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hederasgarden · 2 days
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put “top 5” anything in my ask and i will answer ok go
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hederasgarden · 2 days
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Boy howdy. The fic I’m going to write about this fucker will make y’all blush.
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GLEN POWELL in the trailer for TWISTERS (2024)
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hederasgarden · 2 days
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You had a baby?! Congrats! I'm happy to see you back on the dash, I hope you and your baby are happy and healthy and that whatever you had to be hospitalized for is alright now. Congratulations again, isn't crazy what our bodies are capable of?
We are all doing great, thank you!
It truly is amazing what our bodies can do. Thanks for the warm welcome back!
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hederasgarden · 2 days
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Yes please! ❤️❤️❤️
Hello please reblog this if you’re okay with people sending you random asks to get to know you better
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hederasgarden · 5 days
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Hello.
It’s been a hot minute (or a year more like it) since I’ve posted on here regularly but now I’m back! Thank you @ryebecca for the beautiful graphic.
This last year was crazy. I made a small human, changed jobs and was hospitalized a few times.
I’m hoping to dive back into writing and sharing thots with everyone on a regular basis now that things have calmed down.
So if you’re still following me don’t be afraid to say hi, send some asks, and interact. ❤️
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hederasgarden · 8 days
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The Gentlemen | costume appreciation: 3/∞
Kaya Scodelario as Susie Glass in S1.E3 ∙ Where's My Weed At?
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hederasgarden · 8 days
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Thank you so much!!! Officer K holds a special place in my heart.
Interlinked - Part 1
Summary: Stepping in to help K is instinct, but what comes after is a choice, one that’s easy to make. Pairing: Officer K x F!Reader Word Count: 1.9K Rating: Mature, 18+ only. Violence, reference to mistreatment and abuse, angst, and touch starved Officer K. Part 2 will include smut. A/N: Thank you @Maddiecaffeinated for your plot help and for N, @butaneandthebeast and @elusivewildflower for looking this over.
Please reblog or comment if you enjoyed!
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It’s raining.
Again.
The cold, damp air seeps through your jacket and you sigh. You’re tired of the trash in the streets and the press of too many bodies. You long for something different, a ticket off-world or an apartment somewhere north of the urban sprawl and constant gray. You might dislike some of the rich families you work for but you appreciated the clean air and sheer amount of space their money afforded. The kitchens you spent your days in were open and modern, filled with the kind of fresh food you could only dream of buying for yourself.
Some of the families were kind, allowing you to take home leftovers, the produce they deemed too wilted and meat that had lost its vibrancy. Today your bag is full, weighed down with bread that’s gone a little stale and a variety of fresh vegetables. You’re caught up in planning the stew you’ll make tonight with your prized possessions when a commotion on the stairs stops you.
It’s your neighbor, the LAPD officer, and the old polish woman who's always screaming at everyone. You look up in time to catch her striking him hard across the face with her cane, screaming about how no one wants him in the building. His head is tilted to the side, gaze downcast. Blood flows freely from a cut on his brow. Dirt and dried streaks of red are caked to the side of his face; there’s a deep scratch on his neck and more blood. He looks awful.
“Mrs. Novak!” Your voice is sharper than you intend, drawing more than just her eye, but your tone has the desired effect. Her raised arm stills, surprise written all over her wrinkled face. “Please,” you say softer, stumbling up the few steps it takes to draw even with your neighbor. He doesn’t acknowledge you, staring intently at some spot on the floor.
“Girl,” she spits at you, lip curled back over rotten teeth.
“I have some bread, would you like that?” You offer her, reaching into your bag. Even though you were looking forward to it all day you know it’s your best bet to distract her from the man beside you. It wasn’t uncommon to hear whispered disdain for him or the ever-present slurs hurled at him. Someone had taken the time to deface his door weeks ago but you’ve never seen anyone get physical with him before.
“Here, take it,” you encourage, relaxing once she lowers her cane and greedily reaches for the bread, the focus of her earlier rage all but forgotten.
“Is it real?” She asks, bringing it to her nose and inhaling deeply.
With her distracted, you touch the man’s arm. He lifts his head and his cool blue eyes meet yours, though his face stays blank. He blinks once and you remove your hand. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” he says.
“We should go while she is distracted,” you suggest, waiting for him to move before you follow him up the steps.
His gait is slow but steady, weariness etched into the lines of his shoulders. When you get to your floor he stops, allowing you to precede him. He keeps a respectable distance from you though you’re aware of him and the weight of his gaze. It’s not until you’re unlocking your door that he speaks, voice low enough it’s almost lost to the clamor of people in the hallway.
“Thank you.”
He disappears into his apartment before you can respond.
You spend the next hour preparing dinner and washing the day away. As much as you try to forget the incident your mind keeps wandering back to your neighbor and the scene on the steps. You stir the soup and breathe in the warm, soothing aroma. There’s enough for at least two servings, three if you stretch it. Plenty to share.
Before you can reconsider, you ladle out a generous portion into an old container and slip your shoes back on. The hallway is less crowded than when you got home but there are still more eyes on you than you care for. You knock on his door and wait, shifting from foot to foot. It opens just a crack. Your neighbor's handsome face greets you, clean of blood and dirt though there's a shallow cut on his forehead. If he is surprised he doesn’t show it, staring at you blankly.
“I had some extra soup leftover,” you start, gesturing with your free hand. “It’s got fresh, honest to god vegetables and some tofu. I thought maybe you'd like some. It's pretty good… not to sound conceited. I’m, um, a chef…” you trail off.
“Don't you know what I am?” He asks.
“You’re my neighbor,” you reply.
You know that’s not what he means. Everyone in the building knows exactly what he is and who he works for but that's never mattered to you. Replicants are no less deserving of kindness and respect. You’d been on the receiving end of that type of disdain by the nature of your job and you never wanted anyone to feel that way.
“If you don’t want it, that’s fine. I just… wanted to make sure you were okay.”
You take a step back at the same time he opens the door wider, allowing you to catch a glimpse of his gray sweatpants and bare, muscled arms. He’s attractive but then again all the replicants they made these days were, even the ones not designed for pleasure. You give him the bowl, his fingertips brushing over the back of your hand. An unexpected jolt of electricity passes under your skin and your hand tingles. He lifts the lid to smell the rising steam, eyes closing briefly.
“Thank you.”
You nod, feeling a little awkward. You take a step back and bump into a young woman hurrying down the hall. She looks between the two of you, nose wrinkling when she sees who you’re talking to.
“You’re welcome…” You trail off, realizing you don’t know his name.
“You can call me K.”
You give him your name and he repeats it back quietly. With an awkward wave, you return to your apartment across the hall and pause at the door to glance over your shoulder at him. He hasn’t moved, watching you still with an expression you can’t identify. You smile and disappear inside.
Two days pass before you see K again. There’s a sharp knock at your door shortly after 7 pm and you crack it open, surprised to see it’s him. He looks like he just came from work, wearing the same jacket you saw him in previously. His hair and clothes are damp from the rain.
“I wanted to return this,” he tells you, offering the container you gave him the soup in.
When you take it, it’s heavier than it should be, and something rattles inside. You open the lid, surprised to see a Lily-of-the-valley lucite flower resting at the bottom. It’s beautiful and each bell-shaped white bud is intricately crafted, hanging down from a single bright green stem. When you look back at K he averts his gaze.
“I didn’t know what you’d like.”
“It’s beautiful,” you promise him, holding it up to admire it. You’re not sure what to say and you think he doesn’t either. The silence between you is heavy. Somewhere down the hall, a baby cries and a man yells. K’s eyes dart sharply to the side, searching and watchful. You take the opportunity to consider him, taking in the shadowy stubble over his jaw and the various healing bruises and marks on his face and neck. Once again you’re overcome by an odd impulse to soothe something in him that you don’t quite understand.
“Would you like to join me for dinner? It won't be like the last time,” you’re quick to warn him as he returns to face you. There was nothing fresh to cook with tonight, only the synthetic meat and noodles you normally had.
K blinks and stares at you for long enough that you’re sure he will decline. “Okay,” he finally agrees, glancing down the hall again before following you inside.
“Take a seat wherever,” you offer, heading into the kitchen.
It’s strange to have someone in your space, moreso since you can’t recall a time when it wasn’t just you. You can see him taking in your cluttered apartment and all the things you collected over the years in an attempt to make it homey. Rich people often threw out perfectly good items, although some were kind enough to offer it to you instead, so you had a number of nice things you couldn’t otherwise afford, including a rack full of spices that would have cost you a month's salary.
A quick check on the pot tells the broth is nearly ready, just needing a pinch more salt. You drop in the noodles and shredded synthetic protein. You step back and bump into K, his hands coming up to brace against your hips. He’s quick to pull them away with a murmured apology and when you turn around he averts his gaze like a beaten dog.
You reach and touch his shoulder instinctively, wanting to ease the pain you see. “It’s okay,” you assure him.
K stares at your hand on his coat, brows knitted together. It strikes you suddenly that people probably don’t touch him with any kindness. Wordlessly, he steps back and disappears into the main room. You gather two bowls and fill them with the fragrant soup. K stands when you approach the table, but you wave off his help and set everything down. He still only sits when you do. Dinner is quiet and a little awkward. You catch him staring at you between bites and the conversation you share consists mostly of your need to fill the silence.
“Sorry, I’m talking a lot,” you apologize, setting down your spoon.
He shakes his head. “No. It’s… nice,” he admits softly.
For a second you think he might say something more but then he stares down at his bowl, silent again. After dinner he helps you clean up, working beside you in the small kitchen in a way that’s surprisingly comfortable. Once everything is dried and put away you walk him to the door. You pause there, considering a thought you’ve had most of the evening.
“Maybe,” you start hesitantly, “you could come over for dinner again sometime.”
A part of you knows it’s not smart to spend time with K. You’ve kept your head down these last five years, working hard and saving the money you need to create a better life. Another part of you doesn’t care, tired of always being alone and drawn to him in a way you can’t explain.
He’s staring at you again, unblinking and intense. “Okay.” He says the single word without any emotion. You rub your hands together nervously. He notices the action, head tilted to the side.
“Only if you want to though,” you add.
“I do.”
You nod and he squeezes past you into the hall. At his door he looks over his shoulder. He watches you for a long moment and you stare back, waiting. He smiles, the expression transforming his face and your heart catches at how different he looks. Handsome and unburdened. It only lasts a few moments but you return it with a soft one of your own.
Part 2
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hederasgarden · 8 days
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Oh my god. Zero idea what I’d write but now I want ranch hand!Sierra Six.
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hederasgarden · 8 days
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You did. I had fun with this joke (and fic!). Thanks for the reblog!
Night Drive
Summary: Your reunion with Rooster gets interrupted by Hangman. 
Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x F!Reader x Jake “Hangman” Seresin
Word Count: 867
Rating: Explicit, 18+ only. Semi public oral sex (m receiving), discussions of threesome, cum swapping and dirty talk.
A/N: Thank you @whatblogisthis216 @therebeccaw and @wildbornsiren for looking this over. I have been away for a while and had anxious moment about my writing skills. Thanks guys!
Please reblog or comment if you enjoyed! Your support keeps me writing.
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Masterlist ♡ Top Gun Masterlist
It’s dark on the beach, the stars above bright and beautiful with the ocean waves crashing against the shore, but you don’t see or hear any of that. Your face is pressed firmly against Rooster’s hard, tanned stomach and his soft grunts fill your ears.
“Fuck,” he sighs, hands on the back of your head keeping you in place.
You moan in response, trying to breathe around his thick length as you suck on his cock. Giving him a blow job in the front seat of his bronco isn’t the brightest idea, but you’re parked in a quiet and secluded spot. Here Rooster can be as loud as he wants and there’s no danger of someone overhearing the wet, sloppy sounds you’re making.
God, you’ve missed him. He’s been gone on a mission for weeks and the familiar taste of his skin and cum are enough to have you wet and achy.
“Couldn’t wait to get home, huh?” A voice asks, startling you both.
It’s Hangman, his southern drawl unmistakable. If you weren’t so preoccupied with swallowing all of Rooster, you might have told him to fuck off. You ignore him, bobbing your head.
“Like you’d deny her,” Rooster retorts, panting, squeezing and rubbing the back of your neck.
You can see Hangman’s feet shuffle closer and he whistles, bending down until his face is level with yours. He drags his fingertips along the curve of your jaw.
“Can’t blame you, Rooster. She looks real pretty like this with those tears and that eager little tongue.”
You can tell your boyfriend is getting ready for a quippy retort so you hollow your cheeks and swirl your tongue. He swears, groaning deeply. Hangman’s eyes are still on you and it emboldens you. The hand on your head twitches and you continue to work Rooster over, more enthusiastically than before. Just when you feel his heavy balls draw up against your lips you pull off him.
Sitting up with a smile, you ignore the wrecked sound Rooster makes in response. His thigh trembles below the hand you rest there, letting you know just how needy he is. “Sweetheart,” he whines, trying to guide you back to his cock.
“This isn’t a free show. It’s going to cost you,” you tell Hangman, ignoring your boyfriend.
“Oh darlin, you know I’m good for it,” he boasts, using his thumb to wipe the spit on your mouth. He maintains eye contact as he slowly licks his finger clean. The skin around his eyes crinkle and he gives you a smug look.
“What did you have in mind?” You ask him, dropping your hand to Rooster’s lap to lazily stroke him. His desperate little grunt has you slowing your motion, teasing him further. Hangman’s gaze follows the movement, seemingly entranced.
“Paris is nice this time of year,” he says finally, grinning when Rooster bucks into your hand.
“Here?” you ask, doubtfully.
“No, at home,” Hangman tells you. “Unlike Rooster, I don’t like people looking at what’s mine.”
You roll your eyes, but shake his offered hand. Like you were going to say no to a night between your favorite men.
“Great. We have a deal. Now shut the fuck up,” Rooster dismisses, grasping the back of your neck to draw you back down to his aching cock. “Can’t you see the lady’s busy?”
You start again by teasing the head of his cock, tonguing at his slit while you twist his length in your hand. He’s achingly close and normally you’d let him come down your throat but tonight you have something else in mind. You keep just the tip between your lips, sucking and teasing him until he lifts his hips and fills your mouth with his hot, salty spend. You swallow some, savoring the taste and moaning deeply. Then you rise up on your knees and beckon Hangman closer.
He seems aware of your plan, licking his lips before kissing you deeply. You open your mouth to share Rooster’s taste with him, loving how your tongues tangle together, and Hangman swallows without hesitation. He rubs your arms and continues to kiss you until air becomes necessary and you pull away.
“Well shit, honey,” he begins, reaching down to adjust himself. “That was fucking something. I think you sucked Rooster’s brains out.”
You glance down at your boyfriend who looks absolutely spent. He’s panting heavily, his cheeks flushed. His cock is still half hard, shiny from your spit and his cum. He groans when you swipe your thumb over his head to gather whatever your mouth missed. One eye snaps open to watch you lick your finger clean.
“Fuck,” he mutters, laying his head back.
“If you’re not up for it Bradshaw, I can handle her all on my own,” Hangman taunts.
“Fuck off,” your boyfriend grumbles. “Give me two minutes and I’m good to go.”
“You better be,” you warn him, leaning down to kiss him sweetly. “I was promised quite the trip and we both know Hangman can’t get me there on his own.”
"Better watch that smart mouth," Hangman warns.
"Make me," you shoot back, grinning.
“You two are going to kill me,” Rooster sighs.
I no longer have a tag list, please follow @hg-library and turn on notifications.
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hederasgarden · 11 days
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Hear me out….
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Prompt #1081
Sometimes guardian angels don’t have a lovely singing voice and a set of fluffy wings, sometimes they have a deep frown on their face and a very bad attitude.
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hederasgarden · 12 days
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Preach!!
I’m working on a little drabble currently. The Gentleman has inspired my long dormant muse!
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The lack of Theo James X Reader on here needs to change. Thank you :)
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hederasgarden · 13 days
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THEO JAMES as EDWARD HORNIMAN, DUKE OF HALSTEAD
THE GENTLEMEN (2024-)
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hederasgarden · 6 months
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an update! ✨
Notice anything different around here? If it's "you're posting boards again" or "you got a haircut" (even though I didn't show it to you, I assure you the latter is true! 😂), you'd be correct! I'm so grateful for the reception my latest boards have been getting, and to quote @bobfloydsbabe - maybe taking a break was exactly what I needed. How long will this last? I dunno. But I'll take it a day at a time, not pressuring myself to create or post. If an idea comes to me, then so be it! I thank you all so much for your support! ❤️
If you've missed any of them so far:
back to the future!bob ⚡️🕰️ for @roosterforme's Top Gun Rocktober
enemies-to-lovers!jake 🤬 👩🏻‍❤️‍👨🏼 ✨ for @roosterforme's Top Gun Rocktober
childhood friends-to-lovers!bob 👩🏻‍❤️‍👨🏻 ❤️ ✨
firefighter!bob 👨‍🚒 🔥 (or Rhett - @bradshawsbitch makes good case for that!)
coffee shop au!bob ☕️ 💕
Aaaaand guess what? I'm posting another one tonight because ideas just enter my brain and I have zero self-control. Here's a hint!
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hederasgarden · 6 months
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I freaking love this!
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"This is true love. You think this happens every day?" 👑 ✨ 💕 | (a princess bride au)
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hederasgarden · 6 months
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TYSM for the rec!!! I’m glad I made an impression. I didn’t think my stories stayed with people and this makes me so happy!
Thinking about daddy rhett chasing me around the farm.
i would highly, highly recommend @hederasgarden fics the trouble with books and i’ll be your fantasy!
these have not left my mind since i read them over a year ago! 🥹💌
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hederasgarden · 7 months
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Ooo this is making me ache for fall (and Glen Powell). Beautiful as always Becca!
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for @cowboybarbie! ✨
want a moodboard?
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hederasgarden · 7 months
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I have a rotation of them depending on if I’m feeling spicy, like I need something soft and comforting, want an adventure or all three!
do you guys have a story in your head and when you’re bored you just add more to it and continue from where you left off
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