#myblurbs

[thefreakandthehair]

smooth operator

written for ‘hole’ | wc: 404 | rated: m | cw: n/a @steddiemicrofic

Crowd-work is Eddie Munson’s favorite part of stand-up. It’s actually become a niche of sorts, and tonight is no different.

“Something I’ve noticed in my time fucking men,” Eddie leads with, strolling across the makeshift stage, “is that you can tell how hot a guy is by how he takes off his shirt.”

The audience chuckles collectively.

“Don’t look at me like that, you know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about. We’ve all seen movies. You, in the navy blue,” Eddie gestures with his chin at a man sitting at a hightop with two girls. “You’re a good-lookin’ guy. Let’s see if you’re hot. Show us how you take your shirt off.”

Without hesitating, Blue Shirt stands up and in one swift motion, grabs the back of his shirt with one hand and tugs it off over what Eddie tries not to think is perfectly soft, perfectly messy copper locks. Turns out, it’s easy to not think about his hair, because every rational and coherent thought he’s ever had about anything comes to a screeching halt.

It kills his set because that’s not the Hot Guy Method he’s been referring to but there’s not a chance in cold, dark Hell he can stand on stage and lie in front of this cheering, clapping audience. This guy is fucking hot.

“Oh my God,” he says in the microphone as Blue Shirt shrugs and flushes, just a hint of pink crawling from the hollow of his throat to his cheeks. “That’s never worked before. That’s never worked. I did not— wow, I did not see that coming.”

The crowd continues to laugh and applaud, Blue Shirt sitting confidently on his barstool with his shirt still in hand. Motherfucker doesn’t even have the decency to put it back on so Eddie can move on.

He’s really dug himself a fucking hole with this one, huh?

“Jesus H. Christ, I meant to do the motion. And that’s— listen, that wasn’t the hot way I meant but for the first time ever, audience, I admit defeat. I don’t know what the Hell just happened, but that’s the hot way now.”

Blue Shirt raises his glass and fucking winks at him, before calling out in response. “Buy me a drink after the show and I’ll show you the hot way to take off a belt, too.” 

Eddie’s jaw falls open and Blue Shirt wiggles his eyebrows with a smirk. 

author's note: sometimes, you see a video of a stand-up comedian and drop literally everything you're doing to make it about your blorbos. this is one such time. @henderdads @steddieasitgoes it’s here!

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steddiemicrofic #steddie microfic #steddiemicroficjanuary #myblurbs

[itsjusthockey]

45 Days - Jack Hughes Blurb

Here is a little blurb, hope you enjoy. Send in requests and message me. I love talking to you guys

wc: 1,317 (credit to gifmaker)

Part 2

“Jack, I swear to god.” You hiss, smacking your boyfriend away from your suitcase as he throws out the T-shirt you had nicely folded for the third time.

“What?” He yelps, stepping back to avoid your attack, putting his hands up in surrender.

“Seriously, J, take another step towards my bag, and I’m gonna lock you in the closet.” You fold the shirt again and stick it into the waiting suitcase.

You feel his burning stare on your back as you continue packing your things, both wishing desperately that you could delay the inevitable but knowing that no matter how much you hate it, your college life has to continue, and you have to leave.

You hear him softly sigh behind you, and you don’t have the heart to turn around, knowing his face will hold that pouty look that will make you miss your flight. Instead, you stay silent, packing your shirts and moving onto your pants.

After a minute or two in silence, you hear Jack shuffle behind you, moving toward his closet and rustling around for a few seconds before emerging back into the bedroom.

“Do you want to trade in?” He asks, holding out a couple of clothing items to you.

A small smile plays on your lips as you grab the new clothes and hand him back a few of his other clothes that had kept you comfortable for the month you were apart. It’s just a few things, which may be really cliche, but every time you’re together, you rotate them out because he knows it makes you feel better when you’re apart.

You stuff the remaining clothes into your already full suitcase and close it, but not before you feel a pair of arms snake around your waist, interrupting your motion.

“I think I got it,” Jack says, scanning over your suitcase. “We get rid of the clothes, and with enough strategy, I think I could fit myself in here.”

Before he even finishes, laughter bursts from your lips. “Yeah, I’m sure TSA would love that.”

You turn to face him in his arms, and even though the idea is ridiculous, you wouldn’t put it past him to try to attempt it.

“J, it’s only for a month and a half; we’ve done worse.”

He shakes his head, “Why don’t you just cancel your flight? Stay a few more days.”

His offer is tempting, but you know that if you don’t leave today, you’ll never escape his hold.

“As much as I’d love that, some of us have school.” You tease, pushing your fingers through his hair, messing it up.

He rolls his eyes to the ceiling and pulls you further into his body.

“I hate that my girlfriend is so studious. Why did I get the one who resists my offer of skip days?”

You shove him away from you as he laughs, “You and I both know I have had too many skip days because of you. Besides, the sooner I go to school, the sooner I graduate.”

He smirks at your graduation statement and leans toward you. “And then?”

This time you smirk. “And then, I can find a really awesome boyfriend who doesn’t distract me from a flight that is supposed to leave in an hour.”

His face falls for not even a second before tackling you onto the bed and tickling your sides.

“What was that? Huh? Another boyfriend?” He says in between breaths while you’re shrieking with laughter, trying to push him off you.

After a minute of torture, he gives up and lays his entire weight on you, and you immediately relent and accept his love. He is always incredibly clingy during these times, but you’ll take all of it. So, you begin to rub his back and relish the feeling of being here with him, savoring the touch you’re about to go without for over a month.

“What am I gonna do without you?” Jack whispers after a minute, “I seriously don’t think I can do it.”

You think momentarily before you lift his face out of your neck, forcing him to look at you.

“Forty-five days, J, and then it’s summer. Then, you’ll be sick of me.”

He rolls his eyes and drops his head back down, mumbling, “I’m never sick of you,” into your neck.

“I know, but distance makes the heart grow fonder.” You try to joke.

He responds by snorting, lifting himself off of you, and pulling you up with him.

“How about this-“

“Jack, I can’t sta-“

“Shhhh (Y/N), just hear me out.”

You give him a pointed look and fold your arms before you, waiting for him to continue.

“We cancel your flight, you stay forever, and I provide for us.”

After about thirty more attempts to get you to stay, which include fake tears, Jack trying to get your flight canceled, your bags are packed in his Range Rover, and you're flying down the highway toward the airport. Neither of you speaks; instead, listen to your shared playlist and watch the city of New Jersey fly by.

As you turn onto the street that leads to the airport, you take a deep breath and try to steady your heavy heart as Jack throws the car in park and hops out.

You’re quick to follow as he pulls your bags out and sets them down in front of you, not daring to look into your eyes. It isn’t until you softly whisper his name that he finally looks at you.

“Forty-five days, J.” You pull him toward you, quickly kissing his cheek.

“I know; I’m already counting down.” He finally lets a small smile play on his lips.

You glance at your watch and see that time, quite literally, is running out, so you pull him back in one more time, connecting your lips.

You stay there for a second, and you feel him chase after your lips when you begin to pull away, and he grips your waist hard, not letting you move an inch.

“Jack, you gotta let me go.”

He does, nodding sadly and unwillingly kissing you once more for a goodbye. He watches as you quickly do a little bag check and make sure you have everything. Once you’re confident, you sling your bag over your head and flash him one last smile, turning toward the door and walking through it.

He watches as you walk through the door and away from him; his heart is taken with you. You turn one last time, waving and blowing a kiss in his direction. He catches it, puts it in his pocket, and gives you one last smile.

He watches until you disappear from sight, following your movements and wishing ever so slightly that your lives are different. He wishes you didn’t have school, he wishes he didn’t have hockey, and he wishes above else that you could be together. He shakes his head as if to shake away the thoughts and knows he’s taking up a busy parking space.

He is soon back in his car, driving home, and the world seems slightly less bright than before. It’s not long before he is home, and he sees that his apartment is way too empty for his liking. So he calls his teammates, and soon enough, he getting ready to meet them for dinner, anything to distract himself that you’re gone.

He begins to get ready, changing into a sweatshirt that you’d traded in, one of his favorites that now smells like you, and as if on cue, his phone buzzes with a text from you.

Try not to miss me too much, loser. I love you.

He smiles at the message, sends a snarky response back, and puts a very special timer on his phone. Forty-five days until he sees you again, and he’s counting down every second.

#hockey #hockey boys #hockey imagine #hockey x reader #imagine #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #hockey fic #jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #new jersey devils #nhl hockey #nj devils #hockey blurbs #nhl fic #original story #myblurbs

[nostalgiabones]

If You Love Her // C.H - Part One

Note: well, hello! I have no idea when I last posted a blurb, so I know it's been a while. I don't know how many people are still reading on here, but I've gotten back into writing, so I thought I would post this! It's based on the song If You Love Her by Forest Blakk and Meghan Trainor. I've decided to turn this into a little series of blurbs, inspired by different parts of the song, and this is the first one. I would LOVE to know what you think of this, as it has been a while since I posted, so any feedback would be really appreciated!

Word count: 1,302

“Can’t sleep?”

You huff and roll onto your back, suddenly feeling like there isn’t enough air in the room and the covers are touching you just a little bit too much. Calum had feigned sleep well, you didn’t know he was awake — but your tossing and turning had prevented him from falling into his own slumber. The heavy, bleary eyes and aching head is something that’s familiar to you — having never been one to fall asleep easily. You always need several aids for sleep to find you — whether it’s the TV, a podcast, or reading a book in bed until you eventually drift off. It hadn’t changed since moving in with Calum.

“No,” You sigh and shake your head, already sitting up, planning on accepting defeat in the battle against your own active mind. Calum hums sympathetically, spotting Duke curled up at the end of the bed — at least one of us is getting some sleep, he thinks. He has no intention of falling asleep and leaving you to sit and think, alone in the dark.

“Want to get some air?” He suggests. He has no idea what time it is, but he doesn’t really care — time is irrelevant now the world is locked down, all in a period of forced stillness. When it first came into play, he had tried to maintain some sort of routine — you had integrated your routine with his — but a few months in, it didn’t seem important anymore. You nod at his suggestion, knowing there’s no point in laying next to him, just staring at the ceiling. He pats your thigh with a warm reassuring hand, gesturing for you to follow him. “C’mon, gorgeous.”

You follow Calum through the house, bare feet padding against the wooden floors. It’s silent and still. He grabs his packet of cigarettes from the table and opens the back doors, leaving it open behind him to let some air in, and so Duke can follow you out if he wants to. He sits down first on one of the chairs at the opposite end of the garden, opening his arms, waiting for you to climb into his lap.

It takes a bit of manoeuvring but you manage to settle in his lap — your legs swung over his, one strong arm around your back, keeping you there. You tuck your face against his neck, finding comfort in the warmth of his skin and the scent of his cologne buried in the fabric of the hoodie he threw on. You press your lips to the column of his throat, leaving a kiss there — there’s nothing behind it, just a simple show of affection, and appreciation that he’s there with you.

“You shouldn’t think so much,” Calum murmurs, the hand he’s not using to hold you brushing over your temple; like he’s trying to soothe the thoughts away. You don’t say anything, just glance up at his face whilst he talks — knowing in the back of your mind that he’s right. “Too caught up in your head, angel. That’s why you don’t sleep.”

You sigh, eyes focused on the pattern of his hoodie — your fingers tracing the design. You were going to stay quiet but decide on a sarcastic comment instead; murmuring a “thanks, Dr Hood,” and receiving a playful slap to the thigh in return.

“Smart arse,” He retorts, shifting you a little so he can light a cigarette. It’s a habit you know he’s tried to quit, but not something you nag him about. Somehow, a smell that was once a nuisance to you now reminds you of your kind hearted boyfriend. “Well, if you don’t need me, I’ll just go back to bed, see if I care.”

You can hear the smirk on his lips as he speaks, making sure he turns his head to blow the smoke away from you. You hum in acknowledgment, tucking your legs up closer to yourself, to retain some heat. Neither of you have checked what time it is, but it’s still completely dark — deep skies highlighted by flickers of stars, with no sign of the sun coming up any time soon. There’s a chill in the air, setting over your skin — Calum rubs his hand up and down your calf, a warm palm soothing the goosebumps that have risen. His chapped lips brush your bare shoulder between drags of the cigarette between his fingers, where his shirt has slipped down.

“Oh, but you do care,” You reply, reaching up to brush your pointer finger down his cheek, to coax him to look at you. He does, and it’s as intense as ever — you have these moments where you look at each other, really look, and it says more than any words could. “You wouldn’t leave your girl out here alone, would you?”

He chuckles a little, the sound rumbling deep in his chest, against your cheek. You know you’ve got him when he laughs like that, when he’s stumped on what sarcastic comment to make next. It’s not often he lets you win, but on this occasion, you’re right.

“I would never,” His tone is softer now — there’s no sarcasm behind it. He puts out the cigarette and pecks your lips once, then twice, the slight taste of smoke lingering on his lips. He nudges his nose against yours and kisses your cheek, staying there for a moment, before he moves to rest his cheek against the top of your head. “Can’t get enough of you, sweetheart. Even in the middle of the night, apparently.”

You don’t say anything else for the moment, just basking in the silence of the night — zoning out as you gaze at the stars, losing yourself in the feeling of Calum’s fingertips touching whatever skin he can reach. They trail up and down your thigh, and occasionally up and down your arms. His lips rest against your hairline, and he pecks kisses there every few minutes.

“As much as I love sitting here with you,” He murmurs after a little while, hand gently tapping your thigh, to get your attention. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t falling asleep in his lap, soothed by the night sky, his gestures, and just being around him in general. “I don’t think it would be very good for your posture to sleep here all night, my love. Also, I definitely have pins and needles in my arm now.”

You exhale deeply, and Calum laughs at how dramatic he thinks you are, since you only have to go inside — although he is quite comfy with you curled up in this lap.

“C‘mon, baby,” He coaxes you to stand up, warm palms sliding up your thigh. He kisses your cheek before you reluctantly pull away from him, climbing out of his lap, stretching your body as you go. He stands up after you, keeping a hand on the small of your back to guide you back into the house. “Let’s go to bed.”

Calum locks the back door behind him, and soon enough, you find yourself back in bed, except now — it’s Calum who's awake. He’s in the centre of his bed, one arm wrapped around your bare shoulders, holding you against his chest. Over the last few months he’s realised that’s your favourite way to sleep — face pressed against him, an arm over his stomach. You don’t always wake up in the same position, but as long as you’re touching each other in some way, you find yourself sleeping better. Duke, who clearly wasn’t phased by your little venture outside, is still fast asleep, his fur tickling Calum’s calf. It feels like home, he thinks; just where he should be.

Calum pulls his duvet up and over your back, covering you both, before he sets his phone down on his bedside table. He loves how the sheets smell of you and him combined now, after you’ve slept there for the past few weeks. It’s not just his bed now, it’s yours too. He brushes a kiss to your forehead, his thumb soothing over your hairline, and he takes a moment just to realise how thankful he is that you’re there with him.

“Sleep tight, baby.”

***

To be continued!

Masterlist

I realise I haven't posted in quite a while so if you want to be added or removed from my taglist, please let me know!: @calumrose @hemmoluna @littledrummeraussie @hoodhoran @cashtonasfuck @takemealivelh @saigonlukeee @talkfastromance4 @karajaynetoday @mulletcal @aquarius-hood1996 @calpops @in-superbloom @highstwildflower @2fangirl4u @ukulelecal

#i have no idea how this is going to go but let’s see! #5sos blurbs #calum hood blurbs #5sos blurb #chblurb #boyfriend!sos #boyfriend 5sos #quarantine 5sos blurb #boyfriend 5sos blurbs #boyfriend calum blurbs #boyfriend calum #mywriting #myblurbs

[iconicharry]

i reeally want harry to just sing me to sleep.... like.. can you imagine? you're both laying in bed and you're exhausted and you're cuddling and you can't sleep but you're soo tired, so harry starts singing to you?? and his voice is so soft and soothing? and maybe he keeps pressing little kisses to your head in between. and the last thing you hear before completely falling asleep is his voice, close to your ear. oh gosh, i'd sell my soul to the devil for that to happen...

🥺 this gotten longer than i planned and i got a bit carried away but i hope you still enjoy!

:

“Hey, you up?”

Silence follows. Harry blinks lazily and leans on his elbow, head turning behind him. Quickly, he flicks on the lamp on his nightstand. He turns around just in time to see her eyebrows draw together and lips falling apart. Lifting a hand to his mouth, he stifles the soft yawn. He can’t believe he fell asleep. He had only one job to do. The job to help her fall asleep.

“I know you’re not sleeping,” he mutters and strokes a few strands of hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. Harry is gentle now, the tiredness of the day weighing in on him, making him slower. “I can see your eyes moving.”

Harry feels her cheek plumping under his palm as a small smile spreads across her face, teeth shining at him. He falls back into the bed, supporting his head up on the elbow he props onto his pillow. She’s squeezing one eye open, a sheepish smile on her face that Harry can’t help but reciprocate

“You fell asleep though.”

Arm falling flat, he folds it underneath his head. His eyelids flutter profusely to not fall asleep. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“No, you need to sleep, H.”

When he raises his arm next— the one under his head— it’s to usher her closer. She raises her brows in return. His grin is lazy and his heavy lidded eyes more prominent. “C’mon, I’m not gonna bite you.”

She snorts, scooting closer, laying down next to him and letting his arm sling over her waist. “What if I want you to?”

His hand travels up and down her back, eyes boring into hers with so much softness that she cannot handle. She breaks her gaze from his puffy face. “Are you checking to see if I’m wearing a bra?”

Harry bites a smile. “No.”

“Yes.”

“Can’t I be romantic?”

She doesn’t miss a beat. “No.”

A teasing smile worms onto her face.

“Yep, you’re right, you caught me. Boobs. How could I resist?”

“Ugh, men.”

Harry nods along. “Horny pieces of shit, all of us.”

He doesn’t stop smiling until she stops. And that’s when she stares into the darkness, face serious as it’s squished into the curve of his armpit.

“I’m not gonna sleep.”

Unfortunately, Harry has begun to reach his point of mental exhaustion. The last time he had to fight sleep this hard was when he hung out with Stevie and her friends. And now his girl is impeding the simplest task. Women.

But he’s trying his best to stay awake and help her, to give her company. Maybe he’ll bore her to sleep. Still, he cannot stop himself from pleading. “Do it for me? Please.”

She says nothing, staring and blinking without an ounce of exhaustion visible. She wants to be tired. “I want your dick in my mouth.”

Normally, under other circumstances, Harry would jerk, jolt, cover her body with his, and kiss her so deeply they’ll forget where one starts and one ends. But right now, when he feels like he may just fall into a sleep coma, sinking deep into the mattress, he can’t bring himself to properly speak without considering it a task. “I almost forgot I had a dick.”

She swallows the lump of guilt on her throat. All she’s doing is keeping him awake. He deserves his rest. So she curls her fingers around the duvet, her legs intertwining with his and she squeezes her eyes shut. Not daring to move an inch, she pretends to fall asleep.

But Harry feels it. Feels that she’s just doing it for his sake. He still feels the uneasy heaving of her chest. Still feels the twitching of her fingers on his skin. And still sees her eyes moving behind her eyelids.

He smiles. She is so bad at this it’s almost cute.

Her eyes flutter as she feels something softly poking her temple. It’s Harry’s finger looming close to her face.

“You woke me up.”

He manages a tired smile. “You were never asleep.”

“Will you please sleep?”

“Not until you can.”

“Then you won’t sleep at all.”

“Fine with me.” He’s lying. He’s barely awake.

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

She chuckles. “You’re getting frustrated?”

He cracks a smile. His head dropping, curls tickling the side of her face as his lips brush along her ear. “Sleep, sleep, sleep. You’re getting more and more tired.” He chants, trying to hypnotise her.

She frowns, picking up on his little hypnotic attempt. Laying still, she closes her eyes. He shifts to look at her. Breath hitting her as their cupid’s bows touch. But he’s tired and tiredness makes him apparently stupid. “Did I just discover a new talent?”

Her eyes fly open. “Obviously not.”

Harry’s head drops forward with a groan, their noses smacking together. But he clears his throat and starts to hum.

“What are you doing?” Her tone is dry, so he lifts his head, an offended look.

“I’m singing you to sleep!”

She scoffs and presses his head away. “Yeah, I see that! But with an upbeat melody? Do you want me to dance into unconsciousness?”

“You like happy songs!”

“Yeah! To dance and sing to! Not to fall asleep to!”

With a frustrated sigh, he drops his head into the pillow, his knuckles pressing into his eyes.

It’s silent until she hears him humming another melody.

“I don’t care if i’m not sleepy. You’re not singing me to bed.”

“But listen. I have reasons why I should sing to you.”

She turns with her eyebrows raised, crossing her arms over her chest. “And what are your reasons?”

Harry closes his fist, shakes it between them two in the air. Opening his index finger, he starts, “One, because you asked me to help you, love, and this is helping, isn’t it? Two—,” Lifting his middle finger so he’s throwing them at her. “You’ll be bored of me, you’ll go right to sleep. Three…” he trails off, eyes rolling to the ceiling in thought. Her lips press together in a smug smile, eyes narrowing as if to say ‘Thought so’. “Because… I love you?” Finishing meekly, he tilts his head to the side, plastering the biggest smile he can manage on his face.

She clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth, as if disapproving, but, “Fine, but... but I want something sweet.”

Harry rolls his eyes as he suppresses the grin that tugs at his lips. “Okay, fine with me. I’ll think of something.” His arm stretches from the bed to make enough room for her to crawl to him, tucking herself into his side, her nose crawling along the base of his throat.

“Why a song from you again?” She mumbles into the duvet that’s pushed up to her chin.

He pinches her ass cheek. “Shut up.”

So he hums the beautiful melody and start to purr some honeyed words against the shell of her ear. His voice raspy but gentle as he sings a few phrases quietly to her and for her only. The words tumbling from his lips want to make her meet his mouth, but she tries her hardest to relax her body and maybe finally fall asleep. Harry’s nose presses against her temple and noses along her hairline, pressing a kiss right on the crown and scratching along the heard of her back.

And Harry feels her practically melt into him, her body getting warmer and her breathing slower and more regular. He flinches shortly and squeaks as she adjusts her position and her cold toes brush along his calves. Normally, he’d grunt at her and shuffle away, saying something along the lines of keeping her demon feet at her side of the bed, but as his voice gets quiet, he can’t help the warmth that spreads in his chest at the sight of her.

Eventually, he kisses her temple again and closes his eyes to finally follow her to another world.

:

#harry styles blurbs #harry styles requests #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #imagine harry styles #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles reader insert #harry styles blurb #myblurbs

[reidamancy]

“If I asked you to stay, would you?”

a/n: this was a deleted angst scene from written in the stars (which was almost a vicficwriterchallenge entry!) 

(spencer reid x gn bau!reader)

—

The two of you stared at each other, tension from the case lingering in the atmosphere. A close encounter with the unsub lead to an unruly night, which resulted in an awkward plane ride back and an even more uncomfortable dinner. But the team was oblivious to yours and Spencer’s relationship, chalking up the fight you had in your hotel room to platonic overprotectiveness. The only people who seemed to notice the tension throughout the night were you and Spencer.

But as you stared at each other now, under the moonlit sky, your faces seemed to soften. You weren’t sure where you stood with him, and you didn’t want to step on his toes any more than you already had.

“You should come inside before you catch a cold,” you broke the silence.

Spencer shrugged the blanket around his shoulders as he shook his head. “I’m fine. I have a blanket.”

You chewed your lip as you slowly nodded. He obviously came out here to be by himself, and although your mind was screaming at you to take a seat beside him, you said, “Well then I’ll see you in the morning, Spencer.”

As you turned and began your trek back inside, his hand reached out to stop you.

“Wait,” he said.  He cleared his throat before sheepishly asking, “If I asked you to stay, would you?”

You smiled as you immediately began to clamber your way next to him. To your surprise, he immediately rested his head on your shoulder as he wrapped the blanket around the both of you. You let out a breath of relief as you cuddled closer to him, your arms draped on each other’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. It was so faint you almost missed it.

You hugged him tighter and let him continue, “I just... There were a million things that could’ve went wrong and I was just so scared, Y/N...”

A sigh left your lips as you nodded. “I know. I know Spence. I worry about the same thing too.” You bit your lip as you softly admitted, “Every time we go into the field, it’s always in the back of my mind.”

Spencer retreated his arm from around your shoulder to rest his palm on your thigh. You took your  arm from his shoulder to grab his hand, using your thumb to gently rub the back of it. Spencer hummed in content, maneuvering his fingers between yours. “I didn’t mean what I said, Y/N. You’re a wonderful agent, and I trust your instincts.” Spencer let out a sigh.

You smiled and squeezed his hand. You placed a kiss into his hair as a response.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Spencer whispered. “Please don’t ever leave me.”

Your heart cracked at the sound of his voice. You brought a finger under his chin and guided his eyes to yours. “I’m not going anywhere, baby.”

With that, you closed the distance between you and captured his lips in yours. He responded immediately and fervently kissed you back. Your hands moved to twirl the hair behind his neck while his cradled your face in his large palms. He emitted a warmth that put you at ease, relieving the last remains of tonight’s earlier tension.

#spencer reid #spencer reid blurbs #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x gender neutral reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #pbrblurbs #myblurbs

[tomdutch]

pleaseee angst n. 5 with birdie!tom 🥺🥺

i’m a clown i wrote it with 15 and not 5 😭😭 i hope you like it nonetheless omg also this is pure angst </3

15: i don’t like this, it feels weird.

to read birdie, the link is in my masterlist!

One of the things Tom loves the most about you is your kind heart. You’re always so warm, so open-minded, so unwilling to judge anyone before you hear what’s eating them away. He can feel the love you have for life radiating off of your fingers when you touch him, your lips when you kiss him, your chest when you let him lie his head on it after a long, hard day’s work as you play with his hair.

But sometimes, occasionally, your upbringing comes out. It’s in the little things, like turning your nose up at him getting takeout dinner for the third night in a row, a snide joke one of your friends make about the clothes of a man dressed almost exactly like Tom that you giggle along to, or assuming he can just up and leave with you on vacation in the middle of the week.

“I just don’t get it!” You groan, throwing your hands in the air. “I am offering to take you on a trip because you’ve been so fucking stressed and I’m doing it with nothing but good intentions, but somehow that makes me a spoiled brat?”

Yeah, it was probably not his most brilliant thought to call you a spoiled brat, but the fight’s been going on for too long, you’ve both said too much, for him to take it back now. So instead, he digs his heels in further and snaps again, standing across the room from you with his arms tense over his chest.

“Why is it so hard for you to understand that I can’t just blank on my multiple fucking jobs to go play house with you in Greece?” Tom grits his teeth, eyes thundering as he takes a step forward.

But you’re not a pushover—far from it. Determination colors your equally angered expression and, instead of stepping back, you mimic him, the space between the two of your shortening. 

“You have vacation days saved up, Tom—”

“Yeah, for when I’m so bloody beat and sick that I can’t afford to go to work!” He jeers. “Some of us can’t just strut out of Daddy’s castle, swipe his credit card and get a week off from reality with no consequences. Even if you’re doing this just for me and not because your friends didn’t invite us to their stupid fucking Spring Break vacation, you’re actually being really inconsiderate by not taking into account, I don’t know, the fact that I’m the guy who cleans your father’s fucking golf clubs, not some Harvard Law graduate. I don’t like the implications behind this offer of yours, it’s weird, it feels wrong.” 

Tom doesn’t regret it almost as soon as the words leave his mouth. No, it’s when you take a step back, faltering, your eyes widening in pain, and you wrap your arms around yourself for a semblance of comfort. That’s when his chest pangs with an ache that makes him feel so ashamed. You tear your eyes away from him, grabbing your handbag from where you’d thrown it on the couch upon entering his apartment.

“Wait,” he yelps, heart thumping when he sees you moving. You don’t spare him a second glance, charging for the door, and he panics, reaching out for you. “Where are you going?”

“To my fucking castle, or is that inconsiderate to you?” You mutter, dodging his touch. 

“Shit, I… I didn’t mean that, baby.” His voice drips with despondence as his hand hovers around your shoulder, your elbow, wanting to steer you back into him but knowing you don’t want to be touched. “I’m just angry, please―please stay, and we can talk about it.”

Halting in your step, fingers a hair away from the doorknob, you turn around sharply, pointing your finger at his chest. “I wanted to talk, Tom. I came here so we can talk about why you’ve been dodging my calls and ignoring me all week. What I got wasn’t talking; it was a fucking yelling match.” Despite the anger brewing in your stomach, your eyes gloss over with unshed tears, not unlike his own. “Yeah, maybe I am pissed that my friends didn’t invite us to go with them, but not because I’m some spoiled bitch who felt left out. I’m mad because I don’t want you feeling like you’re any less than them. And now I’m mad because I wanted to do something sweet for you―for us―by going on a trip since you’ve been so stressed. But if you’re going to act like I’m the devil for it, then forget it, Tom.”

You unlock the door as he stutters, heartbeat pounding in his ears, and the frame rattles behind you. The silence of his apartment is deafening in your wake.

#tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #myblurbs #masked vigilante #answered

[joel-keenyy]

peter blurb where he is dirty talking you,,, while going down on you, and some hair pulling slightly?

i loved writing this and actually based it a little bit off a porn video i watched lol oop!! hope you enjoy and thanks for the request. i have two other blurbs halfway done in my ask, but i am exhausted and might crash before finishing!!

sleepover + blurb night!

your body trembles as peter’s tongue runs through your folds, nose buried in your sex. he’s been at it not even ten minutes and you’re already trembling all over, unable to contain your moans. he’s a natural, really. he’s eaten you out so much that he’s perfected the art of it—and he nailed it the first try, too. honestly, what wasn’t he good at?

his hand slips beneath the t-shirt you’re wearing, palm fondling your breast. you gasp, wriggling your hips.

“mmm, stay still,” he hums, a hint of authority in his tone. it startles you almost, but in the end only makes you succumb more to him and his mouth.

“peter, fuck. you’re so good...” you whimper. you feel his damp lips pucker against your clit, suckling the soft bud into his mouth. you can’t help the sharp moans that fly from your lips as the tip of his tongues rolls over the sensitive bud, the combination of his fingertips pinching your nipple just about sending you off the edge.

he quickly halts his hasty licks and resorts to more languid strokes with his tongue. he circles your clit—god, it’s torture. you’re so close, and he just won’t bring you there. you know he’s just making excuses to keep himself between your thighs for a little longer.

you whimper in disappointment when he withdraws his mouth from your cunt, releasing the folds he was sucking on so diligently. you can’t help but squirm, the pulsating sensation in your pussy taking control of any rational thought. your poor clit throbs with a need for attention, especially under peter’s lustful gaze.

your juices cover his lips, now glowing pink and plump from his ferventful efforts. he’s a sight for sore eyes, and the rosy blush on his cheeks is enough to make your heart thump.

you watch with a gaping jaw when he reaches out with a finger and slowly begins to rub circles on your clit. slow. slow. slow. it’s like time has been slowed, or he somehow turned into a fucking sloth. they’re so. slow. it drives you crazy, and the pleasure almost... trickes through your veins.

you lose track of how long peter does that for—just drawing tender circles on your clit. you know you’re soaked and your eyes are practically crossing. your brain empties. all that matters is the pleasure slowly dispersing trough every inch of your limp from.

“your pussy is so pretty, baby,” he compliments. “so wet.”

“mmmhm...” you lick your lips.

“you like it when i do this, huh?” he asks, and god, he’s sounds so fucking innocent. but you know that if you open your eyes he’ll be smirking.

“yessss...”

“look,” he hums. there’s fascination in his tone as he stops rubbing to pick up a string of wetness leaking from your hole. he spreads it over your clit and incorporates it with the rest, the extra lubrication making his rubs even more torturous.

“p-please... need your mouth,” you whimper. fuck.

“mhm, okay.”

you nearly scream when his tongue reconnects with your pussy. the stimulation makes you dizzy and you’re heaving in a matter of seconds. instinctively, you find his hair, filing your fingers through his brown tousled locks before gripping it tightly. he moans harshly when you pull his face deeper into your cunt, your moans loud and sharp.

“taste so fucking good, baby,” he praises. “being so good for me right now. you gonna cum?”

“y-yes, fuck. peter. please, fuck, can i cum now?”

“yes, cum for me,” he coos, taking your clit one final time into his mouth.

you cum hard, your body convulsing with pleasure as it tears through every inch of you. your moans depress into whimpers and gasps, and your chest heaves.

“...such a good girl for me. now just one more”

#myblurbs #sleep with liz #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker blurb #peter parker #peter parker fic #peter parker oneshot #peter parker headcanon #tom holland fic #tom holland one shot #tom holland headcanon #tom holland blurb #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland smut #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x y/n #spider man: far from home #spider man: homecoming #hornyonmain #marvel

[aspentreefriend]

HANBSJBBIOKKBBSJKBDJKCNKDBDODCJKFNFJFKSNNBBSKKDHDURHBRJDJDUF 🦕👅🦕

👀

#myblurbs

[thefreakandthehair]

written for ‘pin’ | wc: 388 | rated: m | cw: n/a | a @steddiemicrofic collaboration with the absolute incredible, always wonderful, mindblowingly talented @ahhrenata!

It starts with a map. 

A faded, folded map with thin red and blue lines traversing the midwest landscape that Steve finds in the console of the RV Eddie hot-wired. When no one's looking, he tucks it safely into his pocket, carrying it with him as a symbol of hope through the hopelessness of the Upside Down. 

Against all odds, they live— Eddie wakes up, Max walks again, Dustin’s ankle heals up just fine— and that little map sits in the glovebox of his car, untouched but not forgotten. At least, that’s where it rests until Eddie finds it one night a year later and Steve, a little hazy and loose, tells him all about his dream. 

The RV. The six kids. The road trip. 

“Well,” Eddie starts, voice syrupy with a slack smile that only ever seems directed at Steve these days. “We probably shouldn’t risk grand theft auto again and I definitely can’t give you six kids, but I do have a van and no responsibilities if you ever wanna stick a pin somewhere in that map and take off.” 

And that’s how, against even greater odds, Steve finds himself on the hood of Eddie’s van at a rest-stop in Minnesota just off of I-94. He’s been driving for hours, trying to make it to the North Dakota border before nightfall, but both he and Eddie need to stretch their tight joints and tighter muscles. 

It may not have been the plan, but Steve’s glad that they decided to stop here because sure, they haven’t technically reached Big Sky Country yet but damn if they aren’t getting a taste of what’s to come. Splattered in shades of pinks and oranges, sunlight pierces the fluffy clouds like prisms and throws the colors across the sky. 

Eddie drags a flannel blanket out of the back and wraps it around both of their shoulders with an uncharacteristically shy smile. As they watch the sunset, Steve turns to Eddie to thank him for indulging this fantasy and finds himself close enough that their noses touch. 

The expansive sky and unending horizon gives him courage, a kind of freedom he’s never experienced back in Hawkins with its arbitrary rules and expectations. Back in Hawkins, he'd pull away but in the vastness of Minnesota, he just matches Eddie's smile and leans in.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanart #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddiemicrofic #myblurbs

[itsjusthockey]

Road Trip - Cole Caufield

Summer Series Open Now

For your reading pleasure...enjoy

Send in your requests for Summer Series, please and thank you.

w.c:669

“Is six packs of gummy worms really necessary?”

Cole glances your way, feigning an offended expression. “Please don’t question the snack choices. I've had extensive training in snack procurement, and I'm highly qualified for this job."

You let out a snort, rolling your eyes at the drama Queen, and finish throwing the rest of the snacks in the car. You’re almost packing everything away when a familiar bright green package catches your eye.

“You hate these.” You grab the big bag of Warheads and shake them slightly at Cole

He does a once-over of the candy and shrugs his shoulders. “I do, but you don’t.”

A small smile spreads across your lips. Though you’d never tell, it’s the little things like this that he remembers that make warmth spreads in your body.

You bump his shoulder slightly as you move next to him, helping him grab his bags of hockey gear and loading them into the already full car.

“Okay, we got everything?”

It’s more a question for yourself than for Cole; he has a terrible memory; you both know it, so you’re in charge of ensuring you both survive this road trip.

"I think so,” Cole confirms with a satisfied nod. The car is loaded with snacks, drinks, and all the necessary gear for your trip to the infamous Hughes Lake House.

“All right, let’s go. I got four episodes of unsolved mysteries waiting for us.”

In mere minutes you’re pulled out of the driveway and on the open road. You’re listening to your favorite podcast and watching as the miles pass, and you couldn’t be happier.

You get precisely fifteen minutes into the drive with your best friend when he turns the volume down, grabbing your full attention.

“Are you excited?” He quickly glances at you, then back to the road.

“Of course I am.”

You offer him a smile, but when he glances your way, he doesn’t seem too convinced.

“Are you sure?”

You know that Cole knows you better than almost anyone in the world, so trying to lie to him won’t work, especially when you’re in the same confined space for the next few hours.

“Okay…a little nervous, but that’s because they’re all your hockey friends. I’ve never met the other two to the big three, and I’m just a little unsure if they’ll like me.”

Cole glances at you, his expression softening. He reaches over and squeezes your hand reassuringly. "Hey, they're going to love you. You're amazing, and in two seconds, they’ll be stealing all your attention away from me.”

A laugh spills out from your lips, and you take a deep breath, feeling the tension melt away as his words wash over you. "

“And I know the guys can be a lot, but Jacks's girlfriend is dying to meet you.”

Suddenly an enormous weight is taken off your shoulders, knowing she’ll be there. You’d only ever heard stories about her from Cole, but from what you know, you think you’ll be great friends.

“Thank god, that makes me feel better already.”

Cole chuckles, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "See, nothing to worry about. Besides, you're not just my plus-one; they all basically know you.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, “how’s that?”

“I talk about you all the time.”

His words warm your heart, and you lean into his reassuring presence. "Aww, you love me so much."

He flashes you a grin, his eyes sparkling with affection. "Yeah yeah, don’t tell anyone, though; I have a reputation to maintain.”

With a renewed sense of excitement and the weight of nervousness lifted, you both settle back into the comfort and grab some snacks, watching the miles tick by. You can’t help but feel excited about the upcoming week. You know it will be fun, and you’re also excited to spend time with Cole.

You really only had one goal for this summer. One simple goal. Make Cole fall for you just as hard as you’re falling for him.

#hockey #hockey boys #hockey imagine #hockey x reader #imagine #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #hockey fic #nhl hockey #jack hughes #trevor zegras #cole caufield #cole caufield x reader #cole caufield imagine #montreal canadiens #summerlakehouseseries #summer #myblurbs #my fic

[nd-poite]

POA Synopsis/Inspiration - Spoilers

Planet of the Amazons began as a horror story I dreamt of one night wayyy back in 2017 --

"Every year when the moon is full and the sun eclipses and the sky turns red, a portal between worlds opens. . .and whether you know it or not the dead walk among you. Every Halloween the destroyer of worlds swears his soul to the god of death, the god who lies in his shadow quaking in fear and scorn. . . It was decided by mankind - after the creatures of the night crawled out from the earth where the great comet fell and many wars were fought — that the great beast would be allowed to rule for just one night; just one night to take and do all he pleased — and all he pleased caused Death himself to grieve. In one night the great beast devoured more souls than Death could capture, and in one night the great beast amassed more gold than dragons could covet. . .The great beast whose name couldn’t be spoken without causing the hearts of men to faint — whose war cries bounded off of the mountains and brought down forests, whose fury parted oceans and split the earth. . . And he was my love. None knew what laid beneath the mask, what creature wore the suit of armor but I did. . . He was mine and I was his. Sworn to his side. Bound."

And I mean, whatever, right? I was seventeen going on eighteen heavily influenced by Game of Thrones and the Gothic Horror/Romance Genre. When I dreamt about his armor, it was like something out of Dark Souls, and his name was very Lovecraftian. It was like 15 letters long and I'm afraid to say it out loud for fear of summoning an actual demon.

Anyways! I started trying to build on that idea, on those three dreams. The first where I'd seen an actual monster destroying and milling the world, the second where he turned into a person and was living with "me" and the third, where "I" was actively participating in burning and pillaging the countryside.

What if they were both night creatures and crawled out of the earth together? What if they were giants? What if she was a part of the earth itself? What if they were like steven universe and they created lesser beings as if they were the diamonds? What if she were mortal? What if he were this great cosmic evil in love with this tiny precious warrior? And he’s just a punch clock villain? Or a yakuza slash house husband? But mostly I kept trying to understand how you could love something so wicked and vile? And be so normal? Be a captain? A general? OR what if it was simply a matter of perspective and he wasn’t wicked or vile?

What could make you love a monster?

And because of that I made "Hari", one of my favorite characters and one of the only guy characters I’ve ever truly cared about.

And as I went through the process of trying to ground it, romanticizing him, like he’s Gary Oldman's Dracula I kind of had a heel-turn realization. Bram Stoker didn't initially envision Dracula as romantic or worthy of sympathy, you mostly see him through other characters and he doesn't have any ties to Mina. But James V Hart and Francis Ford Coppola had other ideas when they adapted the classic into a movie. . . anyways, there's a trope called "Cry for the Devil" for a reason. In the new narrative, Dracula was a man of the people and a well-loved leader who damned himself for the love of his Mina, raging against the heavens which definitely doesn't justify all of the vicious rape and murder but young Gary Oldman, Brad Pitt, Tom Cruise--and characters like Eric and Bill or Damon and Stefan can help you figure it out. I think the actors for Eric Northman and Damon Salvatore cared more about the actions of their characters than the raging adoring fans did. Or villains like Spike from Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Zuko from Avatar the Last Airbender.

And when I think of music for Hari and his world I think of Metallica and Filter. . . Songs like Pretty Piece of flesh and the Devil does Drugs -- things like Alternative-Rock from the 90s early 2000s, Neo Metal and Punk they used in early 2000s vampire movies and games ie Blade or Vampire Bloodlines: The Masquerade.

For the second half of the story, I was honestly really into like Star Trek at the time. I watched Star Wars "A New Hope" once, forgot about it, forgot where I'd seen Adam Driver from, and began binging the original Star Trek show in its place.

Hari had a girlfriend/wife/life partner that needed a backstory, or at least an explanation that I no longer felt made sense to the original dream I'd had. What kind of creature or person would love a flawed monster like Hari? Would rule by his side? The concept I came up with still might not make any sense but at this point, I don't care because I got caught up in a whole different theme. I can't turn back now.

I started off with the simple concept of some random space travelers crashing onto a foreign planet for whatever reason whether it be for space exploration or looking for a new home or y'a know fleeing their homeland/the law — and as a result, they find themselves stranded on this barren (or flourishing) planet // but really there are invisible barriers and walls buildings built into the planet--and there are "people" living there. . .

And as our precious protagonists explore the planet, they find it’s like an island full of everything that could possibly kill you — the flora is beautiful but poisonous and the fauna is oversized & hungry 😂 Sort of like Skull Island meets Pandora from Avatar. . . And the "people" are all female. '

Ie where the title even comes from "Planet of the Amazons" and the ball just started rolling. There's this beautiful period in pop culture where space serials and science fiction were just hot--popping and the art that came from it was just phenomenal. Movies like Flash Gordon or Mom & Dad Save the World started coming to mind; that weird campy 70s 80s level of sci-fi ham--the age of Raygun Gothic and Pulp Fiction comics started coming to mind and I knew I had my idea.

And I get it. It's a complete tonal shift, an entirely different genre but I think we can make it work. If it happens in different time periods or even a different series altogether, which is what I decided on in the end. . . But realistically, the Planet of the Amazons is how and where Hari really gets his origin story. Although some stories are better off without knowing a couple of details, Hari isn't entirely a villain or rather a villain I don't want to be redeemed.

So! What and how could something like Hari come into power? What could give him power over life and death? What even is Hari? I came up with the answer after reading/writing a "Game of Thrones" inspired Avengers fic. . . In Greek Mythology, the Amazons copulated with the neighboring Gargareans in order to keep both tribes going. It's just that simple. And from there I wrote this weird intergalactic space mythology inspired by that simple concept, the camp of the 70s and 80s, and HP Lovecraft's Mythos.

Akasha was sort of a character born out of an ideal? I draw a lot of similarities between Akasha and Jade as well as Creed and Hari--and it's honestly because I started writing Planet of the Amazons to replace the older story. I wanted to try and write what I thought healthy love and healthy relationships looked like. . . I failed and wound up writing more weird science fiction.

Akasha is living an idyllic life, truly, and she was made to rule, literally. Her storyline isn't necessarily about breaking the mold, but more about her struggling with rejecting it as not being confident or comfortable in said mold. Hers is sometimes a cautionary tale of "Be Careful of What You Wish For" but at the same, Akasha's story is mainly about pilgrimage and personal esteem? Or whatever lesson Thor was supposed to learn in the first two Kenneth Brannagh movies. I think I deal with the same themes in what I write, over and over again: "Be Careful What You Wish For" loneliness, depression, trauma. . . and this is no different. You'd be damned to find any positive or healthy kind of love right off the bat for any of my characters, let alone main characters. . .

I liked the simple concept of some random humans crashing onto a foreign planet for whatever reason whether it be for space exploration or just looking for a new home or y'a know fleeing someone behind them — and as a result, they find themselves stranded on this barren (or flourishing) planet // but really there are invisible barriers and walls buildings built into the planet--and there are "people" living there. . .

And as our precious protagonists explore the planet, they find it’s like an island full of everything that could possibly kill you — the flora is beautiful but poisonous and the fauna is oversized & hungry 😂 Sort of like Skull Island meets Pandora from Avatar

— so say they were explorers and their ship is broken so they can’t leave?

— so like every scouting party and hunting party (and yadda) of whatever kind has failed to both make contact with the native indigenous species—the amazons, as well as map the entirety of the geography of the planet because it’s so vast; they noted a few animal species and a couple of plant files, but not enough to safely navigate

And anyways! They discover that the natives are highly territorial — and although they’ve never seen one up close :/ or at all? Someone/something is hanging up massive dead animals along the tree line as if to warn the newcomers + as if to say you can’t see us but we’re watching you

I think tho, I had Akasha and her friends sort of watching the crash landed people — curious. Because the Amazons are notoriously all female. This time they’re colorful female aliens with multiple extremities and they’ve exiled/

And then highkey I was reading this fanfic of medieval avengers that was GOT inspired and I got to thinking about the Gargareans. . .

It’s typical to have a story like “first time I’m seeing a man, wow Gotta have sex and fall in love”

Or something like “unite two kingdoms by arranged marriage”

And I wasn’t sure I wanted that route

So instead I leaned into the gothic/cosmic horror genre

I love government conspiracies waaaay too much. . .

So Planet of the Amazons became this story with a lot of history and lore // the Gargarean’s were an ancient race of space giants as were the Amazons

— the Amazons were conquerors, world destroyers, colonizers; they eclipsed suns and devoured them as well etc like Galactus // they consumed Star ways and planets + and what they didn’t eat, they’d bring home to colonize and subjugate — they were known to bathe starways in red

And the Gargareans were sort of the opposite, they worshipped strange gods and were more interested in science — like they built a human zoo. Y’a know? They were collectors and liked to pretend they were more civilized and peaceful )) and the strange gods they worshipped granted them powers and blessings etc

And at some point the Amazons and Gargareans began to sort of mix together // whether it was before or after the ancient grudge was settled

// so the boys from their union were sort of were cursed + and the Amazons were infected

— which is why we have Cetus

— and why we have Hari

— and that’s why modern Amazon women have ancient magic beyond the sorcery they already practiced

And eventually it was just like the Amazons had to exile their men because the Gargareans pushed them over the edge // and the only way to keep the Amazons alive was to do so, to use science and tech to continue breeding but keep the secs desperate and the men in chains/spell bound

Meanwhile, the Gargareans sort of began to crumble ad well because their strange gods were angry. . . They worshipped gods who were being puppeted by an old cosmic evil beyond our concepts of space and time like the Crimson King / and that cosmic evil wanted to be a part of our reality?

So the cosmic evil manipulated the children of the amazons and gargareans // or tried to // the amazons have their own magic — but the Gargareans were vulnerable. So Cetus becomes the great hammer for the cosmic evil, their puppet and wreaks havoc on Gargarean decimating their numbers and terrifying them into submission

But Cetus sort of goes crazy with all that power and the fact that cosmic evil drives you insane — so he’s more like a mad dog, y’a know? And he starts eating and growing and he never stops + and he knows he has to get to the Amazons before it’s too late

Anyways!

The Gargareans Started killing the children they had with the Amazon/practicing child sacrifice because their gods were angry

Which caused a HORRIBLE war between the amazons and the garagareans that lasted for a long time

It led Hari’s parents to abandon him on a random planet that at the moment is earth // and that’s where he grew up under the watchful eye of Death himself 

#Spotify #p--o-a #inspo #storyinspo #myblurbs #personal passion

[duskholland]

letting my inner whore out and thinking about mob!tom or even regular Tom accidentally flaking on plans with you and coming home really late, so he’s just gonna jump into bed with you and finds you in bed asleep in lingerie. 🥴🙂 and he just mentally curses himself bc now he knows that he flaked on a great night and you slept in this on purpose so he KNOWS. and having him grovel for your forgiveness OOOOOOF 🙂😌😗 make him pay for it !!!

you didn’t ask for a blurb but this inspired me so i wrote something !! i changed the circumstances of this just a lil bit but the mistake/grovel concept is all still here too :’) can be read either with mob or normal tom!

wc: 2.3k || 18+ nsfw content minors dni!!!

warnings ↠ fingering, oral (f receiving) and overstimulation :’)

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

Tom hadn’t thought about the repercussions of his actions, but as he walks into your bedroom and finds you sprawled out across the mattress, half-naked and sleeping, he finds himself regretting his decisions. He curses--softly, so he doesn’t disturb you, but with enough bite to make it count. His fingers curl into frustrated fists at his sides as he leans back against the doorway, eyes skimming over you.

He hadn’t intentionally bailed on date night, but something had come up. He’d texted you, grovelled profusely, tacked on a series of those heart emojis you’re so fond of as he’d sprinkled his messages with Xs, promising it wouldn’t happen again, promising he’d be there next time. You’re lovely--you’re always lovely, even when Tom fucks up--but even he’d been able to tell that you’d been annoyed. This is the second date in a row that he’s cancelled, and it’s clear you’re pissed.

You’re wearing lingerie. With your sleepy lips puckered into an unassuming pout, you look almost angelic, sprawled out, asleep. But Tom knows exactly what you’re like, knows that you’d fallen asleep, wrapped up in tight red lace like this just to rub it in. He chuckles slightly as he finds himself nodding. He has to give it to you--you always know how to get to him, and you always succeed.

Pushing away from the door, Tom stifles a yawn. If you weren’t sleeping so deeply, he’d wake you up and start his grovelling right away, but he knows better than to pounce. He doesn’t want to disturb your beauty sleep when he’s already treading on thin ice.

As Tom walks through to the ensuite and strips off his clothes, he keeps the door open, both of his eyes fixed on you, admiring you, tracing you, loving you. Fuck, his heart swells as you murmur something in your sleep and turn over, frowning as you try to get comfortable. Tom’s never going to cancel on you again.

After turning off all the lights and padding over to bed, only in his boxers, Tom very carefully starts trying to move you. You’re asleep on top of the duvet, which is slightly problematic, but he’s strong, and gentle, and he manages to coax you into resting on the mattress instead. When you don’t make any obvious movements, he thinks you’re still asleep, so climbs in after you and rolls over, wrapping his arms around you and spooning you as he nestles his face into the back of your neck.

You’re so soft. You smell of peaches, and as Tom gently rolls his hand over the rise of your exposed hip, he marvels at how warm your skin is. He rolls his fingers over your side, nuzzling closer, trying to pull you as close as possible. As he starts to press gentle kisses to your shoulder, he wonders if your sleeping form can feel how fucking sorry he is, can tell in the soft nuzzles of his mouth how apologetic and guilty he feels now.

“Y’know, I am awake,” you mutter, voice tired. “You’re not good at being quiet.”

Tom pauses his movements. He wonders if you can feel him wince. Your tone is terse.

“I’m sorry,” he says immediately, voice quiet. He kisses your shoulder again and, knowing you’re awake, smooths his hand down to rest over your lower abdomen. His fingertips play with the trim of your lacy panties, fiddling as he hums. “I’m a dick for cancelling, darling. I am very sorry.”

You make a tsking sound. “Are you actually sorry, or are you just trying to get back in my good books?”

Tom hums. “Both,” he admits. He kisses your cheek before sitting up on his side, digging his elbow into the pillows. You roll onto your back, darkened eyes meeting his as you stare at him, the ghost of a smile building on your lips.

Tom brings his hand up and tentatively cups your chin between his thumb and index finger, using the touch to angle your face towards him. When you hum in approval, Tom leans down, kissing you gently. He hopes that you can feel how apologetic he is through his mouth, and he feels his heart lighten when you reach up to run a hand over the side of his face before twisting it into his hair. As your lips become warm and slick with spit, Tom hums, trying to move closer only for you to stop him by pulling away and pressing the tips of your fingers to his lips.

“Oh?” you tease. “You think it’s going to be that easy?” There’s a mischievous glint in your eyes, and Tom watches as you sit up straight. The duvet falls down to pool at your waist, exposing your sheer bralette. Tom swallows as he sees your nipples, hard and straining against the flimsy material.

“No?” Tom replies.

You laugh. You reach out and touch his cheek, angling his face until Tom’s eyes are back on yours. “You need to make it up to me,” you say. For the first time, hurt seeps into your eyes. Tom’s guilt reappears, overpowering all of the lust that had emerged as he’d seen you wrapped up in lace.

“I’m really sorry,” he says again, and Tom means it. He moves, smiling slightly as he slides on top of you, pushing you back down onto the mattress as he cages you in with an arm on either side of your face. He nuzzles the tip of his nose against yours. “I love you, baby, and I’m sorry for letting you down. It won’t happen again.” He kisses you gently. “I know I said that last time,” he adds, whispering softly, “but I promise. Nothing is more important than you. Nothing.”

You comb your fingers through his hair. “Yeah?”

“Of course,” he says, and it’s true. You’re everything. “Can I make it up to you now?” he murmurs. Tom draws his lips over your face, kissing in a line until he’s whispering into your ear, voice growing raspy. “Let me make you feel good.”

You hum, drawing it out as you pretend to think about it. Tom moans as you tug on his hair, your hands then skimming away to careen down the muscles of his back. You tease him, pressing your fingers into his shoulders as you slowly grind up to press your centre against Tom’s crotch. He grunts, face falling into the crook of your neck as he feels himself harden again.

“Are you alright down there?” you tease, hand drifting down to rest over his ass. Tom moans as you pull him closer, keeping his crotch against yours as you encourage him to grind against your heat.

He releases a noise of strangled enjoyment. It takes all of his self-control to pull away, kissing your chin when you raise a brow. “This is about you,” he decides. “Not me.”

You swallow. “Okay,” you agree, catching your lower lip between your teeth. “I had some fun without you,” you add, smirking when Tom raises a brow. “Can you blame me?”

He shakes his head. “‘Course not,” he says. “Love you,” he adds, then he gets to work.

Tom presses kisses to every part of your body as he gently moves down your figure, resting at your chest to lap over each one of your nipples with his tongue. As the lace of your bra gets soaked with spit, Tom picks up his pace, drawn to your low moans. When he’s not rolling his tongue around your nipples, he’s cupping your breasts in his palms and massaging your chest with his fingers, alternating between light teasing touches and more substantial grabs that make you release the prettiest groans.

By the time Tom reaches your centre, he isn’t surprised to see you quivering. He doesn’t pause to take off your lingerie, knows better than to strip you of something that you’d put on so deliberately. He enjoys watching the confidence that it gives you.

“Oh, baby…” Tom murmurs, rolling his index and middle fingers over the front of your panties. They’re soaked, and as he presses up against your covered clit, he feels your centre pulse. The whimper you release is soft and broken, and Tom is quick to settle between your legs. He parts your thighs before kissing your mound, his nose nuzzling up against the wet warmth of your front. He tenses the tip of his tongue before dragging it over your covered folds, the slickness of your panties making it easy for him to delineate the rise of your bud.

“Shit,” you whine. You bury your hands in his hair and jerk him closer, pulling Tom’s face further into your heat. “Fuck, Tom. Don’t tease me— fuck. You’re supposed to be making it up to me.”

Tom moans in agreement. He manages to wriggle away just enough so he’s able to pull your panties to the side, and after taking a moment to run both thumbs down the side of your folds, he gently coaxes them apart, exposing your cunt. He curses, looking between your centre and your eyes with lust.

“You’re so fucked already,” he murmurs. He slips his fingers down to play around with your entrance, his digits getting coated in your slick. You whimper and thrust your hips until he crooks the two fingers into you, your walls giving way and enveloping him immediately. “Have you already cum tonight?”

Briefly, guilt flickers across your face. It fades as Tom leans down and sucks your clit into his mouth, soothing the bud with his tongue as his fingers start to pump into you. “Y-yeah,” you whimper, and suddenly it makes sense why you’re being so responsive.

“I can tell. Pussy’s so hot, baby, so wet… Practically gushing out over my hand, gorgeous.” Tom pulls away, shifting a thumb onto your bud as he looks down at where his fingers are opening you up. He adds a third easily, desire running hot through his body as you cry out loudly. “How many times did you cum?”

Your breathing is heavy, laborious. “Twice,” you admit. Your fingers fist the sheets, eyes fluttering shut as you arch your back and moan. “Shit, Tom… please.”

“Please?” He’s enjoying this, loves the way you squirm as he curls his fingers up and presses against your g-spot. You’re so beautiful. “Please what, lovie?”

“Make me cum,” you whine. You open your eyes again, wide and pleading. “Please, please—”

“C’mon,” he murmurs. “There you go, baby.” Tom thrusts his fingers faster, with more urgency, and speeds up the movement of his thumb on your clit. “Cum for me, darling. Let me warm you up… Let you feel really good. Always so pretty when you cum for me… so, so pretty, baby. Come on.”

You fall apart a few moments later, walls contracting around his fingers. Tom watches in awe as you cry out loudly, eyes rolling back as your chest rises and falls. He doesn’t stop, though, not even when your walls stop pulsing and your climax ends. Instead, he drops his head and puts his mouth back on your bud.

“T-Tom,” you cry out. You’re squirming again, properly now, but he knows you’d tap out if it was too much. Both of you know that you enjoy the blurring of the pain and pleasure as he overstimulates you like this. “Holy fuck… ‘m so sensitive.”

Tom’s hand is properly wet now. He can feel your arousal dripping between his fingers. You’re so slick his movements are imprecise, and so he counters that by thrusting his fingers harder, blundering up against the spongy rise of your walls until you’re crying out. As he brings you close again, he moves his mouth over your cunt, sloppily making out with your clit and your folds. Occasionally he’ll tease your rise with the bumps of his teeth, and he likes the way your moans change from shrill to intense when he runs the flat of his tongue over your bud again.

“Tommy,” you wail. You sound wrecked, and when Tom glances up, he sees you, eyes full of blurring tears, skin covered in a sheen of sweat. You gasp as he curls his fingers perfectly, and Tom watches you bury your face in your arm as you orgasm with a yell. This time, he has to move up, pressing his elbow into your thigh to keep you down as the pleasure consumes you. Your hot cunt squeezes his fingers tightly, an iron-like grip that almost immobilises his hand. Luckily, Tom’s used to you, knows how to continue to please you until you’re fucked out and crying.

Your peak stretches for a while, the air alight with the sounds of your whimpering enjoyment. Tom laps over your clit until you’re crying out and tugging at his hair, at which point he moves away from you. He smirks as he sees a trail of saliva connecting you to him, then sees the way your thighs tremble.

“How was that, darling?” Tom checks, letting his fingers slip from you. You whimper and he pulls up to you, gently kissing your cheek as his eyes skim you for any signs of damage. All he finds is bliss, then your lips on his as you peck him quickly.

“Fantastic,” you announce. You sigh as you fall back against the mattress, smiling lazily. “Fuck, I love you.”

Tom wipes his lips before kissing your nose. “Love you too,” he murmurs. “Did I make it up to you?”

You nod immediately. “Yeah. You did more than just that.” You reach down to touch his crotch, and Tom jumps. He’d been so preoccupied with you that he’d forgotten about his length, hard and straining against his boxers. You run your thumb over the patch of material, soaked with his precum. “Let me say thank you,” you say, speaking quietly but teasingly. Your tone makes Tom bite his lips. “Let me make it up to you…”

#anonymous #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader smut #mob!tom smut #mob!tom x reader #mob!tom x reader smut #myblurbs #tomblurbs #tom.filth #smut

[nostalgiabones]

Focus on Me // C.H

This is a completely self indulgent blurb that I wrote at 3am after a rough night of anxiety. This is what I felt I wanted at the time, so I thought I’d share it in the hopes of it bringing comfort to someone else feeling this way. So this features themes of anxiety, and comfort from Calum.

Word count: 1,332

“Hey, look at me.”

Calum’s fingertips gently but firmly tap your chin, tilting your face to encourage you to look at him. When you’re feeling like this, you’re sure no one understands — that no one in the world could possibly ease the weight on your chest. Calum knows better, though — throughout your relationship he’s picked up on what you need, and how to get through to you.

“Up here,” He murmurs, loud enough so you hear him, but quiet enough that the moment is just for the two of you — even though no one else is around. “I’m right here, my love. Focus on me.”

Calum has noticed little signs that you weren’t feeling your best all day — from the lack of keeping up a conversation to your fingertips tapping against the table as you ate dinner, he knew. He noticed how you showered before bed, and spent at least fifteen minutes trying to find something to wear for bed — each t-shirt you pulled out not sitting right — but you didn’t quite know why. He silently observes, you think he doesn’t notice — but he always does.

“Just breathe for a minute,” He says it like it’s so simple, and for anyone else, it would be. Yet you feel as though as soon as you release your breath, everything comes crashing down with it — somehow it’s easier to tense up and let your eyes focus on a random spot on the wall. His tone is smooth and reassuring — he makes a conscious effort to keep his voice soft, as he knows anything more will make you feel worse. He throws a leg over yours, almost pressing you against the soft mattress of the bed — he knows the weight helps you to feel grounded.

He’ll never forget the first time you had an anxious day when he was around; your eyes wouldn’t quite meet his and your hands trembled when he tried to hold them. He hadn’t been sure of what to do, how to make you feel better or whether he could. He’ll also never forget the way you pulled him on top of you, letting him lay almost flat against you on the sofa, finally seeing some relief in your expression at the release of the anxiety that had consumed you that day. As soon as he got home, he had ordered a weighted blanket — hoping the sensation would provide similar comfort to what he does, when he can’t be around. He still uses it now, when he is here — when he wants to hold you but you still need the weight of something against you. It’s tucked under the bed, and it’s been a while since you needed it — but he feels as though it could make an appearance tonight.

“You’re okay,” He reassures you, calloused thumbs brushing over your temples, trying to convince you to relax your face. He can feel your tensed jaw, knowing you’re clenching your teeth — but he knows he can only focus on alleviating one thing at a time. “I know it doesn’t feel like it, but you are. I’m staying right here, okay? I’m not going anywhere. We’re gonna ride this out together.”

The unshed tears lining your eyes don’t go unnoticed, and it makes Calum’s heart ache that what he sees as so little is a big deal to you. He doesn’t have to think twice about trying to help, trying to convince your anxious brain that you’re not in danger. Yet he knows previously you’ve had no choice but to deal with it yourself, and now, having Calum around is a blessing.

He reaches over for the TV remote and turns down the volume as well as the brightness, not wanting you to be overstimulated by the surroundings — another thing he’s made note of is how restless you get when there’s too much going on. He doesn’t turn it off completely though — although he has no idea what show is on, he doesn’t care; it’s background noise to distract you from whatever thoughts are swirling around your mind.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” You murmur, your voice so quiet that he almost doesn’t hear you. You fear making it louder will disturb the lump in your throat. Calum shakes his head, his face so close to yours that his nose nudges yours when he moves. The words are true; although there’s only so much he can do, having him around makes everything feel brighter, easier — you wake up looking forward to what the day with him holds, rather than the emptiness you once felt every morning.

“You deserve the whole world and more, baby. I wish I could give it to you.” Calum admits, lips brushing yours as he speaks, ending the sentence with a soft kiss. He’s told himself time and time again that he can’t take your anxiety away, and you’ve told him that you don’t expect him to — yet he so desperately wishes he could. He wishes he never has to see you cry, or hold your hair in the bathroom of a social event you don’t want to be at. “You deserve to be happy, and to enjoy yourself. I wish you believed that too.”

Somehow, with Calum around, you’re starting to.

The more you fall for him, the more you trust him and his words — he truly wants you to be happy, wants the best for you, and it makes you want it for yourself, too. He doesn’t rush you though. He doesn’t expect you to be happy every day — he isn’t himself. You’re human and you have bad days, but he wants to be around to make sure they’re just that — bad days, not weeks, or years.

Calum’s gentle whispers against your forehead work wonders in getting your mind to settle down, he’s something to focus on — finally able to release your jaw, your tongue dropping from the roof of your mouth. He feels your shoulders relax for the first time in hours and he’s relieved too — it makes him feel better. His hand is warm as he smoothes it across the top of your back, a gentle pressure that grounds you and reminds you that he’s there. He feels your hands that were brushing through the soft curls at the back of his neck come to a stop, your grip loosening as you allow yourself to relax.

He’s sure he’ll never forget the feeling of you falling asleep on him — it kicks in an instinct he’s never felt before, like he’ll do anything in his power to keep you comfortable and protect you. He feels it deep in his chest, like he could explode with the love he feels for the person sleeping in his arms. It’s like the world stands still, so content that you’re comfortable enough to rest with him, to let both your mind and body sleep, knowing that he’s got you. He loves how normal it feels; that he can just sit scrolling through his phone or watching the TV whilst you sleep, and you know he won’t go anywhere. You’re a comforting weight to him, and he’s starting to understand why it helps when you’re feeling anxious. He finds himself keeping up the soothing gestures, even when you’re already passed out, convincing himself that you still feel it, in your sleep.

Calum takes the hand that’s clinging to his hoodie with a firm grip and laces his fingers between yours, gently squeezing, his lips pressed to your knuckles in a loving gesture. He doesn’t say anything but a smile graces his lips when you ever so softly squeeze back, and he can’t remember a time where he’s ever felt so loved.

He has no intention of moving, not until he absolutely has to; there’s nowhere else he would rather be.

“Goodnight, my love.”

**

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[iconicharry]

Dream a Little Dream of Me

a/n: a small little blurb i wrote because of my mood and the beautiful song. hope you enjoy!

She’s embraced by him. His arms slung tight around her waist, his cheek resting against her hair and humming along the song. She has her arms wrapped around his neck, holding him tight to her body, and fingering the wispy curls at his neck. Her head is tucked under his. They swing from side to side to the rhythm of each song that plays. The crowd around them is getting less. They are almost the only ones left.

The melody slowly comes to an end, fading into silence and the tears in her eyes well up. Again. This is the most beautiful day she experienced, the happiest she’s ever been.

A new song starts to play and she gasps. Harry immediately pulls back to get a proper look at her reaction and he doesn’t know if he wants to smile or cry himself. She has the biggest smile on her face and broken sobs between little fits of laughter escape her. The emotions are completely overwhelming her. Harry's grin breaks over his face, but he feels tears blurring his vision.

Dream a Little Dream of Me by Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald. Their song. It has an emotional bond to them. It accompanied them through hard times, happy times, sad times. She remembers how he stood on front of his record player one time, dropping the needle carefully on the record. They danced that night in the living room. Exactly like they are doing now.

“H…” She whispers with a wobbling bottom lip, looping her arms back around his neck and face nestling into the warm skin. “I love you so much.”

His mouth his next to her ear, humming along the melody

“Stars shining bright above you…,

Night breezes seem to whisper I love you…”

Harry emphasizes the last part and presses a quick kiss to her temple before twirling them around abruptly, making her squeal and cling to his suspenders, jacket long forgotten.

“Birds singing in the sycamore tree,

Dream a little dream of me.” He mumbles into her neck.

She giggles, grasping his cheeks to pull his head out of where he tucked it into the crook of her neck. He smiles. Bright. All dimples, red cheeks and all. And he loves the sound she makes. His heart flutters at every gesture she makes. He can’t describe this love he feels for her. It’s so compassionate and…rare.

“I’m so fucking emotional right now. I love you. So much.” He croaks through a laugh. “Marrying you was the best decision in my life.”

A partner. A soulmate. A friend for a lifetime.

She nods. Letting her eyes take over the job to show him how much she really loves him.

She stands on her tippy toes and presses her lips to his. Romantic and sensual. Little pecks till they giggle and it’s almost impossible for them to stop. They swing wildly around the dance floor, laughing and snickering. Chests full of bursting fireworks and tummies fluttering with butterflies. All under the starry night sky.

“Promise to me you’ll dream. Dream a little dream of me.”

#harry styles blurb #harry styles #harry styles fluff #husband!harry #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #bf!harry #harry styles wedding #myblurbs

[reidamancy]

💋 13 and 62

13. “Don’t look at me like that, like you’re afraid of me.” & 62. “Don’t lie to me!”

a/n: au where spencer has to work from home? idk how to explain why canonically so this is now an au lol

(post-prison!reid x gender neutral!reader)

---

After being released from prison, Spencer worked most of his cases at home. You thought that meant you would see more of him, but bringing his work home only kept him locked in his office and led to him overworking himself. The few times you would see him, he’d be tired and irritable; so you left him alone for the most part.

You knew prison would change him, but you didn’t think it would be this drastic. And it was killing you because you didn’t know how to help him.

Spencer had been in his office all day; he hasn’t eaten since yesterday and you were pretty sure he slept in there last night. You decided to bring him a cup of tea, knowing he’d need it.

You let out a sigh as you stood outside his office door. You could hear the rustling of papers as you quietly knocked.

“Spencer?” You called out.

Instead of a response, you heard a loud thud coming from inside the room. You immediately opened the door and saw that Spencer had just thrown a book at the wall.

You let out a gasp upon seeing the furniture in the room haphazardly thrown around. Papers were scattered everywhere and your boyfriend was pacing around the room, picking up random sheets and reading them within seconds.

“Spence?” You called again.

“Damn it!” He screamed before slamming his fist on his desk.

His action caused you to jump, spilling a bit of tea on yourself.

“Spencer!” You said again, more aggressively this time.

He looked up at you but said nothing, immediately going back to reading his papers.

You sighed then slowly walked over to him, careful to avoid the papers strewn on the floor. “I brought you some tea.”

Spencer put down the papers he was holding and faced you. As he brought his hand up to grab the mug, you involuntarily flinched and you both froze when you noticed your body’s reaction.

You stared at each other as he slowly took the cup from his hands.

“Thank you.”

You nodded, giving a slight smile before chewing on your lip. You maintained eye contact with him as he held the mug up to his face, but he didn’t take a sip. Instead, he lowered the mug once more as his eyes softened and he said, “Don’t look at me like that, like you’re afraid of me.”

“What?” You scoffed. “I’m not afraid of you!” You crossed your arms over your chest.

He eyed your body language. “You’re crossing your arms as if you’re protecting yourself... from me.”

Your arms immediately dropped to your side. “No, that’s not what I was doing, Spencer.”

“Don’t lie to me!” He forcefully placed the tea on his desk, the loud sound of the ceramic causing you to step back.

He saw your recoil and immediately softened. “Wait, Y/N, I’m sorry.” He rubbed his face with his hands. When he opened his eyes to look at you, they were filled with tears. “I’ve ruined this, haven’t I?”

You shook your head and immediately walked over to him, reaching out to hold his face with no hesitation. “Spencer, no!” You wiped the tear that ran down his cheek away with your thumb as he leaned into your hand. “No, you haven’t ruined anything.”

“You’re scared of me.” He sadly said, voice cracking.

“No-”

“Don’t lie, even if I wasn’t a profiler I could tell when you’re lying.”

You bit your lip as you let out a small laugh. You used your hands to guide his own to your waist, giving him permission to hold you.

“I’m not scared of you, Spence. I’m scared for you.”

Spencer furrowed his brows in confusion but you continued. “I may never know what really happened while you were in prison, but I can tell you did things you’re not proud of.” Spencer hung his head in shame. Your heart broke seeing him like this, so you quickly pulled him into a hug.

He held you tightly, as if his life depended on it. A slow cascade of tears fell on your shoulder as you held him. You breathed him in and said, “And I know it’s affecting you now; I’m just scared of how it will affect you in the long run.”

You pulled away from him and used a finger under his chin to guide his eyes up to yours. “But I will be here with you, every step of the way, Spencer Reid.”

He smiled and placed a longing kiss on your forehead. “I’m sorry for how things have been lately, Y/N.” He whispered against your skin.

You shook your head then leaned up to kiss his nose. “I know you need time. And when you’re ready, I’ll be right here for you.”

He beamed at you as he held you closer to him. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you more, Spencer.”

prettyboy-reid’s 500 follower celebration!

#pbr500 #i told myself i'd never write post prison reid but here we are lol #spencer reid #spencer reid blurbs #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x gender neutral reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #pbrblurbs #myblurbs #500

[candidhoney]

#4 because Blake and Sun grabbing a cup of tea just totally becomes a regular thing

I’ll be entirely honest, I thought of this too when I saw the prompt and already had some ideas running through my head. That being said, I think it wasn’t exact to the prompt, but I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it regardless xx

The way you said I love you [x] -

4. Over a cup of tea; blacksun

Word count: 1,154

“It seems like we’re making a habit of this, huh?”

The dark haired faunus smiled at his words, eyes kept steady on each porcelain cup before her as she gently tipped the kettle and filled them, one at a time. “I don’t know about you Sun, but I’ve always made a habit of drinking tea.”

Kali had always told her tea had been good for nervous stomachs, weary souls, tired limbs, and restless minds- all things that Blake had become all too acquainted with over the years. A cup of tea and a good book, and she would almost feel as though she were home again.

“It wasn’t my first choice when I was growing up in Vacuo, but I think it’s grown on me. And hey, the good company doesn’t hurt.” The cups were filled, kettle set neatly aside, and Sun gratefully took his serving when it was offered.

“Neither does the chance to rest.”

Though it was still fresh in their minds, time and distance had passed them by since the attack on Haven. And in that time, team RWBY had caught up and began to mend their weathered bonds. It seemed they’d all grown a lot since the tournament. And now, for the first time since the chaos, sitting in a familiar way with the company of the one who’d seen her at her worst, Blake felt content. It was like the first embrace of her mother when she’d gone home, but more subtle, more at ease. A home away from home.

The faunus girl took the steam into her lungs and brought the cup up to her lips. The tea went down smooth, leaving a coolness in its wake and a warmth in her core. The cup was held between both her hands, her gaze caught in the rippling reflection inside. “… I should thank you and Yang both for that.”

“For what?” Sun blinked. “We wouldn’t be here in Atlas if it weren’t for you either, you had as much a part in it as the rest of us.”

“No- uh, that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” Sun watched Blake with an amiably cocked brow, head tilted in a way that nearly let the messy golden strands fall into his eyes. His cup was held off to the side by his tail, idle, thoughtlessly. Blake had his attention.

And it was a funny thing, now with Blake getting that set expression like she was deep in thought amidst the plot of an engaging book, but there were no words in front of her; nothing but warm tea and the table space between them. She gathered her own, and spoke slowly again. “All of my teammates have shown me kindness that I couldn’t have ever imagined myself. But you and Yang have given me the kind I can’t repay.

“Yang talked me down when I was destroying myself trying to track down the White Fang. I couldn’t sleep, didn’t want to do anything but work towards stopping the violence.” Sun watched attentively as a small smile grew over Blake’s lips. “But she convinced me to take it easy, that it was okay to not always be preparing for a fight. If she hadn’t given me that talk, I never would have given the dance a chance.”

It seemed like so long ago- yet with the warmth of the tea radiating to her hands, Blake could almost feel Sun’s sturdy grip while they moved along Beacon’s hardwood floor, two parts moving as a whole. She could recall his smile, up to his eyes, when they got that dance. There really was something to tea and recollection, wasn’t there?

Sun remembered it as the surprise, the moment his entire night had turned around with those simple words- ‘I knew you’d look better with the tie.’ Dressing up wasn’t Sun’s favorite thing, but he’d do it a hundred times again if it meant one more night with Blake dancing with him. But they were here now, weren’t they? The silence of the pause that had encompassed them wasn’t uncomfortable. They both felt the nostalgia in the air.

It was such that when Blake spoke again, her voice came out quieter than before. “I ran away from everyone- twice since I started at beacon. I turned my back on my team, my school, and all my friends at beacon, out of fear. And both times, you were there for me, even when I didn’t want you to be.”

Maybe it was the tea, or the events of the months that had passed. Or maybe it was the reunion with the others from Beacon. But regardless, Blake seemed more open now, more vulnerable than Sun had seen her allow herself to be since their talk the day he came too after Ilia had wounded him. His cup was gently set aside with a gentle tap on the table without a thought.

“Sun… I didn’t think I could trust again the way I learned to trust you. And you’ve surprised me with your kindness each time- you’ve done more than I could ever thank you for, and I…” And now, after so many words had been spilled, Blake found herself at a loss for the right ones. Sun watched as her grip tightened around her cup and- gods, were her hands shaking?

I love you. The words were a lump in her throat that no amount of tea could wash down. She hadn’t realized she’d been so nervous until then, the warmth in her core turning to something dense, the subtle sweetness of peppermint turning dry on her pallet. “I’ve… never said it, but it’s meant a lot to me.” An unsteady breath. “You mean a lot to me.”

Sun could’ve swore that her nerves had been contagious with the blooming of butterflies in his stomach and flush in his cheeks, but he’d taken to it with a genuine smile. He bridged the distance between them with the soft but firm embrace of his hand over one of hers, steadying her as seemed to be his habit.

“You mean a lot to me too,” he reaffirmed, and when Blake lifted her gaze to meet his, she would be greeted again with a happiness that reached the blonde boy’s eyes. It was embarrassing and wonderful all at once, and the warmth shared between their hands was present in their cheeks. “I mean,” the blonde continued with a gentle laugh after a moment, “I did cross an ocean following you. I think that’s a pretty good sign that you’re important to me.”

“Not the first time you stowed away on a ship, Sun,” Blake reminded him with a more playful smile.

Sun conceded, shrugging his shoulders and lifting his cup again. His tone was light and airy, and his smile was comfortably warm. “Hey, but it turns out, your ship was much more exciting.”

First real contribution to the blacksun ship, huzzah!

Send me a ship and a number [x] and I’ll see what I can do!

#My writing #blacksun #wudonna #sunbella #sunxblake #blakexsun #any other combination that could translate to this ship wow #rwby #first time posting something of substance on here so hahahaha no im not nervous at allll #worth the nerves to contribute to this ship though i love it so much #and not that is matters but the tea is peppermint tea because peppermint tea is best tea #eclipse #my blurbs #my writing blurbs #my blacksun blurbs #mywritingblurbs #myblurbs #myblacksunblurbs