#x reader writer

necessary reminder that i am imperfect. this is non-exhaustive and i will likely notice more. just things i've seen myself leaning on in my writing that i'm working on editing out of old fics and avoiding in new ones.

blushing from embarrassment

heat -> hot cheeks, hot chest, heat through their whole body

averting eyes or heavy blinking

tightness in throat, feeling choked up

tears stinging eyes

skin crawling

setting jaw

pursing lips

picking at nails/skin on fingers

crossing arms over chest

blushing from arousal

biting lower lip

eyes slowly raking over someone/something

lips parting slightly

straightening up for better access

goosebumps, hair standing on end

pupils dilating

going pale

stomach turning

eyes going glassy and far away

unstable on feet

shaky hands

leaning on something to get balance

white knuckles

frustrated huff/sharp breaths esp through nose

tight grip

rigid posture

tight, controlled voice

notes on hair

you almost never need to describe the hair of a reader character. im serious. you can just cut brushing it out of their face or flinging it around playfully or pulling it into a ponytail. focus on other actions that convey more -- "you prepare for the fight, pulling your hair back shifting your weight from side to side so you feel ready to move" "he brushes away your hair where it hangs in front of your face an eyelash off your cheek, the gesture shockingly intimate for him"

if their hair is important -- such as a haircut being a central plot point -- keep it vague. it's an x reader fic. trust the reader to fill in the details. "a new, short haircut that frames your features" or is better in this context than "a dramatic blunt bob." yes, BIPOC people can relax or straighten or curl their hair or wear wigs for any style they damn well please. no, you should not colonize their heads by forcing it on them.

don't have characters dye their hair natural colors -> this inherently implies the character did not already have brown or black hair. i can't really imagine why you'd need to mention dyed hair, but keep it vague or keep it vibrant.

other instances that you simply don't need to include racialized description:

bitten/swollen lips -- you don't need to mention they're red

bruises -- you don't need to mention they're light brown or yellowing, just say aging, fresh, dark

Supergirl x Catwoman! Reader

Notes: Wlw, unlabeled relationship, kissing, set after Supergirl so spoiler free, Reader is a cross between cat woman and robin hood, Reader steals from greedy corporations and rich people to give to the needy people of Gotham, Reader is from Gotham but lives in metropolis, Supergirl might be ooc, there's probably spelling errors I've missed.

"Knew I'd find you on one of these rooftops."

Kara says, landing behind your crouched form with a smile. Her smile faulters a bit when you turn to look at her, god she's missed you, your in your black latex suit and damn you look good in it! Uh... let's not delve into her thoughts right now. Clearing her throat, she lifts her right hand, showing the milkshake in her grasp. "I brought you a milkshake." She said, pursing her lips together when you stand up and put your hands on your hips. "It's more like a peace offering." She joked, barely cracking a smirk.

You, now standing Infront of her, hummed tilting your head at her. "Kara," You purred. "This is a suprise." Your claws slowly reached towards the cup in her hand. "It's strawberry. Your..." She trailed off clearing her throat and looking down. "Your favourite flavour." Kara handed you the milkshake, looking you right in the eye as your hands brushed against one another. You chuckled quietly, and it nearly made Kara's chest burst. "Suprised you remember." You said, putting the straw to your lips and taking a sip, which you clearly enjoyed.

Kara snorted, shaking her head. "Cheap shot." She drawled, watching you like a hawk, she looked like she'd melt your face off! You just shrugged pulling the cup away from your face. "It has been six months." You said, stating the obvious. "Yeah..." Kara chuckled, rocking back and forth on the soles of her feet. You hummed, turning around and walking over to your original spot as you picked up a duffle bag, slinging it over your shoulder. You clearly just finished a heist and the contents of that bag were definitely your prizes for getting out without any repercussions. "That from luthor corp or some other rich bitch?" She asked. "The first one." You answered truthfully, taking another sip of your milkshake, before unzipping your duffle bag and putting Kara's apologey drink in it, but making sure it didn't fall over and spoil the goods.

Silence fell between you two as Kara nodded with a little 'hah' before looking back at the ground, you stared at Kara before sighing, she looked so conflicted guilty even. "Why are you here, Kara?" You asked, breaking the ice. She paused for a blink or you'll miss it moment, then opened her mouth. "It's a long story. But I went through some... events, events that revealed quite a lot to me." She explained, taking a stride towards you. "And it made me realise that," She trailed off with a sigh. "That I couldn't stop thinking about you. That I needed you. That–" Before Kara could even finish her sentence you pulled her into an embrace before you gently placed your lips on hers.

Kara felt like she was on cloud nine. Like she finally learned to breathe properly, and you were her oxygen. When you pulled back you had a soft smile on your face while Kara looked like she was just crowned queen of England. Her hands slowly made their way to your face as she murmured a soft "fuck." You chuckled before your facial expression changed. "Kara." You said, your hands around her wrists. "We need to properly talk about this. About us." Kara nodded slowly. "I know. But," She hummed, pressing her lips together "Can we do that later? I just wanna be with you." You nodded with a chuckle, pulling away from her grasp much to Kara's dismay.

"Let's go to my place." You said and Kara eagerly nodded, Krypto would be fine on his own for a little longer. "Lead the way." She said, holding your hand as you started to walk.

wife. god he loves using that word. he's giving your order at Starbucks? my wife wants the usual, making reservations? yeah, my wife and i... at press conferences when they asked him a question, he always happen to mention his beautiful, gorgeous, amazing 'n smart wife.

he gave zero fucks about the context too—his latest victory, plans for the future, or questions about his fav food?— katsuki never misses an opportunity to mention you. so much so that the reporters started to bet on how quickly he'd bring you up...

today was no exception. he leaned against the podium, the scowl on his face doing little to hide how much he didn't want to be there as cameras flashed in his face and reporters shouted over each other for his attention. until he pointed at one, to hear what their goddamned question is.

"dynamite, what are your thoughts on the new collaboration between, heroes and the local government officials?" he held out his voice recorder.

the crowd went mute, cocking their ears for his response, waiting... his crimson eyes filtered the room, flickering between everyone before they landed on you —in the far corner of the back of the room— smiling proudly, gesturing for him to answer the question.

"anythin' that keeps people safe 's a good thing." he starts, "my wife's always said that we needed to team up more, 'n she's smarter than you lot put together, so..." and shruggs, like its most obvious... you facepalm at his need to bring their ego down.

the reporters scribbled away in their notebooks and laptops, mumbling between themselves, some even giggling here and there, before he pointed to someone else.

"bakugo-san, what's your opinion on the rising popularity of the hero support courses in schools?" she asked, holding back a snicker, as she purposely asks a question where it'd be near impossible for him to mention you. or so she thought...

"support 's what keeps most of us heroes out there alive." he says, matter of factly, pointing to his gauntlets on the side of the podium, "my wife'd drill a hole in my head if i didn't give 'em credit. 'every cog in the machine matters' 'n whatever the hell else." he huffs, and your face heats up a bit, seeing him standing tall and proud up there, while he quoted your words.

the murmurs grew louder, as they placed their bets once again... someone raised their hand and stood to ask their question. "mr. dynamight, do you have any plans to expand your work internationally?" he adjusts his glasses, looking down to his clipboard, waiting for your husband's response.

he rolls his eyes, "yeah, eventually. what else would you expect when yer as good as me?" wait for it... "plus, my wife's been on my ass 'bout goin' to europe. says she wants to see paris too, 'n 'm not about tell her no." the crowd laughs, more amongst themselves than what the hero was saying. he could care less about what ever the fuck they were mumbling about and walked off the stage.

he's had enough. he answered a few of their questions like you'd asked and now he wanted his wife, so he stomped his way over to you, "did you have to insult them at the end of the first question?" you laugh, patting at his toned chest.

"insult 'em? i answered their question..." he pulled you in as you giggled, kissing you while he rubbed your waist. every camera zoomed in on you both and he reveled in the flashing lights, smirking into your lips as he dragged the kiss on and lifted your hand where the ring he put there shined. he wife'd you up why would he not show you off?

come break down these walls!!

 does the title have any relevance to the fic? maybe not! thank you anon for this request!

pairing: gojo satoru x reader

summary: jumping into a relationship after a breakup isn’t always the smartest, but it isn’t especially with satoru gojo. but who cares what’s smart and what isn’t?

cw: afab!reader, no sorcery!au, fratjo mention, no use of y/n!, suggestiveness,ooc, angstish but a happy ending

word count: 2.3k

want more? m.list

~Jolly Sailor Bold²~

-Pirate Miguel O'Hara x Fem Mermaid Reader

-Synopsis: After a month or so of your initial meeting with Miguel. He's been spending his free time studying the ways of merfolk and uncovered a dark secret. A secret you've been warned about before, advised to stay away and not give in to you curiosity despite your longing for something more than life in the sea.

-Word Count: 2,502

-C/W: Enchantment, pining for a mythical creature, reunion, usage of Spanish, longing, hints at depression and isolation, talk of dark magic, angst, depictions of blood bonds and ritualistic magic, mentions of blood, depictions of violent transformation, depictions of souls bonds, vulnerability, trust between human and mythical creature, affirmations. No use of Y/N

-T/W: Depictions of Dark/Ritualistic magic, mentions of Blood, depictions of violent transformation.

-Part 1

-A/N: Hey, so I had this idea for a while and I finally got it written down, a little darker for what I was originally planning but I like me a romantasy with some dark themes. Didn't know if I was actually gonna make a part 2, but here we are lol. I'd like to make a part 3 and progress the story some. But we'll see. @lazyjellyfish300 and @miguelandjayce4ever this is for you guys. Know you've been waiting awhile, Enjoy my dears 🫶🏻💖

•Credit for the artwork goes to the lovely @shuploc

A full moon cycle or moon since you and Miguel met that night on the beach. Days and nights passed like a blur on the ship. But you were never far from his thoughts as the days passed. He found himself seeing your face in the most unassuming places. 

In the clouds that formed before the storm. 

In the early morning wisps of sea mist. 

In the swirling tide pools of the harbors they docked in. 

He was completely, utterly, and hopelessly smitten. 

Enchanted.

Every moment of free time he had he was desperately hoping to see you once again or reading up on whatever lore he could get his hands on. Raiding libraries or shops for manuscripts, storybooks and whatever writings he could find during their short stays in ports of their shipment routes. Hiding away in his quarters after a day's work and learning every bit of information he could with the hope of understanding you better the next time your paths crossed. 

Which he seemed to be getting a bit desperate for as the days and nights dragged on without so much as a hint of your presence. 

Searching from the bowsprit or the stern, scanning over each horizon for the familiar, gentle eyes or shimmering scales to emerge from the deep blue depths. 

Every night he searched, only to be met with silence and darkness.

And with the silence, the longing seemed to intensify, like a pit being dug deeper and deeper in his soul. 

That was, until the night of the new moon when they arrived back in that same harbor where you two met. 

That somber, oceanside village. 

Another shipment was delivered, another night of their celebration at some local tavern, his crew members forgetting their worries and cares like clockwork. That was the routine, and that would continue to be the routine.

But not for him. 

Not tonight. 

Instead he found himself sat on the worn, almost splintered wood of the pier under a lamp post. Back hunched over a manuscript and his legs crossed, engrossed in the weathered text as the low light of the oil lamp illuminated his concentrated features. Taking in ancient rituals and forbidden magic of merfolk. 

Writings of a graphic transformation, an almost forgotten Latin tongue, and a blood bond that was almost impossible to break.

Upon reading the text, he felt his stomach lurch in discomfort before he saw you peak your head up just past the edge of the pier. 

He knew those eyes anywhere. 

The ones he was hoping so desperately to see again. 

His heart betrayed his stoic features, jolting slightly as he stood from his spot at the lamp post. His manuscript fell out of his lap, the disturbing text quickly forgotten, wanting nothing but to be close to you again. 

He knelt down on the edge of the pier, a softened expression on his face, a hint of a smile even. 

“It's you, sirenita.”

A simple statement, the nickname rolling off his tongue so naturally as if that was the way it was supposed to be. But the weight behind it was very apparent. Not shy or hesitant like before. 

It was more comfortable, a sign of letting you know he was happy to see you again. 

You smiled brightly back up at him, crossing your arms against the pier, resting your chin on your elbow in a relaxed state.

Allowing yourself to trust him just a little.

“Of course it's me. I was hoping you'd come back again. Although I'm surprised you didn't make your way to the bluffs like the last time.”

A gentle huff escaped his nose. 

“Makes it difficult when there's no moon to light the way.”

You giggled at his rebuttal.

“Well, I suppose you're right. But it's good to see you again all the same, Miguel.”

“Same to you, mi amiga.”

‘My Friend’.

He whispered, as if whispering a secret before he let a full smile spread across his face. Adjusting his position on the pier so his legs dangled off the edge and one of his hands rested dangerously close to your own. The soles of his feet skimming the inky black water, your tail hidden beneath the surface.

The low flames of the oil lamp reflected off the freckle like scales on your cheeks. Casting a dreamy haze in your eyes as Miguel took in the vision that was entirely you. 

Breathtaking even in the darkness. 

He wasted no time catching up with you. Sharing what new adventures he had been on, his pursuits of learning about merfolk, and what he had learned so far before inviting you to share as well. 

Not that much ever changed for you, it was a quiet, simple life. Watching ships come and go, the townsfolk go about their lives, and envy the freedom they had. Of the kinship between them. Of the love they shared amongst themselves. 

All the while you were chained to a life below the surface. 

You weren't unhappy per se. 

You just wanted a little more. 

To be a part of something meaningful.

To be loved even. 

As you vented your troubles to him, he felt his heart uncharacteristically crack in sympathy for you. Hearing the genuine sadness in your voice, the loneliness you endured, it stirred thoughts in his head of what could never be. 

To whisk you away. 

To give you the life you very clearly wished for.

To show you what it meant to be human. 

But within those thoughts, it reminded him of something he read. Something scribbled on yellowed pages in faded ink from generations ago. 

The manuscript. 

A flicker of hope bubbled in his chest as he stared at you, but it was just for a moment. 

He remembered what the pages entailed. How gruesome the ritual appeared to be on paper, he couldn't even imagine how it would be if it were carried out. He knew he couldn't do that to you, it wouldn't be fair to ask for you to change either. 

But he was curious, he wanted to know from the source that faced him on that pier. 

He wanted to know the truth. 

“... Forgive me if what I'm about to ask is inappropriate, but I'm curious.”

He started hesitantly.

“Not long ago I found an old manuscript, no dates, no names. Just…instructions. A ritual that is said to turn merfolk into humans. Is that something that can be done? ¿Es verdad?”

The silence of the night consumed you both as he uttered what the text contained alongside his curious inquiry of you. The air thickened into an uncomfortable atmosphere. He knew the moment your eyes lost their soft edge that you heard of this ritual before. An expression of unease replaced the previous one of comfortability as you broke the silence. 

“There's a legend that long ago, long before you or I, there was an elder siren and a fisherman who fell deeply in love with one another. She was infatuated with him, and with human lives in general. So much so that she was willing to give up her life in the sea to be with him.”

You paused, unsure if you should even be speaking.

“Somehow, some way, using the power of the moon and the tides, she was able to shed her tail she was born with. To turn herself into a human.”

You paused, setting a slightly dramatic tone. 

“It's said she lived out the rest of her days with that man. That she never returned to the sea. But the elders speak of it as a tale of warning, saying the magic she used is best left alone.”

But even as the words fell from your tongue, you didn't heed them. If anything, the idea of such magic existing had you buzzing in the dark, salty water. 

The ability to leave your isolated life in the sea.

To have the human experience.

You always assumed the story was a wives tale. A lesson for merfolk to stay away from humans. To resist the temptation of what was considered “forbidden” knowledge.

That temptation was winning. 

Miguel, eyes wide with intrigue as well as concern for your shared infatuation as the elder siren in the story she spun, leaned in. 

“You say it's a tale of warning, but you don't seem wary, pequeña. If anything, you seem enthralled at the idea of such magic truly existing.”

You chuckled bashfully. 

“Am I that easy to read?”

“I'm afraid so.”

He could see the gleam in your eyes despite the darkness that swallowed you both.

The thirst for knowledge.

It created an unsettling sensation in the pit of his gut. 

“It's unlike any ritual I've come across,”

A hint of hesitation in his tone once again as he looked away from you to the dark depths of the skyline. Watching where the stars met the sea. 

“You were right about that usage of the moon and the tides, but…it's so much more than that. So much darker.”

“...Please, tell me.”

You quietly coaxed, placing your webbed hand over his. The contact of the wet, cold skin sent a jolt straight to his chest. His brownish crimson eyes met your own with a clear sense of caution at your persistence.

“Mi amiga, I understand your curiosity, I do. But this, this ritual. It's…violent. Tan muy violenta. There's a reason the elders advised that you leave it alone.”

A bitter frustration crept in your chest.

“How can I believe it's as bad as you say if you won't tell? If you explain it, perhaps I can better understand.”

You persisted.

And he caved with a defeated sigh. 

"It's a blood bond, mi sirenita.”

He paused, letting the statement settle in the thin air between you.

“It's a blood bond that takes place on a full blue moon when the tide is low and there's a pool big enough for the mermaid to settle herself in. The mermaid exchanges a vial of thirteen scales and thirteen drops of blood from her hand. The man must exchange the same amount of his blood and a lock of hair to her in return. A symbol of each other's...devotion.”

He saw the curiosity on your face twist and morph into one of fear and disgust as he painted you a mental picture.

But he wasn't even close to the worst part.

“When the moon reaches its peak, they intertwine the hands that have been sliced open. Allowing their blood to combine while the man recites an incantation that bonds the mermaid to him. Allowing himself to give up a part of his human attributes to her in exchange for her soul… to be tied to one another. To become one.”

A moment of silence, the air thicker than oil before he described the finisher. 

“When the incantation is finished and the hands pull away. With the lunar magic and the combined blood spilled in the tide pool. The mermaid begins an agonizing transformation. She sheds her scales first, then her bones begin to shift under her skin. The one tail splits in two, the skin ripping, tearing, and then bones reshaping into human legs. When all is done, the mermaid is left bloodied and incapacitated for days, even weeks after the ritual is finished. Her soul belongs to the man, she cannot return to the sea unless they perform the ritual again. And as you know, there's a reason it's called a blue moon.”

There were no more words to be said after that. 

Only the suffocating silence of the truth. 

You didn't realize it was that intense.

That it was that…gruesome. 

And the worst part of it all, even after hearing how awful of an experience it would be. 

You still wanted to go through with it. 

You were willing to put yourself through hell, to experience the agony of the transformation, and to bind yourself to him as long as it meant you could leave the sea.

“I-”

You stuttered before finding your footing as you placed your palms down on the edge of the pier.

Locking eyes will him.

“I'd still go through with it.”

A quiet admission, but a firm one all the same.

Miguel just shook his head in disbelief.

“Don't be foolish. You'd really go through that kind of pain, that agony, give up your very soul to a man just to be human?”

His eyes searched your own, seeing a flicker of the gleam in them from before.

“If you were the man I'd give it to, I'd do it in a heartbeat.”

He wasn't ready for that.

Not at all.

As the words registered in his mind, he felt the flush creep up his face. His serious expression wiped right off his face from how blunt you were.

It wasn't fair.

Here you were, the creature that had been haunting his thoughts since the day he met you. Wanting nothing more than to be with you in every sense of the word.

You were willing to give that to him.

To bind your soul to his without hesitation.

Foolishness, he thought.

“You shouldn't say things like that, sirenita. Not when you don't mean them.”

Trying to convince himself you didn't mean it. That you were acting brazenly.

He knew you weren't.

“I do mean it. I meant it with every atom of my being. Can you even fathom how long I've dreamed of being able to leave the sea? How I've longed for something more than the isolation of the deep? To have connections with people? To dance with someone I love? Can you comprehend how much I want to actually live and not just exist?”

Your voice cracked with emotion and your eyes shimmered with unshed tears. It made Miguel's heart wrench down at the sight. His large, calloused hand found yours. Trying to loosen your vice like grip from the edge as he leaned in closer, close enough that his forehead brushed against yours.

“I know, mi amiga. I know, and I'm sorry you've lived with those sorrows for so long. But I don't want you to jump into something that you'll later regret. If this is really what you want, just know it's not all love and joy. There will be moments of pain, moments of sadness, and moments where it feels like it's all too much.”

His hand moving from yours to your face, tilting your jaw so you were looking at him. Looking for any hesitation, any kind of sign that you weren't sure of what you were asking for.

But he didn't find any at all.

This was what you wanted.

“But why me?”

“Because I trust you.”

Vulnerability laced in your answer.

“No te dejaré. Lo prometo, mi amiga.”

'I won't leave you. I promise, my friend.'

You allowed a few tears to fall down your scaly cheeks and a smile to spread on your lips.

“You really promise?”

You whispered.

alastor x wife! reader- theyve been together since they were alive, legit partners in crime they both encouraged eachother to kill and when they reunited in hell after around 8 years they were independent once again UNTIL They got in trouble with Lilith and she took reader to be like her slave until Alastor finished helping Charie with her dream (until he helped prove that demons can be redeemed) so they didnt see each other for another 7 years (his absence)

And all throughout the first season hes like “I miss my wife, Husk. I miss her a lot” (while drunk-) like that one sonic dub meme and starts shaping his shadow creature into reader and talking to it and everyone is like “m yep he’s officially lost it.”

BUT then Sir Pentious is redeemed and Lilith sees and shes like “damn :/“ and send reader to the new hotel via portal and reader just. falls on the ground in front of the big entrance and everyone hears it and they rush out and Alastor is quiet, wide eyed and reader goes smth like “i know- i shouldnt have accepted it in your name but-“ blah blah she rambles on about it and Alastor just goes “Youre as beautiful as the day I los you.” LIKE THAT HEARYBREAKING SCENE FROM HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON 2 ;-; and everyone reacts in their own way

I REALLY NEED THIS BUT I LACK THE ABILITIES TO DO IT HEEELP (love u)

A/N oh bestie,, i got you. I was actually planning on something similar where Alastor was getting drunk at a bar and talking about the love of his life (I'm still gonna write that one too but I really like this prompt!!) You guys really come up with the best requests, please keep sending them in.

Fuel and the Fire (Alastor x Wife!Partner-in-Crime!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: ANGST also bad words (idk why i wrote the warnings like this). Also Angel Dust is in this one and I love him but he is a warning on his own.

Word Count: 2,392

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Alastor and Y/n, partners in crime, the fuel and the fire. On a first glance, it would be assumed she was his fuel, the coal and dry leaves he fed himself by. Once anyone got to know them -- and god, what trouble a person was in if they got to know them -- they quickly realized it was the other way around.

Hand in hand from day one, from childhood. Running from the cops, washing the blood off one another's faces. In the living world and life after death, nothing could tear them apart. He was the soil she planted herself in, he was her rock and Y/n? Well she was Alastor's everything. He'd do anything at all for her, all she had to do was ask.

For a decade, they terrified the living world. They were the reason to double check the lock on the door before bed, they were the ominous shadow at the corner. When cold death wrapped them in his reckless grasp, they turned their terror on Hell.

The pair made a name for themselves quickly, filling up the airwaves and making waves in the underworld. For generations, they reigned supreme. For generations, they knew no fear. Then one day, they simply disappeared.

When Alastor reappeared on the streets seven years later without his shadow, the town was alight with gossip. No one knew where he had been, where she still was, or why he had returned but Alastor quickly rebuilt his operation, setting up shop at Lucifer's daughter's Hazbin Hotel along with several of the souls he owned.

The hotel's other residents and workers were distrustful of the man, to say the least. He was shifty, wore a constant smile, and rumors circled around him like birds of prey. That was until about three months into his stay, at least.

Angel hadn't meant to eavesdrop. He'd been coming down to the bar for a drink and a rant of his own when he'd heard the familiar, crackling voice of the Hotel's host.

"I just... I miss her so much, Husk."

He sounded sad, utterly dejected. Angel crouched down on the staircase, hiding his slim body behind one of the ornate posts supporting the railing.

"You keep saying that but do nothing to go find her. She disappeared the same time as you, you know." came Husk's gruff reply.

"I know she did."

"You keep saying that, acting like you know something. Admit it: you don't know shit, Alastor."

Alastor's radio waves faltered, squeaking slightly. Angel tensed in terror, wondering if he'd been found out. This was clearly a private conversation, and the Radio Demon was testy at the best of times. Right now he seemed positively furious.

"Don't test me, Husk." Alastor said after a moment, breaking the tense silence, "She... we both got roped into something. I am doing my part, she is doing hers."