the ways,” 

His free hand gently cupped your cheek, the pad of his thumb gently grazed over your soft skin, handling you ever-so delicately. 

“I love you ‘just because’, and never ‘that’s because’. Coming home to you, sleeping next to you, waking up next to you, and spending all my remaining days with you is a dream come true, angel, and I could only hope that you feel the same way too.” 

You held your hand on your mouth and your heart was beating fast like it was trying to get out of your ribcage. You watch as he takes out a small black velvet box, revealing the ring he had gotten some time ago. 

“Three thousand is a lot, but never enough to explain how much you mean the world to me, I would go over hell and high water over all universes just so I could get to you, sweetheart. Will you marry me?” 

You nod your head and kiss him full on his lips, resting your forehead against his as you hold your hand up. 

“I guess my ring finger’s no longer empty, then?” You say softly as you watch him breathe through his nose and happily chuckles, placing the ring on your finger–watching it slide perfectly. 

“God, you’re my fiancee now.” Bucky says as he gently lifts your hand up and places a soft kiss on your hand embellished with the engagement ring. 

“And I'm yours, Jesus, we’re engaged!” You say happily, peppering Bucky’s face with soft kisses, not leaving even an inch of his face not kissed.

“Let’s not have that wedding after-party. I want a simple gathering of all of us, and maybe we can finally go to the beach that you were gushing about.” You added, placing yet another kiss on his lips and on the corner of his lips. 

“Anything you want, baby, we’ll do it.”

“Let’s tell them over dinner sometime, okay?” 

Bucky woke up with beads of sweat on his forehead, only half of the hospital blanket that draped over his body was left as he was curled in his sleep on his seat next to your bed–dreaming about you and the engagement that happened years ago, and his tangible evidence of it not being simply a dream is the same ring on your finger that he placed.

Wake up, eat, go to the tower to work, stay with you in the hospital, then repeat. This has been Bucky’s routine for the past two years, yet he still clings to the tiny glint of hope that so long as you’re breathing, you’re still with them–still with him. 

Multiple state and worldwide threats had gone through and you still lay in the confinements of your hospital room, frail, vegetative, breathing through tubes and awaiting the cast of death. But everytime your body attempts to give up, everyone is there to ensure you’re alive���well, your body is alive. You can feel the needle prick your skin like a blade cutting through the flesh of a ripe mango, the doctor checking your eyes with a light so bright it’s like seeing God at the end of the tunnel. You wanted to tell them you’re still with them, but your very body has failed you time and time again. Every attempt is a cry for help, you wanted to see your older brothers–bruce and tony, you wanted to play chess and poker with Nat and Steve, you wanted to poke fun Sam and Thor, play with Clint’s children, and even get the chance to finally hug and tell Bucky you love him. 

But to no avail, your body has continued to fail you, and everytime it does, all you want to do is wither in time and leave the world behind. But won’t that be selfish? Leaving everyone you love behind because you already gave up? How can you wipe Bucky’s tears away everytime he talks to you? How can you be the person you promised to be with him? You can hear him tell you stories of all sorts, like how he and Sam managed to get through the night together without bickering? Bucky recants the story of how Bruce and Tony are still working on how to bring you back home after authorities have denied them at every appeal, and Bucky tells you how Clint’s children are looking after their beautiful auntie and wonders how you managed to sleep so long? 

You can hear them shuffling around, voices become unrecognizable after not seeing them for awhile, but definitely, you can identify which one is your fiancee. 

Raise a fucking finger, goddamn. 

You tried yet again, sounded so simple to say in your head, but so difficult to do. It’s like being trapped with nowhere else to go. 

You can hear some of them crying, Bruce and Tony asking–begging you to wake up, and Bucky recants the last words you told him before going on complete blackout–and hearing him say it breaks your heart tenfold. Oh, my love. 

“If… If I could turn back time, I’d rather have me in that bed than she.” 

“Listen, Bucky, we’re not giving up on her, alright? I know she’s in there, we just have to wait for her, alright?” 

All Bucky could do was nod and sob, yet your body  isn’t responding to what you have been trying to do for countless times, it makes you want to give up, but not now, not ever, not since you have people to come back for. 

You can hear frantic shouting from the room, suddenly puzzled at how you can faintly hear everyone calling for doctors and nurses. 

“I think she moved her finger! I saw her twitch it shortly, and she cried! Look at her eyes, its damp!” Tony mentioned it to the doctor and Bucky sat in disbelief–evidently in shock and hopeful. 

“You’re doing great, darlin’, I know you never gave up coming home. Give us another sign, please?” Bucky says, caressing your cheek while he takes your hand and places kisses on it repetitively. 

The doctors were able to get a diagnosis, but one thing is certain, you are still with them.

And that glimmer of hope sparked something in them that they never thought would flame its way back. 

You tried lifting your index but failed once again, felt like your body has been betraying you once again. 

“I’ll wait for you. I’m not giving up on you, alright?” He says, his voice lace with love and profound devotion. 

Everyday seems to be a struggle to live by, but with continuous support from the people you love despite not having to respond to them physically most of the time, you knew how much they loved you as much as you loved them back. 

“come back home, angel, I miss you terribly.” 

Bucky whispers softly in your ear and places a lingering kiss on the side your head, longing, waiting, hopeful. 

and with that kind of devotion, you knew even the omnipotent beings could envy you. 

[goldfades]

CONSENSUAL recording with Trevor because they’re long distance? 🩶

Thank u i’m a big fan of your work 🩶

✮ 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬, tz¹¹

♡ ─ word count | 500 words (shortest blurb i've ever written LOL)

♡ ─ warnings | NSFW under the cut! read at your own discretion!!! unedited, blowjob, recording (consensual obvi), hair pulling, trevor being a yapper (degradation + praise, you know how it is), swallowing cum, mention of spit and just nasty stuff LMAO.

♡ ─ taglist | @dancerbailey3 @valluvsu @daisysnhl @dasiysthings @iminlovewithtz11 @literatureluster @lvrzegras @lxvleyzoe @bowen-power @ru-kru @jackhughesily @hearts-for-luke

♡ ─ ev's notes | okay, after writing this, i think i've realized i may have a thing for recording. okay so.... goodnight....

Your hand was clasped around Trevor's cock as you looked up at him, a big smile on your face. His legs were spread as you knelt in between them, his hard length in your hands as Trevor held his phone up as he recorded you.

"Fuck, baby. You look so good," Trevor's voice was low as he spoke. His other hand grabbed your hair, making you look up at him. "You gonna make me feel good? Huh?"

"Mhm," you answered as you gazed up at him. Trevor slowly pushed your head down so your lips could meet his tip as your lips parted, slowly taking him in your mouth.

He let out a groan at that, pulling on your hair harder as you started to take him. You tried to keep your eyes on him as your eyes watered, Trevor's tip hitting the back of your throat quickly. Trevor's hand was still planted on your head as he pushed down further, making you take more of him.

"Fuck, baby." He slowly made a makeshift ponytail out of your hair, taking complete control of your head. "Such a pretty girl, hmm."

You started bobbing your head up and down his cock, all while trying to keep your eyes locked on him. There was spit going down his cock and your chin, making a mess everywhere but neither of you cared. Every little noise of praise he made, made you take even more of him.

Your vision started to blur as Trevor pushed you further down, keeping you on his cock before pulling you off his cock to get some air as the camera focused on you.

"Such a dirty slut for me, right princess?" Trevor groaned out as he saw the beautiful sight in front of him. You were breathless as you nodded, but before you could completely catch your breath Trevor pulled you back on his cock and you eagerly took him.

"Shit, baby. Keep going, come on, make me cum." Trevor rambled on as he fucked into your mouth, his whole body feeling like it was on fire.

As you kept bobbing your head up and down his cock, Trevor kept his hand right in your hair, effectively using your mouth the way he pleased. He knew this video was gonna come to use, especially when you weren't around to help him out since he lived so far. But he knew it would not even come close to how you really made him feel, your mouth was heavenly compared to his hand.

Your chin was covered in spit and pre-cum as you tried to focus on Trevor, looking up at him the way he liked. Your jaw was aching and your pussy felt warm as he kept fucking your mouth. You felt him twitch in your mouth and you knew he was close.

A few seconds later, you felt him spill his cum into your throat. He kept your mouth on his cock so you could swallow all his cum, all while he let out groans. As he spilled entirely into you, he pulled you off his cock and he breathed heavily. He let your hair fall as he moved away, attempting to wipe all the spit off your face.

He kept the camera on you as breathed heavily. "You did so fucking good, baby." He smiled as he turned the camera off, moving down so he give you a sloppy kiss.

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[hottpinkpenguin]

Easy Company HC's: Letters Home

A/n: I'm really rolling with these BofB headcanons! hope you enjoy :)

Characters included: Dick Winters, Lewis Nixon, Ronald Speirs, Carwood Lipton, Buck Compton, David Webster, Joe Liebgott

Dick Winters

Writes frequent, short letters

Meticulously dates his letters and includes a blurb about the weather. January 12th, 1945. It’s snowing outside, dark and cold. 

Starts each letter with My dear y/n 

Always asks how you are, even though he’s the one fighting a damn war

Follows up on every little question or story you include in your letters. How was the bake sale? Did you ever hear how Louise Graham’s brother is doing after taking that shrapnel to the shoulder? Hope you were able to get someone out to look at the washing machine.

Ends his letters with classic but sentimental sign-offs, like Affectionately yours and All my love

Makes sure not to include anything in his letters that would worry you. Doesn’t necessarily lie or fake being happy, but just gently side steps that. 

Although every once in a while you get a longer letter where Dick’s handwriting is a little messier. You know it’s from writing fast, you can almost feel the pressure behind the penmarks. He opens up more in those letters, talks about losing too many good men and sometimes will say things that just absolutely break your heart, like sometimes I wonder how all of this is really going to end for the men who are over here fighting. 

Even in these letters, Dick never says “I” or “Me”, always writes about the men and the boys. You know - and so does he - that he’s including himself in those boys.

His next letter he always makes sure to reassure you. And it’s genuine, you can tell. He’ll say something like I have to put some of these heavier thoughts somewhere, and there’s nowhere I trust more than with you. 

When he comes home, you find a stack of letters you wrote to him tied up in a neat bundle and stashed in an inside pocket of his Ike jacket that he sewed in especially for that purpose. You could tell by the flimsy, near-ripped creases and dirty paper that he’d read each one about a hundred times over. Buried in the middle of the stack was the picture you’d given him before he’d left for training. On the back, he’d written simply your name, the date the photo was taken, and a short instruction: in event of my death, please send all personal effects to with your home address. It made you sob but you never told him you found it.

GIF by mads-weasley

Lewis Nixon

Rarely writes. Actually drives you crazy with worry most of the time.

When he finally does, you can tell that he’s initially annoyed at having to put his thoughts down on paper. Letters start off with short, sarcastic sentences like nothing new here. Still fighting the war, in case you hadn’t heard. Enjoying German hospitality. 

But as the letters go on he relaxes into it and stops being so grouchy. 

Because he’s always grumpy at having to write (you should probably thank Dick for cajoling Lew into actually sitting down to write to you), he usually doesn’t write any sort of introduction or sweet address, just dives right into it.

His letters usually don’t say much, he just kind of rambles about how much he hates being away from you and how he can’t wait for the whole damn thing to be over. 

Sometimes he’ll write something so incredibly romantic it takes your breath away, like I’d fight a whole division of Panzers myself if I could just get one more sniff of your perfume. 

Those are the letters you save and reread to yourself over and over again when you’re waiting weeks for the next one.

Always signs off with something kind of sassy but also sweet?, like You know I love you or Keep our bed warm for me. 

Sometimes you feel like you can smell whiskey on the paper, which both worries you but also reminds you of Lew

When he finally gets home and you ask him about what he did with your letters, he kind of looks at you like you’ve gone crazy and says I read them of course, what else was I supposed to do with them? 

This hurts your feelings at first which of course he doesn’t understand, but after a few weeks you start to realize that he actually did read them and not only that he memorized their contents. Like he refers to your mother as “the Wicked Witch of Wichita” (something you called here after you wrote him a long rambling letter about how angry she made you at your sister’s bridal shower) and buys you a bouquet of daffodils because you wrote him a letter with a daffodil doodle in the margins of the page talking about the spring gardens. 

You realize that Lew shows his love in the little details, and it makes you appreciate him all the more.

GIF by beautifulguycollector

Ronald Speirs

Ron’s letters read like military bulletins. 

Doing well despite the cold. 1st sgt sick with pneumonia. Think of you often.

Writes predictably once per week. Never misses a letter. Ever. 

You always write him long, lengthy, romantic letters. Sometimes even a little raunchy, if you’ve had some wine. After one particularly *ahem* suggestive letter, you feel ridiculous and say so the next time you write.

In typical Ron fashion, you get a short, to-the-point reply, but it still puts a smile on your face and a blush on your cheeks: Loved your letter. Keep writing. 

Towards the end of the war, Ron starts a countdown to when he expects to be coming home. Two months now, maybe less. Home for the Fourth of July. 

Also signs off with R.S. Which makes you laugh, as if you could forget who was writing to you.

Whenever your girlfriends find a letter from Ron (you keep them all in a shoebox in your closet), they tease you and ask how you can possibly be in love with someone so stiff and formal. To which you can only chuckle to yourself, because you know it’s just that they don’t understand that Ron doesn’t tell you he loves you, he shows you. Writing a letter every single week. Updating you on everything going on, even short updates, because he wants you to know how he’s doing. That’s Ronald Speirs’ love language.

Maybe three weeks before Ron comes home, you start getting boxes of (stolen?) German silver at your door. At first it freaks you out and makes you feel slimy for having lavish riches from an enemy country, so you don’t unpack the boxes and you just stack them up in the back bedroom. When Ron gets home and sees the boxes unopened and shut away, he immediately asks you what’s wrong. You stammer out an explanation and without blinking an eye, Ron loads them into his truck and takes them to the dump. 

(Later you convince him that a better use of those would be to donate them to the local orphanage, so off he goes in his truck to get the boxes back out of the dump and bring them to shelter.)

One night when you’re lying awake, head on Ron’s chest, talking idly about things that don’t matter, he interrupts you to ask Can you guess which letter I kept? 

You instantly blush, thinking of that risque letter you wrote him when you were halfway through your second bottle of white wine. He shakes his head and pulls a letter out of his nightstand and hands it to you. You don’t recognize it immediately, although you do see that it’s too short to be one of the naughtier correspondences. 

It’s too dark to read, so you ask him which letter. He says it’s the one you wrote to me for my birthday. 

You don’t remember that one and you tell him as much, so you ask him why he kept that one instead of some of the others. He looks down at you with a serious look in his eyes, a little surprised that you can’t figure it out. Then he tells you: it’s the first time you wrote that you loved me. 

The next day, you sneak a peek at the letter and realize he’s right. You signed it, I love you Ron. 

From then on, you make sure to tell him that every night before he falls asleep.

Carwood Lipton

Formal, sweet letters. This man is a king of romancing by words.

Writes as often as he can, but you know that Lip needs peace and quiet for an entire evening to get one of those letters done (he probably definitely writes a draft or two before he gets it right). And let’s face it, Easy Company doesn’t have the luxury of many quiet evenings. 

Always, always, always starts his letters off with Dear (future) Mrs. Lipton, which you honestly think is hopelessly corny but it’s way too adorable to tell him so. And besides, you secretly love it.

He always reminisces about home in his letters. Tells you how much he misses the smell of your baking, the squeak of the front porch swing that you two would sit on and watch the sunset. 

He worries a lot about you and his family. He always asks you to look in on his mother if it’s not too much trouble. 

Lip doesn’t talk much about the war, in fact he hardly acknowledges it at all. And he never uses the term ‘war’ or ‘battle’. Instead, he says things like The boys over here are still committed to doing the job or Easy presses on.  

Lip’s letters get a little shorter and less soft after Bastogne. He starts including the names of the casualties in his company in the P.S. Even though you don’t know these men except by name - and some of them, not even that - you feel honored that he trusts you with their memories. 

Lip has saved your letters and all the pictures you sent to him - he loves pictures, and asks for an updated one of you almost every month - tucked in his foot locker and safely between the pages of his Bible so they don’t get creased or dirty. 

You also find that he’s kept stacks of letters from some of his men that died in the field. When you ask him what he plans to do with the letters, he gets a heartbreaking, far-off look in his eyes and says I reckon I’ll try to get them back to their families. 

You take on the burden of doing that, and you write to some of the families introducing yourself and introducing Lip and offering to forward them the letters.

All the replies you get back mention that their soldier talked about how good a leader and friend Lip was. Their replies bring tears to your eyes. For some reason, you don’t show the letters to Lip, although you do tell him about them. He never asks to read the letters, he just kisses you on your forehead and tells you that he’s never loved you more. 

Even after he’s home, he’ll still write you a letter from time to time, usually at Christmastime or for your birthday in the summer. His letters are always talking about his favorite memories with you, and there’s always a paragraph at the end where he talks about how in love with you he is. It’s borderline poetry and it makes you cry every single time.

GIF by balladofthe101st

Buck Compton

Basically just writes a list of questions for you to answer in every letter.

Wants to know everything about what’s going on at home. Especially sports teams.

Doesn’t write frequently, so sometimes it’s hard to feel like there’s a conversation happening. 

But he always includes sweet little notes about how much he’s thinking of you and how he’s counting down the days until he can hold you again, so you’re not complaining. 

Not the most poetic writer. Always says what he thinks and feels though. Completely honest and open. 

Does not tell you anything about the war. Basically ignores the entire thing. 

Sometimes you think about asking him about that, but you figure that he’s not talking about it for a reason, so you follow suit.

Calls you baby in his letters. 

Doesn’t actually say ‘I love you’ in his letters, although says everything else. Miss you baby. Dream about you all the time. When I get home, I’m putting a ring on your finger. 

One time he writes that he woke up last night out of a dream and swore I could taste you and it makes your toes curl.

You save that letter, tuck it in your underwear drawer. 

Signs his letters very simply: Buck. Sometimes he’ll put something in like until next time or I’ll write soon. But usually nothing super romantic or sentimental.

Doesn’t save your letters, but that really doesn’t bother you too much because all you wrote in them was basically just rambling details that Buck requested about your boring day-to-day. 

Buck’s always better in person than in writing - he’s a quality time and physical touch kind of guy - but you know that your letters were his only lifeline to normal during the war, and you’re just happy to have him back at all. 

He does surprise you one night when it’s really quiet in the house and you’re sitting on the couch together, each reading a book. He suddenly turns to you and says You know baby girl, your letters saved my sanity over there. It’s the most he’s really ever said about the war, but it’s enough, and you kiss him so he knows that you get it.  

GIF by balladofthe101st

David Webster

Unsurprisingly, Web is probably the best letter writer in all of Easy Company. 

He helps a lot of the other guys write letters home, especially if they’re trying to say something important. Web just has a knack for words unlike any other. 

He writes a lot of letters home, not just to you, but to the rest of his family, his siblings, some of his friends, and definitely his professors. 

So because you’re close with Web’s family, you do get to read a lot of his writing. 

His letters to you are different though. They’re darker and a little less polished. Sometimes, they frighten you a little bit. Web talks about things you’re not you really understand - like how pointless death is, how empty it makes him feel to see his friends get KIA, how he carries around guilt about surviving this long like an anchor. 

Refers to you exclusively in his letters by your first name, his writing is always serious and somber and drenched with heavy emotions, so pet names just really don’t fit the vibe.

He quotes poetry and literature quite a bit when he writes. It all feels a bit Gothic, but you’ve always known that Web has found clarity in the world through books, so you don’t begrudge him a little poetic license.

Signs his letters Yours in perpetuity, David K. Webster. 

Asks you to send books. Sometimes he asks for something specific, but other times he’s happy to get whatever you pick out for him. Your tastes are different from his; you prefer to choose shorter, gentle pieces about life in the British countryside or Western adventure novels. Web would prefer Wadsworth or Hemingway, but he figures it’s probably in his best interests to read things that don’t tackle dark themes. You always tuck a letter for him into the first few pages. 

He doesn’t save your letters, per se, although he does save every single book you send to him. When he gets home, he puts them all up on the bookshelf in his office. Even though they’re beat up and stained and not at all fitting with the rest of his collection, they’re front and center. 

Sometimes he takes a stab at sketching in his letters. He’s not bad, either. You try to encourage him to take lessons when he gets home, which he never does. He secretly loves how much you love his drawings though.

GIF by yourspeirs

Joe Liebgott

KING OF DIRTY LETTERS

You definitely like to re-read his letters… again and again…

Not every letter is a dirty one. But most are. Or at least have a dirty section in them. 

You don’t know how this man makes you feel wanted from halfway around the world, but somehow he does. Lord knows you love a lot about your Joey, but you didn’t realize how good he was with words until you found yourself practically stalking the mailman, hoping for another delivery from Joe.

Uses a lot of pet names in his letters. Baby girl, Doll, Princess are some of his favorites. Literally never calls you by your name.

Always signs off with Your Joey. 

Even when Joe is clearly in a dark place, his letters are saturated with how much he needs you and how he can’t stop thinking about all the ways he’s going to have you when he gets home. 

When your mother finds one of Joey’s letters to you, she throws an absolute shit fit and freaks out that you’re sleeping with someone before you’re married. It takes a long time for you to convince her that you haven’t slept with Joey yet, you’re just… really into dirty talking.

She kinda chills after that but still looks at you suspiciously every time you get a letter from him.

She never tells your dad though, which makes you think maybe she’s more supportive of your relationship with him than you realized.

After working up the courage, you write Joe a letter that is so sinful you actually doubt whether you should send it in the mail, it just feels so wrong.

When I say this man goes crazy for that letter, it is an understatement. He is out of his mind and immediately writes you a reply telling you so. Basically begs you for more.

Even though your letters back and forth with Joe are pretty raunchy, there’s also a sweetness to them. He’s always sure to mention that This ain’t just all talk, Doll. When you’re Mrs. Liebgott, you’re gonna see exactly what I’ve been writing about. Which you know is still pretty dirty, but hey, he’s basically proposing to you, right?

You are not the least bit surprised to know that he kept your naughtiest letters when he finally gets home.

But, Joseph Liebgott is a man of his word, and even though he is clearly dying to and you’re practically begging him to, he doesn’t make good on all those dirty promises until after you’re wearing his ring.

Much to your delight, you find that he is just as good with actions as he is with words.

[loviestar58]

🐶~New Pet~🐶

Little blurb I had sitting for a bit I thought people would like!💖

"Ekks-"

"No"

"Ekks..we have to keep him"

"Firefly, we just went over this. What about the kids? And then we have to find the supplies for it and-"

"We can get all those. I'll get them! And the kids can help, oh come oonnnnnnn"

"Firefly, please-"

"But Eeekkkkssss look at hiiiimmm!"

You two were standing in a dark alleyway of Zaun near the Lanes, not too far from the entrance to the hideout, having just got done with a patrol. Upon coming back, you had noticed something moving some trash near the alley, becoming alert and notifying Ekko before stepping towards the movement cautiously. Barely a few steps were taken towards the sound before the thing causing the movement jumped out at you, knocking you down, a big white fluffy dog, a Husky that looked no older than a year old. And that led them to this situation, you desperately trying to convince Ekko to keep it.

"If we leave him out here, he could starve or be killed! You know damn well animals don't live long here!" You argued, gesturing to the world around you. Ekko had to admit you had a point, you didn't see many animals here, they'd either be dead or very unhealthy. But his thinking didn't last long, groaning in a bit of frustration, gesturing a hand towards the animal.

"Yeah, that's true. I know that, but-"

"And think of the possibilities! Like, he could grow to be a sort of guard dog! And the kids would have an animal to play with all the time, maybe it could even be an emotional support animal! And-and he could carry supplies, or be a messenger dog to warn people of dangers or the groups on patrols-!"

You rambled on and on with each and every possibility you could think of, any reason that popped in that head of yours to convince Ekko to being the dog into the Hideout. Ekko cut you off with a stern yet soft tone, trying not to let his growing annoyance and frustration show too much, even if you mean well

"What if it's a Pilties dog? What if they try to come find him and then find us? They'll accuse us of theft and then try to arrest us, or just shoot on sight, I wouldn't put it past them"

You looked downcast for a moment, that was another good point. It would be risky if the dog did belong to someone in Piltover. But you didn't care, you couldn't just leave the poor, adorable thing here, the thing in question panting and wagging it's tail up at you two. You swore you felt your heart ache at the adorable sight, cuteness aggression threatening to take over you

"There's no collar, and he looks like he's been here a while. Maybe he ran away or the owner didn't want him anymore? I think we'll be fine. Please, Ekks?" You beg, clasping your hands together, and pouting out your lip in a comically dramatic fashion, like a cartoon character

Oh no. Not the puppy dog eyes. It's ok, he can resist those. He's dealt with many of the firelight kids hitting him with that, and it rarely works and-

Oh dammit

Is the dog doing it too?!

Ekko froze, glancing between the two and groaning with a mix of frustration and reluctance, unable to deny you, knowing how stubborn you were. Recalling many instances of you refusing to back down when wanting something or in an argument with him about patrol grouping and routes.

He knew he was losing this battle, lest he faces your wrath. And so, he rolls his eyes and shakes his head, another groan, and then a soft defeated chuckle leaving his lips as he pinches the bridge of his nose. He looks up at you and he can't help now but to smile

"Ugh, fine! But we are making sure he doesn't have any diseases before going near the kids!"

You lit up, fist pumping in a quiet "Yes!". Both of you walked the rest of the way back, dog in tow.

A very happy you

And a slightly annoyed, yet content, Ekko

Bonus:

Ekko was found hours later asleep on the spare cot in his lab, the puppy laying on top of him as he snored softly

Hope y'all enjoyed this cute little blurb. Might do more of these than longer one shots and headcanons if y'all like them😊💖

[burn-before-reading]

blue is the colour of your eyes

joost klein x artist! reader

The overwhelming need to paint him. just fluff and rambling and being a nervous mess.

now has a prequel! read here

word count: 2.3k

a/n: supposed to be short blurb but it got away from me soooo anyway i haven’t tried to write anything in a hot second but Joost is inspiringggg so enjoy. Definitely wanna come back to this idea later possibly who knows. i don’t proofread anything btw so good luck

warnings: none except awkwardness, google translate Dutch, and a titanic reference.

RPF BELOW. PLEASE SKIP IF UNCOMFORTABLE. DONT REPOST TO OTHER SOCIAL MEDIAS OKAY PLS AND THANK YOU

You can’t seem to stop staring at him today. Two hours of putting pencil to paper trying to come up with literally ANY other idea and now your left with a pages full of Joost doodles.

He, of course, has no clue. drawing on his ipad on the other side of the couch. a movie playing in the background as the two of your got engrossed in your own work. who knows what he was doodling.

You were supposed to be brainstorming ideas for a painting for a group show coming up. The theme was vague and open ended. Love, in every sense of the word. Platonic, romantic, the secret third kind you didn’t even wanna think about right now.

You shouldn’t be thinking about Love and staring at Joost. You two were friends. He just sees you as a friend. Purely platonic.

Turning the next page over you give yourself a fresh start and start working on a couple thumbnails for possible paintings. You start scribbling a figure in the center. moving quickly to the background you add scribbles of flowers and leaves. making a short list to the side of plants to study later: Daisies, Sage, tulips.

Satisfied enough with the first thumbnail you scribble a few more in different poses. hands folded in their lap, resting on a table, holding a cigarette….wait.

you go back to the last sketch and notice you added a bit more details than intended. chunky glasses and a sharp haircut. you look back up at your accidental muse. He is still engrossed in his own art, but you manage to catch his eye after a minute when he looks up from his work.

his eyes pierced into your soul in that moment and the painting flew together in your head. Splashes of yellow and orange contrasting with the green of the plants. And his eyes. bright blue.

Why are his eyes so blue…

“you good?” he asks.

you dont know how long you were staring at him before you submitted to your own subconscious desires. Pencil tapping repeatedly on your sketchbook you muster up the courage to ask,

“can I paint you?”

his mouth gaped open slightly as that wasn’t exactly what he was expecting. He straightens his posture and shifts slightly in his seat.

“like… now?”

“No not now.. I just keep getting stuck on this idea and,, can i?” you gesture to the space next to him and he shimmies over slightly to give you permission to move closer. Now sitting next to him, you lean your book over for him to see.

“I just keep thinking about this idea of someone in a boquet of flowers, or just surrounded by flowers, and I want it to feel warm. I would be looking off to the side, or maybe smoking, i don’t know yet, but around you I imagined some Tulips and maybe sage to contrast your hair and..” you stopped as you felt yourself rambling and you look up. Bright blue staring back at you, full attention, hanging on your every word.

Comforting, yet still intimidating. You feel yourself want to shrink back into your half of the couch. explaining your ideas and baring your soul to this creature next to you that stole your attention and won’t give it back. This Fae that you gave your name to and now your theirs. At his beck and call at 9am when he texts you to hang out all of a sudden, so you cancel your own plans. Fae with bright blue eyes. stupid blue eyes.

what shade of blue are they?

his face looked interested, but still confused and hesitant, so you start to backtrack.

“You don’t have to agree, it was just an idea I had..” your pencil nervously taps the edge of your paper again and you look down and away from his face.

tap tap tap tap tap tap

Joost grabs your hand to stop your nervous tick and you glance back at him.

“No i want to, but… do i have to be naked?” his question breaks the tension and you burst out laughing.

“No. what? No! why would you think that?” you ask. he laughs as well.

“Ive seen your other studies of people, I didn’t know if this was gonna be like that one scene in titanic or,”

“Titanic? no no, I just want it to be you. We can agree on an outfit later if you are down for it but I just want you to feel like yourself.” he smiled and from this close you could see and the beautiful little details of his face. crows feet, dimples, each individual eyelash. His perfect blue eyes.

———

the next week you met up again, but this time you had arranged your studio up so you could sketch and photograph your model as needed. You had gathered your other needed models, a bouquet or two of flowers you had spent the last few days over analysing and studying. pages and pages of flower studies to make sure you had all the right angles needed when it came to the final painting. This next step you were slightly dreading.

It much easier to draw something when its not starting straight back at you.

Joost showed up later that day wearing a white button up short sleeve shirt, a black tie, and his usual chunky frames. his hair not as neat as it usually was but styled to suit the overgrown mullet look he had been sporting lately. Yellow roots growing in. He had badgered you all week about what he needed to wear and even though you said you trusted his fashion choices to pick a suitable outfit he insisted on a guideline. So you gave him one.

“Well people usually get flowers on a date, right? so i dunno, what would you wear on a date?”

“ Have you gotten flowers on a date before?”

“well… no, but typically thats a thing sometimes. it seems nice.”

“… Is this a date?”

“…its a collaboration.”

You guided him over to the corner you had set up as the make shift backdrop for him to model in. An old love chair you thrifted years ago sitting on rolled out black paper for the backdrop. some flowers in a pile of the floor for you to mess with later.

He sits down on the chair as you gather your needed materials to sketch. larger pieces of paper, charcoal and an assortment of graphite, watercolour paints, and your camera for when he can’t sit still any longer.

“okay i think im all set. lemme know whenever you’re comfortable and we can start okay?”

“okay.. do I just stare at you or..” he fidgets with a ring on his finger.

“find something to focus on right behind me. and just try to sit naturally. I just want you to pose in a way that feels naturally.” you state and pick up a piece of charcoal and bring it up to the easel.

Posing came a little naturally to Joost. He had done plenty of photoshoots before but he felt 100% more nervous about this one. It was more personal, more intimate. He had never really watched you work before, fully in your element, and it was so fascinating to him. yet… boring. He wondered how rich people in the past could stand for so long to get their portrait done, it had been two minutes and he was dying of boredom. His only entertainment was stealing glances at you and the faint music in the background.

“Can I talk?” he asked, careful not to move he head as he glanced at you. he saw you nod in his peripheral vision.

“Yea that should be okay, Ill let you know if i need you to stop for a second.”

“So… do you have people model for you usually?”

“No not really. most times I paint from life outside or just have to look for references online. Ive drawn friends before, but never for a bug painting. This one needed to be more personal tho.”

“more personal? How-“

“Wait can you turn back?” He had moved his head towards you fully with that last question. throwing off the perfect angle you had for his hair. “Sorry I’ll answer in a second just tilt your head a little..” you gesture with your hands and he tries to go back into position, but its not the same. He is still looking at you, that perfect shade of blue haunting you, staring you down. you look at the first sketch you had and now it just feels boring. “Maybe lets try a different pose.” the pencil tapping starts again as you think.

“Sorry, did I mess it up?” he looks away from you and runs in hand through his hair, giving it a new look. It urks you how much can change in a person with just one moment. With one turn it feels like an entirely new image.

“You’re fine, I just want something more interesting. Maybe if your hands were… can I?” He nods and you walk over to analyse his pose at a closer distance. Wiping your hands on your pants to eliminate any charcoal and sweat, you carefully pose his arms to rest on the armrests. You step back, to view your work.

“You were saying, what is this for again?” he asks. You are too engrossed in your project at this point to feel embarrassed talking about it.

“A group show between me and some old college friends. Ive been struggling on something to pick for the theme and it finally came to me the other day.” You fidgit with his left arm, deciding if it should be resting under his chin or falling from the armrest into his lap. “I just want this to be perfect..”

“Whats the theme?” You look at his and feel your face grow a little hot with what the answer is.

“uhh,, flowers! thats what we’re missing!” you avoid the question by running to grab one the fresh boquetes you bought this morning.

“I think maybe if you just hold these then you can-“ you foots catches on a pencil that had fallen, sending you crashing down and into Joosts lap in the chair, where he catches your arms to help you regain balance.

“are you okay?” You are growing more frustrated by the second and you don’t want to look up at him.

“yea, fine. Just gimmie a second.” Your eyes stay down at his lap where the bouquet now laid in a shaken mess of petals and leaves. still usuable, but not your perfect vision like you wanted.

“Maybe you should take a break for a second?” he insists and stands up the switch places so now you sit in the chair, and he is hovering above you. “You are getting really worked up over this, are you okay?”

“yea yea, im fine.” you take a deep breath to try and regain yourself. Looking up, the blue is now inches from your face as he stares are you with worry. For some reason, in this moment, you just feel like bursting. “Its your eyes. I can’t focus with em.”

“what?”

“You’re always so distracting, you know that?”

“If im so distracting then why ask me to model?”

“Its just for the theme. Like i said it came to me the other day and i can’t let it go now.”

“ what can’t you let go?”

“I think I might be falling in love-“ you stop yourself as the words fall out, but the confession is already spoken. Your eyes fall to your lap as you can’t bare to look at him in the moment.

“Lieverd…” he bring a hand up to delicately grab your cheek and tilt your head up so you look at him again. With the two of you staring again you glance between his eyes and his mouth, and he seems to understand. “can I?” he asks and you rise out of the seat to meet him halfway.

Lips meeting and moving together as you bring one hand to his hair and the other grabbing at his shirt collar to bring him closer. His free hand pulls your waist in as your lips move in sync, each of you waiting for the other to break the moment.

You pull away first and are immediately met with your foe, blue staring you down but now feel softer. You pull your hands away slightly and wince at the damage you had done.

“Shit! Your shirt!” His looks to see smudges of charcoal staining the collar from where you grabbed it. He laughs and just shrugs.

“I kinda like it.” he replies and leans back in to kiss you again. You kiss back and lean into it before breaking again.

“As fun as this is, ai do really want to finish the sketch.” Joost laughs and nods, giving you space to get up and he sits down once again.

“Can I take you on a date after this?” he asks.

“mmm maybe,” you tease,” Ive never dated one of my models before.” you pick up the charcoal one more time and put a new piece of paper on your easel.

“Im more than just a model, right? Im your muse.” he smirks and gets into a dramatic pose that he is surely going to complain about holding for more than a minute. “Now, Lieverd, Teken mij als een van jouw Franse meisjes.”

You two did not get much more work done that day.

[imagineweasley]

welcome and masterlist!

hi everyone!! my name is bee and welcome to my blog! i write harry potter fanfics on here (oneshots and drabbles but i like to call them blurbs) and you'll see that i tend to write more about certain characters than others (cough cough fred and remus), but i am open to writing about all characters! most of my fics are fluff but also some angst depending on how i'm feeling that week, and some smut scattered throughout. now that i've written quite a few things, i've decided to put together a masterlist, sorted by character. hopefully this will be helpful in seeing the things i've put out!

inbox is always open so if you don't see something in here that you'd like me to write, i'd LOVE for you to shoot me a request!!

alright, enough rambling. happy reading, and i hope you enjoy!!

color key: angst fluff/happy smut platonic * = included in two lists

masterlist by era & character (see below)

・゜: ☆.。: 。 g o l d e n t r i o e r a ・゜.・☆ . ・゜☆

fred weasley: more than chocolate frogs: bf fred, fluff; fred decides that you've been studying too hard and decides to surprise you.

*the price of pumpkins: platonic fic with fred and george; you and the twins face a unique punishment when you get caught after a particularly entertaining prank

fred weasley's remedy to nail biting: bf fred; fred helps you with your habit of nail biting and skin picking

after fred: bf fred and platonic george, sad and angsty; you and george help each other heal after fred dies. please don't read if you don't want to be sad. i made myself insanely sad writing this. [warnings: death, extreme mental illness/grief]

through the lens: husband fred; mr. weasley finds a muggle camera and fred loves taking pictures of you and your newborn baby, little arthur.

bludgering to you: during a quidditch match, fred gets a bit too competitive and crashes into you. he didn't believe in all the clichés about love at first sight before, but as soon as he lays his eyes on you, all that changes.

george weasley: bf george blurb: fluff about george being obsessed with you

*the price of pumpkins: platonic fic with fred and george; you and the twins face a unique punishment when you get caught after a particularly entertaining prank

harry potter: i love you deerly: fluff fluff fluff very fluffy; you have a moment along with harry after a DA meeting

our scarred hands: fluff, angst; harry tends to your wounds when you get detention for a week with umbridge and form a connection while you help each other heal [warnings: inflicted injury]

we'll be alright [ft. "fine line" by harry styles]: bf harry, angst with a happy ending; a oneshot written to the song "fine line" about the fear, desperation, and relief you feel the moment harry defeats voldemort and pushes through the crowd to get back to you. [warnings: mentions of death and grief]

draco malfoy: steal my girl: bf draco, fluff and angst but with happy ending; based on the lyrics of "steal my girl" by one direction!! a fun little experimental (long) thing i decided to do. [warnings: violence, injury, mention of death]

neville longbottom: shy neville bf blurb: fluff; you're the one who brings out chatty neville

through pinky promises (two pt series): a oneshot and an epilogue about neville taking care of you after a bout of torture from the carrows, and an epilogue of life with him after the battle.

through pinky promises: bf neville, angst, fluff; neville helps nurse you back to health after you have a nasty encounter with the carrows [warnings: physical abuse, injury]

through pinky promises (epilogue): bf neville, very slight angst, mostly fluff; life with neville after the battle when everything is alright again. things are peaceful again. [mention of past violence (battle of hogwarts), mention of scars/injury]

seamus finnigan bodyguard series: when harry goes off to track down and destroy the horcruxes, he assigns seamus to protect you, his little sister. things brings you a seamus closer together, especially you end up having to go into hiding.

bodyguard (pt. 1): friends to lovers, moving towards lowers towards end. pretty angsty (i mean it does take place during deathly hallows) [warnings: violence]

harry and ginny *29 years later: i don't even know i count this as fluff, bittersweet angst i guess; parallel between james and lily, harry and ginny

misc golden trio era drabble how each golden trio era character acts when they lay their eyes on you for the first time (pt. 1)

★゜・。。・☆ m a r a u d e r s e r a ゜。。゜☆

sirius black: puppy love series: a series on you and your friends' journeys to becoming animagi, not knowing that the marauders are also. sirius is straight up pining after y/n and catches onto what they are doing.

puppy love (pt 1): slow burn, some fluff and pining.

puppy love (pt 2): slow burn

puppy love (pt 3): traces of fluff and sirius being all flustered because of how in love he is with you

sirius blurb: everyone thinks sirius is a player, but they don't know that it's an act to cover up his feelings for you.

remus lupin: soundproof (or not): this is straight up smut, people. 18+, mdni [warnings: uhhhh lots of smut]

bf remus blurb: fluff; remus and his scars and how you make him love them [warnings: mention of scarring]

sirius black's guide to overreacting: bf remus, older brother sirius, fluff, comedic reference to "friends" when ross finds out about monica and chandler; you and remus have been dating for a while in secret. sirius finds out and all hell breaks loose.

bf remus blurb: fluff; you and remus have matching scars [warnings: scars]

peter pettigrew: bf peter blurb: the boys love teasing peter about you

james and lily: *29 years later: i don't even know i count this as fluff, bittersweet angst i guess; parallel between james and lily, harry and ginny

narcissa and xenophilius: love in the shadows: friends to lovers, fluff

[stevie-petey]

If you're still taking blurbs could we see something with hopper and bug? I don't really have any ideas in mind but I'd like to see them together however you wanna write them. Thank you if you get to this! <333

hop n bug :(( i miss them sm

enjoy !

"are you for or against bribery?"

"im sorry?"

you lean against the doorframe, arms crossed as you stare at hopper from across the room. hes in his recliner, feet propped up with a beer in his hand. "you know, bribery. im sure youve done it."

his eyebrow twitches. "shouldnt you be leaving?"

"so i take it that as a 'yes' then."

"what is 'bribery'?" el materializes behind you, causing you to nearly have a heart attack.

shes scarily quiet, sometimes.

"its none of your business, kid." hopper says lazily, used to the girls sudden appearances.

you scoff at him and turn to el. "bribery is bad, sweetheart. but im going to use hoppers weakness for chocolate to advantage so i can get you to attend steves graduation."

"'graduation'?" el asks at the same time as hopper cackles, "yeah, not on my watch."

like a child, you stomp your foot. "c'mon, old man! everyone else will be there and steve could really use the support."

"isnt he some rich douchebag?"

"language!" you glare at the man, covering els ears as she giggles. "but... not anymore?"

hopper takes a long, slow drink from his beer. wiping his mouth, he belches obnoxiously and scratches his stomach. ignoring your disgusted face, he points a finger at you. "you know the rules. el doesnt leave this cabin."

"shes a kid, hopper."

"my point exactly."

el looks between you and hopper, her eyebrows furrowed. shes following along as best as she can. you hadnt meant to have this conversation in front of her. you thought she'd remain asleep in her room.

"will mike go?" she has a determined glint in her brown eyes.

hopper sucks in a breath. he sends you a glare, warning you not to say anything. but you smile sickly sweet and turn to el. "actually, he is going!"

els eyes light up. she spins around, throws herself against hoppers chair. "then i want to go."

"see?" you join els side and stare down at the man, a smirk on your face. "el wants to go and im sure she could use the fresh air."

"y/n." hopper rubs his forehead tiredly. youre annoyingly persistent. he knows you mean well, but he just cant risk els safety for something as trivial as a high school graudation.

"please?" youre not above pouting to get your way. "i mean, realistically how many secret government agents would even attend a high school graduation, looking for el?"

el nods. "yeah! how many?"

"we can never be too careful-"

"i'll bake you five entire batches of brownies."

hopper looks at you, unamused. "thats not going to work on me."

"joyce mentioned that you secretly enjoy marshmallow." you challenge.

"she talks to you about me?" hopper asks you, pleasantly surprised.

his interest makes you curious. "i mean, yeah. we talk about you all the time."

"hm..." hopper gets a far off look on his face, and for a moment youve lost him.

"hey!" your hand slams against his arm. "pay attention to me, im trying to bribe you."

"bribery is bad." el says, as if as a threat. her eyes are narrowed and her body is stiff. her threatening stance is adorable.

you kiss els forehead. "thats right, sweetheart. bribery is bad, and we're going to make your dad suffer."

your dad.

the words slip out before you can stop them. el doesnt pay them any attention, but hoppers inhales quickly and looks away. worried youve ruined everything, you begin to ramble.

"i'll bake anything you want, and i'll even trick mike into shoveling your driveway the next time it snows. i-i'll make sure no one sees el and that shes in a disguise. i have some clothes-and i'll even have her back as soon as the ceremony is over and-"

"kid." hoppers voice interrupts you. both you and el stare at him with big, pleading eyes. the sight is brutal, theres no way he stands a chance of telling the two of you no.

sighing and groaning far too loud for your taste, hopper finally relents. "fine."

"yes!" you screech, jumping up and down before you can stop yourself. "thank you, thank you, thank you!"

el jumps alongside you, squealing with glee as well. shes glowing, happy as ever, and you grab her hands and jump merrily with her. "he said yes!"

"woah-listen!" hopper yells, clapping his hands. "hey, i have some terms and conditions you need to follow before i completely agree."

too overjoyed, you dont care whatever price youll have to pay. "bring it on, old man."

"i want a months worth of brownies." he states, taking another sip from his beer. "and free babysitting whenever i need it. i also want your nosey brother to stop tapping into my PD radio. and tell that wheeler kid to stop breathing."

"i can do all requests but the last one."

el shakes her head, very serious and grim. "mike cannot be a mouth breather."

the outrageous statement causes you to laugh, and hopper even lets out a confused, though amused, chuckle. el doesnt understand why what shes said is so funny, but she laughs along anyways.

its a good night.

“COME HOME” BLURB MASTERLIST

if you’d like to buy me a coffee ☕︎

[cal-flakes]

can you do a story where the reader and rafe are bestfriends and he confesses that he likes her & he wasnt expecting her to feel the same way but she does?🧍🏼‍♀️

╰┈➤ bestfriend!rafe tells y/n the truth (blurb)

warnings: light swearing, kinda hurt/comfort, fluff.

summary: rafe get a bit fed up of listening to his friends sob story’s about boys who don’t treat her well. (very heartbreak girl by 5sos)

rafe sighed heavily as his hand ached, having been stroking y/n’s hair for quite some time. his eyes flickered between her and television, trying to see if she’d fallen asleep or not.

“y/n?” he whispered, jolting her slightly. groaning in response, she turned to face him, showing him her puffy, flushed face, covered in dried tears from earlier. “yeah?” she cooed, resting her head against the arm of the couch as she sat up, cuddling into his side.

“i thought you’d fallen asleep, are you feeling any better?” he queried, a sad look in his eyes. “i am now that you’re here” she smiled sweetly, allowing her head to fall into the crook of his neck.

sighing, his eyes moved to the television once again, deep in thought as she nuzzled into him, not caring for the splotches of tears cascading down his white t-shirt.

“do you really mean that?” he asked, deciding to go for the kill. “mean what?” she hummed, glancing back up at him.

“do you really mean that you’re happier when i’m here?” he pushed, watching as her facing contorted into confusion. “of course i do, you’re my best friend, i’m always happier when you’re around..” she muttered tiredly, a need for sleep apparent as a violet hue spread underneath her eyes.

“no but, that’s not what i- actually, it’s fine, it doesn’t matter..” rafe huffed, throwing his head back against the couch in defeat. she’d never understand, he thought. “hey, no. it does matter, cause something is clearly bothering you” y/n argued.

the sudden lack of warmth in his side couldn’t go unnoticed as she sat up in a flash, confronting him head on. “what do you mean rafe?” she sighed, resting her now crossed legs on his waist as he avoided her eyes, biting at his nails.

“y/n please, it’s fine” he plead, wanting the ground to swallow him up as he realised his options. lie, or tell the truth. he didn’t want to tell the truth, but he also didn’t want to lie. mostly because he knew that she would know in an instant if he was lying, her ability to tell honestly grated on him sometimes.

“but you seem sad rafe, and i hate when you’re sad, and like- y’know, i’m sad too! so if you tell me why you’re sad, we can be sad together” she rambled, giggling slightly as she prodded at his cheeks, clearly pushing his buttons. “so tell me why you’re sad, cause i’m sure i can help!” she beamed, cupping his cheeks.

his heartbeat quickened as he leant into her warm touch, enjoying the slight scrape of her nails against his skin.

“fine, okay. i’m sad, because..a girl i really like, like- really really like, doesn’t look at me the same way..” he mumbled, once again diverting his eyes. “seriously? who would be stupid enough to not like you back? that’s insane!” she exclaimed, pulling back to show him her shocked face. chuckling, he nodded along with her. “yeah, you’d think so huh?”

“do you want me to talk to her? i could put in a good word?” she teased, though her words were genuine. she’d do anything for him.“don’t be silly, she wouldn’t listen, she’s got too much on her mind already..”

“what’s more important than you?” she huffed, crossing her arms, utterly surprised by this girls behaviour towards her friend. humming, he picked at his fingers. “what?” y/n asked, noticing his change in demeanour immediately.

she scoffed as he fell completely silent, staring into her eyes. “rafe, what is it?” she demanded, growing frustrated. “well, it’s you..” he whispered, pulling into his lips into a thin line “what’s me? i don’t understand..”

“y’know, the girl i really like, who as more important things on her mind? it’s you y/n..”

“it’s me?”

[drewsbuzzcut]

All Treats For The Barzals

mat barzal x model!fem!reader

a visceral in doses blurb

warnings: alludes to sex

“Mommy! I want to go to this house please!!” Nolan shouts, already on his second sugar high.

It’s about 9 pm, on your final lap for trick or treating with Mat, you, and the kids. This year’s family costumes are Marvel superheroes. You’re dressed as black widow, a tight black suit, red hair and all. Mat is captain america, Nolan is Ironman, Angel is spiderman, and Sloane is spider-gwen, even though nobody will necessarily see her costume as she’s bundled up in her stroller. Angel passed about 30 minutes ago, also in the stroller.

“Are you sure you want to go in, it looks pretty scary,” Mat says to Nolan, adjusting him in his arms and wiping some of the sweat off Nolan’s forehead.

“Daddy, I’m so brave. Remember you tell me when I was scared of the monster under my bed,” Nolan rambles, hands on both of Mat’s cheeks to make sure he’s paying attention.

“You’re right, you are brave. Do you want me or mommy to take you?”

“Mommy’s turn!” You hand the stroller over to Mat, and take Nolan out of his arms.

The chills spreading over your body disappear when your husband’s hand lands on the small of your back. Even through the latex of your costume, you can feel his warmth.

“Make sure my little spiders stay warm, cap,” you whisper, sultry and softly, kissing his lips before you walk off with Nolan.

Mat lets out a deep sigh, hoping his hard on isn’t noticeable through his costume. He knew he was going to struggle the very first time you showed him your costume.

Angel’s cries break him out of his mental images of you spread out on your bed after he rips that costume off of you.

“Daddy, they had full size candy!” Nolan cheers once you both are back with Mat.

“He got really excited, almost ran himself into the side of the house,” you giggle.

“Wow, buddy, that’s so awesome. Are you going to share it with daddy?” Mat plays around, earning a small grimace from his mini me.

“Mommy said no candy for daddy,” Nolan states, holding or hiding behind your leg.

“Eh, did she? I guess I will have to have a conversation with her then,” Mat looks at you with a playful glare, making you smirk.

“What’s wrong with my little man,” you turn your attention to AJ, who’s cuddled up against Mat’s chest.

“He’s tired and cold.” You reach out to smooth your baby’s hair out, pressing a kiss to his head.

“I guess it’s time to go, sorry Nolie. It’s late, we have to get you all to bed,” you softly say to your oldest.

He looks up at you with that familiar Barzal pout, but you know that soon he’ll be the one cranky and tired.

“Sorry, my love. We have to go, c’mon, I’ll carry you the whole way,” he immediately leaps into your arms and settles against your body. He’d be out in no time.

“So, no candy for daddy, eh?” Mat comes up behind you, hands resting low on your hips.

You turn around, shushing him as you just put Sloane down in her crib. She’s sound asleep and you don’t need her daddy waking her up, especially because you still had to get ready for the team’s Halloween party.

It’s when you turn around that he finally notices that your costume is unzipped and hanging at your waist. Your chest is completely bare as you just got done breastfeeding your baby girl.

“You can have something sweet, just not candy,” you mutter, tossing your arms around his shoulders and kissing up his neck.

“Fuck, you’re such a tease,” he lets out a low guttural moan and you quiet him by pressing your lips to his.

You back him out of Sloane’s nursery and into your bedroom across the hall.

“I’m not teasing,” you say.

“We have to do our costume change and greet the babysitter,” he warns.

“30 minutes is all we need. As for being on time to the party, we can be a little late,” you say, simply taking off your costume and laying out on your bed.

a/n: This was rushed and I don’t necessarily like it, but I do hope y’all enjoy it!

[lovebugism]

Thunderbolts prompt: fake dating with them oh my lordy

ty for requesting :D below you will find four separate blurbs for the thunderbolts (bucky, yelena, john, and bob), each with their own separate summary and warnings! enjoy!!

BUCKY BARNES X READER — you pretend to be bucky's wife to help his image during the election (friends to lovers, pre-thunderbolts but also kinda canon divergent | 0.8k words)

Bucky Barnes never lets go of your hand. He never stops smiling either, at the sporadic camera flashes that threaten to blind him while the elevator doors squeak to a close. Only when the two of you are finally alone, away from the leering eyes of the press, can Bucky take his first good breath of the evening. Only then does he let go of your hand.

You migrate to opposite sides of the small lift and bathe in the welcome silence after a too-long night of shaking hands and people pleasing. Bucky sighs and tips his head back against the wall. “I’m sorry about this,” he mumbles beneath the ding-ing elevator. “Again.”

Despite the ache in your feet from a long night in heels, you manage a small, tired laugh. “You don’t have to keep apologizing, Bucky— Valentina put me up to his, alright? Not you.”

“No, I know, I just…” he trails off with an awkward chuckle, loosening the knot in his tie with two fingers. “I just know you’d rather be anywhere else in the world than here, you know, with me. I know how boring these things are, trust me.”

He tilts his head to flash you a tight-lipped grin, ocean eyes dark and weighed down with a visible fatigue. You give him a much more apologetic look in return.

“Actually, I’m kinda happy I’m here,” you correct and avert your gaze. “I know Valentina did all… this,” you wave your hand vaguely between the two of you. “But if pretending to be married helps you get elected, then I’m happy to do it. I seriously think you could do some good— like, world-changing good, so… I wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else.”

Bucky’s chest warms with an unfamiliar feeling. Something fuzzy, like television static or crackling embers — the kind of feeling he only gets whenever he’s holding your hand. It feels strange now, not to be touching you after spending a whole evening at your side.

He flexes his flesh hand and tries to ignore the ache while the numbers on the elevator continue to rise — 27th, 28th, 29th… 

“I know neither of us wanted to be here, but… Out of everyone Valentina could’ve picked, I’m glad it was you.”

“I’m sure you are,” you quip, trying not to be as vulnerable as you feel. “Considering her first idea was pairing you and Walker to go on, like, pretty public missions together.”

Bucky’s face screws. “No, it wasn’t...” he groans.

“Yeah. Like, saving kittens out of trees— Real serious stuff.”

He makes a pained, grumbly noise in his throat. “Well, now I’m extra glad it’s you.”

The two of you exhale soft laughs and stare ahead at the closed doors before you; more specifically, at the bright red numbers above them — 41st, 42nd, 43rd — praying silently that they’ll slow down.

“And even though Valentina did all those for show… You know, the whole married Avengers thing…” Bucky trails off and clears his throat, trying to find the words to say. “Every time we kissed, every time we pretended to be in love… It was real to me. It was always real to me.”

You exhale a heavy breath. Like his words have physically punched you in the stomach. 

“And if you don’t feel the same way, I get it. Okay? I do,” Bucky rambles, preparing himself for an inevitable rejection. “But when all this dies down, whether it gets me elected or not, I’d like to take you out on a real date.”

“No press?” you ask, peering at him from beneath your lashes.

Bucky shakes his head in agreement. “No press.”

“Even if you don’t get elected, and all of this ends up being for nothing?”

“Well, it… wouldn’t have been for nothing.”

You exhale a breathy laugh. “You know, despite what Walker says about you, you still know your way around women, Sergeant Barnes,” you quip beneath the ding of the elevator. 

Bucky’s brows furrow in confusion as the elevator doors whir open. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he calls to the back of you as you step out onto the fifty-third floor.

He doesn’t follow you — equal parts because he feels like his feet are glued to the floor and because his real room is a floor above the one Valentina booked for Mr. and Mrs. Barnes. 

You flash him a look over your shoulder, eyes dolled up and magnetic like a siren’s gaze would be. “It was real to me, too, Bucky,” you murmur, so quietly he barely hears it, then remove every ounce of vulnerability from your being. “Now, do you wanna come in for a night cap or what?”

You walk off before he can answer. Bucky catches the closing door with his vibranium hand and rushes to follow behind you.

You share a bed that night, like many nights before, but this time with the knowledge that everything will be different when you wake up the next morning.

YELENA BELOVA X READER — yelena wants to show her parents that she's doing okay after the death of her sister, and recruits your help to do so (friends to lovers, post-thunderbolts | 1k words)

Yelena Belova’s trying to prove that she’s okay. Alexei and Melina were worried that Natasha’s passing had ruined her, which it had — and that a life without her sister had left her all alone, which it did. But, in an attempt to stave off the weepy conversations and squishy-eyed gazes, Yelena decided to bring a companion to the family dinner. 

You were her teammate, first and foremost, and the only one she could tolerate long enough to pretend to date for a night. And, besides, you were too soft for your own good to deny her of anything.

You were too perfect a choice, turns out, ‘cause her parents end up taking to you like a third daughter.

Yelena groans with her head in her palms when Alexei returns from the bathroom, modeling his original Red Guardian supersuit like he does every time they visit Melina’s country house. The spandex gear was created in the early eighties and smells like it, too. The thing gets tighter every time Alexei shoves on it, but he wears it with a bright smile on his bearded face anyway.

“Still fits!” you exclaim kindly from the kitchen table as the older man poses in the doorway.

“I told you it would!” Alexei slurs in his deep Russian accent. “Forty-one years old, this is! Can you believe it?!”

“Yes, I can,” Yelena mumbles into her shot glass before swallowing its golden brown contents in one go.

You shake your head with a polite smile. “You don’t look a day over thirty, Alexei.”

“Oh, you flatter me,” the man chuckles from the depths of his round stomach, then deflates with a realization. “Ah, drisnya— I forgot the, uh… the…” He trails off, motioning vaguely around his head as he searches for the English word. “The helmet. I just— I ruined this whole thing…”

Melina smiles at the pouting man she used to call her husband (and still does, on occasion). “No, you didn’t, my love,” she coos, voice low as honey. “You look great.”

Alexei shakes his stubborn head, swiping a calloused hand through his long, greying locks. “No, I have— I have to do it all over again. Just… wait. Wait here, da?” he scurries back down the hall, searching for the helmet he’d left behind.

Melina deflates with a sigh. “We’re going to need a lot more alcohol than this,” she mumbles, rising from the table and taking the half-gone bottle of whiskey with her.

“Maybe something a little stronger?” you quip.

The older woman smiles down at you. “Now, you’re speaking my language, solnyshko.” 

You wait until she’s left the room to lean over to Yelena, “What’s sul-nish-co?” you whisper.

“It’s solnyshko—” she corrects in perfect Russian. “—And it means sunshine.”

You smile, warmed by the term of endearment. “That’s nice…”

“Don’t get used to it,” Yelena scoffs and takes another shot. (Her tenth, or maybe hundredth of the evening).

Your brows furrow at her words. You flinch slightly, like they’ve physically pained you in some way. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means this isn’t real,” she says, motioning wildly between your bodies. “But those idiots think it is, and they’re getting attached— which means they’re going to wonder why I don’t keep bringing you around— which means I didn’t solve any problems, I just made a new one.”

She points an accusatory finger at you. You blink back burning tears.

“You invited me here, Yelena… I don’t deserve the blame for this…” You turn to your own shot glass, which has been sitting on the table ahead of you for some time now, and finally find the courage to take it. “…Whatever this is.”

Yelena watches with an apologetic look in her eyes as you down the whiskey in one swallow. She can’t help but smile softly to herself when you grimace at the bitter taste.

“You’re right. It’s not your fault. I’m sorry,” she mumbles, so quiet you barely hear it, as she rakes her fingers through her chopped, box-dyed locks. “They’ve just been so worried about me since ‘Tasha died… I wanted to prove to them that I still had someone who cared about me. Even if it was just pretend.”

You smile at the sullen Russian girl. “It’s not pretend, Yelena. You have people who care about you— The entire team would’ve shown up if you asked them.”

Yelena gives you a knowing look in return, doe eyes shadowed with smoky liner.

“Well… Maybe not Walker,” you correct yourself, gaze flitted to the ceiling. “Or Ava… Or Bucky— But Bob definitely would’ve been here, and you know it!”

“Exactly,” the blonde girl says with a soft, gravelly laugh. She fails to meet your piercing gaze and fidgets nervously with her empty shot glass instead. “You’re the only one who cares enough to pretend to like me.”

You feel her tense when you put a soothing hand on her denim-clad thigh. She peers at you beneath her lashes with a shy ocean gaze, chest warming something fierce when you smile. “It’s not pretend, Yelena…”

She falters, unable to tell if your words are some kinda confession or if you’re still just being nice. Her eyes dart across your features, like she’s looking for an answer inside them. Before she can find one, Alexei stumbles in from the bedroom.

“I thought we agreed, no PDA,” the grown man whines, still in his too-tight suit but now sporting the matching helmet. “It’s nasty, ‘Lena, I can’t stomach it.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t stomach you,” the girl retorts instinctively.

You smile in the face of their banter. “You were right, Alexei— It definitely needed the helmet.”

“I told you!” the man exclaims, voice booming as loud as his wide smile. “I told you it made the outfit better— In your face, ‘Lena!”

Yelena shakes her head, but can’t help but smile to herself. 

She figures she could get used to this.

JOHN WALKER X READER — john takes care of you after a mission gone wrong, like the doting husband he's pretending to be (enemies to lovers, pre-thunderbolts, cw for mentions of injuries | 0.8k words)

John Walker is just trying to survive — or, at least, that’s what he keeps telling himself. Valentina pairs the two of you on a mission nothing short of life and death. “You’ll draw less attention as a couple,” the woman smiled, passing you an envelope with a forged marriage license and two golden wedding bands inside. “Trust me. You guys are pros at this— What could go wrong?”

The answer to that question was easy: everything.

It was good until it wasn’t. John posed as a business exec Monday through Friday, nine to five, where he would then return to his ‘house’ in the suburbs with a cold beer and a home-cooked meal waiting for him. White picket fence, rose garden, backyard with a pool — the whole nine yards. As far as he was concerned, the only problem was having to share it with you.

You pretended to be his housewife. You went to book clubs, pilates, and over-priced grocery stores, all in the name of fitting in with the rest of the Stepford wives around you. While John got close to the bigshot CEO that Valentina wanted dead, you played nice with his wife — pretty, a little stupid, and satan reincarnate. 

It went on like that in an unforgiving cycle. You received intel in the name of petty gossip and found ways to busy yourself until Walker got home; you had parties, get-togethers, and barbecues to blend in with the community, pretending to love each other all the while.

It was nothing short of your own personal hell. 

The mission was inevitably a success, though not without a couple casualties. You and Walker managed to make it out with a couple scrapes, a few bruises, and only a single gunshot wound — which isn’t so bad, all things considered. 

You think you’re taking a bullet to the stomach much better than your faux-husband is.

“Jesus Christ, you’re a fucking idiot,” John mumbles under his breath as he stitches your weeping wound with careful hands. 

He only managed to stop panicking when he got you to the safe house. Before then, you thought he might cry. You would’ve made fun of him for it if you'd stayed conscious long enough on the ride here.

“Wow,” you scoff, tilting your heavy head against the pillow to glare at him. “Your bedside manner is impressive, Walker. Truly.”

John’s face twists with a palpable irritation. “You don’t get to make jokes right now, alright?” he grouses, snipping the remaining thread from your sutures.

You laugh despite the stinging in your side. “Why not? I think now’s a perfect time, honestly—”

“Because you almost died!” John shouts over you. 

“What the fuck do you care?”

“Uh, because we’re married,” he monotones like it’s obvious, flashing the wedding ring on his left hand, now stained with your blood. 

“No, actually, we’re not—” You wince when you try to sit up. John reaches for you on instinct, helping you prop yourself on the pillows he’s piled beneath you. “—And I’m totally divorcing you when we get home. Just, by the way.”

“Trust me. The feeling’s mutual,” he deadpans, towering over you as he wipes the blood from his hands on a towel. “But we’re probably gonna be stuck here awhile. Valentina’s not getting in a hurry to send any backup, so…”

“What a fucking bitch…” you sigh and tip your head against the bedframe.

“We only have to play husband and wife for a few more days. Think you can handle that?”

“It wasn’t so bad…” you shrug, eyeing John with lidded eyes as he rounds the mattress to the right side — which had, over the course of eight months, become his side. He sits down gingerly, careful not to make any sudden movements that might hurt you. You melt into his warmth on instinct, leaning your shoulder against his broader one. “…Until you got me shot, anyway.”

“Hey, you did that yourself— No one asked you to protect me.”

“Sorry for saving your life, you idiot.”

“I’m a super soldier!” he laughs. “I can take a hit! You can’t!”

“I think I took it pretty well, actually,” you scoff, face screwed in offense.

“Yeah…” John sighs despite himself. “You kinda did.... Just don’t let it happen again.”

“But I like watching you dote on me,” you joke, tilting your head on his shoulder to see him better. 

Your noses nearly brush at the proximity between you, which would border on romantic to virtually anyone else. But, for the two of you, it’s your job — and you’ve gotten used to playing your role to perfection. Being close to him now is like muscle memory. 

“You don’t have to almost die for me to take care of you,” John chuckles. “You know that, right?”

You shake your head. “No, actually. I didn’t.”

“Well…” John shrugs. “Now you do.”

It’s just as much of an admission of love as the blood on his hands from patching you up, or the bullet fragments in your side from shielding him from gunfire. All the rest of it goes unsaid.

ROBERT REYNOLDS X READER — you and bob pretend to date because it's easier than trying to convince everyone you're just friends (friends to lovers, post-thunderbolts | 1.2k words)

Robert Reynolds didn’t want to be alone, and neither did you. The decision to attend Valentina’s wedding together was as mutual as it was unsaid, just like most of the time you spent together. 

You haven’t been apart since the day you found him in New York. At first, it was just babysitting — making sure he didn’t turn half the city into a shadow again — but then you grew rather fond of his company. And eventually, neither of you could stomach being without the other. So you never were. Ever.

It was all completely, utterly, and unequivocally platonic, but the rest of the team convinced themselves otherwise. After a year or more of constant prying, it just got easier to let everyone else believe what they wanted. And, besides, pretending to have a boyfriend got you out of a ton of unwelcome social interactions. 

The team wants to get a beer after a mission that totally drained your social battery? Oops, sorry, I have to get home to Bob before he thinks I’m dead.

Old acquaintances from high school want to hang out with Bob now that he’s quote-unquote famous? I wish I could, but my girlfriend’s super sick. Maybe another time?

You and Bob were best friends and nothing more. But sometimes pretending otherwise had its benefits.

“Isn’t wearing black to a wedding bad luck?” Bob mumbles as you enter the elaborate dining hall side-by-side. (Valentina’s wedding had only two rules: all guests must wear black, and absolutely no kids.) It made Bob nervous, as most things tended to.

“It’s her fourth marriage,” you shrug. “It’s basically a funeral, anyway.”

You’re bombarded on entry by Alexei, who by the looks of it, had already pre-gamed in the Avengers Tower before coming.

“Ah! It’s the lovebirds!” he shouts, voice booming over everyone else’s. He turns to a total stranger passing by and motions to the two of you. “Aren’t they cute?” he asks the strange man, who just gives him a weird look in response. Alexei smiles anyway. “See? He agrees with me.”

“I don’t think he does…” Bob murmurs sincerely.

“It’ll be your turn next, eh?” Alexei chuckles, hitting the boy hard on the shoulder. Bob flinches under his tattooed hand despite being the most powerful Avenger the world’s ever seen. “Getting married. Being all… married.”

Bob hesitates, looking to you for an answer ‘cause he’s never been the best liar. You just smile, like it all comes too naturally to you. “Only if you promise to officiate the wedding,” you croon and wrap your left arm around Bob’s right one.

Alexei’s smile ebbs into a look of shock. His eyes go soft around the edges, filling with tears at the kind gesture.

“There would be no greater honor—” he tells you, Russian accent deep in his throat as he takes a step closer. He holds Bob’s wrist in one hand and yours in the other, shaking them for emphasis. “—Than uniting the two of you in marriage.”

You realize how seriously he’s taking it and start to flounder. “Well, you’ll be the first one we tell, Alexei,” you mumble awkwardly and slide your hand from his grip. “I promise.”

You’re dragging Bob away before the man can go on another half-drunken rant about a faux relationship and a wedding that will never happen.

You weave through the bustling crowd, hands instinctively entwining to stay together. 

“Do you think anyone would notice if we left?” Bob mumbles, nervously adjusting his tie with the hand not holding yours.

You look around, then shrug. “I don’t think I care.”

You end up sneaking into the kitchen before cocktail hour even starts, stealing a tray of sweets on your way to the wine cellar. Bob trails behind you like a lost puppy, distantly fearful of getting caught (because his omnipotence has yet to cancel out his perpetual anxiety.)

He paces back and forth while you try to pry the cork out of a vintage Merlot.

“I’m starting to feel bad,” Bob blurts suddenly, sweaty hands wringing into knots.

“Why?” you scoff with your mouthful, chewing through a tart chocolate-covered strawberry. “It’s just wine. No one will even know it’s missing—”

“No. About… lying to everyone.”

You freeze with half a strawberry still wadded in your cheek. “Oh…” you mumble, then swallow the rest of it down. You adjust the wine bottle between your anxious hands and stammer for a response. “Do you wanna… Do you wanna stop?”

The concept of stopping is slightly foreign to you. You've gotten so used to pretending to date him that sometimes you forget you're not actually dating.

Bob pauses his pacing to shift his weight on his feet. He shakes his head and answers honestly, “No. I don’t wanna stop, I just… don’t wanna lie.”

It’s a confession, albeit a vague one. He eyes you with a wide, attentive gaze and prays you get the hint. He can tell, by the sudden fearful look on your face, that you do. 

Your eyes flit to the ceiling as you smack your lips against your teeth, as though deep in thought. After a moment or more of silence, filled only by the distant swelling of violins, you nod. 

“Okay,” is all you say as you spin on your heel and turn away. You can’t face the vulnerability, so you choose to pick your battles and search for a cork screw for the impossible-to-open wine.

“O-Okay?” Bob stammers, nearly stumbling over himself to follow behind you.

“Yeah,” you shrug. “I mean, we were already kind of doing it, so… We’re basically halfway there anyway, right?”

Bob’s sigh of relief comes out like a laugh as he leans against the counter beside you. “I just… I didn’t think it’d be that easy,” he chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest in a feeble attempt to still his racing heart. “I would’ve asked you out forever ago if I did.”

The cork exits with a low, smoking pop. You inhale the scent of bitter grape as you bring the heavy bottle to your mouth. “How long have you been planning this?” you wonder with a laugh before taking a lengthy sip.

“Not long,” Bob insists with a shy shrug. “Maybe about… a year?”

You nearly choke on the dry wine. “So… Since we met?” you press, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Uh—” Bob trails off, voice an octave higher than usual, as his eyes dart to the ceiling. He tries to do the calculations in his head, but the days have all blurred together since the Sentry Project. All he knows is, at the very least, that he’s been in love with you since the day he met you. “—Yeah. That sounds about right.”

“Here,” you blurt, offering him the too-expensive bottle of wine in your hand. “I think you need this more than I do.”

You can’t help but falter at his admission — that all the time you spent together wasn’t just pretend. Not entirely. 

Every time you held hands in front of the team, cuddled on couches during movie nights, pretended to make out beneath the blankets so that whatever unfortunate team member was sent to recruit you for an early morning mission would leave the two of you out of it — some of it was actually real.

You can rest easy now knowing that you weren’t the only one who’d somehow fallen in love along the way. 

It was all Bob’s fault, really. 

But he’s more than happy to take the blame.

[loserabby]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚.     𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒 ᵎᵎ     i'm tentatively opening up my requests again, before requesting i'd appreciate it if you went over the below rules    [ border credit ]

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ . ** MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, THIS IS AN 18+ BLOG. I DO NOT GIVE ANYBODY PERMISSION TO REUPLOAD OR PLAGARISE MY WORK. IF YOU SEE SOMETHING I'VE WRITTEN ANYWHERE ELSE OTHER THAN HERE OR MY A03, PLEASE LET ME KNOW VIA ASK **

𝐖𝐇𝐎/𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑?

i have written primarily for the marvel fandom in the past and am quite comfortable writing for bucky barnes, steve rogers and pietro maximoff. i am also trying to branch out and try writing for the following fandoms: the last of us and yellowjackets.

the characters listed below with a *asterisk by their name are here on a tietary basis, meaning i'm not 100% confident writing them and don't have them down 100% but would like to try my hand at writing them.

bucky barnes

steve rogers

pietro maximoff

ransom drysdale*

joel miller*

abby anderson*

lottie matthews*

van palmer*

natalie scatorccio*

if a character is not listed, still feel free to request and i might be willing to, these are just the characters i know i would enjoy writing but may still need some practice at.

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄?

hard no's include: extremely dark!fics, p*doph*lia, non-con/scenes that depict sexual violence and assault (may briefly mention, but will always tag), watersports/scat, beastiality or incest. i do not write rpf!

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓?

send all requests through ask, this can be over anon or not (however if i don't vibe with it, it will be easier to message you privately)

state your preference of a headcanon, blurb or oneshot, this isn't always guaranteed but helps me gage how much i could potentially ramble on.

i encourage and accept: prompts, songs, quotes and pop culture as inspiration

i have a prompts tag here if you wanna send one of these + who it's for

au's are also welcome: roommate!stucky, dbf!joel, stalker!lottie, boss!abby, etc.

𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃?

₊˚ ☁️⋅𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ . feel free to send me an ask and i'll see what i can do

[jamiehashands]

Can you ramble about Ellis ggy?

Okay, okay, where to start, I think there’s like, a lot to go over so I’m gonna try to start from the beginning. This is gonna be a long post so strap in folks. (and ignore my discord nickname, it's an inside joke)

The Descent into Madness

Back in January/February of this year I decided to pick up writing as a hobby, I started off with little blurbs of a potential SB rewrite I had cooking up (and still cooking up today), however that’s not relevant to Ellis, so I’m skipping to the fic he’s actually include in. So, on February 4th I drew this as a joke, but then I wanted to expand on it and make it a fic.

(You can tell this is old by how light Ellis is and comparing him to my current design LMAO) (and the "like the show?" is supposed to be a reference to transformers)

That being said, that fic wasn’t even entirely focused on him, the basic premise was Greg came out to Ellis as nonbinary and Ellis would go “like the code??? XDDDD!!!!”, isn't he so quirky and not like other girls?? /j

“Guys the worms” haha, if only you knew dude.

Okay anyways, the thing was, I don’t think I got that far into reading GGY because most of it SUCKED and was really out of character. I didn’t even used the names “Rab” or “Boots” which actually annoys me so bad I don’t even wanna look at it. Sorry to the Instagram followers who wanted to see it, it’s in the garbage now and I hate it, but that’s completely okay! It was a learning experience for me, which lead me to my next fic that I am. Technically. Still. Working on.

I think this was the moment I realized I grew to be in love with Ellis’s “character”, in quotation marks because he’s not really a character y’know. This is also when I found a way to read GGY properly, so that means I’d have my fic more accurate. I actually documented my reading on my instagram (same username) if you’re interested, though it’s kind of corny looking back on it, definitely exaggerated some of my opinions on it.

If you follow my Instagram, you can see in a story I revealed that I currently find the fic really unfun to work on, and that I enjoyed working on a different one. Let me just explain, I believe that the fic is like, angst with no merit, someone might enjoy reading something like that but I don’t like writing it personally. Right now, I’m in the process of replanning, which is why I’d like to thank our today’s sponsor, Milanote!!!1! Kidding, but Milanote has genuinely made things easier for me it’s kind of insane. Obviously I’m going to keep some aspects in the fic (not spoiling though ^_^) but I hope to make it fun for me to work on again this time around.

I forgot to put my uquiz answer description thing I make for him here wait:

Ellis has a minor role in the short story ‘GGY.’ He is described as being impatient nearly all of the time, bouncing on his heels when he is. He often jokes around with his friend Tony, purposely calling him Tinkerbell instead of the pseudonym Tarbell, and telling him that he thinks too much. He immediately brushes off the writing assignment in Mrs. Soto’s class, saying that the story is due in two weeks and they’ve got plenty of time.

His dad insists that Sundays are for family time. He considers Tony’s real life investigations lame, making a dramatic snoring sound effect when Tony tells him he was people watching. At the end of GGY, Ellis ends up changing Tony’s story completely, albeit probably because of manipulation from Greg/GGY himself, he also compliments the changes they made by saying “it gets better.” (It doesn’t get better they’re probably going to get an F 🫶)

Ellis Fan Design(s)

In this section I’m just going to be rambling about Ellis fan designs, not naming any names though because it’s not really a specific design, just specific design aspects. Soo my first thing is: please stop making him grey/ashy or hell, incredibly light😢😢😢 it reminds me of when I was like 11 and all of my black characters were borderline grey. My second thing is that I’ve seen a handful of designs where he just. Doesn’t have curly hair. It annoys me sooo bad like guys please 😕😕 umm another thing is when people don’t give his square jaw, like maybe they do but it’s just really subtle??? Idk!!!

Anyways my Ellis design went through many changes actually, but one thing that remained consistent was the long hair with the. Brown?? Idk how to describe it lmao. Here are some sketches from old sketchbooks!! There are some more but those are kind of spoiler territory for my fic so >_>,, gotta wait another 8 months for those! /j

Way before these sketches were even created, I had an idea on how Ellis would dress, it's um. It's definitely a fashion statement...!

These were the drawings that had the designs I wanted to stick with, and have stuck with to this day! I took the idea that he would be a Monty fan and ran with it, for the jacket you can actually see it in the "im nonbinary" "like the code???" doodle I did, however looking back the short sleeved jacket and the long sleeved was kind of ugly.. In one of the doodles above, I drew him with ripped jeans, while they're quite fun they wouldn't really fit with the design I have now (and also I can't fit the rips on the current jeans anywhere)

However, that is old art, so here is his current ref I made for art fight! You can actually view his profile here!!!

The he/him/she/her pronouns (for simplification reasons I will only be using he/him in this post) and his birthday being on April 5th actually has some reason to it BUT we are not there yet!!! Oh!! And what's that thing at the bottom? Songs I associate with him?? what!!!

Ellis Playlist WHATT

Pretend I had a really smooth transition into this next topic, ANYWAY!! I'm going to pick a small handful of songs from the playlist and make them relate to Ellis in some way, because I. am really normal. ════════════════════════════════════════════

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Just Take My Wallet - Jack Stauber's Micropop

hope you like the formatting on this section, anyway

Your mama's crying Your mama's crying for you Mama's lying Oh, what's she trying to do To you?

I think this is self explanatory, after Tony's mom lost her only son a natural instinct is to cry her eyes out. For the "Mama's lying" part I'm just going to bullshit an answer that's relevant to the fic I'm writing. Sooo, in the context that is Ellis being like, y'know, sad, his mom would obviously try to comfort him, and since I hc that he blames himself somewhat, she'd try to tell him it isn't his fault and such, however Ellis doesn't believe that, which is where the "lying" part comes in. For the last two parts, Tony's parents actively tried to change what Tony wrote stories about, aka kind of changing his whole shtick idk.

Good times are singing They sang, they sang Those times are echoing through me Through me

Another theme in my fic is that Ellis reminisces, A LOT. Like first few paragraphs he's like "I miss my friends bro what the fuck!!!!!!!!11"

What's the softest way to say You took away my friend, my buddy? What's the kindest way to say You took away my friend? What's the kindest way to say You took away my friend, my buddy? What's the kindest way to say The end?

In this little animatic idea in my head, this is the part where Ellis and Gregory reunite and Ellis comes to the realization he killed Tony, "The end?" represents them cutting ties with each other, because there's no way their relationship can be healthy anymore. OR IS THERE?? DUN DUN DUNNNNN....

════════════════════════════════════════════

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Boys Don't Cry - The Cure

I would say I'm sorry If I thought that it would change your mind But I know that this time I have said too much Been too unkind

After Tony gets really pissed with Ellis, Ellis didn't realize what was wrong until later, in which he'd want to apologize and change Tony's mind about not wanting him to work on any writing assignment with him anymore. However he had done too much damage he can't undo, and also Tony is dead but SHHHH SHHHH

I tried to laugh about it Cover it all up with lies I tried to laugh about it Hiding the tears in my eyes 'Cause boys don't cry Boys don't cry

Ellis, being the comedic type in my hc (and many other's I think), would use humor to cover up his feelings by using humor as a coping mechanism y'know? "Boys don't cry" was/still is quite the common mindset, assuming Ellis would believe in said mindset, he's given another reason to not cry. Sorry that's probably a reach HELP.

I would break down at your feet And beg forgiveness, plead with you But I know that it's too late And now there's nothing I can do

I'm pretty sure Ellis would do anything to get Tony back, your honor that was his BEST BUDDY. The last two lines are obvious because Tony is like, dead,,,,, anyways skipping the next section because I'd just repeat myself

I would tell you that I loved you If I thought that you would stay But I know that it's no use And you've already gone away

Ok actually I'm gonna be repeating myself regardless because something something Ellis doesn't want Tony to leave but it's too late and Tony leaves and then dies blahhhh

Misjudged your limits Pushed you too far Took you for granted Thought that you needed me more, more, more

In GGY, Tony brings up that Ellis is very immature and feels as if he is outgrowing him, Ellis changing up his story is what broke the camels back, which is where "misjudged your limits/pushed you too far/took you for granted" comes in, Ellis, thinking Tony thought of him as someone he couldn't lose, so it'd hurt when Tony seemed to drop him just like that (ok well to him it seems unexpected but y'know, Tony's "im not like other girls" inner monologues. (kidding))

Now I would do most anything To get you back by my side But I just keep on laughing Hiding the tears in my eyes 'Cause boys don't cry Boys don't cry Boys don't cry

For the first two lines, I immediately think of @kai-rio 's (sorry for the @ lmk if you want to be removed but also you're really normal about Ellis like me so) Ellis fic, you can read it right here, um, in the briefest summary I can give of the first part, Ellis goes "omg I need to find Tony !!!!! >_<" and like plans. to go to that. like he gets geared up /j. I'd make a joke about the ending but that'd be SPOILERS.... anyways refer to what I said before for the other lines.

════════════════════════════════════════════

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : I Can't Handle Change - Roar

Hangin' out where I don't belong is nothing new to me I get tired, and I get sick, and then I lose the strength to leave

If anyone reading this saw that. dumbass papa louie pals scene I made, I hc Ellis to be like!!! really alienated from everyone even if he comes off as an extrovert (im giving him every mental illness Ellis im sorry). Funny fact, in one of my ideas for the Ellis fic rework, I have a point that says "mention Ellis constantly feeling sick", not in the literal sense obviously, but it ties in with this lyric methinks.

I can't handle change I can't handle change

Ellis is left grieving the loss of his friend, a change, like the lyric says, he can't handle/accept

Nothing I do is ever good Nothing I do is ever good enough Nothing I do is ever good Nothing I do is ever good Nothing I do is ever good enough Nothing I do is ever good

Did I mention I'm giving him every mental illness ever (/j) well that also includes an inferiority complex, really ties in with the feeling alienated from everyone thing, yay!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Leave me alone Leave me alone (I wanna go home now) Leave me alone Leave me alone (I wanna go home now)

Guys would you be shocked if I said that I interpret this as Ellis wanting to be left alone??!????!???!?! "I wanna go home now" makes me think of this scene in my fic where Ellis remembers Tony's funeral (you can't spell funeral without fun btw! /j) and wanting to leave like 30 minutes in because he felt so overwhelmed

I can't help but repeat myself I know it's not your fault Still lately, I begin to shake For no reason at all For no reason at all For no reason at all For no reason at all For no reason at all

This would be Ellis to Greg, as Tony's death technically wasn't his fault, but he has to repeat it in his head like a mantra because Greg and GGY shared the same face and it's hard to separate the two from one another. Shaking for seemingly no reason is a symptom of anxiety, and if you checked Ellis's art fight page that I really need to revamp, it's stated he has that so!!! yay!!!!!!!!!!

G-g-g-grellis… VOMITS IN MOUTH. /j (and shipping in the GGY community in general ig)

I think I’m like the only person who ships this now,,,,, Ummmm I just wanna say I don’t really take this shipping thing too seriously because they’re just middle school kids and they’re bound to be silly/awkward. Obviously they do have potential to be really angsty like “oh my god you killed my best friend why do I still love you? Is it because I’m still in love with the person you pretended to be?” Or something idk it’s dumb I like to focus on the sillier things like passing notes in class, trash talking teachers they don’t like, and sharing snacks with each other or whatever.

Absolutely unrelated but can we NOT use the term "yaoi" to describe the relationship between two middle schoolers like, i'm sorry that's just hella weird. Sorry if this is flipline addictspilled flipline addictsmaxxing /inside joke but it's like saying "middle school boy yaoi" like is that NOT weird to you? Also I've seen some really iffy ship art and whenever I come across it I just think to myself: "bro aren't they like twelve???" And I’ve seen no one acknowledge it in the tags of the art, and I’ve brought it up to a friend who is an outsider to the GGY community and they thought the same thing too. Look. Maybe I’m just aroace and believe that romance shouldn’t all be about kissing and shit but someone here has got to agree right 😕

Anyways back to Grellis!!! When I first saw them, I thought their alternative ship name, “Grel”, was “Gel”, and I thought that was the funnier shit ever. You might be asking why I ship them and it’s because like, they’re seen interacting with each other for most of the story, and I don’t have to rely on post-canon “what-ifs” to get their relationship to work.

Ummm for their dynamic I already said they're just silly middle schoolers so. go my grellis related pics

also they play roblox together and watch the mlp eq movies but at the same time they head bang to death metal. Uhh I'm not gonna write about how I think these songs are so them(tm) but two songs I associate with them are Romantic Lover by Eyedress, and Door by iDKHOW. Also my friend @rippcharddrive drew them for an art fight attack and it was the best day of my life

now one might be asking, "why the fuck is NuMarcus from Papa Louie there" well!!!

NUTIMM (And Papa Louie in general)

Now you might remember when I said that I hc Ellis to be born on April 5th and use he/she pronouns and that we'll come back to that later. The reason is Papa Louie, okay well, NuTimm (Timm x NuMarcus) specifically, but Papa Louie in general. But before we get into it, I edited Ellis in the Flipline Style once ^_^

Ok so really short origin story of NuTimm is that it started off as a joke and two of my friends role played them breaking up, but Niall (rippcharddrive) started getting attached to it. Sooner or later he added them to his tomodachi life island and on March 31st 2024, they got together!!! and got married in under and hour of doing so!!! Now, how does this relate to Ellis? well on April 3rd, Timm got knocked up bro /JJJ

Niall didn't know what to name the baby so I jokingly suggested the name Ellis and everyone else liked it so the baby was going to be named Ellis!!

And on April 5th (I think you can understand why that's his birthday now), she was born!!! And everyone in du2 thought she was ugly </3

To make a long story short they ended up having like 7 more kids I think I forgot, and many more grandkids. Then one day I decided to get Tomodachi Life myself (with the help of Niall), made my own island and added fnaf Ellis and NuTimm Ellis to it, long story short they fell in love and eventually got married and became the gayest straight couple (/j). NuMarcus, wanting to give Ellis a head start in parenting, made 2 NuBaby's, each of which have incredibly long and stupid names because Ellis wanted to piss him off.

BUT THEN... THE PLOT THICKENS. On Nialls island, Gregory and NuTimm Ellis fell in love and also got married, thus forming the most confusing love triangle of all time. IM RUNNING OUT OF IMAGES BUT here is when I started using he/she for Ellis

ok guys pretend i have a really good transition to the next and probably last section

Headcanons (shocked face emoji)

I've mentioned multiple of my Ellis hcs in the song portion but I haven't really made an entire list of them so!! Here we go guys!!! We're at the homestretch!!!

- ummm neurodivergent (AuDHD), I interpret him bouncing his heels in that one scene in GGY as his stimming thanks, he also quotes memes as a vocal stim pray for him /jjj - types with a lot of emoticons and exclamation marks - laughs at the dumbest crap ever, you could show him the "she strogan me off till i beef" video and he'd cry laughing - somehow knows every unblocked games website - Picks at his. acne all the time - Knows the" most obscure ass media, he'll go up to Tony and Greg and be like: "Have you guys heard of Zigglyblorfblorf??" and they'll be like "???? WHAT????" - Wanted to become a youtuber when he was way younger because he thought it would be easy and it would make him look cool and awesome (his parents did NOT approve). Speaking of parents I made. fan designs. for them. SEE GUYS I AM SO NORMAL!!! THEY TOTALLY DONT HAVE THEIR OWN LORE OR ANYTHING!!! and totally can't be their own standalone characters1!!!

- Ellis is quite fond of dancing actually ^_^ boogieing and jiving is something he likes - Cuts the fat off his steak before eating it, he HATES the texture - Very emotional/sensitive :// - he sort of kind of lets his full personality show around Tony and Greg which kinda makes the whole “Tony feels like he’s outgrowing Ellis and thinking he’s immature” worse maybe because idk. Differences. - 5'4-5'6 ft tall idk idk - he probably dies ngl /j

- love-hate relationship with slasher films

- on one hand he’s like “hahahah people dying XD I’m so different!!” And genuinely just being squeamish.

Conclusion

um so. i'm glad you've read this far. thanks for reading about my insane thoughts about Ellis GGY uhhh TLDR:

[emchante]

really enjoyed writing the 3 softcore porn streamer!max blurbs so far, and im glad you’re all enjoying them too (make sure to check all 3 out if you havent already!

going to get my head down and write some more tomorrow while i have some free time. still got some things to answer in my inbox, but please send me any ideas, requests, rambles or thirsts about it! i would love to chat with you all about it<3