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inkwolvesandcoffee · 6 hours

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TF141 Meeting Soap’s Little Sister (a.k.a. You)

CoD ML

The task force didn’t know what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t this. They already have to deal with Soap’s husky antics, which can already be too much to handle. Multiply that by two and no one, especially Simon, wants to deal with that.

But they certainly wouldn’t mind the company of the woman in the doorway.

Why on earth didn’t Soap warn them?

For John, it’s the sweater paws. For a second they make him selfishly want to dress you in one of his sweaters.

For Simon, it’s the way you shyly hide behind your brother, a habit you still have at your big age. Normally he loathes shows of fragility, but yours is endearing to him. For the first time in a very long while, it kindles something in him.

For Kyle, it’s your eyes. He simply can’t look away even though he’s aware it makes you uncomfortable.

“Lads, meet my sister, Y/N.” The adoration Soap has for you is plain to see in the gentle smile that plays out on his lips, proud to be your brother and amused you’ve barely changed from your younger days. Why else would you look at him, lowkey terrified of the strangers he’s brought into your home. “It’s awright, hen. They’re good men, even the big bawbag with the skull mask. Go oan an’ introduce yerself.”

Clutching your brother’s sleeve, relieved he’s home and glad for his protection, you introduce yourself. “Hi, I’m Y/N.”

And in that moment, without so much as trying, you have your brother’s unit wrapped around your finger.

So much so that Simon removes his balaclava before he even crosses the threshold. Unbeknownst to you, it’s extremely rare to see the man without his mask and always leads to the unit members exchanging surprised glances.

“What’s this, LT?” your brother asks, badly faking disbelief.

“Proper etiquette. Plus, I can’t eat with the thing on.”

“Oh, so you do eat. I thought ghosts didn’t have ta.”

“Johnny…”

“Just messing with ye, Ghost.”

“Ghost?” you ask.

“It’s my callsign, miss. I- I mean, Y/N.” He keeps his distance, but tries to make himself as small as possible to seem less intimidating. “We ain’t on duty now, so’s just Simon.”

“I see.”

Throughout the night, your brother’s comrades try to win your favour. Kyle offers to help set the table, teaming up with John who beats him to it by lifting the stack of plates in your hands. “Can’t have the lady of the house do everything, can we?”

“But-“

“Please, Y/N, allow me.” His features soften, though there’s a strange glint in his eyes you can’t name. Nevertheless, it sharpens further into sterness as John turns around and starts speaking like you’d imagine he does out in the field. “Gaz, get over here. We have to help our hostess out.”

“You… you really don’t…”

“It’s the least we can do,” Kyle reassures you, shown up at your side at the first word of the captain. “We’ll try to do it neatly.”

“Oi, Gaz, stop being cheeky and get moving.”

“Yes, sir.” Kyle sighs. “He makes it sound like we’re on a battlefield. Fortunately, this is less severe, innit?”

“It might be if there aren’t glasses between now and ten seconds,” John mutters, circling around you two to put the last plates down and move on to cutlery.

“Ever the perfectionist. Where do you keep them?” Kyle asks.

You point at a cupboard. “Right there.”

“Okay. Y/N, we’ll do a proper job. Promise.” And with that, he’s off to help set the table.

While cooking, you observe Simon dawdling around the kitchen. Or, rather, as you discover when you lift your head to check what’s going on, he’s forced to thanks to Johnny.

“Och, just offer yer help. Ah dinnae ken, chop some veggies. Also, she’s into video games- Y/N!” Johnny slaps Simon on the shoulder, feigning ignorance. “Can this wee bawbag help ye with anything?”

“Stop calling me that,” Simon grumbles through gritted teeth.

“Do you cook?”

“He-“ Soap opens his mouth to answer for his friend yet finds himself cut short.

“Haud yer wheest, John. I was nae asking you, I was asking Simon.” Holding out your spatula as a threat to your brother, you turn to the gentle giant.

Simon looks at you through his lashes, but quickly averts his gaze when your eyes meet. “I dabble. Try to put proper grub on the table sometimes.”

“Help me do the same?”

“Uh… sure.”

“Lovely!”

“Have fun, LT.” Johnny offers you both a cheeky grin, then turns on his heel to return to the others.

And so Simon finds himself cooking alongside you. Truth be told, you partially did it to save him from his brothers in arms. Regardless of how well he knows them and the amount of time he’s spent with them, their extroverted personalities still wear him out. His silence is telling, different from the intimidating version he dropped the moment you opened the door. You’ve seen how his eyes glaze over, occupied with dreams you can only guess at. Occasionally he’ll nod and make a noise to make the others think he’s listening.

Nevertheless, it’s still surprising Simon tries to start a conversation.

A conversation that goes in all sorts of, mostly nerdy, directions. So soon you find yourself listening to elaborate explanations of the lore of various FromSoftware games, a topic Simon passionately enlightens you on.

He stops mid-sentence when you chuckle. “What?”

“You have a nice voice.”

“Oh… uh… thanks.”

“Jesus, Y/N, you’re some kind of miracle worker.” Gaz walks into the kitchen to grab another beer from the fridge. “How’d you get Ghost to talk?”

Simon glowers at his companion, but stands down when you gesture for him to remain calm. “Sometimes you simply need the right person, a genuine heart that listens. Now, boys, let’s eat.”

“Food?” Johnny calls from the couch.

“My days, what are ye? A husky?” you call, only partially truly annoyed.

Dinner is an amiable affair. The men (yes, even Soap) censor themselves, finding it inappropriate to start effin and blindin in your company. All the same, they include you in the conversation however possible and fall silent when they notice you want to chime in. Unbeknownst to you all, Johnny is especially vigilant none of the other men makes an advance towards you. Sure, you’re a grown woman. Nonetheless, to him, you’ll always be the wee bairn he held as a four-year-old boy, the barely grown girl who couldn’t stop crying when he was deployed for the first time.

You’re his little sister, the only girl he’d gift the moon if he could.

That being said, though, should you end up with any member of the unit, he dearly hopes it’s Simon. So it’s actually quite reassuring for him to see you two get along as well as you do.

“Two peas in a pod,” Soap mumbles, the words muffled by beer and the clinking of cutlery.

The lads gesture for you to remain seated while they clear the table and do the dishes.

“‘S alright, Y/N. Leave it to us,” John says when you try to get up from your chair.

“You really don’t-“

“No, no. Please.” The bear-like hand on your shoulder is gentle though strong, persuasive in its conviction for you to remain seated. “A small favour, really, to repay your kindness.”

The table cleared, John and Simon excuse themselves for a quick smoke. In the meanwhile, Johnny and Kyle wash the dishes.

For dessert, you sit the men down with coffee and tea to enjoy with a scone.

Kyle falls a little more for you when you show you’re full of contrasts. Shy on the surface yet so fierce when defying your brother. “I was doing fine, crocheting my time away without puppy antics.”

“I’m nae like a dog.” Your brother stops mid-bite to protest.

“Johnny, yer a bloody husky.”

“Well, at least I’m one that did nae get shot.”

“Oh, haud yer wheesht, like you ever will. Just enjoy yer scone and tea. Wait!” You hasten to the fridge to retrieve a jar of orange marmelade. “Here, have this.”

“Homemade?”

“‘Course. It’s not like I’ve forgotten how you dislike store bought.”

“Thanks, sis.”

“Thank you for coming back in one piece, bro.” You turn to the men, who all sit up, alert. “And thank you for bringing my brother home.”

John has to restrain himself and not give into the urge to plop you in his lap. To make sure he won’t, he tucks his hands between his legs when you brush past him to retake your seat across the table.

Simon is good at hiding his emotions, but definitely wouldn’t mind it if you leaned on him and talked some more about video gaming. He loves the way your whole expression brightens when you do and would like nothing better than for you to be his player number two.

Stories and small talk, with the occasional silence to appreciate being alive and well, fills the kitchen as the arms of the clock creep closer to midnight.

At some point you stifle a yawn. Unfortunately, not before your brother catches you doing so. Johnny looks at the clock then back at you. “Alright, lads, it’s been great. However, despite her stubborn arse refusing to admit it, Y/N’s getting tired. Now being the great big brother I am,” the harsh slap on the upper arm does little to make him pipe down, “I think it’s time I show all of you the door.”

John, Kyle, and Simon get up without so much as a word of protest. After all, it’s bad etiquette to wear your hostess out nor does it help your chances with her.

You expected only a handshake as a farewell. Nevertheless, it’s hard to refuse the open invitation for a hug John gives you. His embrace is warm and gentle, testing out the waters to see what you will and won’t allow. His chest rises and falls with a satisfied sigh when you let him rest his head on top of yours. To be honest, it’s nice and comforting, the way he rubs some heat into your arms. “Goodnight, love. Thank you for the splendid evening.”

Kyle’s hug is more casual, like you’re a dear friend he’ll see again in the short run.

“Can I get a hug from you too?” you ask the man standing by the door, who has his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. For a moment Simon seems about to step forward. Yet, for whatever reason, he remains where he stands.

“I don’t think-“

“Please?”

How can he say no now? His mind short-circuits when you wrap your arms around his waist. His hands hover in the air for a moment before he places them lightly on your shoulders. “Thanks for tonight, Y/N.”

“Had fun?”

“I did.”

“Glad to hear it. Also,” you lean back to look at him, “keep the mask off. You’re not a lieutenant here, not Ghost.”

An amused hum escapes Simon, though later in the car he’d have to keep denying Kyle’s allegations he saw him smile. “Copy.”

“Go oan, I won’t keep you any longer.”

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Simon.”

You watch the men clamber into John’s car. They’re all staying the night at his place before heading off home.

“You like him, don’t ye?”

“Who?”

“Ghost.”

“I don’t know him.” Johnny gives you a quizzical look. “Simon, though, perhaps. He’s a good man.”

“He is.”

The only man who has his blessing to court you.

Who he hopes will truly be family one day.

His future brother-in-law.

#CoD x Reader #Soap McTavish #John Price #Ghost x Reader #Simon Riley x Reader #John McTavish #John Soap McTavish #Kyle Gaz Garrick #Captain John Price #Simon Ghost Riley #CoD MW Ghost #Ghost CoD #CoD Ghost

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crowsgrudge · 2 months

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kayne: what kind of great old one calls himself fucking john

john:

#malevolent #malevolent ep 40 #malevolent spoilers #like damn! leave him be!#kayne really was like stupid ass name...#from the guy calling himself KAYNE i dont wanna hear SHIT #at least john doe has like. meaning behind it #kayne just means little battler like okkk little soldier has daddy looked at u this month 🙄🙄🙄#sorry i love making fun of his daddy issues #NOW THAT ITS CANON HE'S NYARLATHOTEP #hes never gonna hear the end of it #god forbid azatoth is ever introduced guys im so serious #remi rambles

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gloomwitchwrites · 2 months

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What Are We (3 of 4)

John Price x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): light angst, soft!Price, heavy suggestive themes, canon-typical swearing

Word Count: 978

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

Not interested in playing games, Price makes it clear what he wants.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // what are we masterlist

“Are we doing this or no, love?”

You glance up from your morning tea, surprised. “What?”

John crosses his arm and leans against the edge of the counter. He’s only wearing sweatpants, and his bare chest is distracting. He might be older, but John is just as strong as the younger men that work under him. Those large arms of his are all corded muscle and protruding vein. His chest and stomach have a thickness to them that speaks to more than simply going to the gym.

“Us,” he replies. “What are we? What are we doing?” He sounds slightly huffy. Not angry, just impatient. In need of an answer.

You swallow down the burning liquid and nearly grimace from the heat. “I—what do you mean?”

One eyebrow rises, almost in chastisement. Which is fair since you know what John is pushing back about even as you feign innocence. Right now, you don’t want to face the reality. What you and John have is so peaceful that pushing it forward—or back—might disrupt the quiet, shattering it all like smashed glass.

John sighs, and reaches out, placing his large palm over the mouth of your tea mug. His fingers grip it, and you know to let it go, to release your hold. John sets the mug down on the counter next to him.

Spreading his legs, John uncrosses his arms, holding them out in front of him. “Come here,” he murmurs, and the tone is so soft and inviting that you immediately comply, entering his arms like melted butter over toast.

Fuck, he’s warm. A furnace.

You wrap your arms around his middle, and John does the same, tucking you against his body. “We live together,” he says.

“Yes.”

“We sleep in the same bed.”

You nod. “That we do.”

The corner of his mouth twitches with amusement. “I’ve met your bloody parents.”

“What’s your point?” you ask, haughty and stubborn.

Price’s hand drops lower. Squeezes. The power behind it forces you further against him, and you feel everything, especially the hardness that hasn’t appeared to abate since the morning’s quickie.

“My point, is that we need to call this what is it.”

Shit. This is it. You’re going to have to face the reality of this and look it in the face. You and Price are not simply friends. You are not even friends with benefits or a uncomplicated fling. This is real. Truly and utterly real and yet you keep denying what sits in front of you.

You and John are a couple. That is what this is.

He has met your parents. He has met your friends. You know his coworkers—at least the ones he trusts enough to share your existence with. The two of you talk about the future together, never pivoting away from the possibility of separation.

Everything happens together. Everything.

So why keep denying it?

“I’m not looking to play games, love.” John reaches up and slides his hand to the back of your neck, his thumb tracing the line of your throat. “With my career, I need stability when I come home.” He hugs you closer. “I want you as my wife. Little versions of us running around.”

He closes the distance, lightly pressing his lips to yours. With the hold on your throat, John is a bit possessive with it, a little rough in the way he holds you. It’s such a contrast to how his lips caress your skin, tasting softly.

John releases your lips, pulling back just enough to stare into your eyes. “If you don’t want these things, you tell me now.” The husky drop in his voice sends a shiver straight to your core, makes you slick between the thighs.

Returning to your lips, John’s pressure increases, becomes slightly desperate. Slightly choking with his need to get his point across. You need to make a decision. You need to tell John what you want.

Because, you do want him. You crave him every second of every day. But this is a massive step, and John’s life is an unpredictable assortment of missing time and extended absences. The stability John desires is something you are more than willing to give, but you also don’t want to carry that burden all on your own.

“What happens when you’re not here, John?” you ask, once he’s ceased kissing you. “And even when you are, am I to take up the mental load?”

There are times when you will need to give more, or John might have to, but you don’t want to be left to do it all yourself. John’s job is difficult. It can be traumatizing and stressful, but you need to know if he’ll be present when he returns.

You don’t need to elaborate. You don’t need to explain. John already knows. He understands.

“Coming home to you in between is the happiest I’ve ever been. I just want you here. Everything else is negotiable.”

You smile against his mouth. “I thought you said you wanted little versions of us running around?”

John shrugs. “I do. If you don’t, that’s fine.” Both hands fall away from your body to firmly squeeze your ass. “But I will fuck you like we’re trying.”

“John!” you rear back and playfully smack his chest.

He nuzzles your neck and inhales, drawing you right back into him. “We can go try right now.” John lightly presses his pelvis against you and you smile as his desire creates a pressure between your bodies.

“We don’t have anything planned today,” you murmur.

John squeezes harder. “Exactly, love. We have the whole day.”

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glassgulls @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @pearljamislife @wrathofcats @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppixie @bbyfimmie @kittytiddywinks @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @marispunk @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project

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cowboyfromh3ll · 6 months

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you said to do headcannons right?

can you do sex headcannons for the members of the gang? Only ones you're comfortable with obv. Personally, I don't care much for Micah (I want to set him on fire) so feel free to leave him out if you don't feel like writing for him

But the usual Dutch, John, Javier, Arthur, Charles, and anybody else you feel like are just perfect. I love your writing, so I'm excited to see your take on these

Sex HC Ft. Van Der Linde Gang

(Dutch Van Der Linde, John Marston, Javier Escuella, Arthur Morgan, Charles Smith, Lenny Summers, Kieran Duffy, Micah Bell, Sean Macguire, Sadie Adler)

I should write for the girls more

Warnings: Smut, duh

Dutch Van Der Linde

He probably loves roleplaying

Pretending he's the outlaw and you're the officer punishing him

But most times he loves being in control of you, thinks it's so attractive when you submit completely to him and become his pliable little servant

Likes it when you wear expensive jewelry and gifts he buys you with nothing else on

Definitely wants you to call him Sir

Says the most poetic and flowery things to you during

Probably enjoys receiving but LOVES giving head. Views it as another way to take control

Quickies with him are non existent. To him, sex and intimacy are an art, and he will take his time with every little detail and aspect of it

Enjoys playful brattiness, definitely a brat tamer

I can see him being into BDSM. Ball gags, leather crops, leashes, blindfolds, etc

John Marston

Super messy, super rough, super desperate

Pussy eating pro. I'm talking mind blowing, back arching, toe curling, sheet gripping head. ALWAYS asks if he can go down on you

Acts like every time you two have sex will be the last

On the contrary though, I feel like he'd be into edging

Also doesn't mind letting you be dominant, he has such submissive energy

Mayhaps a mommy kink, because I can also see him calling you mommy

Would let you tie him up, totally at your mercy

He loses any semblance of shame, will beg, cry, whimper, you name it

Could consent to just about anything, if you tell him to bark he'll bark

Gets carried away when during sex sometimes, just gets absolutely drunk from pleasure

Javier Escuella

Incredibly romantic and passionate

He can fuck, but he can also make love

So much sexual stamina, and makes every time you have sex absolutely unforgettable

Loves to make sure you are as comfortable as possible and feel as though you have enough privacy. Even if it means paying for a hotel, he'll do anything to ensure your comfort

But if you wanna have risky public sex he's more than willing to as well lmao

Holds you and whispers how much he loves you while he thrusts slowly

But if y'all are fucking he'll say the filthiest shit he can conjur up in his mind while thrusting as hard and fast as he can

Slaps and grips anything he can hold onto

Overwhelms all of your senses and stimulates you in multiple ways at once

Loves cumming inside you but if not inside then on your torso or face

Arthur Morgan

Loves putting his whole weight on you when y'all fuck

Just simply pinning you down with the size of him drives him crazy

Is such a gentleman even during sex. Always stops and asks how you are and if you like how he's doing

Insists you don't have to go down on him but secretly loves it when you do

His favorite positions are ones where you're totally helpless like mating presses or locking your arms behind you

Whenever he fucks you from behind he wraps his massive arm around your neck. Idly squeezes down on your neck

Enjoys sex totally naked, makes it feel more intimate exposing yourselves fully to each other

But he loves it if you wear cute outfits for him just so he can take it off you

But he absolutely loves quickies. Complains they're too risky but every time you suggest one he's unbuckling his belt before you can finish your sentence

Definitely does the knee thing

Charles Smith

He is a pure giver. You will always cum at least 3 times or else he won't feel like he did a thorough job.

Will ignore his own aching cock as long as he can see you squirm in ecstasy

Your pleasure is his pleasure

Doesn't care if he doesn't get to cum tbh

Definitely aware of his size and uses it to his advantage if you're into that

Cages you in his arms, holds you down, puts you in choke holds, etc

I feel like he'd be pretty vanilla and you'd be the one to bring kinks to the table if anything. Will honestly do most anything you want if it brings you pleasure

Soft but firm touches, like every touch is done with intent and thought

Type to make out with you for hours without any actual stimulation and be content. Will see you off with the bluest balls.

Lenny Summers

He's still pretty young so I believe his experience would be limited

You two are probably eachother's first everythings, atleast you're his

Probably cums real fast but makes up for it with enthusiam

Will try out so many things with you, the two of you will both bring ideas to the table

Tries to start things off slow but his excitement gets the best of him

SO MUCH communication and talking during (feedback, jokes, etc...)

Very forward with his needs

Asks for hand/blow jobs a lot to blow off some steam

Very fast learner, and probably very risky

I feel like he'd ask to finger you a lot in risky situations

There's been instances where he just forgets foreplay altogether and just wants to go at it

Kieran Duffy

Submissive as hell

Definitely whimpers

Let's you take the lead 99% of the time

Will cum within five minutes max, and it really takes it out of him

Super sensitive literally everything. Touch him anywhere and he's blushing and squirming

Loves it if you wrap your thighs around his head

That being said, enjoys face sitting

Feels reassured when you tell him what to do and help him in the process

Hands roam all over you, it's like he can't fathom that you're a real being that's actually doing this with him

Eyes roll back and his face goes red when he cums. He's super embarassed about it

Micah Bell

SO rough. Drags you into position and commands you to do certain things

Likes slapping, hair pulling, spitting, I feel like he'd even be into piss. All of the above would go both ways for him.

Hate sex with him goes crazy ong. And after arguments? Just fucking all your anger away

Into degrading for sure

Sex is definitely the best emotional release for the both of you without actually hurting eachother

He's into marks. That entails scratches, bites, bruises

Make him bleed, literally beat the shit out of him during sex and he'll let it slide

Sex is a constant battle for dominance

Probably makes you do embarassing things for him like bark

Also puts you in obscene and embarassing positions just for his own pleasure

If anyone ever heard y'all have sex they'd think it sounds more like an argument and a fist fight than love making

Sean Macguire

The goofiest man during sex, not even intentionally either. He'll say the stupidest thing you've ever heard with his whole chest and you'll have to ask if he's serious

"You ready for the Macguire special?"

Loud ass moans, cannot contain them. If you're into public sex you better either prepare to be caught or mentally prepare yourself for the influx of scoldings/questions that'll come later

LOVES playful brattiness or when you want to take control. He's all for it

Has fantasies of being woken up with head

Will do the same for you in return if that's what it takes to enact his fantasies

Also into roleplay but way cornier shit like you're a nurse and he's a patient. Indulges in costumes as well

Drunk sex is the best because it's combining two of his favorite things

Sadie Adler

Also definitely does the knee thing...

Genuinely one of the sweetest and more passionate lovers, and it will translate during sex

Super gentle and passionate

Lot's of "I love you"s exchanged

Never any space between you, your limbs constantly intertwined as you kiss and move against eachother

Either of you can take the role as dom, it doesn't matter to her

Smiles the whole time out of pure adoration for you

Can be super sultry and kinky when the time calls for it though

Not opposed to being a little rougher but I can't see her going too far with that

Thinks you're far too delicate and special to be treated in such a way

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talkbycolor · 5 months

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john doe game headcanons . . . ↷

A/N; i'm actually really sensitive about john doe JHSAJHSAJAS

Pairing; "John Doe" x GN!Reader

CW; Just doe being the weirdo we love / PISSPISSPISS / implied cannibalism? not so much tho / ew stinky gay / sex with a hairball

john doe as a partner.

His love for you is pure, but the lack of understanding in humans makes it complicated, he doesn't know how to express it in a "correct" way.

He has little interest in humans but all his interest in You, do you want to learn to play an instrument? Doe too, he would learn to use a phone to call you although it would be useless since in the end he would follow you to work, he can't stand having you away for even a second!

He tried to eat you (unfortunately not in a sexual way), he wanted to bite, pull your teeth, and tear them out of your cheeks to eat them, you had to use a lot of patience to explain to him that this was painful and you could die

He likes your fluids, your sweat smells so good, it tastes great, your tears, he knows that tears mean something is wrong but he can't help but want to lick them, at least he's like a puppy in that way and that will make you laugh, Doe wants to help! your urine, he will drink it all without a problem, if you are both having a loving session in bed and you want to go to the bathroom, forget it, he will open your legs and help empty your bladder, he loved being your personal toilet, your blood is the sweetest of his paradise, be careful with accidental cuts or his mouth will stick like a leech to your wound

Ideas for romantic activities will probably come from television, be careful what he watches

At this point, Doe lives by and for you, he will adapt to your lifestyle and tastes, although he cannot understand most of them, the idea of "breaking up" does not exist in his head, you can walk away, even stop talking to him and he will continue behind you

But he has feelings, why don't you talk to him anymore? Did he do something wrong? He no longer leaves rats in the kitchen, he no longer tries to make You dinners with raw meat, is that the way he looks? Tell him your standards! Doe will change everything for you, even reality

He can definitely purr, he's more like an old, ugly, stray cat that will rest on your lap, but he's YOUR, old, ugly, stray cat.

He doesn't know how to give compliments, it's more like observations or comments about how you make him feel "You're wearing a big hat!" "A red dress!", "I'm so happy to see you!" but it's adorable that he reminds you that you are his whole life…somehow

It's like having a child at home, in the strangest way possible, he will try to make horrible crafts for you and help with housework without much success.

If you demand sex, Doe would probably do his best to make a nice cock, just for you, or a pussy depending on what you like, he will be submissive but if you ask him to take control he will try

And that will probably be the messiest and hardest sex you've ever had in your life, Doe always adores you like it's your last day on earth so in a sexual sphere it would be ten times worse

If you put on a movie at night, he will fall asleep halfway through, no exceptions, the sound of the television and your smell will be enough

Doe would definitely kill for you, he doesn't understand jokes so please don't say "Ugh I hate that guy, I hope he's dead" because yes, the guy will be dead.

In case You doesn't like the smelly boy, Doe will try to take showers regularly, at least to not smell like something out of the sewer, the pain doesn't matter if it's about you

Loves physical contact and quality time

Surprisingly, Doe has a driver's license, he would be your personal chauffeur, you may think it's an adorable gesture but he just wants to be sure where you are at every hour of the day… and help, of course.

Aside from adoring you, Doe actually has his own tastes and hobbies, he HAS feelings! He has tried knitting since the technology is very confusing, he really is like an old man

He tries to have a good relationship with your friends and family, if you have a big family he will probably feel overwhelmed but that doesn't mean he will stop trying to show that he loves you and wants to be with you.

Your younger nephews love it, they think of Doe as a weird-looking uncle who lets them play with his hair

Doe shirt always has hearts when he looks at You.

♡

#nb reader #lgbtq community #lgbtqia #john doe #john doe game #john doe x reader #john doe x you #headcanons #writers on tumblr #john doe game headcanons #john doe visual novel #yandere visual novel #yandere x reader #yandere #smut #gn reader

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krypticcafe · 1 year

Text

When you call them "babygirl" (COD:MWII)

rating: mature

characters: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Captain John Price, John "Soap" McTavish, Simon "Ghost" Riley, König, Gary "Roach" Sanderson, Hound

warning(s): language, a smidge of suggestivness

a/n: calling them bbygirls>>>>>calling them fictional crushes. also, my personal Roach hc is that he's a selective mute that took up ASL to communicate.

EDIT: there's now a reversal! What if you were called babygirl 👀

Gaz

His eyebrows raise almost impossibly high

"Did I hear that right or did you just..."

He's not upset, just... surprised.

Pleasantly surprised.

He doesn't mind it but man... it might've sparked something inside him. Might've.

You've given him nicknames before, both teasing and affectionate, but he never expected to be called that before. It's a new feeling.

You don't use it too much with him, but when you do, it gets the cutest laugh out of him. Gets him acting like he doesn't like it, but you know he absolutely does.

If you catch him off guard, he'll tilt his cap down and try to stifle a laugh to distract himself from how warm his face feels.

"Fuckin' hell, the things you do to me..."

You cheekily grin in response and give him those adoring eyes because you know that he knows you do it because you love him just that much to torment him :]

Now you only use it to amuse and tease him just to hear that golden laughter. You don't think you'll ever get tired of it.

Price

First time you said it, he nearly choked on his cigar.

"Sorry, what did you just say?"

He doesn't mean to be rude, it's just that you caught him so off guard. Give the poor man a break.

You repeat it to him and he chuckles, a little awkwardly because him? Babygirl? He can't see it, at least he doesn't see if he even has the qualities for such a title.

But oh, do you disagree. In fact, you start using it more, regardless of what he thinks.

If it's in front of the other task force members, it usually gets him to stop in his tracks and let out a knowing groan, shaking his head and trying to get the team to focus back on whatever they were doing before.

Which is extremely hard with how Gaz and Soap are trying to fight back their giggles.

When you're alone, he sighs but leans into your touch a little more.

He's actually amused by it and has even tried to give you something equally cheesy or teasing just to bite back at you.

It works.

He knows he's egging you on to use it more but truthfully?

He can't bring himself to get actually upset over it.

Soap

You decided to test his reaction on a whim one night at a visit to the pub after a successful mission, walking up behind him and greeting him.

You've never seen his head whip around so fast, and you wonder how he didn't snap his neck.

Oh and there it is.

The classic McTavish SmirkTM.

He's grinning so wide, leaning into your side and wrapping your arm around his waist.

"Would'ya mind repeatin' that, love?"

You're starting to regret this, seeing as he's enjoying it a little too much.

Then again... it could make this night a little more rewarding.

After that, he practically pushes you to use it more, says something about getting butterflies or how it "rolls off your tongue so well"

Either way, you don't mind it, seeing how it makes him happy and how he seems more obliged to listen to you.

And every time you do, he's always got that adoring glint in his eyes and an excited grin on his lips because fuck yeah,

He is your babygirl.

Ghost

He freezes so badly, the only movement being his shallow breathing.

To be honest, you were a b i t nervous to try, but you figured there was no harm in it with how far your relationship was.

But now you're starting to regret even trying, wondering if you've crossed a line or-

"Say it again."

Ohfuckohfuckohfuck-

You do as he says, and it gets a dry laugh out of him. He shakes his head and brings a hand to his forehead, mumbling about how stupid it is.

Except you don't miss that softened look in his eyes, the one weakness of his mask.

So you start rolling it out slowly and steadily, mostly in private because god knows he would strangle you for using it in public.

Much to his dismay, the 141 still overhears it thanks to you "teasing" him with it as a "joke".

Regardless, you don't mind limiting it to being used in private because you're the only one that knows and uses the fact that the Simon "Ghost" Riley secretly loves being called your babygirl.

Specifically in a soft or smooth way that gets him to just fucking melt on the spot. Even a simple, "How's my babygirl doing today?" in passing gets him all worked up at the idea of him being yours and yours only. It's even worse when you use it in bed.

So use it wisely!

König

He's looking around as if you're talking to someone else. Poor thing's all confused.

When he finally figures it out that it's him you're talking about, ohhh the way you wish you could take a peek under that hood.

The man's got his face buried in his hands, gripping and pulling the hood down on his face as if any inch of skin would further reveal how flustered he got.

Though you can already imagine it for yourself, his face burning brightly with his lips pressed tightly, causing all his stammering and sputtering.

Even worse, because of that, you add it to the list of various nicknames you have for him.

What you didn't expect is for him to adjust so well to it. At some point, he just sheepishly laughs and smiles whenever you use it, and of course, he's still a little shy about it,

But he starts leaning into it more, responding to it like he would any other name. Loves it like any other nickname when he just buries his face in your shoulder and cuddles you while you whisper reassurances to him.

Just be careful using it around the others, he'll implode if they find out.

Roach

What surprises you is how quickly he accepts it.

You had called out for him, and he just turned and responded with a signed "Yes?"

It kinda caught the both of you off guard.

He snickers and signs again, "Would you want me to call you something similar?"

You know where this is going, and before you can do anything, he starts calling you "hot stuff".

So now the two of you keep coming up with a bunch of corny, cheesy nicknames to sign to each other, some of which don't even make sense.

It's until that you call him it again he's like Soap in that he goes, "You know what? Yeah, I am your babygirl!"

Now he wears the name loud and proud. Almost too proudly. Pretty much the whole base knows it by now.

He got a goddamn name patch of it.

Occasionally, you'll get other 141 members commenting, "Looking for your babygirl?" or "Surprising that you don't have your babygirl with you today." with emphasis on the nickname.

So basically, what was supposed to be you teasing him was now him teasing you.

Hound

They first overheard you using it when you were conversing with some other force members, mostly talking about Hound and you. To many, it was a strangely unlikely relationship come true. He didn't think too much about it. You probably fumbled with your words.

Then he overheard it a second time. Then, a third. Then it came to a point where they just figured that it was now another term of endearment for them.

In all honesty, he's confused why you specifically like using that of all names, he simply can't see how such a cute, loving name could fit someone like him

You explain to them how it's kind of your way of showing them as yours, that they're your baby, and to you, they're one of the sweetest things to exist.

He melts at that.

So now when he hears it from you close or from afar, his head perks up, and he'll give a quick glance in your direction.

Sometimes, you use that fact just to get his attention, and he knows that, but he never minds when he gets to see you grinning so brightly.

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ohbo-ohno · 8 months

Note

Johnny being allowed to fuck but not cum all week because he pissed simon off, he tries bargaining with reader at one point to just - ease the cockring off , simon won't notice it'll be fine. Reader doesn't even have a chance to consider it before Johnny ripped out of her and is muzzled because bad dogs need to keep quiet

hm. you shot me dead with this one. like. what am i supposed to do with myself now?

1.4k of smut below the cut. cw: rough puppy play, itty bitty tiny second of cbt, edging/denial, simon is real real mean to johnny

something about johnny being in trouble and not being allowed to cum in you but trying anyway.... oh he's horrible

maybe this is after he was a little too rough with you (like that ask where he fucked up your wrist, or something similar) and he's in deep shit with simon. not only is he allowed to fuck you, simon makes him fuck you at least once a day. lines up behind johnny and moves his hips for him, doesn't even let him thrust on his own, guides every tiny little twitch. tugs him out right at the last second, makes johnny watch as he comes inside you. spends the whole time calling him bad, says if he could just learn to fucking listen for once he could mount you properly

johnny spends the whole week in misery. guy can barely sit down, he just wants to hump fucking everything. simon tells him he can't sit on the furniture when he's so drippy :( makes him sit on the floor instead - or he can let you clean johnny up, but no coming. does he want to be edged again or kneel between his legs like the mutt he is?

jacks him off in the shower in the morning, stopping right before he comes. leaves him crying and makes johnny wash his hair. has you cockwarm him for a bit, to make sure he stays completely hard. makes johnny eat you out til you're nearly knocked out, jacks him off slowly and stops every time you come.

he's nearly done with his punishment when he fucking breaks. it's a night simon isn't meant to be home until after midnight. you'd gone to bed earlier than johnny, wake up to him at you back, nose nudging your cheekbone and hard cock thrusting against your back.

"just gonna- just gonna fuck you, bonnie, 'k?"

"johnny?" you murmur, still half asleep. "but... simon said-"

"simon isn't fucking here," he snarls back, and you feel his bared teeth press against his shoulder. "he won't know. i'll be quick, ok, lass? just gotta... gotta cum, then you go back to sleep, yeah?"

"johnny," you'd whine again, getting a little squirmy in your spot as you feel his hands work at his own dick, then feel him start to slide in without any prep. "john- ow..."

"hush," he breathes heavily in your ear, hips already starting to work. you can feel how quickly his heart beats against you back. "i'll eat you out after, just let me... just..."

he doesn't speak after that, and neither do you. he's fast, needy, you can tell he's only gonna last a few minutes. you're still half-asleep, lost in the comforting warmth of your blankets and pillows, can't do anything but lay limp like a doll for him and relish in the pleasure.

you don't hear simon come in. one minute johnny is thrusting away inside of you, the next he's being ripped off, a sharp yelp coming from his lips followed by a long drawn out whine.

"bad fucking boy," you hear simon snarl over your shoulder, the sound of a slap echoing through the air. "you that fucking lost in your instincts, dog? can't think with nothin' but your dick - you see a pussy and fuck it, that's it huh? can't even listen to a simple command from your master. useless mutt."

you turn your head to the side, sleep clearing from your head at the sight of johnny crumpled to his knees, simon tall and proud above him. you can see the shine of tears on johnny's cheeks with the little light from the doorway.

"simon- simon-"

"no," simon's tone is merciless, his boot coming to rest on johnny's rock-hard dick and pushing down. "that's not what bad boys get to call me."

another whine, a plaintive "master..."

you see johnny's hips work a little, tiny thrusts against the sole of the boot. simon's scowl grows, backhanding johnny with bruising force and sending him sprawling to the floor. "why are you speaking? dogs don't fucking talk."

he stares down at johnny for another moment, both of them taking great heaving breaths. finally, he sighs loud and angry. "fine. i was going easy on you, mutt, was tryin' to be nice. but clearly you don't deserve nice."

he stalks over to their closet, yanking open a drawer you know holds the mean toys - the ones you don't like nearly as much as the others. he grabs something silver and shiny, storm back over to johnny and hauls him up by the hair.

johnny scrambles to follow, but simon doesn't give him a chance to stand. just drags his weight to the bed, throws him onto his back nearly on top of your legs.

you squeak a little, simon's aggressive energy something you're not entirely comfortable being so close to. you curl your legs up, folding into a little ball against the pillows as you stare at the two of them with wide eyes.

simon glances over to you at the sound, eyes softening behind his mask immediately. "oh, love, you're not in trouble. you couldn't stop the mutt from fucking you, huh? don't worry. we'll get him punished and i'll take care of you."

johnny whines again and starts wiggling around, eyes squeezed shut as his hips desperately thrust, looking for any sort of sensation. simon's attention slams back to him, a growl rumbling from his throat as he cups johnny's dick in one hand.

"gotta get you soft, dog," he growls, and you see his hand moving around a bit until he's got johnny's balls in a vice-grip. "the ring wasn't enough for a horny bitch like you, we'll see how you like the cage."

johnny's past words, can only writhe on the bed with little animal noises slipping past his lips. simon doesn't give him any leeway, doesn't give him comfort when he starts to sob a little, just keeps squeezing.

once he's apparently soft enough, simon is quick and methodical about locking johnny's cock up. almost impersonal.

"there," he grunts when he stands up to stare down at johnny. he lands a slap to johnny's dick, gets the smaller man jolting and crying out. "in your cage now. you're not sleeping in bed with us people until you prove you can handle it."

johnny hardly struggles as simon forces him to his knees, kicking at his side to guide him to the crate looming in the corner of the room.

just moments later simon's at the bed with you. he tugs the mask off now (knows you like it sometimes, but also knows it scares you a little - rarely wears it outside of punishments) and crawls on top of you, hands soft and slow as he coaxes you to stretch out back on the bed.

"hey, baby," he murmurs, voice low and just for you. "you're a good girl. can't help what the mutt does, huh? i know, i know. i'll take care of you now, fuck you right."

there are whines from the corner as simon flips you onto your stomach. he lifts you up to your knees, everything soft as he rubs your pussy a few times before slipping his cock into you.

he's always so heavy. you sink further into the bed when he gives you his weight, little moan slipping past your lips as your eyes roll back in your head. johnny gets louder.

"yeah, there you go. good girl, baby, so good for me, huh?"

simon fucks you deep and slow. no rush whatsoever, just nice and languid. you'd probably fall asleep if not for johnny's increasingly desperate noises, the sound of his crate rocking against the wall as he does something in there.

at one point simon sighs all annoyed into your ear, pulls out without warning. you whine and he pets a hand over your hair, whisps "just give me a second, doll, gotta shut the dog up and then i'll finish you off" before walking away.

you don't open your eyes, but you hear simon moving around the room. hear him spit, "makin' me fucking muzzle you because you can't shut up. nothing but a goddamn animal, are you?"

when simon fucks you again, johnny is silent.

he brings you to a slow and easy orgasm, fingers stroking at your achy clit. finishes inside you at nearly the same time.

he tucks you into his arms after, curls you into him and sighs, the sound all satisfied man. you fall asleep like that, johnny's predicament the furthest thing from your mind.

#asks and answers #bo writes #dlmliyh #btw simon totally lied about what time he'd be back so he could catch johnny and get him in more trouble lol #favorites

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notafunkiller · 7 months

Text

Bucky's here

Summary (Prompt): “Are you sure a kiss is all you want?”

Pairing: thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings: teasing, pet names, no mention of y/n

Word Count: <1K

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: This story is based on @marvelouslizzie's prompt

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

You’re not sure what’s worse: the way John talks about Bucky to you or how close his face is to yours.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion, did I, Walker?”

“You’re with The Winter Soldier.”

You roll your eyes at his tone. You wonder what in your attitude made him think he has the right to speak like this. “Is that supposed to be an insult? At least he didn’t choose to get the super soldier serum out of weak-” You stop talking when he slaps the wall, right next to your head, keeping his hand there, probably trying to intimidate you. You flinch because of the sudden movement, but you don’t let him use this to his advantage. “You are so weak!”

“I was Captain America, you can’t say I am weak.”

“You were, yes. Past tense.” You snort, amused by his confidence, and look at his hand. “Drop it before my Winter Soldier boyfriend comes and breaks it for you.”

“He can’t do that since we got the same powers.”

You let out a laugh that echoes through the whole room. Does he really believe that?

“Is that what you tell yourself? That’s... interesting.”

“Very interesting, and I think we should test that.”

Bucky’s here! You look at the door, satisfied to see him coming toward you while taking off his gloves. What surprises you is the fact that John doesn’t move an inch as he just stares at Bucky. How delusional is this guy? Bucky was right, there’s no hope left for him.

“You can’t do anything to me, Barnes!”

“If you mean my parole, you don’t need to worry about it.” There is something about Bucky’s cynical smile that makes you feel very happy. It actually turns you on. You like his grumpiness, his sassiness, and his style.

“He thinks he’s on your level,” you remark. “Can you just,” you don’t have to finish the sentence as you wave around because you know that would be clear for him, and before John can even anticipate what is happening, he’s a few inches away from you with his hand behind his back, trying to fight Bucky’s hold. “Thank you, baby!”

“Want me to break his fingers?”

You pretend to think for a few seconds. It’d be fun, but also a waste of time, and all you want is to fuck the shit out of Bucky the moment you get home. Or maybe in the car. Or maybe in the bathroom. “Let’s go, I don’t want to be in the same room with him anymore.”

Bucky lets go quickly as he notices the neediness in your voice, but not before whispering something that you can’t quite catch, but John freezes and that is enough for you.

You smile and takes Bucky’s metal hand to you drag him out.

“You okay?” He asks concerned.

“I am perfect. You’re my hero.”

He stays completely still for a second, and you can’t help but gasp when you feel his lips on your jaw. He moves so fast.

“Your hero?”

You smile. “You’re always my hero, baby.”

“And doesn’t your hero deserve a reward?”

You look at him surprised, bringing your hand to his cheek. You wanted to touch his face all day. “Whatever you want. I can give you anything.”

He makes sure to check if there is anyone around before he grabs your ass. “A kiss.”

So innocent...

You smirk and happily get on your tip-toes to make him lean in a little less. He’s not patient at all, and the moment you press your lips on his, he immediately licks your bottom lip in order for you to get the idea and open your mouth.

As soon as he deepens the kiss, you forget where you are. It’s crazy how kissing can be so addicting and overwhelming every time. God, this man knows how to use his tongue! And his hands...

“There we go, sergeant,” you say, trying to catch your breath after breaking the kiss suddenly just to test his reaction.

He opens his eyes confused and squeezes your ass.

“Hmmm. Are you sure a kiss is all you want?”

“I’m gonna make you beg tonight, mark my words, doll!” It’s a warning you’ve been waiting for. You grab his chin, satisfied, and kiss his cheeks before dragging him to the car.

You wonder if you’re even gonna make it home.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #my stories #my fanfics #blurb #tfatws #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff

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fluentmoviequoter · 2 months

Text

It's Not About You

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Summary: When Tim overhears his fellow police officers and your other neighbors flirting with you, he gets jealous, and takes it out on you.

Warnings: jealous!Tim (he's hot), brief angst, fluff at the end

Word Count: 2.1k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Over the last few years of impromptu visits to the Mid-Wilshire LAPD station, you’ve gotten to know most of the front desk staff. They know you too, and you’re often wordlessly handed a visitor’s badge and wished good luck. You’ve heard the stories about the man you come to visit: how intense and grumpy he can be, but you’ve never seen that side of him for yourself.

Today, two people sit at the front desk, and you’ve never seen either before. Moving into one line, you wait until you reach the desk. You smile as you look at his name tag and are surprised to realize that you have heard his name.

“How can I help you today?” he asks, clearly displeased with his current position and forcing his smile.

“Officer Nolan, I am here to visit Officer Bradford,” you answer.

“Bradford,” Nolan repeats. “Tim Bradford?”

“That’s the one. I just need to drop something off and ask him a quick question.”

“Oh, sure,” Nolan replies. “Just fill this out for me and I’ll get you a badge.”

You nod, stepping to the side as you fill out the paperwork you haven’t seen since your first visit. Knowing that Nolan is new, though, and seeing just how busy the station is, you decide to do as he asks rather than argue with him.

“So, do you know Officer Bradford?” Nolan asks.

“I do. I’m his neighbor,” you answer.

“Ah, I see. I’m surprised someone as nice as you would intentionally visit him.”

“What does that mean?” you ask, furrowing your brows as you pass the clipboard back to him.

“Nothing, just- Hang on, I’m out of badges. Jackson, do you have visitors’ badges over there?”

“Uh, yeah,” the man beside him, Jackson apparently, answers.

“She’s here to visit Bradford,” Nolan explains.

“On purpose?” Jackson asks.

“That’s what I said!”

“Why is that so surprising?” you ask, smiling.

“He’s just… grumpy, and you seem so kind and fun to be around,” Nolan replies.

“You think I’d be fun to be around?”

“I- I mean, yeah. So envisioning you and Bradford talking to each other is just weird.”

“And concerning,” Jackson adds. “Have you been tested for any cognitive issues?”

“That’s not cognitive-related, you’re just questioning if I’m a good judge of character,” you argue.

“What’s your impression of me?” Nolan inquires. “Just to make sure you’re okay.”

“Well,” you begin, tapping the desk as you think.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim looks down at his watch before glancing at the door. You should be here by now; your text said ten minutes, and it’s been twice that. Tim abandons the conversation he’s been ignoring and walks to the door behind the desk. He hears you say why you’re there, but when Nolan starts talking to you about how different you are from Tim and then dips into what sounds like flirting, Tim's jaw tightens as he listens.

“As much fun as this has been,” you say with a chuckle, “I’m really late, and-“

“Bradford hates that. Trust me, I know,” Nolan interjects. “Do you know where you’re going?”

“I do. Thank you, Officer Nolan.”

“John.”

Tim watches you smile as you use Nolan’s first name, and his nostrils flare. Usually, he can recognize his own emotions (and he’d admit - to you, at least - that he doesn’t have much emotional range). Right now, he can’t place the feelings he’s experiencing watching you and Nolan.

“Uh, Tim?” you ask, stepping through the door to go to the bullpen.

“Hey,” Tim replies, turning quickly. He picks up a folder and adds, “Everything okay? Took you longer than usual.”

You look at the folder in his hand and answer, “Yeah. My favorite cop wasn’t at the front desk so I actually had to go through the whole visitor thing.”

“I’m not your favorite cop?” Tim asks.

“Depends on the day,” you reply, smiling as he steps beside you.

Tim doesn’t answer, and when you look over at him, you’re surprised to see him looking straight ahead, bending the folder with a tight grip. You stop, placing a hand on his forearm.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly.

“Never been better,” Tim answers. “Why’d you stop by?”

“Oh. I wanted to let you know that Kojo is at my house, but also have a question.”

“Then ask.”

You bristle slightly at Tim’s disinterested tone, but you know his job is tough, and he’s probably had a long day.

“Do you-“

“Bradford!” someone calls. “Let’s go!”

Tim looks toward you, and you say, “Go ahead. My question can wait. Have a good day, Tim.”

“You too,” he mutters.

Tim takes the time to watch you leave, despite his seeming indifference. When you stop by the desk to say bye to Nolan, Tim destroys the folder as he realizes what he feels. Tim Bradford is jealous. Worse, he’s jealous of a rookie.

✯✯✯✯✯

Kojo is on a leash in your front yard, and you smile as you watch him jump after a ball. Tim lives directly beside you, so you’ll know when he gets home. Hopefully, the rest of his shift went okay, and he’s in a better mood now.

A deep voice calls your name, and you look away from Kojo. Your neighbor from the other side stops on the sidewalk before your house to continue talking to you.

“Hey! How are you?” you respond, staying by your porch.

“Better now,” he replies with a flirtatious smile.

He’s not a bad neighbor, but he makes you uncomfortable because he flirts with you every time he sees you. Having Kojo nearby makes you more comfortable, but you hope to get through the small talk and move on.

“I’m having a little get together on Friday if you’d like to come over.”

You call Kojo to your side, and he happily sits before you, another buffer between you and your neighbor. Tim’s truck turns into his driveway, and you sigh in relief. He gets out quickly, stopping by his passenger door as he watches you and Kojo. You smile, unsurprised but disappointed when Tim doesn’t return it.

“Friday?” your neighbor asks.

“I’ll, uh, I’m not sure if I can make it,” you offer. “Thanks for the invitation, though.”

“Open invite,” he adds before walking back toward his house.

“Hey, Tim,” you call, walking across your yard with Kojo’s leash in your hand. “Work go okay?”

“Yep. Thanks for taking care of Kojo.”

Tim takes the leash, his hand covering yours for just a moment. He pulls his hand away quickly and nods before he turns toward his house.

“Do you need me to watch him tomorrow?”

“No,” Tim answers, keeping his back to you. “Have a good one.”

You stand in your yard for a moment, wondering what happened. You’re starting to see the Tim Bradford that the officers at Mid-Wilshire talk about, and you’re not sure you like it.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim was hoping that you’d ask your question when he got home. When he saw your other neighbor talking to you and, from what Tim heard, asking you out, he decided he wasn’t in the mood to talk. Turning his back on you felt wrong, but his jealousy is calling the shots for now. Everyone close to you, close to Tim, seems to be making a move on you. Tim doesn’t want to admit it, but part of why he likes you so much is because he’s falling for you. He knows he’ll never be good enough for you, so he’s happy to be your friend... until today, and now he’s not sure if he can stand by and watch another man attempt to make you happy.

“Any chance you can tell me that I saw that wrong?” Tim asks Kojo. When Kojo huffs, he replies, “I didn’t think so.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Kojo starts barking as soon as you return home from running some errands. Tim said he didn’t need your help today, but Kojo needs something. You text Tim, asking if he wants you to check on Kojo, but he doesn’t answer. After a few minutes, you use your spare key and enter Tim’s house.

As you walk into the backyard with Kojo, you call Tim, but he still doesn’t answer. Kojo is fine, simply lonely, so you take him back to your house. After texting Tim to let him know, you walk back to your car to lock it. A police car stops across the street, and when you see Nolan exit the driver’s side, you yell his name and jog toward the road.

“Hey,” he greets.

“What’s going on?” you ask, walking into the street so you can hear him.

“Noise complaint. How long have you been home?”

“Ten minutes, maybe.”

“They called about excessive dog barking, and that’s a direct quote.”

“Oh… that was Tim’s dog. He’s fine now, but he was barking at me when I got back because he was lonely.”

Another shop parks behind Nolan’s, and Tim slams the door as he exits.

“It was Kojo, I’m so sorry,” you offer.

“I told you he was fine today,” Tim replies.

“He started barking and I was worried about him. You didn’t answer, so I-“

“It’s fine,” Tim snaps.

“Sorry,” you whisper.

Nolan nods as he gets back in his shop. Tim waits until he drives away to take a deep breath. He begins to speak, but another neighbor stops as he drives by, rolling his window down to ask how you are. Tim opens his door, and you rush to his shop and look through his rolled-down window.

“I’m sorry, Tim,” you repeat.

“It’s fine.”

“Clearly it isn’t because you can’t even look at me. I won’t do it again.”

“It’s not about you,” Tim argues. It is, but he can’t tell you that.

“Got it,” you murmur, stepping back. “I’ll take Kojo back to your place and leave my key.”

You cross the road, walking through your yard as you think about what you’re losing by accidentally pushing Tim away. Tim yells your name, and you stop but don’t turn toward him. He walks up behind you, and you can’t see his hands flex at his sides as he tries to find the words to say.

“It is about you, but not about you taking care of Kojo,” Tim begins. “It’s about you and me.”

Turning your head, you watch Tim’s hand fold into a fist as he continues.

“I just- Nolan was flirting with you, and…”

“You think he was flirting with me?” you ask, turning so you’re facing Tim.

“He was. And it made me angry. When I came home and saw what’s-his-name flirting with you too…”

“You got angry?”

“I got jealous,” Tim forces out.

“Why?”

“Because they’re doing what I want to do.”

“What does that mean, Tim?”

“It means that I want to be more than your friend but I’m not relationship material. Watching guys try to be what I want to be makes me jealous and angry, and for some reason I took it out on you.”

“And Nolan?”

Tim pauses before nodding.

“You know the worst part of this?” you ask. “That if you had just told me, I would have let you know that I feel the same.”

“You don’t get jealous,” Tim argues.

“That’s not true. Every time someone flirts with you or stares a little too openly, I remember that you could have anyone you wanted. Being your neighbor was the closest I thought I could get.”

Tim steps toward you, and you match his movement, closing the distance together.

“So…” you begin.

“So. What did you want to ask at the station?"

"If I could come over, but I feel confident assuming that you'd say yes."

Tim closes his eyes when your neighbor says your name.

“Cute,” you murmur.

“I realized that a big gathering like that wasn’t a good choice, so I wanted to ask if you were free Thursday? Maybe we could get some dinner or something."

“She’s busy,” Tim answers, his eyes on you.

“But-“

“Let me rephrase, she’s taken!” Tim yells.

“Oh, sorry man, I didn’t know.”

Tim watches him scurry inside before turning back toward you. You smile as you look at him.

“I’m taken?” you repeat.

“Only if you want to be.”

Nodding, you lay your hands on Tim’s chest. He moves a hand up to your waist, pulling you against him. Kojo barks before he can do anything, and you laugh against Tim’s uniform.

“Aren’t you still working?” you ask.

“Technically. How about dinner when I get off?”

“Only if you cook.”

“Like I’m taking you out in public this soon. I just got over the jealousy.”

You kiss Tim’s cheek just before dispatch alerts him of a call in the area.

“Where are you going?” he asks as you walk away.

“Home!” you call as you walk into his porch. “My boy lives here. And you do too.”

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford #the rookie #requests #fem!reader #kojo bradford #hanna writes✯

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johnwickb1tsch · 2 months

Text

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 17 all chapters

WARNINGS: THE MOST YANDERE CHAPTER OF THIS YANDERE FIC YET. POSESSIVE BEHAVIOR, NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT. PLZ TAKE CARE. I LUV U ALL.😘

-In the haze between sleep and waking, you are vaguely aware of strong arms wrapped around you, a lean and long body spooned at your back. You feel warm, and safe, and by some signal of scent or touch or cosmic connection from your hindbrain, somehow you just know that it’s Mr. Wick who has you folded up in his embrace. How perfectly you fit, with the curve of your backside tucked against his hips, your legs tangled under the covers.

Your Half Asleep Brain is totally fine with this cozy arrangement. You don’t really remember how you got here, but maybe something for once actually went right.

You let yourself doze.

But then he shifts against you, (that inevitable male hardness poking against your backside), and you wake up a little more, your faculties returning to you as the dreamy curtain of slumber slips away. You start to remember what happened before—the chase, and the murder—and Awake Brain is suddenly not ok with your current arrangement at all.

Awake Brain is ready to freak the fuck out.

You stiffen in his arms, trying to sit up, but that inexorable grip tightens around you.

“Easy.”

You struggle, but he effortlessly pins you, wrapping a long leg around yours. Between his greater strength and solid weight pressing you down into the mattress, you are stuck.

“Let me go,” you growl.

“Not until we have a little talk.”

Under different circumstances this position could have been interesting. The hard line of his lean body is pressed against you…the length of him against the curve of your bottom.

At least someone is having a good time.

Even like this from behind, you can tell it’s something to be reckoned with. The thought fills you with an inconvenient bloom of heat, your body betraying you while skipping into the darkness with a song. Your own reaction to him almost makes you angrier than his own actions.

“What the fuck, John?” You strain against him again, naturally, to no avail. He doesn't taunt you, just holds you immobile, and you are a butterfly against a hurricane.

“Calm down.”

“Then let me go.”

You feel him breathe in the scent of your hair behind your ear, before releasing a shuddering sigh.

“We’re in a predicament, y/n.”

“No shit.”

“I think after what you saw...you know I can't let you go.”

Oh, what's a little quadruple homicide between friends?

You have the sense to keep this to yourself, at least.

“I won't say anything.”

“Uh huh.”

“I didn't say anything about the guys in the van.”

“Well, you didn't have any real evidence then. Just suspicion.”

“But...you so killed those guys in the van.”

There’s a long pause before he finally admits, “Yeah.”

You’re not sure why that makes you try to struggle again. It’s just as fruitless as before.

“Who were those guys you killed?”

You are met with silence. “In Venice?”

Jesus, do you actually have to clarify with this man?

“They were not nice people, y/n.”

“I gathered that. But... who were they?”

John sighs against you, and you take some heart as you feel his grip loosen slightly so he’s not absolutely crushing you. “They were enforcers for the Camorra crime syndicate.”

“And...why did they have such a problem with you?”

“Bad blood, from an old job I did in Rome.”

A job. You’ve seen enough movies to know what that means. He really was a hitman. Jesus H Christ.

“You thought they wouldn't want revenge, if you went back to Italy?”

“I had to risk it.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

You’re baiting him, but you just can’t help it. You’re angry, and you’re sore, and he’s pinning you down like you’re just a feather and you do not fucking like it.

You feel him growl behind you, and fuck you if the low vibration does not strike some primal cord in your body, something left over from the time when your ancestors still lived in caves.

He moves so fast you have no chance to take advantage, turning you so that you are laying chest to chest. His erection presses into your hip, and he pins you with those beautiful dark eyes boring down into yours. It takes every iota of self-control you possess not to spread your legs so that he can settle into the cradle of your hips, where you fear he would fit so very well.

He traps your small hands above your head with just one of his, using the other to hold the side of your face, keeping your attention on him. You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t, but you are finding you like it when he touches you like this, like he is your master and you are his pretty little doll to manipulate how he pleases.

Your eyes close, just for a moment, before you force yourself to keep them open. Keep your eye on the danger, a voice in your head tells you.

A less helpful voice suggests that you just give in and let him fuck you silly.

You ignore that one, for now.

“Because,” he grouses with a scowl. “I was afraid you’d meet some handsome dipshit your own age, and…move to fucking Argentina!”

You don’t know where you get the pluck to frown back up at him. This poor, dear, deranged man.

“John…”

Do you know how crazy you sound?

You don't dare say it out loud.

Maybe it would have been smart to try to win points by assuring him you were coming back to him. It was even 100 percent the truth at the time. But something spiteful in you doesn’t want to offer him that declaration now. You feel like he lost his right to it.

That laser-like stare shifts from your eyes to your mouth, a moment before descending to press his lips to yours. His lips are soft, but the kiss is nothing less than possessive. Even so, you have to fight not to let him lull you with his clever mouth and the tantalizing slide of his tongue.

A fresh wave of anger hits you, because you want this. You want him, and he could have had you so easily, without having to…what? Stalk you? Take you?

You realize you don't even know where you are.

All this accumulates in you in the matter of a second, and you express this frustration by clamping his lip between your teeth. It's more a warning, than anything. You do not draw blood, but you bite hard enough to make him pause.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you.” It’s almost funny, the way he sounds talking around his lip in your teeth. Yet somehow, he still manages to sound absolutely menacing.

“Or what?” you challenge. “Are you going to hurt me, John?”

Yes, taunt the man you saw kill four people easy as pouring a bowl of cereal.

“No. But I will punish you. Remember that, as we go forward.”

You let him go, thinking on that.

It makes a chill run down your spine.

He tries to kiss you again, but you turn your face away.

“Please let me up.”

He is silent and still as the mountain, for long enough that you don’t think he will. You imagine he’s weighing his options, and you know as well as he does that he holds all the cards in his oh-so-capable hands. He could finally take you, like this, and you couldn’t stop him. As fucked up as it is…you’re not even sure you wouldn’t enjoy it, and you battle with yourself not to squirm beneath him in this fucked up stew of fear, desire, and anticipation.

That will not help your cause, you know.

He surprises the hell out of you when finally he agrees, “I will, if you promise to be calm.”

“I’m cool as a fucking cucumber.”

He ducks to huff a laugh into the bend of your neck. You feel it stir your hair more than hear it. He presses an open-mouthed kiss to your pulse that makes you flush, a spear of longing jetting through you, and you barely manage not to wrap your legs around his narrow hips.

This man. It’s just not fucking fair.

Then he sucks, hard enough to hurt, and you know there will be a bruise.

He’s fucking marking you.

“I’m serious.”

You breathe in as deeply as you can with his solid, delicious weight piled on you, and let it out slow. “I’m good. Please, let me up.”

Though you can tell he’s reluctant to do it, very slowly he shifts his weight from you, rolling onto his back at your side. You sit up, pushing off the covers, and find the room is spinning slightly.

What the fuck did he drug you with?

You look around. The room is painted in dark shades, the ceiling vaulted high. Bookshelves take up the wall behind the bed. A bank of windows affords a view of the woods beyond. You are up high, the second story, at least.

You recognize these woods, and the feeling of this interior.

“Are we back in fucking Clear Forks?”

“Yes. We’re safe here.”

You blink down at him. He sounds almost reasonable now, and maybe the fact that he let you up makes you think you can reason with him.

“John…you have to let me go.”

“Can't.”

“You have to.”

He just shakes his head.

“So...what? You're going to keep me locked up here forever?”

He licks his lips, pressing them in thought as he choses his next words. “Until... we've reached an understanding. That might take a while.”

You stare down at him, open mouthed.

“John...you can't just keep me here.”

“I can, actually.” He just looks at you with his hands behind his head, resembling for all the world a lazy lion on the plain, deadly but at ease like it's not your entire life he's casually high jacking for his own gratification. Then strangely he looks away, as though he actually is embarrassed about something, letting out a slow breath. “And...I want to.”

“What?”

His gaze returns to yours, his glittering black eyes sharp and as obsidian. “I. Want. You. To stay here with me. I need you.”

God damn if hearing him say those words doesn't make your traitor of a heart go pitter pat pat.

Keeping your eyes on him as though you are in bed with a tiger, you slide off the edge, your legs jelly beneath you. How long have you been out? What did he drug you with? Your mouth is so dry. Maybe you should be grateful he didn’t hit you to knock you out, at least. That’s never so nice and neat as it is in the movies.

You're still wearing your same little pink sundress from Italy, which maybe is a little heartening, not that it provides much protection.

Your heart in your throat, you want to run mad circles around the room yelling, banging on the windows and rattling the doors. Instead you make yourself stay calm as you look around, checking your options, not caring if John is watching.

You don't care, because deep down, you already know it's hopeless. He's not a stupid man. You inspect the door, finding no door handle, no lock that could be picked. There is simply a keypad and what looks like a fingerprint scanner. You notice it is mounted high over your head, so it would be hard for you to access even if somehow you managed to render him unconscious.

You knock on the window with your fist, just for the hell of it.

“Ballistic grade, bullet proof. Good luck.”

He sounds so bored about it, like it's not a big deal that his armored glass stands between you and your freedom. Yet, you doubt the glass was originally for your benefit.

“Bulletproof, in case the Camorra come for you?”

“Them, or others. I’ve made a few enemies over the years.”

You’re not proud that this freaks you out a little.

“And you really think you’re safe here?”

“So far, so good…”

You glare at him over your shoulder, and damn him for looking utterly scrumptious while being such an asshole.

He's wearing a black henley and sweatpants, and he's still the most beautiful man you've ever seen. You could write sonnets about the little strip of pale flesh exposed between his hem and his waistband.

Despite how fit he is, you notice his tummy is just a little soft. It's endlessly endearing, and in different circumstances you would have delighted in pressing your lips to that line of dark hair, and pulling down his sweatpants with your teeth…

You realize you are staring, and with cheeks aflame you avert your gaze. You notice he’s smirking at you, and it makes you mad all over again, your fists clenching at your sides.

He seems to find this amusing as hell.

“You don’t have to look away,” he coaxes, surprisingly gentle. “I like it, that you like my body.”

You huff indignantly, inevitably remembering how adamantly he’d prevented you from undressing him, what feels like a lifetime ago now. “Then why wouldn’t you let me see you?”

“That was…different.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t think you were ready. I didn’t want to scare you.”

You can’t help but raise an eyebrow at that. “Gee, are your guns that big, Mr. Wick?”

This wins you a small laugh, and only belatedly do you realize how sick it is that you’re joking around with him again.

This is not normal. This is not normal. This is not normal.

You have a feeling it’s going to have to become your new mantra.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” he says enigmatically. It makes the hairs stand up all over your body, even as your idiotic nether regions clench with desire at the thought.

You have got to get out of here.

“Aren’t they going to think it’s weird I just disappeared without a trace from the hostel?” you pose.

“Probably not. You collected your things, and you paid in full.”

Of course he’d taken care of that.

Then the scope of this coup really dawns on you.

“You clever motherfucker. No one will even look for me here, because they think I'm in Europe for weeks more.”

He lifts an eyebrow at you.

“You have a filthy fucking mouth, my dear. I'd watch that, if I were you.”

You narrow your eyes at him, but don't push your luck just yet.

“But no, no one will be looking for you. Your family and your friends are so busy...”

You close your eyes against his cruel—but perfectly accurate—words. My, how the truth cuts deep.

His tone softens as he tells you, “You don't need them, y/n. You have me. And I promise I'll take care of you.”

You don’t bother to argue again that you don’t need taking care of. You’re beginning to anticipate his answers, and it’s like arguing with a stone wall.

You’ll need a different tack, you think.

Agitated, you stalk to the next door in the room, flinging it open. It’s a walk-in closet, filled with his clothes, and you realize, clothes for you as well. They’re cute, and to your taste, the bright colors an almost comical contrast to his monochromatic wardrobe. But they’re more expensive than anything you can usually afford. They’re all your size.

Your heart sinks to your feet as you realize this means he’s actually been planning this for a while.

The next door is half cracked. You push it all the way open.

To say that it's a bathroom seems like an understatement. All dark marble and black cabinetry, there are two sinks and a long countertop, a walk-in rain shower that could fit 6, and a tub that could be mistaken for a small swimming pool. The corners are accented with lush houseplants, ferns and philodendron. It looks wonderful, and you’re furious all over again, because you can't fucking enjoy it like this.

“Why?” you spit, whirling. Only to start when you find him standing right there behind you. You didn't hear a thing. “Why did you have to do it this way?” With him standing so close, you find your words lose some of their intended venom.

He crowds you against the doorjamb, lifting a hand to your face again.

“Because I was afraid you wouldn't come back to me.”

This tall, powerful man sounds ridiculously vulnerable just then.

But like flipping a switch, he frowns, his long fingers resting lightly around your throat. A chill runs down your spine, and you're sure he can feel your pulse in your neck speeding against his fingers. He doesn’t squeeze, doesn’t hurt you. Just…holds you, and you are ever so aware that you are at his mercy.

“You ran away from me,” he accuses.

Maybe your sense of self-preservation is a little broken.

“I can't imagine why.” You punctuate it with an eyeroll, and suddenly you find yourself pushed into the wall with a hand spread over your chest, the ridges of the jamb biting into your spine. His thumb presses over your lips, preventing you from speaking further.

“That fucking mouth of yours.”

Before you can blink he is on you, pressing his lips to yours in a punishing kiss that leaves you weak in the knees. Maybe you start to slump down the wall, but he wraps you up in his arms, holding you up effortlessly.

“This is how it's going to be,” he pants, his forehead pressed to yours. You get the sense that he is on the verge of losing control, and you are on pins and needles, wanting to know what that would be like, and fearing it too.

You fear it a lot.

“You can run that sassy mouth of yours all you want, but I will enjoy disciplining you for it every time. You might want to start thinking before you speak.”

“You want to hurt me.”

Tears fill your eyes at the thought of it. Maybe you’re a little broken yourself, after seeing him kill people, but this is the thing that really makes you cry. Of course he probably has some kind of fucking red room around here filled with restraints and whips and toys you've never even fucking heard of…

“No, baby. I never want to hurt you.”

You don't believe him in the slightest.

With a big hand on your jaw he turns your face up to look at him. “Please don't cry.”

“Then don't do...whatever the fuck this is! You fucking kidnapped me, John!”

“I took what's mine,” he insists in a dark tone that makes inexplicable heat flood between your legs. “You forced my hand.”

It’s all your fault, of course.

“Did you really think I was just going to follow you after all that?”

He cants his head as he looks down at you, his dark hair swinging into his eyes. Your fingers itch to brush it away, and you hate the way the sight pangs deep in your chest. You shouldn’t feel anything for him, after what he’s done—your heart has not gotten the memo, it seems.

“You asked me not to let you go.”

Motherfucker took that literally, it seems.

The ironic thing is, you’d 300 percent meant what you said, at the time.

“I did not sign up for this,” you insist anyway.

“I’ve tried to warn you…since the moment we met,” he tells you. “But you just kept coming back. And now…I need you, y/n. I love you, and I’m never going to let you go.”

What a ridiculous creature you are, that hearing this moves you to the marrow of your bones, makes you almost sick with a medley of triumph and remorse, desire and fear. You’d so determinedly pried open the lid of this Pandora’s box with the dogged insistence of your affection; look at what a marvelous horror you unleashed. Mr. Wick: your very own monster made of dark need and twisted devotion.

This is all so…crazy.

Yet...he doesn't seem like he's crazy. Just absolutely, unmovingly, resolute in his conviction. And right now, that conviction involves his possession of you.

You close your eyes against his gaze boring a hole through you. Your voice barely lifts above a whisper, your strength suddenly sapped. “I could have loved you.”

It’s a lie, of course.

A lie, because you are already hopelessly, totally in love with this man, despite what he’s done to you, and despite everything you’ve seen him do.

You’ve seen the other side of his coin, you know how sweet and wonderful he can be. Where is that man when you need him? Once upon a time, he absolutely was your safe space, your protector, someone you could turn to when you truly had no one else.

Now, who would protect you, from him?

It breaks your heart, because you fear the answer is that no one can.

“You will love me, y/n,” he insists without a hint of doubt. To be so certain...of anything. He brushes your hair behind your ear with such tenderness you could weep.

A single tear does escape from the corner of your eye. He catches it on the pad of his finger, bringing it to his lips.

“It will be alright, y/n. I've got you.”

That is exactly what you're afraid of.

#john wick #john wick fic #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves x reader #yandere #yandere john wick #john wick fanfiction #bittersweet john wick imagine

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anim-ttrpgs · 8 months

Note

🌤️ Share your favorite mechanic from a game you’re working on.

I have a lot of mechanics in Eureka that I really really really love and have hardly seen anything similar to them anywhere else, but for the purposes of this ask I’m going to be answering with one of the unique ones that we haven’t talked about on here yet: The Woo Roll.

The Woo Roll is a special roll named in honor of director John Woo, well-known for his bombastic and extravagant use of practical effects in shootout scenes. Eureka boasts exciting and realistically dangerous firearms combat, and what better way to make deadly firearms combat more exciting in a theater-of-the-mind or grid-based shootout than by adding flavor and flare that emulates Hardboiled?

Firstly, it should be noted that it’s actually relatively hard to hit a target in Eureka firearm combat, doing so requires a fairly high roll. That means that participants are going to be doing a lot of missing. Besides just having a higher Firearms skill, the best way to increase one’s chance to hit is by firing more bullets in a single turn in the hopes that at least one of those shots will roll high enough to hit, which is why automatic weapons are more powerful than others: It usually only takes one single bullet hitting to disable a human target, so even with a low Firearms skill, firing more bullets at once greatly increases the chance that at least one will hit.

However, realistically, most shootouts in Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy will be done using semi-automatic pistols, which are only capable of firing a maximum of 2 shots per turn. We don’t want to make our combat be just and endless boring montra of “shoot, miss, shoot, miss, shoot, miss”.

So, how do we make missed shots fun?

The answer is the Woo Roll.

The Woo Roll is one of the few rolls in Eureka that doesn’t use 2D6, it only uses 1 D6.

(Quick note for those unaware: While Eureka is NOT a PbtA game, it does use a similar system of “Failure, Partial Success, and Full Success”, three possible outcomes of a dice roll instead of just Success and Failure.)

When firing a gun, all bullets fired that turn are rolled separately (we have a special speed-rolling system for when you’re firing more than 3 bullets in one turn but that’s a different post). A Full Success(10+ on a 2D6 roll) is required to hit the intended target with any given bullet, a Partial Success(7-9) and a Failure(2-6) both miss. But this is where the Woo Roll comes in.

I’ll let the actual Eureka rulebook take it from here.

As you can see here, missed shots in Eureka still have some effect on the environment and situation, even if they do not kill their intended target. This ensures that a roll in firearm combat will always do something even if it is a miss, and reminds the players of one of the fundamental rules of gun safety: Don't just be sure of your target, be sure of what's behind your target! High-velocity lead doesn't stop being destructive just because it flew a little too far to the left!

The fact that a Woo Roll is much more likely to have a negative result if the shoot was a Failure vs a Partial Success means that handing someone a gun who has no idea how to use it can be more of a hazard than a benefit, but it's not impossible for them to get that one lucky shot that makes the difference. Likewise, a Woo Roll made from a Partial Success still has a small chance to cause disaster, so even very skilled shooters have to consider whether it's worth the risk to start firing bullets all over the place at all.

We also have tables the Narrator(Game Master) can roll on just in case the shootout runs out of Woo Roll Elements or it happens in place where no Woo Roll Elements would realistically be. Here's a sneak peak at the table for Negative Woo Rolls.

Note also that this is a 2D6 table, meaning that the results closest to 7 are much more likely than the results farthest from 7.

#eureka: investigative urban fantasy #eureka #ttrpg #ttrpgs #rpg #indie rpg #coc #tabletop #roleplaying #dnd

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the-marshals-wife · 4 months

Text

Angel Shot (John Wick x Reader)

A/N: Just a little something because I missed writing for John and watching all the movies again on winter break has got me feeling inspired. ♥

Description: John Wick x Fem!Reader, protective John fluff | Warnings: mild language, alcohol, suggestive themes, Y/N is harassed/threatened and John intervenes | Setting: before Helen (or AU without her, you decide) | Word count: 1,474

Gif credit: user johnswick

Imagine John coming to your defense when a former associate won't leave you alone

It had been a long week. All you wanted was a moment of peace and a cold drink. Normally, you had no trouble finding that at the bar within the New York Continental. On this night, however, you found yourself wishing you had gone elsewhere. No sooner had you taken the first sip of your cocktail did Rico Augustine spot you from across the room.

You keep your eyes fixed forward and pretend not to notice his approach on your right.

"Look who it is," he announces, mockery in his voice, "The rooftop sniper."

"Rico," you acknowledge placidly. You could already sense this interaction would not remain civil. A quick glance his direction allowed you to take notice of his haggard, unshaven face and wrinkled suit. Even in the subdued glow of the mood lighting, you could see the wildness in his bloodshot eyes as he clutched the edge of the bartop.

"I'd offer to buy you a drink," he starts, leaning in closer, "but considering I'm a little light of funds right now, maybe you should be the one getting me something, huh?"

The alcohol on his breath was strong enough to burn your nose. Apparently, he'd managed to evade both sleep and sobriety since you last spoke.

"I already have one," you say, gesturing with your glass, "And I'm not sure you need another."

"It really is the least you can do, after what you stole from me," he provoked, his disgust poorly veiled.

His proximity, paired with his odor and audacity, set a fire in your blood.

"Are we really going to go over this again?" you ask, turning toward him, "I didn't know you were there last night. I wouldn't have taken the shot if I had. I don't work like that."

"You know that's my territory. I followed that mark for two hours and you took him right out from underneath me. I needed that money," he seethes, drawing out his next words, "You owe me."

You pivot back to the bar, your temper flaring. "It was an open contract, Rico. Just because we worked together on the Morocco Exchange doesn't mean I owe you," you state, taking a swig before speaking once more, "I already gave you a 30% cut, from a profit you didn't earn in the first place. That means we're finished."

His hand flies up to grab your wrist, causing you to drop your drink. The glass rattles and liquid sloshes out as it hits the bartop, but it does not fall over. With the dull roar of music and conversation filling the room, the noise isn't enough to catch the distracted bartender's attention.

"What if I say we're not?" he asks, his voice growling in your ear, "What if we're only finished when I say we are?"

Before you can answer or go for the dagger concealed in your shirt sleeve, you feel the cold steel of a concealed blade begin to dig into your ribs.

"I tried being polite, but you just had to keep flapping those lips of yours."

"You don't want to do this," you warn through gritted teeth.

"Wrong again," he sneers, his gratified tone sending a shiver down your back, "Why don't we continue this conversation up in my room, hm?"

You try to make eye contact with the bartender, but his back is still turned toward you, occupied with a chatty patron. Only one option remained: be even less civil. You try to free your dagger slowly from its sheath on your forearm without Rico noticing. It starts to slide loose as he pulls you toward him with a sickening laugh. The hilt is almost in your palm when, in the mirror on the wall of liquor bottles, you catch a glimpse of someone approaching from behind. They come to stand at your left a few seconds before you hear a voice that brings immediate relief.

"Hey, Y/N."

"Hey, John," you say.

"Nice night," he remarks.

"Sure is," you reply, glancing to him from the corner of your eye.

"Evening, Rico. Can I buy you a drink?" John asks.

"Thanks John, but Y/N and I are about tapped out for the night. Ain't that right?"

You attempt to turn your head towards John, but Rico pushes the blade harder into your side in response.

"Yeah," you say unconvincingly, wincing from the sting, "Thought about ordering an Angel Shot though."

There's a brief silence before John speaks again. "That so?"

"This doesn't concern you, Wick," Rico snarls, his fake cordiality gone in an instant, "Mind your business."

"Actually, you made it my business when you pulled that knife," John responds calmy, "Now, how about that drink? Or shall I make a dinner reservation instead?"

You feel the grip on your arm loosen a bit. Your assailant knew as well as you did what that meant. One of two things awaited him: a whiskey, or a body bag.

Despite the warning, Rico scoffs, looking past you to glare at John.

"Come on, Wick. You and I both know you don't have the balls to break hotel rules," he retorts, his thin lips curling into smirk.

John doesn't blink. "You willing to bet on that?"

You suppress the urge to smile as you watch the reflection of your harasser's face lose its gusto, along with most of the color.

"Last chance, Rico," John says, "Take your hands off her, and walk away."

Your pulse pounds in your ears.

Rico narrows his gaze, but lets go of your arm. "Of course. Whatever you say, Baba Yaga," he jeers, rubbing his mouth with his sleeve.

You exhale, but the sweaty brute leans back in close to your face and hisses, "The Boogeyman won't always be there to save you. This isn't over."

Rico starts to walk past you, but John grabs his arm, and tilts his head ever so slightly. "I didn't catch that last part."

He clears his throat, avoiding John's piercing stare. "It was nothing."

"Uh-huh," he deadpans, "Didn't think so."

"What's the matter, Wick? We're all professionals here, aren't we?" he poses; more a begrudged plea for mercy than an inquiry.

"Some of us more than others, it would seem," John replies, proceeding to lower his voice, "If you threaten her again, you'll find out just how professional I can be."

Rico clenches his jaw, his eye twitching in rage. Even as he choked on his own venom, he knew he was beaten. He violently recoils as John releases his arm, straightening his jacket and running a trembling hand through his disheveled hair. You, John, and the rest of the room watch him retreat until he's completely out of sight.

Boogeyman or not, John had a way of drawing attention. The hush that had fallen over the room fades as customers return to their drinks and conversation, no doubt now discussing what sort of gruesome scene they were nearly witnesses to.

John finally turns to you. "Are you alright?"

You nod and smile a bit, "Thanks to you."

"I'm sure you had it handled."

"Yeah, but I wasn't looking forward to scrubbing his blood out of this fabric. You can never find this color, I'd hate to toss it," you chuckle, looking down at your shirt.

"We wouldn't want that," he says, amused.

You replace your tousled hair behind your ear and meet his softened gaze. "Thank you, John."

"You're welcome, Y/N," he says, reaching into his jacket pocket, "You look like you could use a refill."

He holds up an all-too-familiar gold coin, then places it on the bartop. "On me."

"That's two I owe you then," you counter, giving him a knowing look.

"No. You don't owe me anything," he states, kind but firm. The look he gives you in return makes you feel that you shouldn't argue.

"Fair enough," you say, watching the now attentive bartender top off your beverage, "But at least let me get you a bourbon."

John retrieves his phone from another pocket, reading the screen and stowing it back as fast as he'd produced it.

"Thank you, but I'll have to take a raincheck," John says, touching your shoulder before walking away. "Take care of yourself, Y/N."

"You have business elsewhere tonight?" you question, calling after him.

"Yeah," he answers, pausing a moment, "But I won't be checking out for another day or so."

You smirk. "Be seeing you, then?"

He nods, the smallest trace of a smile on his face.

"Be seeing you."

He turns to leave, and your eyes follow him until the last. Drink back in hand, your heart continues its excited drumming. You press the cold crystal to your lips and grin. Perhaps it wasn't such a bad night after all.

"Give 'em hell, John."

#john wick x reader #john wick imagine #john wick fanfic #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #john wick #keanu reeves #my writing #first fic of 2024 #to many more 🥂

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rriavian · 8 months

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So I'm sure this point has been made already but something I really enjoy about the Corinthian (specifically in the show as I haven't read the comics) is that the entirety of season one is just him finding increasingly elaborate ways to avoid interacting with Dream.

And I love it because it's the smartest thing he could have done.

Desire technically does something similar but that's a different point. Typically the 'villain' plots to have at least one moment to gloat over their fallen enemy. Arguably we should have seen this in episode 1, once Dream is trapped, because it's the perfect moment for the Corinthian to saunter down to the basement and be like 'haha I've just told Burgess all of your secrets and I'm going to leave you here in this glass cage I told him to build'.

But the Corinthian doesn't do that.

For an antagonist that enjoys indulging in his vices the Corinthian shows impressive impulse control when he chooses to. He keeps away from what is perhaps the biggest temptation of all.

There is so much I could say about that specifically, but I might come back to it another time. The point is that even though there shouldn't really have been any risk the Corinthian leaves as fast as he can, hoping to never come back, and while I'm sure he felt tempted to taunt his creator he never does. Then when Dream is free the first thing he does is try and get someone else to confront him, and when that doesn't work he follows Ethel to where John is. But the Corinthian only interacts with him enough to make sure he's on his way to the ruby, doesn't go with him, because he's not interested in getting caught up in the battle himself.

And the Corinthian doesn't even want to make it obvious he's helping at all.

Yet he's still prepared. Though the Corinthian only acts when Dream is free he still knew exactly where to find Ethel, who she was, what she'd stolen. That confrontation may have sent him back to the Dreaming (arguably the first time the Corinthian indulges a little of his urge to taunt though he only says he'll fight Dream if he comes after him, not that he's already making a move) but Ethel's amulet doesn't really do much to slow him down.

It's a near miss for sure.

It could have put him directly in Dream's path if timings had been different but the Corinthian doesn't lose his cool. In fact, as soon as he realises Dream isn't in his realm he slyly starts seeing how much information Lucienne might tell him. Her neutral greeting already made it clear she wasn't outright suspicious of him. It's a great scene!

(Again I could ramble about it.)

The Corinthian knows that he doesn't have the power to defeat Dream himself but he's smart enough to consider what else he can do. He knew enough about how to hypothetically keep Dream trapped to the point of advising Burgess on it, had obviously thought about it, and crucially ended up being right. Diving into the second half of the season would make this post way way too long, but the Corinthian is still trying to play things from behind the scenes, figuring out who else he can use to attack Dream.

He spends the whole season trying to stay hidden and at no point did I think it made him seem weak.

Alongside all else he is the Corinthian is shown to be methodical, patient and calculated. Realistic. It's a really nice demonstration of character for them both - for him and Dream - the Corinthian understands how powerful Dream is and never lets himself forget it, which means we as the audience never forget it. The inequality in power is built into the story, he constantly treats Dream as the biggest threat, someone who could wipe him out of play if he revealed himself. It makes for a very satisfying antagonist, one who actually seems to use their brain, because the Corinthian knows exactly what he's up against.

And it shows how terrifying Dream is to his enemies.

Because he's the antagonist of the Corinthian's story. One the Corinthian refuses to give in to, rejecting every opportunity he might have had to manipulate his way back into Dream's good graces, to return to the Dreaming with the rest. While I do think the Corinthian believed he wouldn't be forgiven no matter what, I still love how he stands by his own convictions, and though there are similarities with Gault I find his reasoning more complex and compelling. However we might consider the morality of both characters, however we might weigh the merits of their perspectives, from the Corinthian's point of view Dream is very much the villain. And he isn't an easy one to defeat.

The best chance anyone has against him is to run, to hide, maybe try and delay him with a trap if circumstances permit, but you better hope he has better things to do then give chase.

The Corinthian doesn't try to fight him.

Instead he does everything he can to stay out of Dream's way right up until there are no other options.

#the corinthian #dream of the endless #this originated as a 3am ramble #honestly it could have been double the length but I don't think anyone's got time to read all that #the sandman #i edited this and then had to stop making additions

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shouldhavebeenpersephone · 9 months

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So I was re-reading Nona. And. Have we talked about this yet? Have we gone through the implications of this section?

NtN John 5:4. Analysis under the cut.

I always assumed the tower was a part of the Ninth because right after this chapter Nona sees the tower in the River and after that drives the truck everyone is in to the Ninth. But nowhere does it say that the tower is the Ninth.

I mean, looking at the description it certainly sounds like it - all grey and death, which is why I assumed it was. The Ninth is tall even if embedded inside of a planet, one could argue shafts are towers. But why would a tower of the Ninth be in the River?

First things first; the tower in Tarot stands for sudden change, confusion and awakening - I don't feel this needs further explanation on why it's relevant (I might, however, someday do a Tarot Locked Tomb analysis because there is A LOT there). It also refers to the Tower of Babel, which was destroyed by God along with the uniform language of Earth so that people would not come so close to Him again, so that they stayed vincible. Sound familiar?

John did make a uniform language technically, but he also separated the population to different planets, rendering them unable to unite and overcome him not only due to instilled nationalism but also due to the faults in the Houses. We know that the Sixth is struggling to keep up their lineages and population number - we know the Fourth die too young to really leave anything behind - we know the Second is too busy fighting wars.

This leads me to believe that whatever the tower represents will be the end of the world as they know it - maybe through a new God and an end to the Houses, maybe the end of Godhood and Lyctorhood in general. Either way, something is piercing through the River - something that has the power to change it all.

NtN Chapter 30. Nona's mind knew what it was "above" and "below". Does this refer to Harrow and Alecto?

Now let's go back to that first passage from John 5:4. The parts that stand out to me are 'speared-through and mute', 'a tower that soared, impossible and deadly grey', and 'lurching out of the River as though gasping for air.' All of this sounds like Gideon.

GtN Chapter 37. Very much speared-through and mute.

NtN Chapter 16. Ramrod posture? Soaring, impossible and deadly grey.

NtN Chapter 25. And Gideon knows what's in the River. Chances are that the tower is a construct created by John for whatever purposes. Gideon is also a construct created by John - at least Kiriona is.

I obviously don't know how accurate this connection my brain jumped on is, but it honestly makes a lot of sense to me. There is something below the River, just like how 'reality' is above the river. Especially when considering Nona referred to a thought above and below that knew what the tower was, it appears to me like the below is a plane much like reality and the River where things exist and can continue to exist. I have not yet sat with or developed an opinion on what exactly might be there, but there is something there. I think it might be the cavaliers.

So what if Gideon ended up there? What if, when she ended up in the River at the end of HtN, Gideon ended up in the below once Alecto was forced into Harrow's body? What if John knew all along how to reach there and he finally decided this was the time to bring something - no - someone back?

But you can't really reach the other plane without the River, can you? We have seen it with the Resurrection Beasts - they travel through the River and exist in it while simultaneously being above it. And, if we look at Palamedes, one who has passed and is part of the River needs a container of sorts to be above. Perhaps, then, one can sink while tethered higher in the three layers, but one cannot soar from below without a container to carry them up. An integrated cavalier is forced down, not reaching up - they are buried in the below.

So let's say John brought Gideon back. Her corpse would obviously be the container for her above. The tower, then, could be her container for the River. Ianthe could be using Gideon's aberration in the River as a means to anchor herself as well. That could be why they are the Tower Princes.

Alecto would know the tower was a gateway of sorts. She would understand, like presumably any other Resurrection Beast would understand. But Harrow. Harrow.

GtN Chapter 36. I cannot let go of this passage in relation to the tower. "Instead, she was Drearburh." "She took the whole putrid, quiet, filth-strewn madness of the place, and she opened her doors to it."

Cavaliers' tethers are shown through the eyes, through altering the look of that which binds them to above - so, maybe through being Gideon the tower became Drearburh. Maybe Harrow saw it, and felt it, and she saw Gideon, and she saw home. So she walked, and she walked, and she knew that it would lead back to her.

The tower - Gideon, then, will be the changer of things in the end. Maybe Gideon and Harrow, but definitely Gideon.

#this ended up being so much longer than I was planning for #also the tower having a bell!!!!! muster call to get your girl #Ash does TLT Meta #the locked tomb #tlt #the locked tomb spoilers #tlt spoilers #gideon the ninth spoilers #harrow the ninth spoilers #nona the ninth spoilers #tlt meta #tlt speculation #tlt theories

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m1ssunderstanding · 3 months

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Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day 15

The beautiful mess that would’ve been The Beatles plus Yoko Ono plus Billy Preston plus Bob Dylan plus whoever else. Although I guess that is sort of what George went on to do. He really did just want a group of friends that cared more about each other than the product, and that’s what he created for himself.

John: And the dream I had was you. The camera: zooms in on Paul’s wounded puppy eyes. John: *staring at Paul* d’you get my meaning? Imagine doing that to literally any other human being. I would not be that intimate with my best friend, my husband, my sister . . . anyone. Let alone my ex, (not literally, you all get what I mean) in front of my current SO and multiple cameras. This kind of thing really makes me wonder what kind of insane shit he must’ve said/done when they were alone, especially in happier times.

George painted his own psychedelic guitar, and it looks gorg. Who painted Paul’s. Anyone know?

How can I Not assume “Stand By Me” is *meaningful* if, firstly, this is the second time you��ve sung it at each other during this project, and secondly, if you look at each other like This while singing it? Then again, when are they not uncomfortably intense when singing together?

“Oh, help me, Daddy. I don’t even know how this thing works.” He says about the instrument he plays in the most successful band of all time. Paul can play whatever he needs to to get what he wants out of someone, and that includes dumb.

John’s little “Ookaay.” At Paul’s weird carrying-on about his insecurities with his bass playing. It just screams, “You’re delusional and I’m not getting into this right now.” Which is 1000% valid. Imagine being Paul McCartney and second-guessing your bass skills. Reminds me of that quote where John’s like, “He’s an egomaniac about everything else, but he’s coy about his bass playing. Which is stupid because he’s one of the most innovative bass players . . .”

John and Paul nail the harmony on “HoooooohOoOoOme.” And the LOOKs, you guys.

But also the nonverbal vocal communication! It’s one of my favorite parts about them, really. One of the things that reminds me of how special their relationship is. John makes a face. Paul goes, “brroop”. John replies with a beaming, “Yeah!” To which Paul adds another “brrrrip” as they simultaneously continue the song. It’s just unreal. Nobody does that. They are magical and they were right to think they had special telecommunicative powers.

The lunch orders today are everything you need to know about the Beatles. John: Sparrow on toast. Paul: Boiled testicle. George: Uh, Mal? So, we’ll have whatever the vegetables are, and if they’ve got any cheese sauce for the cauliflower. Ringo: Mashed potato. That’s it. That’s them.

“Then there’s another one,” says Paul, doing a shit job of pretending he hasn’t rehearsed this to sound like some accidental discovery. “Don’t let me down. Oh, darling,” sung suddenly, and forcefully, directly at John, “I’ll never let you down.”

John, beaming like the star quarterback just told him he looked pretty, tucks his hair behind his ears and says, barely hovering in the safety of a joking tone, “Yeah, it’s like you and me are lovers.”

John has of course taken Paul’s game of gay chicken an arm’s reach farther than Paul’s comfortable with, at least in front of cameras, so he can only nod, and brush his own hair back. Stiff, expressionless. "Yeah."

(Of course, Peter Jackson cuts out what eventually evolves into John and Paul singing “we’re a couple of queers” and talking about wearing skirts for the performance)

Am I the only one getting the vibe that John genuinely dislikes Teddy Boy? Not because he thinks it sucks or anything but because he doesn’t like the obvious similarities to his relationship with Julia? Personally, I love it. It was my anxiety song a few years back.

The original lyric to “fancy me chances” was Not “frock” I absolutely guarantee.

Love Paul checking on Billy. Love that they're all, even with everything they've got going, making sure he's set up and taken care of.

Sorry not sorry that I’m so thirsty over literally every woman in this show, but. Hello, Pattie! She just walks in, ignores everyone else, kisses him Like That, whispers something, and gets out to go live her own life. Queen. Gorgeous. Obsessed.

George Martin praising his children for "working so well together." I love that he refused to produce them after the white album, not because they were being disrespectful to him or anything, but because they weren't getting along. And that, although he's not producing, technically, he can't stop himself coming in to make sure they're okay. He's such a good dad, literally.

John over here being emo af by himself, playing “I Feel Fine,” because he definitely does Not feel fine and he’s just as nostalgic as Paul, which is way too fucking nostalgic. Poor baby.

#paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #ringo starr #george harrison #get back

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