#does your arm hurt from all the reaching?

[woso-dreamzzz]

Surgery VII

Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Child!Reader

Summary: You get in trouble

"Have to be quiet," You whisper as you clip Bagheera's harness on.

It was one of the first things your Mami taught you when you were little.

Bagheera mews at you as you pick her up, pushing her into your backpack. You zip it up but still leave a bit of it open so she can breathe in fresh air. That was another thing Mami taught you.

Animals must have little holes in so they can breathe but not big enough holes that they can escape.

"I've got it, cub," Ingrid says, reaching for your bag but you push her hand away.

"I'm a big girl," You tell her, pulling your backpack on all by yourself," Can carry it myself."

Ingrid laughs, fondly ruffling your mane. "Look at you," She says," So grown up."

"I know."

Your bag is a little heavier than usual but you're very determined. You think if you can prove that you can look after Bagheera by yourself than Ingrid will finally take you to the shelter so you can get your own cat.

"Whoa," Mami laughs as you get out of the car with your backpack," Look at you go, cub. So independent all of a sudden."

"I'm a big girl," You tell Mami just like you told Ingrid.

"Don't grow up too fast," Mami says," Or you'll have to move out soon."

You give her a deadpan stare. "Don't be silly, Mami."

You run off after that. You know Mami and Ingrid are going straight to the field so you duck around the corner and pull Bagheera out of your bag.

She mews at you a few times as you finally work out how to clip her leash to your little belt loops. That means she can't wander off without you.

You're very proud of yourself as you make your way into the locker room, chest puffed out.

"Oh, cub," Patri groans with a little laugh," What have you done?"

You frown. "Nothing!"

"Having the cat doesn't look like nothing," Patri says, very pointedly looking at Bagheera."

"We're having a day out!" You announce," So Ingrid knows I can have a ginger cat too!"

Patri full on laughs now. "You're very sneaky. How did you manage to pull this off?"

"I'm mature," You insist," And me and Bagheera are friends!"

"Come on," Patri says," Let's go to the pitch and see what your mums think of this."

"I want a ginger cat," You say as Patri escorts you to the pitch," And I want it to have a proper tail. Bagheera's got a stumpy tail. I want my cat to have a proper one."

"Cub!" Ingrid's voice yells across the pitch and you instantly know you're in trouble. Ingrid doesn't use that voice a lot with you, her grumpy in trouble voice but she's using it on you now. "Why is Bagheera here?!"

Mami looks angry too, arms crossed over her chest and Patri pushes you forward.

"Tell them what you told me."

You take a big breath. "Showing that I can have a cat too."

"Cub," Ingrid says sternly and you wilt.

You sniffle a little as your throat goes all tight like it does when you're about to cry. "I really want a cat, Mama," You say morosely, digging the tip of your shoe into the ground," Just trying to prove I can look after one."

Ingrid massages her temple in annoyance.

"Cub," Mami says sternly," What you've done is very, very naughty. Do you understand that?"

"Sorry, Mami."

"Very naughty," Mami insists," You could have gotten Bagheera very hurt."

"Sorry."

She takes your hand and leads you over to the corner of the pitch, turning you around so you can't see the rest of the team.

"You're four years old now so that means four minutes in time out. Sit here and think about what you've done."

"I'm sorry, Mami!"

"I know but you're still going in timeout."

Mami doesn't take Bagheera from you and she curls up on your lap as you sit there.

You know you sit there for four minutes but it feels like a lot longer until Mami and Ingrid come over.

They sit in front of you.

"You were very, very naughty," Ingrid says to you," Not telling us you took Bagheera could have gotten her very hurt. Do you understand that?"

You nod.

"That wasn't very responsible," She continues," And it doesn't make me think you deserve a cat of your own."

You burst into tears. "I'm sorry, Mama! I was gonna look after her promise!"

You turn your bag upside down and shake it.

Treats for Bagheera fall out as well as a bottle of water and the collapsible bowl you use for Bagheera's beach trips. You've got a blanket too and toys for if she gets bored.

"Oh, cub," Mami says as she looks at everything.

"Left my bag a little bit open so she could breathe," You insist," And made sure it didn't fall in the car!"

Ingrid still looks mad though. "Cub," She says," Bagheera is a very special part of the family. She might have been scared all alone in your bag, did you think of that?"

You shake your head. "I'm sorry." All you can do is keep apologising.

"I can see that but it was still very naughty of you. Do you understand why?"

You nod.

"Why?"

"'Cause Bagheera could have gotten hurt and I should have told you and Mami."

"Well done for saying sorry," Ingrid says eventually," And well done for knowing what you did was wrong. You did a good job in making sure to pack everything Bagheera will need today."

"We can't do much now that Bagheera is here," Mami continues," So you'll have to take care of her today."

You nod. "I will, Mami."

"And when we get home, we'll discuss your own cat," Ingrid says.

#woso x reader #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon #ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Simon Riley NSFW hcs ♡

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Two lovely people asked for my NSFW Simon headcannons and I'm happy to provide!!

Just a disclaimer, these are my headcannons. If you have ones that are totally different, that's okay!

He's fictional and can be whatever you want him to be <3 (except a rapist. We don't do that here.)

If you have any COD thoughts or requests, my inbox is open!!

~ Fi 🐝

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

I'm a soft!Simon truther until death.

There's not a single reality in which I can see him ever being too rough with you, let alone hurting you.

First of all, he has no fucking clue what he's doing. He's maybe had sex 2-3 times in his life and I don't think any of them were memorable or good.

I'd wager that all of them were hookups, encouraged by other soldiers to "let off steam". But Simon just can't do it, it feels so wrong. To give himself so fully to someone he doesn't even know.

There needs to be an emotional connection in order for him to feel comfortable and good. He needs to trust and love this person before he can do anything with them.

It's gonna take a while for him to open up, but once he does everything is smooth sailing.

(I also don't think he masturbated excessively. He probably jerked off, everyone gets horny, but especially if we say he's on antidepressants, his sex drive is pretty low. He's either too tired or just doesn't care)

Your first time together was fueled by a, not so uncommon, make-out session on his couch. It'd usually end with you grinding on his thigh or rubbing yourself over his clothed cock until you both reached a satisfactory end.

Simon thinks he could live an entire relationship with only sticking to dry humping, but in reality he's just terrified of the intimacy of real sex.

It's not too romantic, none of that rose petals lit candle stuff. It's not that Simon hates all of that, but I just think it'd be too much for the first time.

He's already so nervous (so are you probably if we're honest) and all that extra stuff would overwhelm the fuck out of him.

(He will spoil you with rose petals and candles another night, even if it just ends you with you falling asleep in eachother's arms <3)

Eventhough it's soft and sweet, you're both still very horny and basically rip the clothes off of the other.

Foreplay is important!!! (For all my girlies who don't drip down their thighs)

Not only for you but for him too. Even if he's rock hard already, he wants to enjoy himself, maybe be a tease. He will always make sure that you're okay and ready (and so will you bc he deserves it).

Would literally eat you out to calm himself down. He probably has fallen asleep while licking your pussy, it's his personal meditation.

Your taste, the way you feel on his tongue and the fact that he was two perfectly good pillows wrapped around his head made it easy for him to nod off.

Also, he prefers it hairy. (Fight me.) (pls don't)

I know it's cliche but he's like 2 seconds away from just coming inside of you the second he pushes in. Not only does he feel good but when he looks down he sees you and he could cry from how happy he is. He just loves you so much.

Can we please put the "You only take half of him" bullshit to rest??? Thank you. We all know Simon as BDE but let's keep it on the real side okay. He couldn't give less of a shit if you can take him to the hilt or not.

(Some gals physically can't bc if your vaginal canal is too short, then it's impossible. You don't want a bruised cervix, so don't be stupid) I do think when he's more comfortable about it and a little more desperate and rough, he'll play into the size kink.

He probably has a huge size kink anyway but he would never make you feel bad if you couldn't take all of him. (Especially if you're giving him head bc let's be real that thing is not going down no one's throat okay)

He has the prettiest moans. I JUST KNOW IT. they're more throaty and deep but they sound good. I honestly don't think this man is capable of whimpering (like physically. Not with that smoker lung) sorry babes.

Simon isn't too loud, but just enough to make you that much hotter. He will try to pull more moans out of you, like a little challenge for himself.

NONE OF THAT "10 rounds Riley" SHIT. (Have any of y'all ever had an orgasm before like?? Who the fuck is going ten rounds??? Not me that's for sure lmao) it really all depends on your guys' mood and neediness on that day.

I do think he can and wants to go a couple of rounds but it's probably more on the rare side and never more than 4.

He knocks out immediately. He's always tired anyways.

I think his favorite positions are missionary, prone bone, and cow girl. He likes the closeness, wants to feel every part of you and kiss it like his life depends on it.

The further you are into your relationship, the more new stuff you can try out. He's always gonna be hesitant at first but if it's not too out there he'll try it.

Simon will tell you if something is a hard no for him and he expects you to respect, just as he would for you.

Would 100% make you ride his face. Wants to he smothered in it okay. (Simon said sit, so sit.)

Simon would be down to tying you up (one condition; you're never tied to anything. In case of emergencies)

You won't get him to be tied up though, that's a real hard no.

I think the closest you'd get to a submissive Simon is if you order him around.

He's sitting on his knees before you and you tell him exactly what you want him to do (one thing Simon Riley can do is follow orders) and he'll pretend to let you be in control and maybe you are for a while, but deep down he's always in control (not necessarily sexual or possessively, he just needs the security)

He loves to get head (not as much as giving it tho) but he will never ever force his cock down your throat, even if you begged him.

He can't do it, won't do it. Has he had the urge and fantasies?? Sure, but it goes against everything he promised when you got into a relationship.

Sweetly suck on his tip and stroke the rest of his length and he's happy as a clam <3

His absolutely favorite thing is when you ride him in the morning. Just lazy and sloppy circles of your hips while you sit on top of him. He loves the sight.

Simon'll gently hold onto your hips and guide you if need be. It's even better if you're laying flush against his chest and the both of you are snuggled under the blanket.

Bonus; he loves to make-out with you. It's an unhealthy obsession that has led to too much lipgloss/lipstick ingested just bc the fucker couldn't wait 2 minutes for you to take it off.

Kissing you is his number 1 way to show you how much he loves you since words aren't his strong suit.

Needless to say, he's head over heels for you, and the sex is great. <3

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

I hope you lovelies enjoyed it!

More of my works --> 💫

#bumblebeesfromvenus #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #ghost cod #ghost call of duty

[ginax0916]

₊✧ 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐤𝐥𝐞 ✧₊

Chris Sturniolo x hurt!gf!reader

Genre: Fluff

Synopsis: Chris’s gf’s ankle is broken and he helps her even when she doesn’t need help.

*I got the idea of writing this from their recent Wednesday video where Chris tried to help Matt down the stairs*

✧˖°⋆⑅˚₊

“So what did the doctor say?” My boyfriend Chris asks as I walk back into the waiting room where he waits with his brothers.

“Well if you couldn’t already tell by the boot on my foot, my ankle is broken” I sarcastically say.

“Oh shit. What even happened?” Matt asks.

“My dumbass got on the kitchen counter to reach something from the top shelf and when I jumped down I landed on it wrong and then I heard a crack and well yall know the rest” I sigh limping to them.

“Yo you sure you’re good to walk all the way to the car love?” Chris asks holding me up by my waist.

“Oh by the way y/n it would be good to invest in crutches for the first few days! Forgot to mention that earlier” The doctor says as she walks out into the waiting room to call her next patient.

“Does that answer your question?” I laugh.

We sign the papers I needed to be discharged and both Chris and Matt help me limp back to the car since I refuse to be carried like a baby.

“I’m gonna stop at Walgreens because they sells crutches there I’m pretty sure” Matt says.

“But I don’t want crutches” I sigh for the hundredth time.

“Y/n the doctor literally walked out to tell you that you need crutches. We’re buying them” Nick retorts.

“Fine whatever” I slouch down in defeat.

“Ok we’re here. Y/n stay in the car so you don’t have to walk all the way there. Do you want anything else?” Matt questions.

“Can you get me some nerd gummy clusters please? Oooh and a bottle of raspberry Iced Tea if there is any” I smile.

“Of course kid” Matt smiles back.

“I’ll stay with her in the car” Chris says.

“Alright just don’t be making out once we get back” Nick rolls his eyes as he closes the door.

“How you feel ma? Does it hurt?” Chris asks and rubs my thigh.

“I’m okay. And no it doesn’t hurt it feels fine actually” I say.

“Alright then that’s good” I nod in agreement.

“So how am I meant to fuck you with your broken ankle”

“Chris! Why is that your first concern” I laugh.

“I literally asked if it hurt 2 seconds ago!” He lifts his hands in defense.

“Wow makes such a difference Christopher” I slap his arm.

“See! Fucking you was not my first concern initially” He points his finger at me laughing.

“Yea but it was your second which is insane” I giggle.

“Come on don’t act like it wasn’t yours” He smiles sheepishly.

“Oh shut up Chris” I laugh again.

“Oh good you’re both decent” Nick says startling us as he opens the car door.

“Come on we aren’t that immature Nick” Chris says.

“Oh trust me you are Christopher” Nick pats him on the shoulder.

“What’s with people and calling me Christopher today damn” Chris turns back around in his seat.

“Y/n I got you the ice tea you wanted and along with the candy. And unfortunately they were out of stock of crutches so they let us order them online so they should arrive in like 2-3 days” Matt comments as he gets in the car handing me my stuff.

“Thanks Matt” I say. “I can go 2-3 days without walking I’m sure” I chuckle.

“I can just carry you around” Chris speaks up.

“What a delight” I sarcastically say.

“Oh come don’t act like you don’t already ask me to carry you around because you’re too lazy” He says slightly offended by my joke.

“I’m joking baby of course I don’t mind being carried around by you” I giggle.

—

“I’m gonna go pick up Canes for dinner is that good with you guys?” Matt yells from the garage.

“Yes that’s perfect thanks Matt!” I yell back.

“Wait I wanna come with you and so bored and you always get my order wrong any way” Nick says while running down the stairs to join Matt.

“See ya guys!” Nick says.

“Bye Nick!” Both Chris and I say back.

“So what you wanna do mama?” Chris asks, sitting down on the couch with me.

“I’m not sure. What is there to do?” I turn my body to be facing Chris and I lay my head of the cushions behind me.

“We could watch a movie, watch YouTube, play a board game or just talk. Whatever you want baby” Chris says, grabbing both my legs and draping them over his lap careful to not hurt my ankle.

“Ummm I’m not sure. But I have to pee” I say getting up. Slightly wincing at the pain of my foot touching the ground.

“C’mere” Chris mumbles, picking me up bridal style and carrying me to the bathroom.

“Thank you Chrissy” I kiss him on the cheek.

“You’re welcome and don’t call me that again” He laughs.

“Can you take my pants off for me please?” I pout.

“Oh now you’re just being a baby. Your hands work perfectly fine” Chris rolls his eyes.

“Fine me the injured person who could die any second will pull her owns pants down god” I dramatically say.

“Oh shut up and go to the bathroom babe” Chris says walking out of the bathroom laughing.

As I finish I limp into the kitchen where Chris leans against the counter.

“Hey you’re not meant to be walking you should’ve called me” Chris says picking me up and setting me on the countertop.

“I swear I’m okay love” I smile cupping his cheeks.

“Yea well the boot on your foot says otherwise” He says and grabs my waist pulling me into a warm hug.

“I love your hugs” I say nuzzling closer into him.

“And I love hugging you” He mumbles, kissing my cheek.

“Can we go to your room and watch a movie while Nick and Matt get back?” I politely ask.

“Of course we can ma” Chris smiles helping me down from the counter.

“Alright c’mon I’ll carry you down the stairs baby” He comments as he bends down ready to pick me up.

“No wait I want to do it myself” I shake my head.

“Babe the doctor said you had to be in crutches you most definitely can’t go down the stairs by yourself” Chris sighs annoyed at my stubbornness.

“Please baby? I swear I can do it” I give him my best puppy eyes to convince him.

“No don’t look at me like that ma you know I’m gonna cave” Chris covers his face with his hands.

“I’m taking that as a yes” I giggle.

“But I will be right behind you and I’m going to pick you up the second I see you stumble understood?” Chris sternly says.

“Yes I understand” I smile.

I step one foot on the first step and then the next, grabbing tightly onto the rail I limp my way down to the 4th step. Only about 15 left oh god. I thought I could do it but it hurts really bad. There’s a stinging pain on my ankle every time I step. It’s bringing tears to my eyes. But I don’t want Chris to think that I’m weak and I can’t do it. But god does it hurt. It’s getting obvious that I can’t do it, I whimper in pain every time step, tears threatening to fall. I bring my hand up to wipe my eyes but I also stepped at the same time. I lose my balance and almost fall but Chris catches me. Oh fuck.

“Hey hey I got you, you’re ok” Chris picks me up bridal style and goes the rest of the way down to his room with me in his arms. My head resting on the crook of his next softly crying. I’m not even sure if it’s because of embarrassment or pain, maybe both.

He sets be down on the edge of the bed and kneels in front of me.

“What’s wrong baby, why’re you crying that pretty makeup away hm?” Chris sweetly asks, moving my hair out of my face.

“I just- I didn’t want you to think I was weak and couldn’t do it myself” I quietly replied with my voice cracking.

“Oh baby you’re not weak. You just have a literal broken ankle. Asking for help sometimes is never being weak ok? I will never ever judge you for anything especially not being able to go down the stairs with a broken ankle. I’m always here for you ma” Chris comforts me, rubbing my arms soothingly.

“Thank you Chris” I smile leaning it to hug him.

“I love you” He kisses my cheek, hugging me back.

“Who wants Canes!!” Matt yells from the top of the stairs.

“You gonna let me carry you now mama?” He laughs as he picks me up, my legs going around his waist carefully with my ankle.

“Took you guys long enough! I’m starving” Chris laughs.

✧˖°⋆⑅˚₊

#y/n #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic #ankle injury

[the-likesofus]

starting our forever, baby

9-1-1 on ABC | Buddie | 2.1k words | s7 spec, prev bucktommy, getting together, love confessions, love is stored in the kitchen

Eddie wakes up to a surprise visit from Buck and they finally talk about forever.

Read on AO3

Eddie wakes up to the sound of pans clanging in the kitchen and the smell of pancake batter and hot butter. Neither of these things is cause for alarm nor out of the ordinary but he is ninety-eight percent certain he went to sleep in an empty house. 

He rolls out of bed, shrugging on a sweatshirt and grabbing a pair of soft socks out of his drawer on the way past and to no surprise finds Buck in the kitchen.

“Hey! Eddie,” Buck smiles brightly at him as Eddie cautiously perches himself on a kitchen stool. “Good morning.”

Buck is bathed in sunlight from the kitchen window behind him, a halo of gold filtering through his soft curls, gel-free and touseled on the top of Buck’s head in a way that Eddie wishes he would let them be more often. “Morning, Buck. You’re here early.”

Buck bustles around the kitchen, pulling milk out of the fridge and grabbing a mug from the top cupboard, his body moving around Eddie’s kitchen as if it has been programmed with an innate sense of where to find anything and everything. He could be convinced that Buck knows his way around Eddie’s kitchen better than Eddie does. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m sorry. It’s just–it’s been a while, yeah? And I feel like I haven’t seen Chris in ages–I miss the kid–and I figured he was probably, if not missing me, at least missing my pancakes. I hope he hasn’t been letting you make them.”

Buck pours coffee from the pot into the mug, tops it off with the precise amount of milk that Eddie prefers, and sets it in front of Eddie before turning to the frying pan and flipping the pancake. “I know you’ve been improving in the cooking department–I can see it, Eddie, and I’m proud of you,” Eddie’s heart squeezes in his chest. “But pancakes are my department.”

“I wouldn’t want to steal your thunder.” Eddie quips and Buck whips around to wave the spatula at him.

“Exactly!”

“Buck,” Eddie presses carefully because there’s a frantic energy fizzing beneath Buck’s skin, he can see it in the way he moves, the line of his shoulders, and the exaggerated way he swings his arms. “Christopher isn’t here. He’s on school camp until Friday.”

“Oh, right, I knew that.” Buck’s whole body joints to a stop like a record skipping on a turntable and then just as soon he’s back in motion again. “That’s okay! I brought lemon juice for on your pancakes, we can save the bacon for the weekend when he gets back.”

Eddie’s heart grows three sizes in his chest, threatening to burst out all over his kitchen and cover Buck and the bench top in a flood of emotions he’s spent the last month and a half trying to fold smaller and smaller until he can safely tuck them away beneath his ribs where it can’t hurt anyone but himself. 

“Buck?” The other man glances at him before turning back to the stove, giving a soft hum in response. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Buck grins at him again but it doesn’t reach his eyes this time. 

“You’re buzzing, and not the good kind.” Eddie stands and rounds the counter, he leans against the other side while still giving Buck as much space as he needs. He presses again, softer this time. “Buck? What’s going on?”

Buck deflates and turns the stove off, removing the pan from the element and leaning against the other counter opposite Eddie. “Tommy and I broke up. I broke up with him, or we broke up with each other, I guess.” 

Eddie isn’t sure what to say. As far as he knew Buck and Tommy’s relationship had been going smoothly. They were a good fit, even Eddie could tell, as much as it sometimes pained him to admit. But he was happy for them. Seeing them dance together at Maddie and Chimney’s wedding had filled Eddie with a sense of pride even when it also left him feeling like he was walking with a permanent rock in his shoe—a phenomenon he could finally put a name to after a few long talks with Frank and an enlightening if not nervewracking night at a bar called the Peacock that Hen had suggested he visit for ‘research purposes’. 

“I thought you really liked Tommy?” Is what he finally manages to say once he unsticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth.

“I do,” Buck says. His arms are still full of static as he gestures with his hands in that way that Buck does when he’s nervous or overwhelmed and he’s not looking Eddie in the eyes. Buck shakes his head. “I did. I did, and Tommy is wonderful but I think we both realized that it wasn’t going to last. He got offered a job, down in Mexico.” Buck pushes away from the bench, pulls two plates out of the drawer, and starts dividing the stack of pancakes between them.

“After the whole fiasco with the cruise ship, the LAFD decided they wanted someone on the ground down there as a sort of link between the Los Angeles rescue helicopters and the team down in Mexico City. They’re going to put him in charge of his own team and he’s been working towards some sort of promotion for ages so he’s really excited about it.”

“He didn’t ask you to go with him did he?” Eddie can’t help but let the question burst out of him. The thought of Buck leaving already feels like tearing out a lung but he also knows he’s in no position to ask Buck to stay, certainly not for Eddie’s sake. 

“He did, sort of.” Buck shrugs. “I think he already knew I wouldn’t say yes. L.A. is my home, I couldn’t leave the 118, I couldn’t leave Maddie and Jee-yun. Christopher, the thought of being anywhere that kid isn’t is just—and I know he’s not—but I still couldn’t. I won’t. Tommy knows that. He also knew that I wouldn’t leave you.”

“Me?” Now Eddie has to swallow down a lump of surprise. Eddie doesn't think that little of himself, he knows he’s important to Buck, they are important to each other, but important enough to be the reason Buck stays in Los Angeles while his boyfriend moves to another country?

Buck turns to place two plates, carefully stacked with fluffy, golden pancakes, each drizzled in lemon juice and sprinkled with sugar—Eddie’s favorite—on the kitchen island, and then he’s facing Eddie again only feet away in all his early morning glory and Eddie dares to hope.

“You.” Buck rests one hip against the counter and turns the full power of those bright blue eyes on Eddie as he finally makes eye contact for the first time all morning. “Yes, you, Eddie. Tommy is lovely and sweet and he has been so, so good to me for the last two months, we’ve been good for each other, I think.”

Eddie breaks the eye contact, he’s heard all about how wonderful and lovely Tommy is for the last two months and while he has been so happy for Buck, truly, it has also been agony. But then Buck is stepping up into Eddie’s space and gripping his elbow. Buck ducks his head until he can catch Eddie’s eyes again and follows his gaze until Eddie gives up on trying to hide from him. 

“But it was never going to work long-term, I don’t think it was ever meant to. He’s very sweet and we get along well but it never got any deeper than that. We made better friends than anything else.”

“Okay, so you ended it on mutual terms and he’s moving to Mexico?”

“Not for a few months but eventually he is yes.”

“A few months?”

“Next February.”

“February? Next year? Buck that ages away, why break up now if he’s not leaving until–.”

“Because it was time.”

“Time for what?”

“To stop lying to myself, to you.”

Eddie almost bites his tongue. “Lying to me? Buck, I am so confused right now. Did you hit your head? You do remember coming out to me right? You’ve been dating a man for the last two months. You brought a man to your sister’s wedding. Honestly, I am still living off of the high that I got from seeing your mother’s face when you kissed Tommy on the dance floor, that was—.”

“Eddie!” Buck laughs around his name and it’s the sweetest sound Eddie has ever heard. “Would you let me finish talking? Please?”

Eddie nods. “Right, yes. Sorry. Proceed.” He swings his arm out dramatically and Buck pinches the skin on the back of Eddie’s arm and rolls his eyes. 

“Eddie,” There’s a seriousness to Buck’s tone that Eddie doesn’t hear often. “I don’t want to presume anything okay, so if I’ve been reading this wrong then please tell me because I don’t want to make this weird, the last thing I want to do is hurt you or make you uncomfortable but—.” Eddie watches the tick in Buck's jaw tighten. “There’s something here, right? You and me?”

“Do you think there is?” Eddie whispers into the space between them, barely getting the words out past where his heart sits in his throat. 

“I dare to hope there is,” Buck whispers back. “I would like there to be. Eddie, you’re my best friend, you’ve been my rock for years and I love you more than anything but I also—I also think I might be in love with you, and I think I have been for a long time.”

“You think?”

“Like pretty God damn certain actually.” 

“Good, good.” Eddie nods, barely keeping the grin from breaking across his face. He can feel his lips twitching with the effort to suppress it. “That’s good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He steps into Buck’s space and leans forward until he can press their foreheads together. Buck’s arm slides from Eddie’s elbow to around his waist and Eddie rests his palm against Buck’s chest, sliding it up until he can wrap his fingers over the swell of Buck’s shoulder and press his thumb into that divet in Buck’s throat where Eddie can feel the heat of him and the pulse of his heartbeat beneath the pad of his thumb. “Because I am definitely in love with you.”

“You never said anything.”

“I didn’t know and then I did but you were with Tommy and you were happy. I was happy for you.”

Buck breathes deeply and Eddie reveals in the way it rushes past his cheek. “What about you?”

“I’m happy now,” Eddie says and it’s true, and realizing that only multiples the happiness tenfold. “I’m so happy I could burst.”

“Happy that I got dumped again?”

“You didn’t get dumped, you said it was mutual.” Eddie squeezes his shoulder. “But yes, happy that you might finally be mine, that I might finally get to be yours.”

Buck leans back and when Eddie opens his eyes he finds Buck’s eyes glassy and brimming with tears.

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” Buck says and Eddie pulls him into his arms until they are chest to chest, chins hooked over each other’s shoulders and wrapped up in each other so completely that Eddie could not tell you where one of them ends and the other begins and it feels so right, so right to have Buck so close to him, for them to be one and the same. They breathe together for a long time, squeezing each other closer whenever the micro fraction of an inch between them begins to field like football fields of distance.

“We take this slow, we do it right,” Eddie says carefully, pulling back just far enough to cup his hand around Buck’s cheek and hold his gaze. A niggly part of his brain tries to remind him of everything that could go wrong, of everything they have to lose, but a bigger part of him can only hope for everything that could go so beautifully right. 

“We have the rest of forever, after all.” Buck’s smile is soft at the edges and it smoothes the jagged parts of Eddie’s worry. 

Eddie leans up and presses one gentle kiss to the corner of Buck’s mouth, allowing himself that much for now. The rest will come, he is in no rush for the rest of his life. On Friday Christopher will be home and they can make pancakes again. At the end of the month, Buck’s lease will expire and Eddie will finally have an excuse to never let Buck leave his house again. In February they will wave Tommy off at the airport and Eddie will get the chance to thank him properly. Soon enough they might get to dance at another wedding, maybe their own, definitely together, for the rest of forever. 

“Forever and a day.” He promises.

#buddie #buddie fic #911 #season 7 spec #prev bucktommy #meegs writes stuff #911 on abc #buck x eddie #eddie diaz #evan 'buck' buckley #911fic #911 fic #eddie x buck #911 fox

[nomazee]

THIS EVENT IS SO CUTE!!🩷🩷😭

could i req childhood best friends dan heng x reader word(s) is sneaking out if you want a timestamp, it's 11:42 p.m. thank you so much!!!

THIS REQUEST WAS SO CUTE i had way too much fun with this this hit 1.5k words which is way over the limit i set for myself... but i do not regret it at all. I LOVE CHILDHOOD BEST FRIEND DAN HENG AAAA THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING

my 1k event!

—°+..｡ﾟ｡ﾟ+.*.｡.—

The ringing of your phone is cut off by the automated voicemail message for the nth time in a row. Your neck hurts from how long you’ve been staring up at Dan Heng’s bedroom window,  where the lights are off and the curtains are drawn and he’s definitely asleep. 

Anticipation makes you bounce on your feet, itching to just break into his front door and shake him awake yourself. Fortunately for Dan Heng’s family, it doesn’t quite reach that point, because your phone suddenly vibrates in your hand with Dan Heng’s contact flashing on your screen. 

Incoming call. Jackpot. 

“Dan Heng,” you answer the call with no formalities whatsoever, because those aren’t needed after knowing him for so long, “come outside! I’m here to pick you up.” 

“What is wrong with you,” he grumbles out. The grit in his voice is endearing and familiar and makes your breath stutter. “It’s— almost midnight.”

“I know, and you’re already asleep? You’re such a senior citizen,” you hear the exhausted sigh he makes at another one of your old-man-Dan-Heng jokes. “There's a carnival tonight. Like, one of the cool ones that only open at 10 o’clock. March just texted me about it, she’s already there with Stelle!”

“Why wouldn’t you tell me earlier?” You hear shuffling, and spot movement in your peripheral vision. Craning your head up to look at his window yet again, you see the flicker of his bedside lamp being turned on (and you can already picture it from how well you know his room—that goofy-looking toucan table lamp that you got from some vintage store years ago for him), and the curtains pull back to reveal Dan Heng in all his half-asleep glory. He looks terrible, bangs sticking up and his corny galaxy-printed sleep shirt all wrinkled. It’s a charming look, though. 

“I told you, March just texted me about it! Literally five minutes ago.” 

“So, you ran here just to tell me about it?” 

“Well, yeah, duh,” your tone is incredulous, because he should know by now that he’s the first person you go to for anything. The first person to hear about your failing grade in calculus, or your embarrassing run-in with your middle school ex girlfriend, or the bitter orange that you had as an afternoon snack. Dan Heng’s call history is probably full of your contact (which is just your name, no fun emoticons or inside jokes, and no profile picture, much to your everlasting dismay), and every call would show that he answers every single one without fail. 

And, really, if you’re going to be honest with yourself (which you really hate doing), there’s a hopefulness twitching in your fingers tonight, something carried to you through the wind. You’re thinking of the carnival, about the sticky sweet snacks that you’re going to split with Dan Heng, the ferris wheel cart that you’ll be cramped in, the view of the stars from way up there and the tender way he’ll look at you. 

Because he does that, sometimes, with no explanation, and you’ve never had the strength to respond in any way but a hesitant smile and a smack on his shoulder and a stupid joke. But there’s a tote bag slung around your arm now, full of money and two water bottles and the weight of your heart. 

“Listen,” you tell him after a bout of his reluctant silence, “I brought you a jacket and your scarf, because I know you’re vitamin deficient and you’ll blow away in the wind unless I hold you down. It’ll be so fun if you come with me! Please? And I’ll get you home before your family notices!” 

Both you and Dan Heng know that’s a lie, because you have a tendency to drag him out for long periods of time where both of you forget to check your phones. In your opinion, it does more good than harm, because it lets you live in the moment—or so you tell Dan Heng’s parents when they question you about keeping their son out past sundown. 

“I’m not vitamin deficient,” Dan Heng tells you, but the argument is weakened by the fact that you’ve had to carry around a spare jacket for Dan Heng since you were both stumbling on your tiny baby legs. He must realize that, too, because you can see the way his face softens as he looks at you from his window, peering down. Despite the minimal light, you can still see the vibrant sheen of his eyes, the way that his mouth presses into a thin line to hold back a smile. 

It takes only a moment of contemplation before he lets out a yielding sigh and mumbles, “Okay, fine. I’m coming downstairs to let you in and then I’ll get ready. Don’t be loud.”

“I’m never loud!” 

The call ends with a click and Dan Heng slides his striped curtains closed. Circling around to get back to his front door, you made sure to be as quiet as possible and not trample his family’s gardenias. When the door opens to reveal Dan Heng’s beautiful, sleep-swollen face, an overwhelming warmth blooms in your chest and leaves your lungs dry and aching for air. The smile that appears on your face is instinctual, as most behaviors are for you around Dan Heng. 

“Hi,” you whisper, really truly whisper, because he told you to be quiet and sometimes it’s good to do what Dan Heng wants (only sometimes). His lips are still tightened into that thin line, and you think, I’ll make him laugh tonight, which is a goal you’ve always set for yourself, ever since you befriended him in first grade with a paper flower and a loud, blatant, childish proclamation of best-friend-ship. 

“Wait on the couch,” he directs you quietly, stepping aside to let you in. “Get a water from the fridge and pack it.” 

“I already brought two for us,” the apples of your cheeks strain with the force of your smile, and you’re trying not to giggle. The water thing—that was established forever ago, too, just like the spare jacket, and staying out late, and the toucan lamp, and the paper flower. You always shared a water bottle, reminding each other and passing one between your hands until the last drops were wrung dry from it, and then you’d spend half an hour trying to find a fountain to refill it because you never packed more than two on any given day. 

“Dan Heng,” you stop him with a hand on his shoulder before he can go back up the stairs to get ready in his room, and he looks back at you with the same look that you were envisioning before. The color of his eyes has gone dim, but in a fond way, in a way that tells you his breathing is even and his pulse is steady. 

You take the brief moment where his attention is on you to wrap your arms around him, the sleeves of your jacket pulling him close, warm, tender to you. Your tote bag dangles awkwardly to the side, but you try not to let it stop you from squeezing him tight, letting him know you’re here, right here. 

“What’s this about,” he mumbles into your shoulder, hands going up to grasp at the back of your sweatshirt and tug you just a few millimeters closer. A gentle weight sits between your hands and in your chest and you stifle a laugh into his barely-covered shoulder. 

“Nothing. Just really happy you’re coming.” 

“Okay,” he says, because he’s awkward and awful and so are you, but his hands still squeeze between your shoulderblades and keep you against him. A whistle of wind makes the gutters of the house creak, and you think of the stars that you’ll see from the top of the ferris wheel tonight, glinting in the sky and in Dan Heng’s eyes. 

“Let me go so I can change.” His voice is monotone, seemingly disinterested, but you don’t take offense to it, you never have. Reluctantly, you loosen your grip around him, and let him pull back the rest of the way because you can’t bear to do it yourself. 

The look, the glimmer, the depth of his eyes are all still there, accompanied by a new rosiness in his cheeks that you know isn’t caused by the heat of your hands or the cold wind outside. You don’t get the chance to laugh at the waver in his mouth as he fights back a small laugh, because he’s already turning back to rush up the stairs, stance wobbling as he tries to hide from his own embarrassment, and it’s so terrible and familiar and you ache with the urge to burrow into this home and make it your own. 

Your phone is flooded with dozens of texts from March, you’re sure, but even as it pushes midnight, you take your sweet time walking to the carnival, fingers clasped with each other as your jacket hangs off of Dan Heng—like it always has, like it always will.

—°+..｡ﾟ｡ﾟ+.*.｡.—

gen taglist: @tragedy-of-commons @lasiancunin @flower-yi

event taglist: @confusion-star

fill out my event taglist (pinned) or general taglist (navi) to be tagged in upcoming works!

#nora hits 1k #hsr x reader #dan heng x reader #honkai star rail x reader #danheng x reader #honkai x reader #dan heng hsr x reader #dan heng drabble #hsr drabble

[pixielover1]

Wild Flowers.

Part one. Part two. Part three.

Monster!König x Reader.

The night fell and you were still too afriad to move. You feared the beast would come back to eat or kill you. The thought of him coming to finish the job rattled your bones, making it impossible to sleep. You were starving too. Chilly gusts of wind would leak through your now broken door, making the situation even harder to bear. After minutes of mustering up your courage, you stood to shaky feet and tried to silently creep through your own house. You searched for food, your stomach rumbling at the lack of sustenance. It then dawns on you that today was harvesting day and you had a heap of fresh food waiting for you. Outside. You shivered at the thought of even stepping foot on the grass surrounding your porch, but your famished body urged you to go. You inched out, weary of any watching presence you were confident stalked about. You reached your small garden after what seemed like years, bending down to grab the basket. Then you heard it. The rustling of the forest leaves. Your head jerks up at the sound and there you are, met with his gaze once more. You stop breathing all together, body tensing. He seems even bigger than before, even with the cloak of the dark woods. You start to take in his physical with the little light you had, noticing his bulging muscles and injuries littered around his skin. He wasn’t ugly like a beast, strange. What was he? The thoughts dissipate instantly as he takes a step towards you. You drop the basket and your feet track backwards, trying to keep your distance from.. it? He stalks closer and you’re almost positive he’ll lunge forward.

Königs claws slowly reach down, grabbing a tomato and plopping it back into your basket which rested on the ground. He continues his motions, gathering your fallen food and placing them back where they belong. His small rationale tells him he is doing the right thing, and that he was helping his angel. König does forget his appearance though, how he perfectly embodies the apex predator he was. He doesn’t know how his thick fangs flash every time he opens his mouth. He doesn’t know how powerful his gaze is. And he certainly doesn’t know how hot lethal his hands looked. All veiny and bruised, they looked like they could snap you in half instantly. All of this combined with his hairy wolfish body made him horrifying, but damn sexy.

He continues to gently pick up the basket and extends his arm, offering it to you. Your eyebrows furrow as you finally think about what he is doing. He is being nice. Your hands hesitantly take the basket from him, both of your eyes locked on one another's. He moves into you, making you flinch and close your eyes for a moment. They peek open when you hear a click in the distance. The beast was gone. You ran back around to your front door and couldn’t help but notice the hinge back in place. He fixed the door. A smile played at the corners of your mouth as you wrap your head around all his previous gestures. He had never once tried to hurt you, he only aided you. You sighed at the conclusion and trudged into your cabin, closing and locking the door behind you. You make a quick meal before finally retiring off to bed. Maybe, just maybe, you’d make him a thank you gift in the morning.

The sun rises and it is not nearly as sweet as the day before. The air was thicker knowing there was something watching you. You rolled out of bed, still exhausted from the day prior but determined to finish up your neglected chores. You take a glance at your basket of crops and memories flood back into you. Flashes of his rough and masculine body under the moonlight invade your mind, uninvited and perverted. You heartbeat fastens as his good-natured actions circle your psyche. You let out a frustrated groan, holding your head in your hands. Why didn’t you hate the thought of him? Irritated with yourself, you cave in and make the mutant a stew. Using your prime vegetables and bone broth you create a warm, homey soup. You walk outside into the familiar cold air, pot in hand. You peer into the eerie surroundings as you place the pot down at the edge of the tree line. “Hello?” You called out into the dawning, oddly silent woods. Your soft voice coaxed the hunter from his hiding spot. Promptly, König is emerging from the trees, in front of you in an instant. Dark eyes are trained on you. You take notice of his still tail and a part of you feels somber that he isn't showing as much excitement as before. You shake the silly idea out of your head and point at the pot. “Thank you. For taking care of the snake and um.. helping me with my vegetables.” You mumble, eyes looking everywhere but his. Unable to control himself any longer, König takes a sizable leg closer and wraps his arms around you. His grip was tight. Your eyes widen in shock at the reflex, your breath being whisked away from the firm hug. Fear arose inside you at the proximity, but a new emotion found its way into you as well. You remained stiff, naturally after becoming scared again. He reluctantly releases you after long seconds once he comes to realize you're uncomfortable. Your eyes meet his for the first time that morning and he speaks to you. “Alles für dich.” (Anything for you.) Something sparks inside of you when you hear his voice. It’s gruff and raspy, as if he hasn’t spoken in years. You don’t know that he hasn’t. You don’t understand the language he speaks, making you tilt your head in confusion. His nose begins to sniff out the food you prepared and his tail sways a bit when he notices the pot. You take this time to speak up, clearing your throat to ask, “Do you speak English? I’m sorry but I didn’t understand what you said.” Never did you think you’d be apologizing to a hybrid brute like him, but here you were. His sight is back on you and his lips twitch a bit. The pace of his wagging tail quickens as he huffs out a response, “Yes.” Königs heart is thumping out of his chest because he's actually talking to you, communicating with the one he's already dedicated his life to.

Königs deep voice continues to make you feel something new, something primal. You take a step back because suddenly the air is hot and stuffy. He motions at the pot, “For me?” He asks, accent thick. You nod simply, waving at the container as if to say ‘dig in’. You turn to leave, but you stop yourself. What the hell were you doing? Your brain sounds the alarm as your lips part and speak something insane. Something you shouldn’t have said. “Would you like to come home with me?”

#monster!konig #black reader #könig x fem reader #cod x reader #könig x y/n #cod smut #könig x reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #plus sized reader #könig smut #könig #könig cod #afab reader

[abigails-gf]

hiii would u write something sweet about reader having self harm scars on her arms and thighs and being ashamed of them, but abby comforts her by showing that she has scars too? though abby’s scars are not from sh, they’re from fighting but abby tells reader that she’s a fighter too and made it out in the end <3

abby anderson x f!reader.

warnings: reader has self-h*rm scars.

a/n: hii anon! thank you so much for this request. i don't know if you've seen, but i have some more stories of abby and her partner with sh scars, you can find it on my masterlist! i hope you're okay. and what abby says here is what i wished all of us, who (used to) cope with self-harm could hear. sending you all so much love. 🫶🏻🫂

you and abby are in your shared room. she just got out of the shower, wearing a pair of boxers and a tank top, her blonde hair falling on her shoulders. she sits on the edge of the old mattress. "what?" she asks, noticing the way you stare at her. "nothing. hey, are those new?" you point to some scratches on her arms and one under her chin. "mhm. ran into some seraphites today. but it's alright."

you reach for the healing cream in your backpack and open the lid, putting some in your hands. "mel gave this to me." you say, holding abby's arm. abby hisses as the cold cream touches her skin. you rub it over her freckled forearm, being gentle when touching her scars. she kisses your head. "thank you, baby." you look at her and hold her chin, kissing her pouty lips before rubbing the cream over her chin scar. "does it hurt?" she shakes her head. she takes your hands in hers and looks into your eyes. she kisses you softly. "give me the cream, baby. s'my turn to care for you."

you give her the cream. "what for?" abby nods towards your arms as she puts a little cream into her big palm. "roll up your sleeves for me." you do as she asks, putting your hand over your other arm to hide the scars. abby tries to take your hand off your arm. "baby, need to take care of your scars." you shake your head. "no, i don't want you to see."

"i've seen them before, sweet girl. no need to hide." she speaks softly. you let your hand fall on your lap as abby takes your hand in hers, applying the cream on your scars. you look away. "what is it, mmh? talk to me."

"it's just – it's stupid. my scars are stupid." abby tuts. "don't say that, baby." she caresses your skin, tracing over your scars with her fingertips. "but they are. yours are because of combat, you didn't choose to get them." abby sighs and looks at you. "baby." she says sternly. "you didn't choose to get your scars either. you didn't choose for your mind to be so – so mean to you." you're on the verge of tears. she continues to rub your arm. "lay down for me, sweetheart."

you lay down on the bed, looking at abby as she takes off your pyjama pants. she looks at your thighs and back up at you. she presses on the tube of gel, the lotion falling on your skin. her big hands start to knead your thigh. "in a way, you're a fighter too, baby." she says softly. "it's not easy, surviving in this world. now add all the horrible things your mind inflicts on you, the pressure you put on yourself..." she kisses one of your scars and looks up at you. "you're a fighter, baby. the strongest woman i know." she kisses your scars, without breaking eye contact. "i love you. love you so much. how you got your scars doesn't invalid your suffering, baby. okay?" she caresses your thigh. you smile at her, tears now rolling down your cheeks. abby gets up from between your legs and hugs you. "my baby." her scent comforts you, you hold her tightly against you. "you're strong, sweetheart. okay? you're a fighter. and i'm so proud of you for fighting against all the bad thoughts you get, all the urges you have." she cups your face, wiping your tears with her thumb. "i'm so proud of you, my sweet girl. you're here, with me. you make this world more bearable, make living easier for me. you're here. despite all the horrible things you've been through, you're still here with me, baby." you sob, putting your hands above hers.

she kisses you softly, tasting your salty tears against her lips. you sniffle and look at her. "thank you for being here, abby. i wouldn't be here today without you." you kiss her once more, feeling her smile against your lips. "it's all you, baby. you're here, alive, because of you, because of how strong and resilient you are. i'm just here to support you, just a shoulder you can cry on. it's all you." she kisses your forehead.

"i love you, sweet girl, my little soldier." she kisses your cheeks. "i love you more, abs."

taglist: @abbysprettygiiirl @bambishaven @bunniehrtz @cowboylikeabi @dykeanderson

@lesbian-useless

#abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby x fem!reader #abby anderson x f!reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson tlou #abby tlou #tlou fic #abby the last of us

[flor4de4amor]

𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞

my rules n reg

summary: neither you or daryl are morning people, but work's gotta get done.

He’s not a morning person. Had it not been for the daunting end times, he’d roll over in his bed until late noon. The comfort of the mattress and sheets enveloping him into his dreamland. But much to his avail, and yours, there was work to be done. So much work. The pile never seemed to stop overflowing., and it almost always seemed to land in Daryl's lap. Not that he'd verbalize his complaints, work was the only thing beside you that kept him busy.

You feel the bed springs release with his weight, as Daryl lifts himself off the mattress. You groan as a result. “Dare,” you whisper. Throat coated w sleep and voice groggy. It's still too early for him to go. Sunlight hasn't even creeped through the curtains yet. Your arms reach out, with your eyes shut, trying to find the warmth of his body. His cracked hands meet yours. His fingers run over yours softly. “Where are you going?” You ask hoarsely. You know good and well where he’s going. It doesn't hurt to ask and potentially deter.

“Hunt, honey. ‘Member? We’re runnin’ low on sum’n meat.” His voice is deep, gravelly, and coated with a good night’s sleep.

You sigh, merging your hand with his. Your body extends to try and meet his. All while you lay rested, and his body has risen for the day. “Do you have to?” You question softly. So you guys have to eat. Sure. But does your man have to go hunting now? Right now?

His hand falls from yours to stroke your face. “Yeah, darlin’. If I don’t go out to hunt who’s gonna go?” You bury your head into your pillow and grunt unsatisfactorily. Daryl's always right. Obnoxiously so.

“Fine,” you retort with no avail. Daryl chuckles lightly at your antics. “When’re you gonna be back?” You grumble into your pillow.

He smiles softly. “Wha’s wrong girl? You going to miss me?” His thumb strokes your cheek affectionately. You can't see, with your face stuffed in the pillow, but you already know he's got that cheeky grin plastered on his face. Tongue prodding the side of his cheek, and he smiles to himself at your behavior.

“No shit, Dixon.” You reply. “Gonna answer my question or what?" Your tone holds no malice. He knows you're missing him already.

He taps your cheek, reeling you in line. “Snappy this morning.” He laughs slightly. “I’ll be back around noon. That alright with you boss?” He plays mockery of your neediness. Though he knows if you say jump, he'll ask how high; always ready at your beck and call.

“Yeah,” you reply hesitantly. “But that better be one fatass animal you bring back. Or else I’ll scalp you, myself.”

He laughs heartily, “Alright darlin’ whatever you say goes.” He offers you a kiss for good measure while whispering sweet goodbyes into your ear. Momentarily, all your short-lived contempt dies down as you sink back into the mattress into light sleep, until your hunter returns with all your loving.

divider made by: @aqualogia

#written by lina ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl #twd daryl #daryl x reader #daryl fanfiction #twd daryl dixon #daryl twd #daryl dixion imagine #daryl x female reader #daryl dixion x reader #the walking dead fanfiction #twd x reader #twd #the walking dead #x reader #fluff #walking dead #daryl dixon fanfic #fan #fanfiction #fanfic #norman reedus #the walking dead daryl dixon #daryl

[justaloes]

ADRENALINE & OXYTOCIN

pairs: Aiden x gn!reader x Tyler synopsis: Aiden accidentally gets you hurt and Tyler tends to your wounds!

You and Aiden always went out together to scavenge the entire graveyard every time the two of you got bored. And that's like, every night.

Every adventure makes you feel alive and ecstatic, and doing it together with him, makes it a lot better. Despite the current challenges you were facing. However, sometimes it does get out of hand. Like how your curiosity will one day do the best of you.

Just recently, when the two of you were still roaming around inside the graveyard, you almost felt like it started to feel like a loop.

He must have felt it too, knowing him by heart, he yearned to see the outside. He wonders of how spooky it gets during shifting to the phantom dimension, or to know a better route to run to just in case, or perhaps just to spend more time with you together as you share his love of constantly living on the edge. But he was afraid that he'd drag you to a mess. He frowns at the thought but it quickly switches into a smile as he changes the topic as if it never happened.

You initiated the idea to go outside, and he immediately agreed with a yes. But stops as he worries it'd be too dangerous. Hah, you dismissed it—what could possibly go wrong?

Aiden switched over the branches as high as the phantoms couldn't reach. He looked back at you, running and heaving in towards his direction. He quickly extended his hand as he waited for you to get near then pull you up once you've latched into it.

“Y/N, over here! Climb quickly!” He looked frantic when he saw the phantom quickly gaining on your tail. He stretched his arm to the point it ached his shoulders, he grunted.

You were getting close. You heave as you almost felt relieved. You raised your hand to grab his, but as you were about to reach it, the phantom behind you clutched to your sides, pulled you back as you gasped in pain. 

The two dropped over because of the sudden stop of your chase, a cloud of dirt expands. You dig your nails into its hands as its own nails drew fresh streaks from your abdomen. You then abruptly took your medium-sized sharp knife from the holder on your upper arm, held by a black makeshift holder—where it was supposed to be a joke to be ready at all times— now a weapon to shove down its eye. It shrieks loudly, its finger clutched to the handle as it pulls it out swiftly.

During that time, Aiden had already pulled you up from the branch where he was sitting. You winced in pain as he carefully put you on your feet. “It's not safe here yet; I'll try to guide you to the wall, and you wait. I'll jump inside first so that I'll catch you then.” You nodded as you stumbled for balance a bit, Aiden led you towards the end of the branch that was coincidentally just above the walls of the graveyard.

He laughs nervously at the whole situation, “Tyler’s goin’ to kill us.”

You joined in the laugh, still clutching your sides, “Oh, you're the one who's going to actually be killed.”

You were now limping as Aiden led you to the bus. You expected the scowl face Tyler gave you the very moment it laid an eye on your pained state. He turned to Aiden, and the blonde’s breath hitched as he raised one of his hands in defeat, the other still on yours.

Tyler’s voice was very firm as he pointed his finger at Aiden and scolded him while his twin was patting his back to calm down.

Later on, when everyone calmed down, Tyler was now sitting with his legs crossed as you leaned your back on the walls of the bus. He already helped Aiden with the sore ankle he got from catching you. Hey, now, you didn't need them to say that to you, it has caused you even more worry than you've already had.

The furrows on his eyebrows were still evident, though they were still in contrast to how he handles the bandages around your torso.

He grumbles as he grabs another cotton from the blood pouring again, “How many times do I have to tell you to stop hanging out with that weirdo?”

You watched the newly served fruits and water to your side with a get-well-soon note and a little smiley face under it. You smiled, as you obviously guessed it was from Aiden.

He sighed heavily. Tyler's been overly protective of you since the day you two met. And to know that you were also dragged here together with him has his senses always on high alert.

Your eyes softened at the sight of him aiding you, sometimes you don't notice it, but when you do notice how much he cares for you, you can't help but feel like you're in a sort of debt.

You soon watched him wrap the bandages again, but cursed when fresh blood rolled down your torso again. He reached over to grab the fresh bandages, but your fingers wrapped around his hands, stopping him midway.

He frowned when he looked at you, but his eyes softened at the sight of your tears running down your eyes, “Oh—I, I'm sorry, dove… Were the bandages too tight?”

“Thank you, Tyler.” He stopped now, his eyes staring at your face for any falsehood or mistake about what you said.

You nodded and exhaled. You continued, “Thank you for caring for me and Aiden when we get into trouble. This may be a little less than what you've actually done for me, but know that I really do appreciate it. So, thank you.” You stretch the corner of your lips to your ear as you now rub your thumb on his arm.

Tyler, however, was a bit flustered about what you'd confessed suddenly. He stammers through his words, his ears turn to a hue of red as he tries to ease what he was feeling, “Then- try not to be a hero all the time. You always get yourself hurt, and... and, agh—just try to be careful next time! It's not like I could be in your aid forever.”

You heartily laughed, but soon grimaced at the pain inflicted by the wound on your tummy. Tyler was now the one laughing.

masterlist .ᐟ

#justaloes #school bus graveyard #sbg #school bus graveyard x reader #sbg x reader #sbg (webtoon) #aiden sbg #tyler sbg #schoolbusgraveyardxreader #sbgxreader #sbg fluff #aiden x reader #tyler x reader #aiden clark #tyler hernandez #reader x aiden #reader x tyler

[five-rivers]

Cracked Clay Cup Chapter 17

@greatbigolhampuckjustforme

Danny reappeared in the entryway of Clockwork’s house in a swirl of blue.  He met Clockwork’s eyes for just a moment and saw the muted concern in them.  

He couldn’t stand it.  

He darted to the side and made for the stairs.  

“Daniel–” said Clockwork, behind him, but he ignored him.  

He reached his bedroom and dove under the covers of the bed, wrapping himself up in the quilt, because he missed grabbing the sheet underneath it.  He pressed the nearest pillow into his face and tried to stop crying.  

“Daniel,” repeated Clockwork softly from near the doorway.  Danny hadn’t closed the door.  

Danny shook his head.  Whatever Clockwork wanted right now, Danny just couldn’t–

The edge of the bed sank down as Clockwork sat on it.  He put a hand on Danny’s shoulder.  “It will be alright, Daniel.  You are safe here.”

“You know– You know what they did.”

“I do.”

“How could you just let me– How could you let me go there?”

Clockwork sighed.  “I am bound by the limits of the role I have taken on.  I could not tell you.”

Typical.  Danny rubbed angrily at his eyes.  “How did I get away?  Do you know?”

“I know,” said Clockwork.  He didn’t say anything else.  

“But you can’t tell me, is that it?”

“If I were to tell you,” said Clockwork, carefully, “I would be removed from my current role and replaced by someone… less able.  The Observants are ever eager to exert control.”

Danny sniffled.  Clockwork’s explanation was reasonable, from a certain perspective.  It still hurt.  

“Why did they do it?” asked Danny.  “They said they wanted to understand, but they–  Who could do that if they wanted to understand?”

“I cannot say that I understand their motives,” said Clockwork.  “I certainly couldn’t imagine acting like that.”  He began rubbing a small circle into Danny’s back.  “But you need never see them again, if that is your wish.”

A sob caught in Danny’s throat, and before he knew what he was doing, he had twisted around to throw himself into Clockwork’s arms.  Clockwork received him with a remarkable amount of grace.  

“I don’t know why–  I don’t– Why I’m acting like this, I barely know them, knew them, it shouldn’t feel like–”  He didn’t know how to describe it.  “I don’t know why.”

“The why of it does not matter so much as the fact that you do feel that way,”  said Clockwork, continuing to pat Danny’s back.  

“It matters to me.”

“Ah, I see,” said Clockwork, soothingly.  “I’m sorry.  Of course it matters to you.  Of course.”

“I’m sorry,” said Danny.  

“No, no,” said Clockwork, “it’s quite alright.”

“I’m crying on you.”

“It’s fine,” said Clockwork.  “Tears wash out.”

“I don’t know why.”

“You learned about something very upsetting.  This is natural.”

“I don’t remember it.”

“It still happened, and is responsible for your present circumstances.  It’s alright to cry.  I will be here.”

.

“I made oatmeal today,” said Clockwork, putting a steaming bowl down in front of Danny.  “I thought that something simple would be best, after last night.”

Danny grunted and picked up a spoon to stir the oatmeal.  It wasn’t as simple as all that, really.  Clockwork had put raisins and cinnamon sugar in it.  It probably tasted just as good as all the other food Clockwork had made for him.  

“I’m supposed to choose now,” said Danny, listlessly. 

“This is the stage of the trial where you choose, but you need not do so immediately.  I cannot advise you on how to choose, or how to weigh your options, but it would not be out of the question for you to contemplate the matter for several days.”

“Right,” said Danny.  He scrubbed at his face.  Even after he’d sent Clockwork away, he’d cried on and off all night.  His skin around his eyes felt grainy and salty.  “What happens, when I choose?  Do you just teleport me back and the doors start working again?  And I, um, get my memory back?”

“That is a portion of it,” said Clockwork.  He sat down at the table across from Danny.  “First, however, the power involved in the ritual that is the trial would coalesce into a bond between you and your chosen guardian.  This would include the power involved in altering your form, so you would shortly thereafter regain your original appearance.”

“I kind of like the ears and tail, though.”  He ran his hands over his ears reflexively.  “They’re fluffy.”

Clockwork smiled.  “There are ways you can either regain or retain them.  Once that has occurred, the Observants will come to return your memories, and, finally, you will be escorted to your guardian.”

“Huh,” said Danny.  He poked at the oatmeal some more.  

“You should eat,” said Clockwork, gently.  

Danny sighed, and did his best.  

.

“I should make a list,” said Danny, having given up on breakfast.

“Of what?” asked Clockwork.  

“Names,” said Danny.  “Of people.  Choices.”

“You already have one of those,” Clockwork pointed out.  “In the folder.”

“Oh.  Yeah.  Where did that get to, anyway?”

Clockwork slid it across the table, along with a pencil.  

“Thanks,” said Danny.  He flipped the folder open.  “I guess I can start by crossing off the people I’m definitely not going to choose.”

“That seems like a logical way to proceed,” agreed Clockwork.  

“So.  Not the Observants, obviously.”

He looked up at Clockwork out of the corner of his eye.  He could swear he’d seen him smirk at that pronouncement.  Just a little.  

“And not Skulker, Ember, and Technus,” he continued, moving down to the next entry he could safely cross out.  “And not, and not, um.  Not Jack and Maddie.  Those’re– those are the ones I can’t, who won’t, um.  Yeah.”  He looked at the rest of the list.  “Vlad is okay, but he lied to me a bunch, and I don’t really get why we were enemies, so when I get my memory back, I might hate him again, so not him.  Jazz…”

Danny licked his lips and tapped the eraser of the pencil against the table.  He liked Jazz.  And she was his sister.  Given everything else, he could sort of understand why she was lying, but…  No.  Vlad had a point, saying that he shouldn’t choose her.

“Not Jazz,” said Danny, finally.  “I don’t want to do that to her.  Which leaves Pandora and Frostbite.”

“A difficult decision indeed.”

“Yeah,” said Danny.  He sighed.  Either one of them would be good.  Different.  Very different.  The culture shock would be hard.  Ancient Greece and the Far Frozen were both very different from what he was used to.  But Frostbite and Pandora would take care of him, and that’s what really mattered, in the end.  

But he had to wonder if there wasn’t another option.  

“Clockwork, you knew me before, didn’t you?”

“I cannot tell you that.”

“Right.  But Jazz knew you, which sort of implies that I knew you.  So.  You knew me.”  Danny bit his lower lip, thinking.  “You, um.  Why didn’t you join in?  As a guardian, I mean.  Why didn’t you, um.  Apply?  Is that the right term?”

“It’s as good as any.”  Clockwork leaned back in his chair.  “There are still limits on what I can tell you.”

“Yeah, but tell me what you can tell me.”

“If I were to adopt a child,” said Clockwork.  “Any child, not necessarily you; you understand that I cannot speak of such specifics.”

“Right,” said Danny.  

“But, if I were to try to adopt a child, the Observants would be very cross with me.”

“Why?”

“Because my responsibilities to such a child would supercede my oaths and duties to them.  They would not appreciate the loss of control, and would do everything in their power to prevent it.”

“Like, by making you be a neutral party.  Taking you out of the running.”

“Yes,” said Clockwork.  “That would be something they might do.”

Danny fidgeted with the edge of the paper folder.  “If you– Did you–  Would you have applied?  If you could?  You know, hypothetically.”

“Yes,” said Clockwork, simply.

Danny took a deep breath and rubbed his hands on his thighs.  “Then…  Then, if I…  I can choose anyone, can’t I?  Anyone I want, right?”

“Correct,” said Clockwork.  “That is the base rule upon which this whole trial is based.”

“So… what happens if I do?  If I, um, if I choose you?”

“That would be a nonstandard ending to the trial,” said Clockwork.  “It would not end as smoothly, perhaps, as it normally would.  The pathways that the power involved would travel upon may be confused.  You may not regain your original form.  The Observants would certainly withhold your memories.”

“And that would be… bad,” said Danny.  “That would be…”  He shook himself all over.  “I, um.  I don’t think…”  He faltered, looking down at his hands.  “That wouldn’t be much of a loss.  Really.”

“Fifteen years of memories is not insignificant,” said Clockwork, a note of warning in his voice.  “This is not a decision to make lightly.  It will affect your entire life.  There may even be other side effects that I have not listed.  Things that even I cannot foresee.”

“I don’t think I want to remember.  Not if it means remember what…”  He swallowed, with difficulty.  If what had been written in that binder had actually happened, he didn’t want to remember it.  “I’ve been thinking about this decision for months, right?  Every moment I remember.  I’m not making it lightly.  I know how important it is.”

Clockwork inclined his head towards Danny, acknowledging the point.  

“Pandora and Frostbite are great, but…”  Danny took a deep breath.  “But it’s you.  I choose you.”  He braced himself preparing for rejection.  A sort of tension built inside his chest until the feeling scraped the edge of pain.  

Then Clockwork was next to him and reached out to him, putting one hand on his shoulder and the other on his cheek.  “Oh, Daniel,” he said.  

The tension abruptly collapsed, and Danny let himself fall forward, into Clockwork’s arms.  Clockwork carded a gloved hand through Danny’s hair, ruffling his ears.  

“It’s okay, right?  It’s okay for me to choose you.”

“Of course it is,” said Clockwork.  “Of course.  I cannot tell you how glad I am.”

“But you can tell me other things, though, right?  You’re not neutral anymore.”

“Quite right,” said Clockwork, and Danny could hear a smile in his voice.  “I have so many things to tell you.”

“What kind of things?” asked Danny, settling his head against Clockwork’s collarbone.  Or whatever ghosts had instead of collarbones.  

“All sorts,” said Clockwork.  He chuckled.  “You’ll be able to see my actual lair.”

“Is it purple, too?”

“You’ll see.”

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic

[iocity]

ASL ‘Merica AU where Sabo feels guilty about involving his brothers in his conflicts with his biological parents. They are real bona fide assholes, and Sabo does not in any way want to reconnect with them, but they are PERSISTENT. With every yelled word bouncing off the walls of the brothers shared home, Sabo’s guilt grows. He stopped believing when they said they would change years ago, but he can’t seem to shake them off.

Sabo who doesn’t tell his brothers how he feels because they have their own problems, their own struggles that seem so much bigger than old parent problems. He is supposed to be strong. He is sure that in a house of people with “real” issues, his won’t matter.

Sabo who can’t help but get angry when he has to deal with his biological family, but not regular angry. It sticks for the whole day, onto the next, and that same feeling of guilt creeps up the back of his neck. He hates how his brothers seem to walk on eggshells around him when he is in his moods, but he can’t stand to pretend to be in a sunny mood he is not in (his brothers can tell anyway). He snaps because his parents are the knife in his side, and he is in pain.

Sabo who hates crying, because crying means his parents have won the nonexistent but constantly present battle between them. Crying means that they have made him weak again, made him helpless, made him remember what he used to be. Guilt is met with shame, and shame accompanied by sorrow and anger. His own reflection an overwhelming cacophony of everything he hates. His mother’s lips, his father’s eyes; his own genetics betray him. He feels his parents in him, and he braces himself as fear overtakes him; his hands grip the wall as he silences his breaths.

Sabo who holds his breath to exact his control, to break their hold over him. His breath can’t shake if he doesn’t let it out; his eyes can’t cry if his heart is trying to escape his chest. If he is in control he can be cold, calculated; he can give his parents what they deserve. What they gave to him. To him, it’s logic, it’s reason, and it’s strength.

Sabo who can’t help the jolt that runs through him when he feels arms around him, his chest heaving with warm air, the ache within him worsening. He has been pulled out of his control and into the warmth and unpredictability of his brothers’ arms. All at once he is melting, and it shows in the way his chest heaves into a sigh, then a sob, in the way that water flows down his cheeks until he is sure there is a puddle under him, and in the way that he reaches blindly for them through his tears. They are already there.

Sabo whose apologies fall on deaf ears, because they don’t give a damn about his parents (something they now make sure to tell him often), they give a damn about him.

Luffy who can’t help but cry too, because Sabo is not only his older brother, but his heart. Not by blood but by choice which, for him, means so much more. It’s only natural to cry when your heart hurts. He clings to Sabo, hoping to solidify his presence, because he is there. He isn’t a thought or a feeling, he isn’t fleeting. He is permanent. Heart to heart, warm and present. He doesn’t understand; he never cared much about things like his biological family. Despite that, he is shifting to his feet, making Sabo’s favorite snack consuming mind because his words often fail him but his hands rarely do. Food brings people together, right? He hopes Sabo is hungry, so they can eat together.

Ace whose clenched jaw, deep frown, and furrowed brows speak for him. ‘Why didn’t you tell us? Why did you do this alone?’ But he’ll nag later, because first and foremost he is the oldest brother. So for now Ace will hold his little brother while he cries and control the anger bubbling up within him, not only at Sabo’s parents, but at the world. He is unmoving even when Sabo has stilled from his crying, silent when Luffy wriggles out of their grip to grab snacks for them. As still and permanent as rock, letting Sabo lean on him until he finds the strength to walk on his own.

Sabo whose guilt and shame crashes against the corners of his mind, frustration rising because he is full of feelings he doesn’t recognize and therefore can’t control.

Sabo who is spiraling until a warm gas station honeybun is being shoved under his nose by forceful hands, ratty sandals being tucked aside as Luffy sits criss-cross in front of him with a plate of his own, Ace’s plate balancing on Luffy’s straw hat. A hand is on his neck as he rocks back and forth slowly, looking nervous.

“I don’t think it was supposed to be microwaved with the wrapper on y’all.”

“You’re shitting me.”

Sabo who hears Ace cursing about the house being rented and microplastics, and Luffy arguing back despite knowing he is in the wrong.

Sabo who laughs. In disbelief, in amusement, in insanity. He can’t tell anymore, but he feels the waves stilling in his mind, replaced with the sound of his brothers’ quarreling and his own laughter. Because they don’t give a damn about what he perceives to be weakness; he doesn’t need to feel ashamed.

Sabo who knows his life isn’t fixed and who knows he will have to talk to his brothers eventually, but who also loves his brothers and warm gas station honey buns. Sabo who feels at home in this familiar warmth.

“Man, I love you guys.”

Masterlist!

Tags c|:D : @porschethemermaid

#can u guys tell what mood im in #just take a wild guess #(im visiting home) #hurt/comfort because we suffer in paradise #hurt/comfort #no beta we die like men #one piece #op #one piece luffy #one piece sabo #one piece ace #op luffy #luffy #monkey d. luffy #mugiwara no luffy #straw hat luffy #op ace #ace #fire fist ace #portgas d. ace #op sabo #sabo #revolutionary sabo #flame emperor sabo #ASLmerica AU iostyle #tw family issues #saboposting #luffyposting #aceposting #aslposting

[forlovvers]

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ falsies

pair: bf!hyuka x f!reader | genre: fluff | warning(s): none! | wc: 500 | synopsis: in which kai is in a large amount of shock when you take off your fake lashes.

lynne’s notez🗒️: i miss huening kms

do we have to finish this movie?” huening kai yawns tiredly, stretching his long arms out. you glance at the clock sitting above the tv; it was getting kind of late.

“fine, only if we finish it tomorrow.” you say sternly, attempting to make a compromise. it’s apparent your boyfriend doesn’t like the high school musical trilogy as much as you do. huening kai grins and pumps his fist in the air, a quiet “yay!” slipping from his lips.

“you’re so lame,” you say, shaking your head with a small smile. he just shrugs and reaches for the remote, switching the tv off. he then flips off the light and pulls you closer to him, meaning it was time for bed.

instead of putting your head in the crook of his neck, like routine, you break from his grasp and switch the light back on. huening kai blinks at the sudden bright light and frowns when he realizes you’re not in his arms.

“somethin’ wrong?” he says, voice a couple octaves deeper. you can already hear the traces of sleep in his voice and you feel bad for being an unexpected disturbance.

“i have to take off my lashes, kai.”

his shoulders drop in relief and he lets out a small chuckle, “gosh don’t scare me like that.” huening flings himself upwards, and is suddenly wide awake. “can i help?”

and that’s how you’ve found yourself sitting on the bathroom counter, with huening kai staring back at you in horror. “what do you mean to just yank it off!”

“kai— look,” you demonstrate by gently tugging on your left lash until it’s loose and then fully pulling it out. you present the lash strip in the palm of your hand and huening’s jaw drops in terror.

“that doesn’t hurt?” he asks innocently and you can’t help but giggle at your boyfriend’s unnecessary concern.

“here,” you take his larger hand in your own and bring it up to your lash line. “pinch your fingers together like this.” you say and he does exactly as told, although hesitant.

“yn, what if i poke your eye out?” huening kai’s free hand flies up to cover his mouth as he gasps at the thought.

“you won’t!” you exclaim, not so convincingly. you really hope he doesn’t poke your eye out.

with the guidance of your hand, huening kai finally manages to separate your real lashes from the fake ones. he immediately lets his head fall onto your shoulders, arms snaking around your waist. “that was so scary, i can’t believe you do that all the time.”

you let out another bubbly laugh, hands reaching up to fluff his hair, “you’re such a dork.”

“only yours.”

#kpop #imagines #fluff #huening kai fluff #huening kai x reader #huening txt #hueningkai #huening kai #kai kamal huening #tomorrow by together #tomorrow x together #yeonjun #soobin #beomgyu #taehyun #choi yeonjun #choi soobin #choi beomgyu #kang taehyun #txt x reader #tomorrow by together x you #txt imagines #txt fluff

[pinkestmenace]

WOOOO! Done just in time! @kirbyoctournament

Name: Olympea, the Pummeling Peacekeeper

Gender: She-himbo, She/Her

Age: Never ask a woman her age! (She's an adult.)

Occupation: Warrior/Hero of Yore

Species: Puffball/Starborn/Star Child/whatever the Kirby species is called.

Uh-oh, due to a temporal anomaly the Hero of Yore Olympea suddenly finds herself transported alive and well from Ancient Halcandra to the Kirby OC tournament! She doesn't know what's going on, but she'll roll with the punches and treat it like a fun dream vacation of sorts. She does like meeting all sorts of new people and trying new foods, weapons and technology. She'll have so many stories to tell her friends when she returns! It's probably for the best if she doesn't learn what disaster befell the four heroes in the regular timeline, though...

Some ground rules, just in case:

I would love seeing people's OC's interact with her! Asking Olympea questions is okay, but this is not an ask blog/rp blog and I'm not looking for extended roleplay. I may not answer your question. If I see potential for an interesting interaction I may draw it, but I can't promise anything. (Keep in mind if I don't respond right away -> 1: I'm timid and get anxious easily. 2: I may not have figured out that part of her story/the history of Ancient Halcandra yet. 3: The answer would have contained a spoiler for my fics. 4: I'm very slow at drawing.)

I'm joining this tournament for fun, so thank you for understanding!

Overview:

While she's not very big, intellectual or attuned to magic, she is unbeatably chipper and physically strong. She loves fighting and gleefully uses a variety of lovely accessories/weapons like a giant club, enchanted glaive, magitech gauntlets, etc. Her left glove allows her to access a dimensional storage. Teases hard, punches even harder. Actually quite feminine when off the clock. Loves magitech gadgets a lot. Doesn't think science or magic is better, because their society needs both. She's definitely not insecure about her height. She'd also never conjure a giant squeaky hammer to bop you over the head if you call her short.

Likes: Vegetables, Nectar, Trying new foods, The colour green, Flowers, Butterflies and moths, Pretty/cool/badass women, Her club, Brass knuckles, Tinkering, New gadgets, Teasing her friends, Seeing a certain winged magenta knight open up and feel genuine joy

Dislikes: Being mistaken for a child, Being called stupid, Stuck-up people, Seeing her friends being hurt, Strangers flicking her antennae, How much dust and scales her wings leave behind

Abilities: Able to fly. Very physically strong. Innately has access to Suplex and Hammer, but mainly uses her trusty club. Her boots and gauntlets let her emulate elements of Hi-jump, Laser and Mecha. (The boosted jump, laser finger guns and palm blasts, respectively.)

Weaknesses: Can't fly quickly. Stubby little arms limit her great strength with little reach. Distractable and a little naive. Can't resist eating strange and exotic snacks no matter the source. Seeing cute girls (she HAS to show off).

Fighting Style:

Her gauntlets are good for punching and the palms can release blasts of energy as well. They're mainly so she can hold large weapons well, since her actual hands aren't very big.

Her moth wings aren't very big either, so while she can normally fly and can still break her fall when she's armoured, she prefers to zip around close to the ground. It's often faster and easier to run and jump when she's fighting. Especially when she's wielding her heavy club. Her boots help her boost and maneuver quickly.

Don't make the mistake of thinking that because she prefers close range combat and isn't proficient with magic she can't attack at a distance. Her gauntlets possess finger laser guns and she can use her left glove (which she also wears under her gauntlet) to access her weapon hoard at all times. Who knows what else she keeps in there?

Even her civilian outfit isn't harmless. She still has access to her innate Suplex and Hammer abilities, after all. And those shoes have steel toes! Of course, the platform heels are just to keep her delicate wings from scraping across the ground when folded. No other reasons. (Like being taller.)

Design Thoughts:

Olympea is the first of the Heroes of Yore who came to me. I was thinking about how to describe the Heroes of Yore and knew I wanted at least one to be a woman. Suddenly her name resounded through my head! Then I just started associating. Olympea sounds like Olympics, so she must be strong. Pea calls to mind small, round and green, so what if she's (mostly) the same species as Galacta Knight? Peas are famous for research on genetics and alleles, so what if she was born, not formed like him? Maybe she doesn't have a lot of magical affinity. Then she needs weapons. Pea, peace, pea shooters, peas in a pod, peacemaker, pea-smacker. Let's give her a hammer, no, a club! She's strong, so what if she packs a punch? How about some gauntlets for punching? She can have a gun, wait, let's put the gun (pea shooter!) in her gauntlet's finger! She needs storage for her weapon hoard (girl needs to accessorise!) so what if her enchanted gauntlets let her access dimensional storage (peas in a pod)? Hmmm, does she have wings? There's a bug called a pea moth, so she has moth wings now. Her ponytail is twisted like a dried pea pod and not-so-coincidentally looks a bit like a cocoon when down and a boxing glove while up in a bun.

I maaay have gone completely overboard with the whole pea thing, but such is life. Although there is a bit of Hammer Lord in there as well. She doesn't hate magic, she just doesn't have a lot of affinity for it. She does enjoy tinkering and building weapons. This is how she ended up relying mostly on technology instead of magic.

She's not a knight and has no mask, because while many people depict all adult puffballs as masked knights (probably influenced by the Star Warriors from the K:RBAY anime) I personally don't think this has to be universal for their kind. How sad it would be if all they were destined for was fighting! ...And then I made her a warrior anyway. Oh well.

#Joining fashionably late but I'm giving this a shot #kirby oc tournament #Olympea's Quest #HoY Olympea #Olympea #The heroes of yore #kirby oc #ibispaint #my drawing #my art #long post

[rapports-de-combat]

Iɴᴛᴇʀɴᴀʟɪsᴇᴅ Cᴀᴛɢɪʀʟ Mɪsᴏɢʏɴʏ Wʜᴀᴛ Tʜᴇ Fᴜᴄᴋ Is Gᴏɪɴɢ Oɴ

previous ( 1, 2, 3 )

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"I assume no one has informed you of our current...peculiar predicaments?" —@perdicinae-observer

"You. Stupid. Connard. Your indulgence in self pity costed that poor kind soul Duroc his arms. You endangered half of the marshalate. What were you even thinking?! Were you even thinking you stupid useless piece of shit?" —@le-brave-des-braves

"DONT WHACK YOU WHACK FUCKING WHACK DARE WHACK HURT WHACK HIM WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK IWILLKILLYOU!" —@your-dandy-king

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As Ney slaps Bessières, what looks like smoke puffs out from where her hand makes contact. He staggers back, clutching his face, eyes wide, pizza boxes falling to the floor. His hand reaches under his cloak, but before he can respond- A tall beautiful Amazonian woman starts committing violence apparently on his behalf. Bessières takes one moment to take this in, before anger and chivalry force his hand. He pulls out his saber and raises it, intending to draw people's attention- but as he does so, his cloak flutters open, revealing that his body... He is dressed in the green and red uniform of the colonel of the Chasseurs à cheval de la Garde impériale, yes, but it seems he is in danger of evaporating with wisps of dark smoke and small red embers emanating from his body. What look like indistinct smokey words write themselves across his form, words of regret and intimacy and anxiety. And, around all of that, he appears to be held together by an unnaturally long golden chain wrapped around his torso, ending in a closed pocketwatch dangling over his heart.

Bessières: Stop this madness right now!

His eyes catch the light, and the usually polite and reserved man's voice is loud and animated with offense and disbelief. Though whether he can be heard over the fight is hard to say.

Bessières: I don't know what is going on but I do know that I can very well defend myself or seek my own satisfaction, Mada-

And then he suddenly is struck by an awful realisation. What is it that the quiet lady with the glasses said about being "fellow marshals" and "peculiar predicaments"? There is only one marshal who wears glasses.

Bessières: ... Davout?

... Ney? ... JOACHIM MURAT..?!

Petiet: What should we do..?! Brun: ... Normally I'd say we get the marshal but the Maréchale was rather insistent they do not be disturbed. Lameth: We either eat popcorn or we disappear, I say~ And I am feeling rather curious about what would happen if one of us read that strange magical letter! Saint-Chamans: Let's go look at the letter and leave the big hats to sort themselves out!

#rapport d’action du duc d'istrie #rapport d’action des adcs de dalmatie #thread: internalised catgirl misogyny #long post #perdicinae-observer #le-brave-des-braves #your-dandy-king

[rotdistressxox]

Hiii!!! Ur work has me kicking my feet and giggling into my pillow😩. Could you write some Wakatsuki sfw/nsfw ?🙈🙈

Better prepare that pillow then, eh?

Headcanons: Wakatsuki Takeshi

!Nsfw after the cut: Afab body reader, no pronouns

• Yeah he's big and mighty and all that. But he's really jittery and afraid before a fight. He needs to have someone in the waiting room with him otherwise he will panic. That someone includes you.

• But after a fight it's easy sailing. You're there waiting for him outside of the ring, he scoops you up bridal style and carries you away proudly. Avoiding the press.

• Can only look at his tablet with a pair of glasses, how middle aged man of him.

• He is rolling in money, like? Winning over 200 matches clearly could have him retire early if he wanted to. He could marry you, move to another country, and afford to buy 7 large properties with how much he had. Decides not to though, fighting is what he does best.

• Buuuuttt he does like traveling with you. There is so many things in your house from exploring different countries for when he has another fight.

• Enjoys napping with you the most out of everything else you do together. Bonus points if you both are naked and skin to skin.

• Likes it when you wash his back for him. It can be difficult to reach at times. Apart from that, enjoys sitting between your legs while you wash his hair. Gently massaging his scalp with shampoo as he closes his eyes and almost falls asleep.

• Passionate and soft kisses. His soft lips pressing and moving against yours as his goatee brushes against your skin

• Face first in his man tiddies when he hugs you, unless he slightly bends over. They are the squishiest things ever when he's not tense.

• Let's you play with and squeeze his muscles. He can move every single one of them individually due to the mass of them.

• Singing in the car with you to your favorite songs. He has a pretty decent voice and if anything, could be the next Frank Sinatra in your honest opinion.

• Corny romantic dates all the way. Prefers taking you to small restaurants and diners rather than bigger and fancier supper clubs.

Nsfw

• Soft Dom/ Service Top. Yuuuppp. Lives for your pleasure.

• Has had a few partners before, so he knows what he's doing. KNOWS WHERE THE CLIT IS WOOHOOO

• It's a must for him to be gentle due to his strength. The last thing he wants to do when topping is hurt you.

• Prefers giving than receiving. He's very good at oral and enjoys it so much that you almost have to pry his face away from between your legs. Your juices shining on his lips while he looks up at you, humming into your pussy. Sending all the right vibrations through your core.

• When you finally convince him to let you go down on him this time, he struggles with not immediately cumming inside your mouth.

• Not very vocal. He doesn't shout our swear, but he definitely moans / groans. They're on the softer side and yes they are sexy.

• Extra big and strong fingers. His digits almost abusing your gspot as his thumb presses down on your clit. Watching as you clench around him.

• Makes sure you orgasm ATLEAST once. So that you're loosened up and turned on enough. Unless you ask for more...

• He has a decent sized penis, it's around 7 inches and pretty girthy. Pink tip with a few veins and some short light brown pubes.

• Missionary is his favorite position. His arms caging your head, making your face expressions more visible as his hips rock back and forth into yours.

• Slowly paced thrusts, with a bit of roughness to them.

• Desperate sex. Kissing you all over your neck and sucking on your breasts/nipples while his thrusts get sloppy. Letting out moans of praise into your skin as your moans and whimpers almost drown out his. His lips never leaving your skin like you were his last meal, his last love, and his last time.

• His thrusts get shorter and quicker when he's about to cum. Prefers to do it inside of you, if not, does it on your stomach or chest.

• Throws his head back as he climaxes, choking out a moan.

• Aftercare king. That's all I gotta say.

#kengan ashura #kengan ashura x reader #kenganverse #wakatsuki takeshi #x reader

[tojipie]

toji x crybaby reader <3

content: hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, smut under the cut !

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toji is a flawed man. 

short-tempered, married to his money, slow to show affection. but the one thing he does excel at is comforting you.

he knows you’re a sensitive girl, knows just how easy it is for you to get teary-eyed and red in the face over comments that otherwise seem like nothing to the untrained ear. 

you have a kind heart is all, too giving to a world that only knows how to take. he tells you that every time you break down in his arms, thick hands rubbing circles into the small of your back.

his father would have slapped him across the face for crying. called him soft, whiney like a girl. put him to work for the rest of the day to shape him into a man.

he wasn’t his father though, and you weren’t a zenin.

you were soft in the best way, tender-hearted and too trusting. a daisy among weeds, swaying idly in the too-strong wind. nothing like a zenin, nothing like him. 

he hadn’t the faintest clue what to do the first time he’d seen you get upset, standing there in the kitchen like a fool while you babbled on the phone with his bank.

it was a fraudulent charge, small, maybe only 10 dollars. probably dropped his card while paying for gas again, not the end of the world. the customer service rep assured you that much.

it was the principal, you sobbed. you’d lost his card and hadn’t even noticed. why wasn’t he upset with you?

he doesn’t know why he didn’t just tell you it was okay. that he didn’t have it in him to ever be cross with you, be it a ten-dollar charge or a thousand-dollar charge. 

instead he wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling your body flush with his to press soft kisses to the crown of your head.

you were warm there, warm everywhere really. the thrum of your blood heating your skin from the inside out. toji liked that about you, how you offset the perpetual cold of his much larger hands. 

physical touch was something he knew well. toji wasn’t—still isn’t good with words, opting to stay silent and just hold you while you sniffled into the receiver. he got the message across, he always does.

his methods are unorthodox for that very reason. he doesn’t comfort you with his tone, he does it with his body. whether it be thick arms squeezing you until you get your breathing under control, large hands tracing shapes into your tummy until you stop spluttering, or toned legs splaying wide to let you crawl into his lap, resting on him until your bodies reach the same temperature.

toji fucks you on your good days, likes to tease you, get you squirming. the key difference is that he makes sweet love to you on your bad ones. holding you flush to his chest while he rocks into you under the safety of your shared blankets.

you feel like a furnace under him every time, heat radiating off your body and into the deeper parts of his soul. 

he gets mouthy once the feeling of you wrapped around him flicks that little switch in his brain. turning off the mental barrier between him and his inability to use his words. 

“sweet girl,” is what he calls you, eyes never leaving yours. 

“gotta stay close to me, gotta keep you safe, huh?”

and keep you safe he does, tucking your face into the curve of his neck so you don’t have to look anywhere but him. letting you moan, and pant, and sigh into his skin while he rocks against that special spot situated deep in your core.

he goes harder when you ask him to. not faster, but harder—he knows the difference, letting the resistance in his hips subside so he can sink to the hilt over and over. 

the juxtaposition makes his head spin. how do you manage to sound so sweet while asking for something like that? able to melt his heart even on the brink of orgasm.

you kiss him when he fills you up, letting him sink on top of you with a huff and a shy laugh. he listens as you open up about the good parts of your day, his soft hums of agreement spurring you on.

toji wishes he was taught to articulate himself better. he’s trying, he really is. though the “i love you” he says into your skin seems like his best shot at a start. 

#toji x reader #toji x reader fluff #toji x reader smut #toji x fem reader #toji x fem reader smut #toji x fem reader fluff #fushiguro toji x reader #jjk toji #toji headcanons #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji zenin #toji imagine #toji fushiguro #fushiguro toji #zenin toji #jujutsu toji #toji #toji drabbles #toji fluff #toji smut #toji x fem!reader #toji x fem!reader smut #toji x fem!reader fluff