#he got purdy eyes

[conniesblueboys]

Chris Taylor

#dodgers #chris taylor #he got purdy eyes

[awritessomething]

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 | brock purdy x fem!reader

requests

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | after the loss at the Super Bowl, Brock is understandably mad. His wife is there for him.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | smut, pre-established relationship, use of Y/N, piv, unprotected sex, riding, switch!brock, soft!dom!reader, oral m!receiving, fingering, pet names, swearing praise, crying, lots of aftercare, fluff, angsty, sad!brock

My birthday was recently and the first thing I said on it was (no joke) “Brock purdy has a fat ass” WHAT.

Touchdown.

The long game that had been 22-19 (49ers lead) was ruined. The score was now 22-25. The Kansas City Chiefs won the Super Bowl. Cameras panned to where the Chiefs celebrated. They showed Taylor Swift celebrating in the crowd.

They didn’t show the way Brock Purdys wife just immediately dropped to her seat. She put her head in her hands. It wasn’t that she was the one who was sad, it was that she was sad for Brock. He had played amazingly and it was all seemingly for nothing.

Everything was painful after that. The interviews, the autographs, everything. Y/N had pushed her way through the crowds to get to her husband. A security guard who hadn’t recognized her tried to stop her, but he failed. Brock was still a little bit in shock from the loss. Three seconds. Three seconds from a win.

The second that Y/N had his arms around him, it took everything not to break down. He clung to his wife, hiding his face in her hair as he tried not to shake so much. His arms were around her as his fingers were curling around her sweater.

She pulled back slightly to look at him, running her hand through his hair. She kissed him, feeling how shaky his breathing was. He was sweaty and a little bit gross smelling, but that was the least of her concerns.

The moment that they had the opportunity, the couple left. They went back to their hotel. Y/N held onto his hand, pushing her way through the crowds of fans or paparazzi. She wasn’t too worried about her reputation. Her elbow went out, jabbing anyone who got in their way as they went to their hotel.

Brock kept his eyes on her to try and ignore whatever else was happening. They went up to their hotel room and then she kissed him again.

“You did amazing today, baby.” She whispered to him. Brock rested his forehead against hers and sighed.

“I didn’t win though. It was just three se-”

“Shh, you did great.” She put her finger to his lips. She gave him a smile. “Think of it like this: you were three seconds away from winning.” She tried to reword it, but it kind of just sounded the same. Brock frowned.

“I need a shower.”

“Yeah, you do.” She laughed lightly and put her hand on his chest to push him towards the washroom. She opened the door for him and ran the water. It was rare for Brock to be getting the princess treatment. It wasn’t like he was going to complain though. Brock sat on the toilet seat while he waited. She stood beside the shower door, occasionally checking the water with her hand. She motioned for him to come.

Brock walked over to his wife. She looked up at him. Her hand touched his chest again as she frowned, feeling horrible for what he was experiencing. She pulled his shirt off of him. It was a bit of a hassle seeing as Brock was a 6’1 quarterback and she was… not. She had to do a bit of a hop to get it off of his arms.

He was unbelievably sore from the game. His whole body ached and he just wanted to lay down. Y/N got her husband under the water once she was also undressed. He looked down at her like she was the only reason why he was alive. Y/N knew how Brock wanted to just sit down and rest for a moment. She stepped out of the shower and snooped around for a moment. She found a little chair thing that seemed to be for old people or something. She grabbed it and got it in the shower.

“What is that?” Brock was confused when his wife walked into the shower, wrestling with some chair. She grunted and set it down, stumbling. Brock grabbed her waist to keep her from slipping.

“Sit.” She muttered, pointing at the chair. He frowned.

“Y/N-”

“Sit your ass in the chair.”

He sat.

Y/N grabbed the mini shampoo bottles and sat on his lap. She looked at him and touched his cheek softly before sighing. She stood back up for a moment and got the shower head. She held it in one hand, the shampoo bottles in the other.

Brock looked at his wife, his brows knit together. He looked like a sad puppy. She set the shampoo bottles down between their bodies so she could use both hands. She got his hair completely soaked. Her fingers ran through his hair and he let out a groan, head falling forward into her shoulder. She kissed his collarbone and then got the shampoo, rubbing it into his scalp. She massaged his scalp, her manicured nails scraping against his skin, relieving him of some of his tension. His fingers gripped at her hips.

Y/N whispered soft praises to her husband as she felt him begin to calm down in her arms. She kissed his collarbone softly and his cheeks too. His nose was her personal favorite to kiss.

She had washed him completely. His hair, his face, his whole body. Her hands hadn’t missed a single spot of him. They got out of the shower. Brock promised to repay her another time. She knew that he just meant he would repay her with a shower like that. She found that funny, since he did it often.

They laid down together in their hotel bed. Brock’s hair was still wet. Y/N had put her hair into the shower cap, since her hair had been perfectly fine before. They laid there in silence. She had her arms around him. His head was on her chest, nose nestled in the valley between her breasts.

Brocks fingers ran down Y/Ns waist, brushing over the bump of her hip showing where her bone was. Y/N shifted slightly beneath him. He lifted his head slightly.

“Whats wrong?” He asked, concerned.

“Nothing, baby. Aren’t you tired though?”

“Mm… not too tired for you.” He smiled and leaned down to kiss her. The first smile of the night. How could she resist? She kissed him back, fingers pushing into his damp hair. Y/N put her hand on him and managed to push him onto his back. It was easier to push him around in bed than on the field.

Her knees were on both sides of his legs. She arched her back and her chest pressed against his as their kisses grew more desperate. Brock, who was normally the top, was of course trying to get over her again. She tsked softly and kept him under her.

“You did enough work today. Let me take care of you, ok?” She whispered against his lips. Brock groaned and his eyes screwed shut as he felt her press her palm against his crotch. He bucked his hips up towards her hand. Y/N smiled and then pulled away, making her way between his legs. She pulled off his pajama bottoms and threw them aside. Brock watched her with glazed over eyes.

Her hand wrapped around his cock and his eyes screwed shut. It had been a while since they had sex. He had been too busy at practice and she had been working a lot recently. It must’ve been close to two or three months since the last time they had a chance to even touch themselves.

Y/N leaned forward and kissed his tip. He was long, maybe around 7.5 inches, yet on the slightly thinner side. There was a vein that went from the base of his cock and almost to his tip. His tip was a pretty soft pink. There was a beauty mark right on the spot where the tip of her nose ended up when she deep-throated him.

Brock reached down and stroked her hair softly as she took him into her mouth. Her tongue swirled around his cock. She treated him as if she was an artist and he was a sugar cube that she wanted to carve artwork into without turning it into just powder. Brock’s head fell back in complete and utter bliss. She knew exactly how to please him. On many occasions, when Brock was away for a longer time, he would try to mimic what she did. He would try to do the things she did to him. She tried the way she gave him handjobs, but it was harder to cum by his own hand.

Y/N knew his body like the back of her own hand. Brock forced his eyes open as he gazed down at her, his eyes filled with just pure adoration. He loved his wife more than anything. She looked up at him as she sucked on his tip. Then she lowered her head back down. The tip of her nose pushed against that beauty mark.

Her hands gave his balls a soft squeeze, urging him to cum. Brock’s back arched slightly off the bed as he bit his lip. He had his hand on the back of her head as he was about to push her head a bit. She took his hand off of her head and just held if instead. Her eyes met his as she held his hand. The soft and loving act mixed with the way their bodies connected in such an intimate way was enough for Brock to be pushed over the edge.

His climax swept over him in waves, and she could taste it. Not waves as in the soft waves on a lake made by some rain, but the waves in the middle of the North Sea. Brock went to pull his hand away to try to hold back his moans, but she didn’t allow it. His head fell to the side as he panted and groaned. A whine came from his lips the moment she pulled off of him.

“Thank you,” Brock whispered as his wife stuck out her tongue to show that she swallowed. It wasn’t like he would do anything if she didn’t swallow, it was just out of habit. His hands reached for her desperately, in need of her warmth, in need of her love and attention.

Y/N hummed in response to his thanks. She leaned down and kissed him again, making him taste himself on her tongue. Brock grunted at the taste. Her hand was already around his cock again, slowly jerking him off. He jolted at the extra stimulation. His hand instinctively grabbed her wrist as his eyes rolled back.

Slowly but surely, Y/N managed to ease herself onto his cock. About halfway down, she was whimpering and burying her face in the crook of his neck. No matter how much they did this, she couldn’t get used to the sheer length of him. Brock closed his eyes as his hands gripped her hips, urging her to take him further. She slid down the other half with just a quick drop.

“Oh my- fuck!” She moaned and her nails dug into his shoulder. The man who sat under her looked at her, eyes half lidded. His eyes were clouded with love and desire. He leaned forward to kiss her while he tightened his grip on her waist to guide her to slowly roll her hips on his. Y/N trembled but eventually the stinging pain went away. Her eyes rolled back from the way he filled her up completely. His ring was cold on her ass. Her ring was cold on the nape of his neck.

Brock grunted as he thrusted weakly up into her. He was too tired for much of an effort.

He promised to himself and to his wife that he would make it up. He would last longer. Being only three or so minutes in, he was already fighting back his orgasm. His nose was in the crook of her neck as he held his wife as close as possible. Usually, their sex had a bit more energy. Not tonight. Just the soft rolling and grinding of their hips. Y/N had her eyes closed as she let out quiet breathy moans. Just the feeling of him that close could get her to cum.

Brock had let go of her hips. He was basically just hugging her now. His arms were around her waist. His breathing grew more ragged as time went on. She knew his body far too well. She knew what every type of his breathing meant and she knew he was close. His cock twitched inside of her.

“Come on, B.” She whispered to him, kissing his neck softly before leaning back to look at him. His cheeks were red, his lips were puffy. He looked absolutely flawless. His chest was heaving and his eyes screwed shut as he instinctively tried to hide his face from her as he was about to cum. Y/N grabbed his wrists and just held his hands, not allowing him to hide.

Brock’s orgasm hit him like a truck. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as his body twitched. His hips bucked up into her and she nearly fell off of him, but she grabbed the headboard to stay stable.

Y/N continued rolling her hips for a moment longer to help him ride out his orgasm. His eyes shot open as his abs rolled and his muscles flexed. He held her still.

“Did you cum?” He asked once he had calmed.

“Its ok, baby. Tonight was about you.” She reminded him softly. Brock frowned and pulled her off of his cock.

“No, come on. I couldn’t have done it without you.” He muttered as he laid her on the bed. He moved so that he was behind her. Y/N had her back pressed against his chest. His hand slipped down between her thighs.

Her back arched the moment he touched her clit. His hands were aching and his muscles screamed in protest, but he still pushed two fingers into her entrance. She swallowed him up gladly. Brock kissed her jaw as he pumped his fingers deep into her.

“Brock- baby, I cant-” Y/N gasped as her thighs shook and clamped around his hand. He used his other hand to pin her hips to him, taking away her ability to move. It was times like these that she realized that he could really push her around without even blinking.

His thumb toyed with her clit as he added a third finger into her pussy. She gasped and her whole body shook. Brock smirked and sped up.

Her eyes closed as she leaned her head back onto his shoulder. It wasn’t just Y/N who knew his body. Brock knew hers. He knew this was her trying to prepare herself to cum. He also knew he didn’t want her to be all that prepared. His fingers curled and she nearly screamed his name. He immediately clasped his other hand over her mouth to muffle her a bit.

Her hips bucked up into his hand, riding his fingers as she came. Brock hummed in satisfaction and then pulled out his fingers. He kissed her softly, then kicked his fingers clean as he stood up and went to grab a towel.

Even though he had been the one being comforted earlier, he always wanted to be the one to treat her after sex. He cleaned off her body with the wet cloth and then did the same for himself. He dried her off, then himself. Always himself second. Wife first.

Brock climbed into the bed with her and for once, neither minded the overwhelming smell. Her arms were immediately around him as she laid on him for a second. Then she sat up.

“Are you feeling any better?” Y/N asked him softly. Brock cleared his throat nervously. He knew he couldn’t successfully lie to her. May as well try though.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” He lied through his teeth. Y/N opened her arms. Brock frowned, then he moved into them. They hugged, but she never let go. The continuing feeling of her love and the warmth of her comfort was too much. He finally broke down, sobbing as he held her.

They both knew it was bound to happen. Her fingers raked through his short hair as she worked to comfort him. Maybe the next Super Bowl would work in his favor.

#brock purdy #purdy13 #nfl football #nfl #nfl imagine #brock purdy x reader #brock purdy smut #nfl smut #superbowl #49ers #san fransisco 49ers #kansas city chiefs

[sunflower-lilac42]

✧ 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐲 || brock purdy ♔

summary: after a devastating loss, brock feels this emotional toll on him, weighing down on him. and y/n is the one who helps him through it.

warnings: the super bowl ('23), the chiefs (mentions), sad brock, sad

publish date: 02/12/24

notes: you all wanted this and that's all i'm going to say. jk um, i cried a lot while writing this. there tends to be a little trend of hatred towarsd the chiefs but um you should've expected that. you're welcome. (don't worry, there's fluff at the end bc i can't control myself) | add yourself to the taglist ➺ taglist! (i don't have an nfl right now but maybe i'll add one in the future)

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Her heart broke as soon as the Chiefs got their last first down, but in reality she knew from the moment that Moody had to kick the field goal that the game was over. She had hopes, of course, for their defense, but she knew. She had wished she was at home, able to turn off the TV to hide the disappointed look on Brock’s face, but she couldn’t. She grabbed tightly onto Kristin’s hand, tears glistening in both of their eyes. The two watched in mock horror as Hardman caught the ball, Chiefs fans erupting in cheers. 

Niners fans sat, or stood, in shock as the people around them hugged and laughed with one another. They felt numb, eyes completely unfocused from the scene in front of them. Some fans ran their hands over their faces, through their hair, and under their eyes. Some fans stared angrily at the Chiefs fans, they had no right to win.

Kristin wrapped her friend into a hug, unable to stop her tears as well. Y/n had been with Brock through it all, through high school, through college, through his draft, through his rookie season, through everything. All she wanted for him was to win this game. He didn’t deserve this, he had done nothing to prove himself time after time again, and now he was going to be shit on because he didn’t make a third down conversion. 

She pulled away and toyed with the band around her finger, their anniversary date engraved on the inside. Her hand moved to her necklace next as she stole a glance down at the field, feeling the outline of the 13 on her fingers. Brock was walking off the field and she couldn’t see his face but she knew what it looked like. It wasn’t a face she liked to see, it made her cry silently at night while Brock slept next to her or if he was across the country. 

She hadn’t felt so infuriated when they announced who the Super Bowl MVP was, she wanted to yell at all the Chiefs fans around them, tell them that it was just a bit of dumb luck. She wanted to scream at them for thinking that they were everything when they weren’t, for thinking about no one but themselves. She had come from a family who experienced heartbreak in sports like no other, did they know how that felt? To watch their team lose? To watch the love of their life lose and think that he wasn’t good enough? Listen to him deteriorate himself with thought after thought? Did anyone stop to think about the players, their families, their fans? She wanted to scream at fans who didn’t care about the game, the ones who were there to see Taylor and her alone. She wanted to yell at the fans who mocked the niners, the ones who cursed at them, the ones who gave them shit. She wanted to yell at everyone and everything. 

Tears streamed down her face and not once did she even attempt to wipe them off. She walked with Kristin out of the suite, holding each other’s hands in support. She could feel people’s eyes on her but she couldn’t care less, was she not allowed to be devastated for her fiancé? She knew Brock wouldn’t want to see her right now, he was too caught up in his own thoughts. She waited patiently outside Allegiant Stadium, hands shoved in her jean jacket Kristin had made for her.

When she noticed Brock walking towards her, she made sure that she stood strong, not letting him see how upset she was. He reached her in a matter of five seconds, instantly bringing her into a hug. She felt her shoulder dampen, sighing internally. He didn’t let out many tears, just a few, before he pulled back and wiped his eyes, “You ready?”

She placed a frown on her face and nodded, reaching for his hand, “Hotel, home, dinner?”

“Hotel please.” He gripped tightly to his hand and they made their way to a hotel room they had booked. They didn’t want to stay with the rest of the team no matter the outcome of the game.

She drove to the hotel, knowing how Brock got when he was angry or upset. His left hand was attached to her left, not letting it go for a second besides when they got in the car. Her gaze shifted between him and the road, trying not to crash in the meantime. Every time she snuck a glance at him, he looked sadder than before. She could see him fidgeting with some of her rings that she had on along with the bracelet he had gotten her when they won the Championship. 

When she pulled into the parking spot, the two stayed there, sitting in silence. As the minutes passed, she started to get nervous about how the night was going to go. If she was going to be able to get him to take a shower, to eat, to sleep. She heard him sniffle, it was quiet but still audible for her, You wanna go up?”

He nodded, not trusting his voice to talk. They once again detached their hands for a brief second before they reconnected. As they entered the room, she realized how much of a mess she left it in the morning. She went to apologize but Brock locked himself in the bathroom. Then she heard the shower turning on, the water hitting the floor. She could only hope that he was going to be quick.

She changed out of her game clothes into one of the outfits she brought for lounging around. She listened as Brock showered, the water calming her nerves a little. She didn’t turn the TV on, didn’t put music on, just sat and stared as she waited. A couple of minutes later she heard something fall, and ran to go see what it was, “Brock, honey, are you okay?”

She got no response back and she sighed, attempting to open the door. He must’ve unlocked it from the time she walked away until now. She walked in and saw Brock curled up into a ball on the ground, his suit still on. She wrapped him tightly in her arms, not wanting to let go. She buried his head into her shoulder, placing his hands on her arms that rested around his shoulders and on his chest. His sobs were violent, mumbling incoherent words and noises. 

If her heart could break anymore it would, she thought it could’ve shattered right there and then. His breathing grew heavy, unable to control it anymore. He clawed at her arms as a way to let her know it was hurting, “Hey, I’m here. It’s okay, baby.”

She kissed his head, moving one of her hands to run through his hair. He shook his head, not believing a single thing. When he had regained a bit of control he whispered out to her, “It hurts, y/n/n.”

She had to hold back tears, blinking them away as quickly as possible, “I know, sweetheart. It’s okay, we’re okay. I’m right here with you. You don’t have to do it alone.”

Eventually, his breathing evened out as he clung to her, listening to her heartbeat. When she heard the way his breathing regulated, she ran a hand over his chain, the one that had her initials on it,”I’ll always be here for you, okay?”

He nodded before she spoke again, “You want me to shower with you?”

“Please.” His voice came out desperate and a little squeaky from the crying and lack of use. 

She helped him up, taking his suit jacket off and hanging up in the closet of the room. When she came he had already discarded the rest of his suit, handing it over to her. 

✧༺✎༻∞

After Brock had slipped his sweatpants back on, they both sat in the bed, covers pulled over their legs. Y/n looked through her phone for restaurants nearby, “What do you want to eat?”

He shrugged, not particularly hungry at the time. He knew that she would give him a hassle if he didn’t say anything though, “Pizza?”

It was simple enough, both of them liked it and it was an easy thing to find. She nodded in response, going to place the order. They watched whatever was on TV, avoiding anything to do with football entirely. However, with it being Super Bowl Sunday there were no other sports on besides reruns. So they found a crappy TV show to watch, both of them criticizing it as they ate their pizza. 

As the sun went down and darkness settled behind it, they lay in bed Brock asking to hold her. She agreed happily, whatever would make him feel better. His right arm flung over her as they laid on their left sides, his hand tracing patterns into her forearm. It was silent for a while, they could both hear the AC blowing softly.

Brock’s mind was racing with all sorts of thoughts. The good ones were primarily outweighed by the happy ones, not allowing him for even a second to be happy with his girl in his arms. He couldn’t help the thoughts that told him that he wasn’t good enough, that blamed him for the outcome of the game, that told him he shouldn’t be in the NFL, he was just a fluke. 

He tightened his grasp on her as the thoughts kept coming and coming, “Brock?”

“Hmm?”

“What are you thinking back there?”

“Nothing.”

“Uh huh, sure. Now what’s really going on?”

“What if I am just as everyone says? What if I am just a pretty boy football player? A fluke? It’s my fault, it’s all my fault. I failed, y/n. I failed myself, I failed the coaches, I failed my teammates, I failed their families, I failed the fans. I failed you.”

She couldn’t take it anymore, the weight that he was carrying was unnecessary, it was too much for him. He did everything he could and more. She turned around, facing him as she looked dead in her eyes, “You listen to me, Brock Purdy. You are fucking amazing. You shouldn’t care what anyone else says, because you know what? They don’t matter. They don’t matter now and they won’t matter when you’re older.

“I get that everyone was banking on you to lead them to a victory and you led them to the best of your ability. You can’t blame yourself for the defense not holding them off, you can’t blame yourself for any penalty that may have happened, and you can’t blame yourself for not getting that third-down conversion. You did your best today, Brock, and I am so so so proud of you for that.”

“But what if my best isn’t good enough?”

“Isn’t good enough for who? For me? For Shanahan? For the team? You are good enough, Brock. You were the fucking 262 pick and you made the Super Bowl in your second year. You had 1387 yards in 9 games for a rookie. You had 4424 yards this year! And just in the  regular season. You are the fifth overall quarterback right now, you know how fucking amazing that is. You are beyond believable, Brock. 

“And this might be harsh but so what you didn’t win this year? It’s your second year and just making it this far was incredible. Yes, it would’ve been cool if you won and got MVP but you have so many more years to do that. It might not be today, it might not be next year or the year after that, but one year you will go out and win that because you deserve it.”

Brock’s eyes watered, caught off guard by her speech. He couldn’t even think of how lucky he was to have her at this moment. The way she had memorized his stats, the way she knew how he felt before he even knew, the way she was able to comfort him when he thought there was no coming back from it.

He kissed her head, “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.”

He reached for her left hand and twisted the ring on her finger, “I can’t wait to marry you.”

They shared a smile and then she was pulled in tighter to him, “Thank you.”

“For?”

“For always being there for me. Through high school, college, the draft, rookie season, everything. You mean so much to me, more than you would ever know.”

#sunny lune writes #brock purdy #san fransisco 49ers #nfl #football #brock purdy x reader

[ambrozjas]

the gang with a reader that is a soc? (separately)

the gang x soc!reader ꨄ︎

the outsiders x soc!reader (separately)

✧˖*°࿐ notes 🧸ᰔᩚ

this took a while, so sorry for the long wait !! 💘 thank you for the request darlin i really loved writing this !!

✧˖*°࿐ warnings ᰔᩚ

mentions of alcohol in two-bit’s, dally being a pest, reader is described as gorgeous and beautiful and “purdy” but i don’t think a gender is specified?

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

“ya’know, y’didn’t have to do all this.” DARRY said, his eyes still raking across all the store bags filled with new clothes for sodapop, ponyboy, and darry.

“don’t mention it, dare. i’ve got plenty of money to spend for you boys.” you said, walking over to darry and placing a delicate hand on his arm, looking over the presents.

“sure, but—“

“can’t you just wait ‘til you see the look on soda and pony’s faces? they’re gonna be so happy, just think about it.” you try your best attempt at comforting darry, assuring him that you could afford it.

he merely sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose between his eyes. you wrap an arm around his shoulders and lean your head on him, rubbing his left arm soothingly.

“bought us some groceries for dinner t’night, too. don’t worry about it, darry. i got you.” you mumbled in his ear as his icy blue eyes opened and gazed at you, his eyebrows furrowed.

“whatever you say, darlin’.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

SODAPOP’s mouth parted a bit as his eyes widened, watching a sleek white 1966 corvette stingray pull up to the dx.

you came out of the car, sunglasses on top of your head with your hair pushed back a bit. then, your friend came out of the car too. johanna winchester, boy was she a bitch. before soda had dropped out, she was pretty much the hottest piece of gossip there, always cheating on her boyfriend and hosting parties at her dad’s two-story house on the west side.

but, you were an unfamiliar face. he had never seen you before, because if he had, he would’ve remembered someone as beautiful as you.

steve had obviously noticed sodapop ogling at something, and following his gaze he saw you. he whistled, “woo! you see those dames, soda?”

soda looked steve up and down, his face and hands covered in black oil. “‘course i see ‘em, now get outta here ‘fore they see you.”

“don’t hate me ‘cause i’m good-lookin’.” steve shrugged, taking one more glance at you and your friend opening the door before walking back to the garage.

“hey! you think we could get five on pump two, please?” ugh, even your voice made soda swoon. you handed him a few neatly stacked dollar bills and looked behind you at your friend who was side eyeing every corner of this place.

“‘course!” sodapop replied, clicking a few buttons to open up pump two but couldn’t help but overhear johanna whispering to you, “couldn’t we have picked another gas station?” obviously because it was run by “greasers.”

you whispered back to her, although soda couldnt hear you. instead, he handed you your change to which johanna rudely grabbed the coins and yanked you away, pulling you out of the dx. you threw one last glance behind you to soda, before you finally get pulled out of the gas station.

for now, he would just have to dream and hope until he sees you again.

boy, he wished he stayed in school a bit longer just so he could’ve see you more often.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

PONYBOY watched as you rested your chin on your palm, looking out the window as the sunlight illuminated your face with a golden hue.

you were in english class, unbothered by the teacher’s ramblings on shakespeare, anything outside was more interesting than this class.

ponyboy’s eyes were glued to you, watching how you wrote down simple phrases in your notebook whenever you’d tune back into the the teacher’s monologuing.

he had just watched your eyes fall across the rest of the room, the other students either borderline falling asleep or not paying attention at all, before your eyes fell on him, and in that very moment he heard a stern, “mr. curtis!” from the teacher.

ponyboy felt his cheeks heat up as the class’ eyes fell on him, he glanced over to you only to find your eyes still on him as well.

“mr. curtis, what is the answer?” he asked. pony stammered a bit, trying to read the board as quickly as possible until he heard nails clacking on the desk across the room. it was you, hand covering your mouth mouthing the letter ‘b’.

“oh—! uh, ‘b’ sir.” ponyboy said, a wave of what he thought to be sweat washing over him as he sighed in relief when the teacher nodded his head.

he looked back over to you, giving him a thumbs up as your pink lips curled in a small smile.

he smiled to himself, mouthing a quick ‘thanks’ to you before looking away and writing down whatever was on the board.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“you ain’t like other greasers, huh?” you asked JOHNNY. “what’s your deal?”

johnny stayed quiet, eyes as wide as saucers as you leaned over him, hands planted firmly on his desk.

“you mute?” you asked, a bit coldly as johnny flinched at your tone. you tilted your head as you tried to understand him. he wasn’t like that hood dallas winston, but he wasn’t like any other greaser you’d seen before.

johnny swallowed. “no..” he said. you were utterly beautiful. albeit, a social, you were quite the jaw dropper.

“then could you.. maybe help me with this?” your demeanor changed, probably because you had realize johnny was no threat despite being a greaser. a sheepish smile grew on your face as you flashed the worksheet in front of him.

“thought w’could negotiate. i help you with the readin’, you help me with the math?” you said, tilting your head once again as you pointed at the filled worksheet below johnny, but he wasn’t paying any attention to where your finger pointed, his eyes remained on you.

his eyes flickered across your face, taking in every blemish and ridge of it. he was mesmerized by you. but he was conflicted. he could never have a chance with a soc, so why dream?

but then again, johnny thought, something is better than nothing.

“‘course.” he said.

for now, he can only dream until he could muster up the courage to speak more than one word to you.

one day, johnny thought.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“what’s the matter wit’you, dollface?”

“don’t call me that, hood.”

DALLY huffed, a tiny bit of smoke seeping through his lips from where a small opening lie where his cigarette was.

he had been following you around all day, bothering you on your way home. you held your books protectively against your chest, thinking for some reason he’d try and pull a move on you. he kept circling around you, like a vulture. “c’mon, jus’ one date.” he told you, hand coming to rest upon your shoulder before you shook him off.

you scoffed, “maybe in your dreams.”

dally tapped his foot impatiently as you stood in front of your house, a pristine exterior with some marble pillars. he knew it was a risk being on this side of town, but then again dallas winston was never much known for being safe.

“whatever, man.” he murmured. you winced as he threw his cigarette on your freshly cut lawn, and made his way back down the street.

your eyebrows furrowed as you watched him give up. you knew dallas winston as a greaser, a criminal, an asshole, and maybe a bit handsome although you’d never admit it. but you never once took him for a quitter.

you watched as he cockily walked down the sidewalk, hands stuffed in his pockets as he was on the lookout for any socs.

for some reason, you thought he’d try harder. did you want him to try harder?

no, you couldn’t’ve. dally wasn’t even worth your time. so why did he give up so easy? why did you wish he would’ve turned around, and kept bothering you?

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“c’mon pretty thing!” TWO-BIT shouted out at you. he had been throwing pebbles at your bedroom window, ultimately scratching the glass with the heavier ones but the thought was nice.

your bedroom was on the second floor, facing the backyard. so watching two at the ground, yelling for you at night while your parents were asleep? not a good look for you.

you held a finger to your lips as your eyes widened, quietly telling two-bit to shut up.

you don’t think he got the message though, considering his grin never left his face, and the bottle didn’t leave his hand either. he flashed you your favorite candy bar, and waved a hand at you telling you to come down.

you looked back behind you, and back at two, giving him a thumbs up.

you put on a jacket over your nightgown, putting your sneakers on and tip-toeing down the stairs and out the back door.

you saw two-bit, taking chugs of his drink before his eyes fell on you. “hey baby! how you doin’?”

“fine, before you woke me up.” you said to which he gave you a small hug, immediately warming you up with his body heat. he tapped the candy bar against your back, which made you pull away to grab it.

“snagged you a sweet.”

“snagged or stole?”

“same thing, ain’t it? now c’mon darlin’, we got a whole night ahead of us!” two-bit said, pulling you away and helping you jump over your fence, like a gentleman.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“hey, y’mind passin’ me that wrench over there?” STEVE said, the creeper making a squeak as he rolled out from under the car and pointed you towards the clear drawers containing all the parts.

your face screwed up as you thought about all the dirt and oil that must be on those tools. you made a thinking noise, looking back at the drawers before steve tsk’ed.

“what? too worried about your purdy sleeves getting dirty from some oil?” he scoffed.

“‘m glad you think they’re pretty, at least.”

“just—! get me the wrench?” he said, brown eyes flickering up at you in your seat. “what’s the magic word?” you said, a grin resting on your face.

“i might as well go get it m’self.” steve started to roll the creeper further out so he could just get the tools on his own before you stopped him with a series of ‘no’.

“okay! just—,” you cringed at the plethora of rusty tools steve had im the drawers, and quickly dug through them. steve laughed as you shuffled through all of them, before whistling.

you turned your head towards him, only to find him waving the wrench at you with a shit-eating grin.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ skdeojejwsozskw i hope you guys like this, it took me like a day to concoct 😭😭

kiss kiss ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

#the outsiders x reader #x reader #the outsiders #fanfiction #darry curtis x reader #sodapop curtis x reader #ponyboy curtis x reader #johnny case x reader #dallas winston x reader #two-bit mathews x reader #steve randle x reader #the outsiders imagine #the outsiders fanfiction #ambrozjas #kiss kiss

[boothillssugarmomma]

Screw Loose

(Boothill x Fem!Reader)

cw-: sickeningly sweet Boothill, limb detachment mentioned, hint of talk of powering down

🎀 authorsnote: Boothill is my baby and will always be my baby and I love him so fucking muchhhhh

please don't steal my work!

"Hey, darlin! Could you grab the screwdriver?" Boothill smirks as he walks into the living room. You nearly faint as your husband walks up to you...missing an arm!

"What?" Boothill gave a headtilt and a soft smile, "Look, my arm got stuck again ok?" He rolls his eyes and ruffles your hair with his good hand.

"Now stop gawkin' cutie and help me get it off there please?" Boothill motioned over to the cabinet ,where said arm was indeed just gripping onto the handle.

Boothill's arms and legs had the tendency to jam and malfunction, that's why he kept so many screwdrivers around the house. This was a normal thing for Boothill...but not for you.

"O-Of course...honey..." You whisper, your eyes are still glued on the arm as you slowly walk up to it and give it a tug.

The arm is stuck in place, not even budging and the door of the cabinet starts creaking from your tugging with all your might. Boothill watched on, amusement in his eyes.

"What part of 'jammed' do you not get, sweetpea?"

"...fine..." You sigh as you tug it harder, your face gets red as you pull as hard as you can.

The harder you pull, the more the cabinet creaks and Boothill finally rolls his eyes and walks up to you, smacking you away and pulling his arm away from the cabinet handle and shaking it violently.

"Just watch!" Boothill's arm made some clicking noise and just worked like brand new. Boothill flexed his fingers on his arm just to see if it worked and it in fact, did work and he smirked.

"Ain't that purdy?"

"Always my love..." You blink as your nose crinkles with disturbance.

Boothill chuckles, seeing your face of disturbance.

"Don't worry, baby. I ain't gonna fall to pieces on you, 'kay?" He walked over and kissed the top of your head.

"Seems like you already are my dear..." You poke his arm just to be sure it'll stay on.

Upon your poking, his arm gives a mechanical groan in protest from you poking at it and it just goes completely limp.

"Ah, my sweetpea." Boothill muttered the last part under his breath and he gave a scoffing laugh at his arm.

"What'd I tell you? I ain't broken down on you."

"Hmm..." You finally smile and lean up to kiss him.

Boothill kisses back, wrapping his own arm around your waist and holding you closer to him.

"See? I'm just a little wonky from time to time." Boothill gave a little chuckle, "The perks of being mechanical, huh?" His smirk widened at his last little statement.

"Perks is a funny way to put it..." You laughed softly before hugging into him.

Boothill smiled and held you close, placing his chin on the top of your head as you hugged into him.

"You gotta admit it, sweetpea. Not everything about being a bionic cowboy is bad." Boothill laughed softly, "I'm still me at the end of the day despite being mechanical like this. Nothin' changed 'xcept my flesh and organs are different than yours."

You glance up at him and sigh. "Boothill what am I going to do with you..."

He chuckled at your little comment and smiled, "Just hold onto me and hope I don't shut down one day." he teased slightly and ruffled your hair.

Boothill wasn't like many other men and you had to learn to live with that. A mechanical man was all he was. But Boothill was still the same man you fell in love with.

"Say...darling..." You whisper softly. "If you ever...were to shut down..." You trail off as your eyes begin to water.

"Don't even go there, sweetpea." Boothill muttered, pulling you even closer to him now and holding you close to him. He had his chin back on the top of your head as his arms were wrapped around you.

"Listen to me, baby." Boothyll whispered, "Ain't goin' down anytime soon." his drawl was firm and serious, meaning every word of what he said.

"Promise?" You swallow harshly and take sharp breaths against his metal chest.

"I promise, baby." Boothill whispered into your ear, "But...if I ever do go down, I don't want you to morn me long." he said quietly.

"I want you to carry on living for me."

Boothill was deadly serious, he didn't want you to have a moment where you'll just waste away in sadness for him.

"Stop it, don't say that!" You smack his arm softly. You both freeze as it starts to creak.

The arm slowly creaks before falling down to the ground , this time it was his left arm.

"Oh, honey." Boothill muttered, "Please don't break me anymore." he said in his low drawl, a teasing tone.

"I'm sorry!" You whine and rush off to find a screwdriver for your husband.

Boothilly just watches on amused as you run to find a screwdriver and you rush back to him with the screwdriver.

"Easy, sweetheart." Boothill laughs softly at your haste and he turns around so you can fix his arm.

"I didn't mean to..." You sigh as you carefully pick up his arm, a look of pure disgust crosses your face before fading into a neutral expression.

You could tell Boothill was holding back his own laugh at the expression you made, watching on as you carefully pick up his arm with the screwdriver.

"Just fix me up so we can get this over with." he muttered, still amused but was eager to get this over with.

You carefully begin to fix it with a puzzled look. "I don't know...how?"

You managed to start fixing his arm back on, but it'll take a while due to how complicated Boothill's arms and legs were.

"You just gotta turn the screw driver on the screw." Boothill told you, a bit of annoyance in his voice, "How far away are you from fixing this, darlin'?"

"I'm trying my love..." You assure him.

"I know, honey." Boothill muttered quietly and tried to sit still, "Just a little while longer." his voice drawled out. He could feel you working on his arm and he just prayed you wouldn't somehow mess it up.

"You're nearly at the finish line, baby."

"That's what she said." You smirk. The room goes quiet.

Boothill was speechless and completely flabbergasted at your boldness to finish his sentence and he just looked at you, mouth still slightly open before he burst out into a fit of laughter.

"Oh, you little devil." he grinned, "Seems you're learning a few things from me, ain't ya?"

"Learned from the..." You trail off as you screw a screw on. "The best!" You smile as his arm starts to move again.

Boothill can feel his arm working again and he gives it a small flex, "See? Told you it's not that complicated." he grinned.

Boothill gives you a kiss on the cheek and pulls you close to him.

"You did a good job, sweetheart." he whispered into your ear, "Ain't you just a smart cookie."

You giggle softly at the chain of praise he whispers into your ear. Eyes shining with pure love and adoration.

Boothill could see the love in your eyes as he whispered praises to you and he just smiled, pressing a kiss to your cheek before kissing your lips.

"I'm the luckiest cowboy, ain't I? Having you in my life, in my arms." he whispered to you, "I'd do anything for you, darling."

"R-Really?" You whisper softly as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Really." Boothill whispered back, smiling as he tucked that stray strand of hair behind your ear.

"Ain't a day goes by where I ain't proud to say that you're my girl." he whispered quietly, giving a sweet kiss to your forehead.

"I love you..." You smile warmly up at him.

Boothill gives a genuine smile as he gently lifts your chin up with his hand, leaning down as his hand gently cups your face and he smiles down at you.

"I love you more." he whispered back to you, leaning down to kiss your lips gently.

"I love you most..." You giggle.

"You're such a little minx, yknow that?" Boothill whispered to you as he pulled you closer to him and held you close. He just held you close to him, smiling softly as he held you in his arms like you were his entire world...well technically...you are his entire world.

"But you love that~" You tease before leaning up to kiss his nose.

"True, true." Boothill chuckled and grinned down at you after you kissed his nose.

"You keep this up, I might malfunction with a love bug if you get any sweeter." He joked and grinned down at you, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head.

🎀End🎀

If you want to be added to my Taglist please check out my rules here!

#boothill smut #boothill #honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail #hsr smut #hsr #boothill x reader #boothill hsr #save a horse ride a cowboy #hsr x reader #hsr fanfic

[cera-writes]

Hi!! I love your reader x Gambit fics!!! I was wondering if you would like to make an x reader fic of Remy seeing Reader for the first time without glasses? (Maybe they finally got contacts LOL)

Totally cool if not!! I will read basically whatever you make anyways <3

Thank you mon ami! 🥰 Pairing: Remy "Gambit" LeBeau x gn!Reader Tags: cute fluff, SFW

"You Look Different"

The air crackled with a nervous energy that had nothing to do with the thunderstorm brewing outside. You perched on the edge of the worn armchair in the livingroom of the mansion, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. Tonight was the night. You were finally going to confess your ridiculous, moonstruck crush on the resident Cajun chef of the X-Mansion.

Remy emerged from the kitchen, a flourish in his step and a mischievous glint in his eyes. He was holding a bottle of what looked like suspiciously vibrant purple wine. "Ah, mon cher," he drawled, his voice dripping with that honeyed Creole charm that always made your knees weak. "Your company is most welcome."

You offered a timid smile, suddenly acutely aware of how thick your glasses must look in the dim lamplight. "Hey, Remy."

He uncorked the wine with a flourish, setting two glasses on the refined coffee table in front of you. As he bent down to retrieve a corkscrew from a drawer, a stray strand of hair fell across your eye. With a sigh, you reached up to push it back, accidentally knocking your glasses askew in the process.

The world blurred. Remy straightened, a frown creasing his brow. "Cher, is everything alright?"

"Yeah, fine," you mumbled, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. You fumbled for your glasses, heart hammering against your ribs. You turned away from him, curding the fact that you hadn't already gotten contacts the entirety of your near blindness.

But before you could find them, Remy was kneeling in front of you, his concern melting into something warmer, something that made your breath hitch in your throat.

"You look different without them," he murmured, his voice a husky whisper. His hand brushed your cheek, the pad of his thumb tracing the line of your jaw.

"Oh..."you swallowed, suddenly speechless. Different? How? Worse?

As if somehow reading your mind, he chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent shivers down your spine. "No, no, not worse. Different. Like a… like a belle fleur sauvage pushin' through the cracks in the pavement," he finished lamely, clearly flustered himself.

You stared at him, your heart overflowing. Was this real? Did Remy Lebeau, the most charming, infuriating mutant you knew, actually find you attractive? Pft, what?

Taking a deep breath, you blurted out, "Remy, I—"

A loud crack of thunder split the night, momentarily plunging the room into darkness. You yelped, instinctively reaching out for something, anything, to steady yourself. Remy’s hand, warm and calloused, grasped yours.

The power flickered back on, revealing a sheepish grin on Remy’s face. "Looks like ol' Stormy hasn't blessed us with the best timing tonight, mon chèrie."

Disappointment washed over you, momentarily eclipsing the warmth of his touch. "Yeah," you mumbled, pulling your hand away.

Remy’s grin faltered. "But hey," he said, his voice regaining its usual cajoling tone, "At least you know Gambit thinks you look purdy without your specs. Hell, even with, ma chere amie. Maybe next time the storm won't be so rude, eh?"

He winked, that same mischievous glint back in his eye. A spark of hope ignited in your chest. Maybe next time wouldn't be so bad after all.

And maybe next time, you'd be wearing contacts.

#x men 97 #gambit #remy lebeau #xmen #remy lebeau x reader #gambit x reader

[minihotdog]

Stay a Wee Longer

Pairing: Soap x Medic!OC (Sergeant Lynn)

Summary: Soap ends up needing to be stitched up and is happy that the person doing it is so purdy

a/n: I actually like this fic ngl

c/w: poor understanding of medicine and the medical field, blood, wounds, mentions of dropping babies, saying too damn much while high off pain meds, a cutie patootie so cute it makes me wanna explode, too much smiling.

Word Count: 1k

***

You raced down the hallways of the small med bay alongside the medic you were turning over as he filled you in on the current influx of patients.

“We just got a wave of task force in the bay. You know what that means.” Reed sings at the end of his statement. 

“Trouble.” Your words are dry, already exhausted from imagining the day ahead. “Yes, ma’am!” He exclaims in agreement.

When the task force was back in town it meant everyone had their work cut out for them. All sorts of injuries would come through, many needing immediate care.

“Your first patient is Sergeant Mactavish. Ooooh, he’s cute.” Reed gasps, peaking at the patient chart before handing the clipboard to you. “You should really make a move.”

“What’s wrong with him?” You ignore his remark. 

Reed rolls his eyes at your attempt to deflect. 

“Laceration, Left pectoral muscle. Bleeding is minimal, large improvement from earlier.”

“Yeah, rog.” 

“If you don’t make a move on him then I will. Give me his file back.” He says while faking taking the clipboard from you desperately.

“Reed! I swear!” You finally break, smirking at your friend. He laughs before you both head in opposite directions.

You reach an unmarked door, a room reserved for more secretive guests. You knock before entering and greet an apprentice cleaning up a mess of bloody gauze.

“Thank you, I’ll take it from here.”

The apprentice nods and leaves. You feel a pair of eyes on you while taking another peek at the patient’s chart before speaking. 

“Hello, Sergeant Mactavish, how are you this morning?” You brace for a sarcastic or angry response only to be met with a genuine “Oh, I'm quite lovely.”

Your eyes dart from the chart to him in surprise. His baby blues staring back at you. You’d ask patients how they were, even when they were obviously in pain, it allowed you to gauge how well they may cooperate during the treatment. Usually, the response would be along the lines of “fuck off” or “what do you think?” Yet here he sat with a slight smile tugging at one side of his lips and a dazed look.

“What’s yer name, bonnie?” His eyes were tired, dark circles clung to them as if he hadn’t slept in weeks. 

“I’m Sergeant Lynn. I’ll be tending to you today.” 

He gives you a proper smile, his eyes nearly closing in the process,

“Good tae meet ye, Sergeant Lynn.”

You notice the scar on his chin and recall his lengthy medical history in the chart,

“You sure do get hurt a lot, don’t you?”

He continues grinning, “Aye, I’m awfully good at that.”

You take a seat on the rolling chair next to the hospital bed where he lies. Your eyes give him a once over looking for any other obvious injuries. He’s lying shirtless, his camo pants splotched with blood here and there. He has a small patch of chest hair and a Scottish flag tattooed over his heart, and old scars litter his torso and arms. Your cheeks felt warm at the sight of his physique, it was obvious that this man loved the gym as much as life itself.

You mentally tell yourself to keep it together as you put your gloves on and begin removing the bloody bandage placed on his chest to help stop any bleeding he still had. His wound still oozes out a slow stream of blood traveling down his chest and slowing at his abdomen. You wipe up the blood with gauze, feeling his muscles contract under your touch. He doesn’t seem to care that he’s bleeding, his gaze fixated on you.

“I’m happy yer the one lookin’  after me today.”

“Oh yeah, why’s that?” You glance up at him quickly before continuing to examine the wound and its depth.

“Yer the most beautiful woman I’ve set eyes on in a long time. And I’m no sayin’ that ‘cause I’ve been starin’ at ma teammate’s ugly mug fir months.” His words occasionally blend together in a messy slur.

You felt a little embarrassed by his compliment. It wasn’t the most appropriate time for you to be receiving one. He was bleeding, wounded, and your eyes trying so desperately to not gawk at his bare chest or stare back into his captivating eyes.

“Thank you, sergeant. I assume the pain medication you’ve been given is working well.”

“Ye assumed correctly, but I still hae some discomfort.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, I’ll up the dose for you.” You quickly reach over him turning a dial on his dropper, the liquid beginning to drop more frequently. Soap notices your sweet-smelling perfume at the brief proximity and he lets his head drop back on the bed, eyes shut trying to savor it. The cool liquid entering his arm through an IV causes him to sigh and you assume he’s feeling the effects of the medication a little more, relaxing even further into the bed but once again he looks at you, this time with the softest eyes making your heart jump at the sight.

“Could you state your name and date of birth for me? Gotta ask before I do anything.”

“As ye wish. John Mactavish, January 12, 1996.”

You thank him quietly and continue trying to clean his wound and stop the little bleeding that is still present.

“A winter baby, huh? I heard they’re the happiest little things.”

“Aye? Where did ye hear that?”

You toss the used gauze into a small bin on your work table. “It’s an old wives tale.” Your lips form a downturned smile. “I used to deliver babies. The old midwives always had the darndest things to say.”

He chuckles sweetly, “Ah wonder if it’s true.”

“Me too. Unfortunately. I only saw the babies when they were born. Never got the chance to catch up.” You find yourself chuckling alongside him. You were certain a tint of pink had found its place on your cheeks. 

“It must be a wonderful experience tae see the birth o’ a wean.”

You pause looking up at him with your eyebrows raised. He recognizes the look he gets almost daily from his teammates and translates, “A baby.”

You grab your suture and begin stitching the wound shut.

“It is. Sometimes it feels like a game of Russian Roulette, sometimes you get an easy delivery.” Your lip twitches downward, “Other times it all goes to shit. You don’t know what to expect, but with time it becomes a sixth sense.” You dab his wound with some gauze before continuing. “Most people don’t realize how hard birth actually is, or the risks. People think it’s easy because you might have the organs for it, but it often doesn’t go as planned.”

He listens to you attentively, his eyes go from the ceiling to you and back to the ceiling.

“Why did ye leave that work? Ye sound passionate.”

“Well, you can only drop so many babies before they send you running for the hills.” You joke, hoping he picks up on it instead of believing you were some serial baby dropper. His laughter fills the small room, the sound almost boyish but laced with the deep bass of his voice. You can tell he probably needed a laugh after the pain he’d endured. 

“Ye hae a great sense o’ humour, sergeant.” His laughter dies down and he looks at you for the thousandth time. “Seriously, why did ye stop?”

You sigh, “I wanted a little more… Pizzazz?” The word sounded more like a question, you weren’t sure if it truly explained how you felt.

“…Pizzazz?” He repeats with a snicker falling from his lips. He tilts his head at you, his eyebrows raised in amusement. You look up at him with a spark in your eye that he can’t explain. “I wanted more chaos, more variety, heart-pounding work.”

“Hmm.” In a way he understood.

“When I woke up this morning, I had no idea what I’d be doing. Here I am stitching up a handsome Scotsman and tomorrow…” You shrug, “Maybe a rookie will come in with their fingers in an ice chest after a Roman candle fight. Who knows?”

He chortles, partially from you calling him handsome and from remembering his days of being a mentor to the rookies of his old unit before the SAS and Task Force. He’d received countless phone calls in the dead of night being informed that his troops were out raising hell. A rookie’s life was hell, but without responsibility, the blame would fall on whatever poor soul was listed as their supervisor. 

“That mean ye work well under stress?”

“Something like that.” Your words trail off focusing a little harder on the intricate parts of the stitch. “What made you want your crazy-ass job?”

“The adrenaline is mental, but I get tae do something rewardin’. I’m proud tae protect folk, even frae dangers they dinnae know exist.” He hisses slightly at the end of his sentence. You stop, waiting for him to recuperate. He gives you a reassuring look before you continue. “What made ye wan’ tae be a medic?”

“I like helping people, even if they fight back half the time.” You go quiet for a few seconds. “Also, some rotten girl I went to school with said she wanted to be one as well and I said I could do it better.”

“Haha, ye seem like the competitive type.” His tongue darts out to wet his chapped lips. Your eyes retreat back to his chest, and you chew on your lip trying to calm yourself. 

“I’m sure ye’d kick her arse at this a thoosand times o’er. I can see ye pit a lot o’ love intae yer work.”

“I do what I can.” You wink at him playfully. It was now his turn to blush, he was thankful that the scruff he’d grown the last two days was there to camouflage it. Cannae let a bonnie lassie see ye like this, John

“Alright, Sergeant Mactavish. You’re all stitched up and ready to go. Please take it easy until it heals. And please no Roman candle fights.” You warn while placing your tools on the small table to your side. 

He laughs heartily, “Thae days are long behind me.”

“I’ll have an apprentice come to take out your IV and if you have an escort you can leave immediately.”

“Thank ye. I suppose it’s better tae be safe than sorry. Even though I reckon I could handle it.” His large hand comes up to scratch his scruff. His bicep contracts in what he thinks is a natural movement. You mentally roll your eyes at his innocent peacocking. If he hadn’t been so delightful, you’d have written him off as another sweet-talking womanizer you’d encountered from the special forces. 

“Maybe you would manage just fine but every precaution comes about because the unthinkable has happened.” You clean up your station, disposing of your gloves. 

“Do you need anything before I leave?”

“Tae be honest, I’d like if ye stayed a wee bit longer and humored a poor injured man.”

You shake your head at him with a smirk. Your pager cuts you off before you have a chance to respond. “I’d love to stay but I have to run.” You take out a notepad, scribble on it and hand it to him. Your soft hands graze his calloused ones. “Here you go, darlin’.” You shoot him a smile and he gladly returns one before you scurry off leaving him alone in the room. He looks at the piece of paper realizing you’d given him your phone number. A big smile spreads on his face, red finally peeking out from behind his facial hair. Oh, Johnny lad ye hae ootwitted yersel!

#soap x reader #john soap mactavish #soap cod #soap mw2 #john mactavish #soap mactavish #soap imagine #call of duty fanfic #john mactavish imagine #john mactavish fic #myfic

[mellaithwen]

You know what's sad? We never got bucks reaction to the pumpkin ghosts bobby, may and harry made for him

you are SO RIGHT anon. I love halloween shenanigans :) aND SINCE IT'S SUNDAY, and @thekristen999 and @rewritetheending tagged me in seven several sentence Sunday - have some pumpkin fun 🎃

After their long shift the joke's getting a little old, but Buck can't help but be pretty impressed at the sheer volume of painted "ghost" pumpkins that have been scattered all around the station. They were in the gym, and in the kitchen. They were piled up on either side of the television, and one had even been balanced on the nose of the dalmatian statue that sat in the corner of the loft.

"Poor Purdy," Buck had muttered when he spotted it, moving the pumpkin to sit at the dog's feet, instead of blocking her eye-line, before pretending to give the frozen figure scritches under her chin for being a good-girl (much to Eddie’s fond amusement).

After lunch Buck had found tiny gourds hidden in the ball-pockets of the pool table, and even more lined up above the lockers. Some were just white with big black eyes that seemed to follow you around the room; others had gaping mouths, toothless and wide, but Buck’s favourites had to be the ones with the teeny-tiny smiles that he has a feeling May had penned.

(The decorations in the shower didn’t last long in the steam; the white paint had quickly dripped away to reveal the orange pumpkin flesh underneath, and Chimney had been quick to compare it to a scene in Indiana Jones….)

Towards the end of the evening, Buck didn't even blink at finding a handful more of the pumpkin ghoulies lying in the bed he usually crashed on in the bunk room. Instead, he just thought about the time Bobby, May, Harry and the rest of the 118 had put into the prank. The thought, the effort they'd put into the harmless game, and it only made Buck grin wider at the warm feeling he had building in his chest.

And so what, if a few hours later there was a picture in the group chat of Buck cuddling with a seasonal squash while he slept? It was a small price to pay for family.

hehe not sure where that came from but I’ll tag @henswilsons @homerforsure @princessfbi @lovebuck @like-the-rest-of-la @renecdote @hopeintheashes @littlespoonevan @fcntasmas @nymika-arts @kananjarus @bigfootsmom and @shortsighted-owl 🎃 (ignore me if you’ve been tagged already though my loves!)

#911 fox #evan buckley #911 #Halloween #911fic #911 fic #911 fanfic #buddie #Mellaithwen fanfic

[bad268]

Felony Purdy (Brock Purdy X Pregnant! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/NFL

Requested: Yee by @kitwalkersabductor (and @madmushroomxsoph wanted fluff, so here you go <3)

Warnings: Pregnant reader but no pronouns used, brief mention of labor (but not graphic)

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 1147

Summary: Names are hard to settle on.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

“Brock, it’s getting to the point where we’re gonna need to start thinking about baby names,” You said one day after he came back from practice. You just hit 32 weeks and you found out you would be having a daughter at 20 weeks. Now, it was setting in that you only had 8 weeks left of pregnancy, and you knew it would fly by. The last thing you wanted was to go into early labor and not have a name prepared for her. “I made a list.”

“Is this a serious list or a suggestion list?” Brock teased, knowing that you liked to joke about names in your earlier stages of pregnancy. 

“Are you saying none of my names are serious?” You started tearing up, thinking that he did not like any of the names you suggested, serious or not. “Ashley Purdy is cute.”

“I’m not talking about Ashley,” Brock laughed as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his side. “I’m more so talking about Felony.”

“Felony Purdy would be cute if a felony wasn’t a crime!” You defended as you shot up. You looked down at your bump with a frown as you rubbed around it before glaring at Brock. “If you suggested anything good, maybe I wouldn’t get my hopes up for certain names.”

“You said Rosacea, and I countered with Rose and Rowan. What do you mean?” He laughed in disbelief, trying not to sound defensive or condescending. He knows your mental state has been fragile lately, and the last thing he wants is to hurt your feelings.

“Rose is such a common name, and I don’t like Rose Purdy,” You grumbled as you crossed your arms and leaned back into his side. “What about Calorie? It’s like Valerie but different.”

“Calorie? Please tell me you’re joking,” He chuckled in disbelief but immediately stopped when he noticed you were not laughing. In fact, you had tears in your eyes that were about to fall. “Wait, babe, please hear me out. Calorie, you do know what it means right?”

“It’s cute, Brock. You don’t have to talk to me like a toddler. I know what calorie means,” You sighed unhappily, but after a minute of him staring at you, you realized why he was straying you away from that name. “I stand corrected. What about Brie? That’s cute! Little Brie Purdy!”

“Brie as in Brie cheese?”

“And now you’ve ruined it,” You moaned, throwing your head back. “What about Merlot? I think that’s adorable.”

“You’re just manifesting our daughter to be a whiner,” Brock joked, but it fell flat to you. “Why don’t we stick with more traditional names? Like Elizabeth, Miranda, or Diana?”

“They’re too common!” You cried out as you turned to face Brock, holding his face in your hands. “We are never going to find the perfect name for her. I already feel like I’m failing as a parent, and I haven’t even started.”

“Maybe we could wait to see her, and it will just come to us?” Brock offered. “I would hate for us to find a name we like and take one look at her and think it doesn’t fit her, y’know?”

“Oh my gosh! You’re so smart, Brock! Why didn’t I think of that?” You gasped with a smile. 

“You just have a little bit of pregnancy brain,” Brock comforted as be placed a kiss on your nose, “Don't stress it too much. We’ll find the perfect name for her when she gets here. Until then, I don’t wanna hear you stressing over her name anymore, got it?”

“No promises, but I won’t settle on one,” You laughed as you finally leaned in to connect your lips to his.

~

When the time came, to say you felt unprepared would be the understatement of the century. You started early labor while Brock was at an away game, but his mom was a huge help. Through everything, she stayed by your side along with your support system, and together, they all helped you through the hours of pain you endured. Thankfully, he was able to make it by the time your daughter was born.

After a few hours of recovering, you decided that you were rested enough to hold your daughter, so that’s what you were doing. Listening to the Niners game that Brock had to leave early while she slept, you could not take your eyes off of her. She was the perfect combination of you and Brock. She had your hair color and his facial structure. Her eyes that were currently closed were bright blue, which the nurses told you would most likely get darker over time, but they were beautiful nonetheless. You could stare at her for hours, and you probably were because, at one point, Brock sat behind you to help you hold her up, noticing your arms start dropping.

In the comfortable silence, names flew around in your head, trying to see if any of them would stick with her. Brock was still sitting with you, looking down at her also thinking about names. Then, it was like a lightbulb went off, and the name you thought of was perfect. You were thinking that nothing else fit right, and this was meant to be her name. Brock caught onto the shift in your body posture as you pulled her closer to your body.

“Did you think of the name?” He whispered as he leaned his head onto your shoulder, tightening his hold around you and your daughter.

“Yeah, I did,” You said back just as quietly before turning away from her for the first time in forever to look at Brock. You muttered, “I think she looked like a Felony Purdy.”

“I swear if you’re serious,” He trailed off with a light laugh. “Please tell me you’re not serious.”

“No, I’m not. I’m just screwing with you,” You teased as you leaned back you bonk your head against his shoulder. “Can’t I make a joke?”

“I thought we were having a moment,” He laughed as he kissed your forehead.

“We are,” You pointed out before looking back down to your daughter. You smiled as you thought of the name again before looking back over to Brock seriously. “What about Emerson?”

“Emerson Y/n Purdy,” He said as if to test the name out before smiling wide. “I think it’s perfect. Just like you. Thank you for being the best partner and parent to our little Emerson.”

“Thank you for being the best partner and best supporter I could have during this journey,” You said sincerely. “And don’t worry, she will always be my little felony.”

“You know, some parents have cutsy names for their kids like munchkin, sugar bear, or ducky, but you want to nickname our daughter felony?” Brock replied in disbelief. 

“She needs to know what her almost-name was!”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

#brock purdy x reader #brock x reader #brock purdy #pregnant reader #san francisco 49ers #49ers #niners #nfl football #national football league #nfl x reader #nfl fan fic #nfl imagine #nfl #bad268 #ship268 #thing268

[sunlightandsuffering]

Bruh i think I gave Eren too much rizz, he's supposed to be bad with girls, BUT MIKASA JUST BRINGS IT OUT IN HIM!!

Mikasa is lingering in the Purdy’s chocolate line nervously, mulling over her purchases, to buy or not to buy. 

She’s a ball of nerves as a group of university aged guys slinks into the store, eyeing up last minute Valentine's Day chocolate purchases just like herself. 

The only difference is that their chocolate are probably for their girlfriends… not their moms. 

She should feel more embarrassed than she does, but Mikasa only clutches the container of candy hearts a little closer to her chest, she has nothing to be embarrassed about. She loves her mom! And well, she nervously eyes up her other purchase, a rather expensive and rather large box of assorted chocolates that she’s bringing to a Pal-Entines party tonight. She cringes internally at the name, stepping another spot ahead in line. 

They’re not the best plans she could have, but at least she’s not sitting home by herself writing fan fiction like a loser. 

Although the thought does sort of appeal to her because her nerves are going to devour her whole as she steps up to the counter, placing her spoils for the shopkeeper to ring up. She’s been invited to the Pal-entines day party by someone who is definitely not a palentine, she’s still unsure if that’s a word. 

She’d been invited by none other than her current situationship, Jean, a very tall, somewhat good-looking if not a little horse-faced guy she’d met in her political science course. And now here she is, contemplating every life decision she’s ever made as the Purdy’s chocolate employee judges her silently over the cash register. 

Mikasa taps her credit card against the debit machine sheepishly, taking her purchases before the employee can make some sort of snide comment about leaving things to the last minute. She needs to get the hell out of the mall, she’s already seen several men in business suits walk by with oversized teddy bears or bouquets, and she can’t have the sadness of her romantic relationships shoved under her nose any more today. 

So, Mikasa heads off, jetting out of the mall and towards a party she doesn’t really want to go to, but really, how bad could it be?

It’s definitely not great, to say the least. So far, the event is mostly composed of Jean’s male roommates, Connie, Armin and the third one who is conspicuously absent. There are exactly two girls at the palentines day party, and she is one of them, Connie’s childhood best friend Sasha is the other. 

Mikasa awkwardly throws back another swallow of her cheap tasting solo cup beer because she fucking needs it if she’s going to get through this night. Jean keeps reassuring her that more people will come, that he invited more girls, that it’s still early yet. 

But he’s been saying that since she got here an hour ago, and the longer she waits the less true it feels. There is a pizza, and Connie and Armin are nice, friendly, and she actually does like Sasha, she’s really cool, so it’s not the worst party she’s been too. But it’s still not great, made even worse by the fact that this seems to be Jean’s introduction of her to his friendgroup as perhaps a bit more than a situationship and Mikasa isn’t sure how to feel about it. 

His palm rests on her lower back as he makes some joke to Armin about their third roommate, something about him definitely not having a date on Valentine’s day. 

Mikasa laughs where she should, cringes into her beer when Jean’s hand skims just a little too low over the curve of her ass to rest there. 

She is saved from an awkward removal by the door opening to reveal a surprisingly large group of people. “Sorry we’re late, Ymir got lost,” A tall man’s boy’s voice booms through the small apartment and Jean visibly slumps in relief. The tall blonde man, Reiner she learns is followed by an equally tall dark-haired boy named Marco, a small blonde girl with pixie like features they call Historia and a lanky freckled girl who she assumes must be Ymir. They settle into the apartment easily and Mikasa thinks that maybe Jean’s friend group isn’t so bad at all, that maybe she could see herself fitting in with these people, although maybe not as Jean’s girlfriend, she’s still not sure. He’s cute and all, and the way he keeps smiling at her is endearing, but she’s just not sure if there’s a spark, not sure if it’s right. 

“Where’s Eren?” Historia asks from beside Mikasa, where she’s been excitedly cooing over her outfit and how pretty her hair is, Mikasa finds she quite likes the blonde girl, she’s very sweet. Mikasa looks around curiously, did she miss someone? Jean squeezes her bicep affectionately as he notices her stare, before tugging her under his arm, “He’s out getting snacks, but I sent him to the grocery store a while ago he should be home by now.” Ymir cackles, wiggling her eyebrows, “Maybe Yeager is getting some Valentine’s Day action after all.” 

Jean scoffs, “No way, not Eren.” The group around her laughs, an inside joke she’s not a part of, and Mikasa’s lips pucker into a pout, who is this boy, and why does his friend group think he’s so bad with women? She gets her answer about ten minutes later. She’s awkwardly lingering in the kitchen near the door as she refills her solo cup with red Valentine's Day punch when the door opens beside her, and she yelps a little as the handle digs into her back. A boy appears, and it is at that moment that Mikasa experiences true love. 

“Shit I’m sorry,” A deep gravelly voice hums from behind her, and there’s a hand on her waist steadying her as he kicks the door shut.

Mikasa turns curiously, figuring this must be the infamous Eren, and it feels like time stops.

He’s handsome, too handsome to be in this crappy little apartment on Valentine's Day, if you ask her he should be in her bedroom, taking her clothes off…with his teeth. At the very least, he should be out taking some other girl’s clothes off, he’s too good-looking to be here at a mostly singles party on Valentine’s Day. He’s well-muscled, broad shouldered and wearing little more than a black-t-shirt and a pair of grey sweats that Mikasa thanks god for. 

This is the guy everyone has been making fun of all night, this is the boy that's not good with girls? 

He bites his lip, his gaze dragging down her form and a thrill goes through her as he checks her out, beautiful green eyes roving over the curves of her waist, the swells of her breasts and finally she’s thankful she wore this low-cut t-shirt. 

Like he can’t help himself, his hand dips over her waist, a fleeting touch, and before she can say more, he’s tugging her shirt up just enough to expose the taut skin of her stomach. 

His touch is like a zap of electricity, thousands of volts shooting through her all at once, rough pads of his fingers skimming over her stomach, up her rib cage, stopping just shy of the line of her bra. “Did I hurt you?” He questions curiously, his mouth quirking into a little smirk because he fucking knows what he’s doing to her, there’s no way he doesn’t know. 

A little sigh escapes her as he drags his fingers back down her side and this time lingering over the waistband of her jeans, and fuck she hasn’t even spoken to him yet and already he owns her. 

She struggles to respond, her mind focused wholly on that hand, his thumb now caught in her belt loop, the rest of his fingers rubbing affectionately over her hip, perusing for bruises that won’t appear just yet. “I’m okay,” She finally struggles out, bringing her eyes up to his and shit he’s so pretty, too pretty, a strong nose, sharp jawline and those eyes, green eyes that could consume her whole soul and she’d let them. 

“You sure?” He asks again, making zero move to remove his hand from its spot on her waist and Mikasa nods weakly in return. “Good,” He hums, “Sorry I wasn’t expecting to find a pretty girl in my kitchen, and Jean’s an idiot I don’t know why he put the punch right there.” Mikasa shrugs before taking a long pull of said punch, just to take the edge off she promises herself, there’s no way she’s going to make it through this without alcohol. “I’m Eren,” He introduces himself, finally moving his hand away, but not without an affectionate squeeze to her hip and Mikasa inhales sharply, he has such big hands and he’s so warm. “Mikasa,” She replies, almost in a daze, as she sticks her hand out for a shake. Eren’s expression puckers up into a pout as he takes her hand in his own, and fuck does he have nice hands, warm and calloused and so much larger than her own, god the things he could do with those hands. 

She represses a little shiver at the thought, because fuck yes his hands are really big and Eren is very tall, and judging by those grey sweats Eren is most definitely proportional. 

“You're Jean’s girl,” Eren says, and it’s almost sad, mournful. She’s quick to nip that in the bud right there, moving a little closer to him in their kitchen alcove, thanking her lucky stars they haven’t been seen yet. “Sort of,” Mikasa tells him airily, and she’s very purposeful, moving her hand up to his forearm, silver eyes locked with emerald green, “We’re not exclusive.” God, she hopes she hasn’t broken bro code just now, hasn’t acted like a complete and total whore, but fuck she wants this boy more than she’s wanted anything in her life, something about him is just electric. Eren’s mouth pulls into a wicked smile that has her heart skipping several beats in her chest. 

“Jean didn’t mention that.” She shrugs innocently, he can do with that information what he will. “A pretty girl like you, liable to get stolen from him, he should really do something about that.” “He should,” Mikasa comments slyly, and they’re so close now, gravitating towards each other like magnets, his hands find her hips again easily, like they belong there, fitting perfectly over her sides, his fingertips just brushing the curve of her ass. 

She takes another sip of her drink before shooting Eren a knowing smile, issuing her challenge, “Before someone else does the job.” “I’ll make sure to let him know.” 

“You should,” She tells him huskily, her voice teasing because she absolutely wants this boy to steal her away from her current situationship, Jean isn’t even a blip in her mind. 

Eren’s eyes are on her mouth, caught on the pink of her tongue as she wets her lips, and before she knows it she’s leaning in, up just a little because he’s so much taller than her. Eren is leaning down too, and if she does kiss him in the front entryway of her sort of boyfriend’s apartment she wouldn’t care, it’ll be worth it. 

But just as she leans up on her tip toes Eren pulls away, the rough hands on her waist pressing her down and planting her firmly to the floor. 

“Where are you going?” She asks as he extricates himself from her, trying not to show her disappointment, pressing her lips together to stop her pout. Eren smiles at her darkly before he gives her ass a swift smack that sends tingles of pleasure up her spine, the ‘slap’ reverberating in her ear, “Gonna let Jean know if he doesn’t get his shit together, it’s not his bed you’re gonna be in at the end of the night.” Mikasa watches him go, lip bitten between her teeth and still holding her punch tight in her hand, “Shit.”  She is so, so fucked. 

#lys's drabbles

[boltupbitches]

Kiss it Better - Jimmy Garoppolo (fluff)

Jimmy felt the bed shift as he lay there. It had been over a week since his foot surgery and it had been a hell of a time recovering from it. Once the anesthetic wore off and the initial pain medication given to him at the hospital, he was in agony.

He was thankful his fiance was a registered nurse who took time off to help him at home in his recovery, especially given how private he wanted to be in his recovery. It was bad enough the media was speculating his downfall with the Raiders before he even had a chance to step on the field.

He felt her lean down over him and press a kiss to his cheek. He pouted slightly, knowing it was time for him to get up and take his meds. The same meds that gave him a killer stomach ache the first few days on them - combined with the post-anaesthetic reaction he had. Thankfully, his fiance realized right away that he needed an anti-nausea pill to help him deal with adjusting.

“Baby, I got your medicine and a yogurt to take it with. Also, I made your breakfast. I’ll bring it up to you.” 

He shifted and sat up with her support, wincing at the barest of moments sending pain down his leg and into his foot. He looked at the contraption his foot was in and wanted to cry at the sight of it. It fucking sucked.

It seemed like no matter how much time he put into playing and recovery, he was constantly getting injured. He heard and read the comments from fans, sports analysts, ‘journalists’, and even his former coaches at the 49ers. After the debacle last year with Shanahan insulting him, he couldn’t help but feel a pit in his stomach at the idea of his new head coach getting on his ass.

What started as a good relationship in the Bay turned sour at the end. His teammates supported him, and poor Lance was stuck in the middle of the shift, not having a say in replacing him. Then, Lance got injured and Purdy had to step in.

He remembered feeling many days of dread and disappointment when his foot got broken while playing. His fiance took time off - thankfully working at a practice that was supportive and friendly with the soon-to-be Mrs. and Mr. Garoppolo - and cared for him. His mother had flown down from Chicago as well to help out.

When all was said and done, he felt a mix of relief and sadness at leaving the 49ers organization. A place he considered his home and family the last few years. He made amazing friends and connections with so many. He even met his fiance while running a kids camp (she was there with her nephew). 

Yet, as he laid in bed, observing his foot between bites of yogurt, he couldn’t help but want to cry. It was just fucked how his luck was these last few seasons.

His fiance came back in moments later, carrying a food tray with an assortment of delicious breakfast food. He could see a southern omelet, fresh sliced fruit, and bacon on it. Next to it was a large water bottle of iced water, filled up to the 8am line. ‘You should drink 8 8-ounce glasses of water a day. This water bottle will help you keep track.’ She told him once.

She was meticulous in her care and Jimmy knew she was also the type of nurse who would rip you a new one for not following instructions.

He was eating silently as she took a seat in bed next to him, her smoothie pull looking just as appetizing. He leaned over slightly and said, “Can I have a bite?”

She smiled at him and rolled her eyes playfully. “Don’t you have an entire plate of food in front of you, Jimmy?”

“Yeah, but yours look just as good.” He said back.

“Hmm..” She pretended to think about it before lifting a spoonful up to him. She brought it to his lips and just as he leaned in for a bite, she pulled the spoon back quickly and stuck it in her mouth instead, making a loud and exaggerated, “hmmmm” sound. 

Jimmy stared at her in mock outrage, swatting her thigh, “That was cold, babe. Just cold and cruel.”

“It was tasty though.” She responded cheekily. She held up another spoonful, “Forreal this time, here, try a bite.”

He did so and just as he was taking a bite, he somehow managed to bite his lip when chewing up the berries. “Fuck… I bet my fucking lip.” He groaned, touching the spot and hoping it wasn’t bleeding. “How the fuck did I do that?”

His fiance giggled at him and responded, “Because you’re impatient. I swear, James..” She sat her bowl down on the nightstand next to her and gently crawled closer to him, taking his face in her hands and inspecting his lip. “It’s not too bad. Just a bit swollen and red. You’ll live.”

“It hurts,” He pouted.

“Want me to kiss it better?” She teased.

He pretended to think about it before nodding.

She giggled and leaned in to press her lips to his. “I love you, you silly manchild.”

“I love you too, my perfectionist soon-to-be wife.”

They looked at each other with big smiles, just happy to be with one another after the chaotic last few years they experienced. One thing Jimmy knew for certain, a kiss from her was a kiss that made everything better.

#jimmy garoppolo #jimmy g #jimmy garoppolo fanfiction #jimmy garoppolo imagine #jimmy garoppolo one shot #jimmy garoppolo fanfic #jimmy garoppolo imagines

[awritessomething]

Hi! Can you write morning sex with Brock Purdy? Just something soft and sweet

𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 | brock purdy x fem!reader

requests

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | Brock had an amazing game the night before. The 49ers won by a long shot. Brock’s wife was cheering him on, he decides to show her how much he loved her for that.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | smut, pre-established relationship, piv, lazy sex, unprotected sex, creampie, missionary, subtle breeding kink, soft!dom!Brock, sub!reader, swearing, aftercare

I have SEVEN brock purdy requests. I love y’all. Fun fact: it’s very hard to find Brock gifs. Pinterest is failing me.

Brock had brought his team to yet another win. They won by a long shot, it was insane. Of course, he knew he had his own supporter up in the stadium. She was cheering him on. His wife, the reason he got this far in the first place.

The moment that they were reunited after the game, Y/N had her arms around her husband. She was congratulating him excessively. Brock held her close, his eyes barely able to stay open. He was more tired than usual and as much as he wanted to be able to take her out on a post-game date or something, he simply didn’t have the energy.

The couple headed back to their hotel and the moment Brock hit the bed, he had passed out. Although Y/N was used to their… traditions, she wouldn’t wake him just for that. Instead, she laid next to him and also drifted off to sleep.

The night seemed to go on forever, the hours seeming like days. Brock slept like a baby though. He was holding onto his wife and his head was on her chest. It was usually the opposite. Still, it was nice.

Once morning came, their alarm went off, waking them both. They had forgotten about the alarm clock and it had slipped their minds to turn it off the night before. Brock jolted awake and then nearly punched the alarm clock to turn it off. Y/N wheezed when Brock put his weight onto her.

“Oh- sorry, baby.” Brock mumbled and kissed her cheek. She simply hummed in response. Brock was basically laying on her still, but he had put more weight onto his arms so that he was holding himself up a bit.

“You were tired last night,” she whispered, “are you feeling any better?”

“Yeah, a lot. Sorry I was so tired, I feel guilty.” Brock frowned and leaned down to kiss her. She let him.

“Its ok, I’m just glad you got some rest.”

“Let me make it up to you, Y/N. Please?” He smiled as he kissed along her jaw. She couldn’t turn down her husband. She moaned a response, so he kept going. His hands went to her thighs, tapping them and getting her to spread them. She did.

Brock groaned as he ground his hips against hers. They looked at each other and then Brock continued nibbling on the sensitive skin of her neck. Y/N arched her back towards him. His fingers hooked around her pajama shorts and then tugged them down. He sat up to throw them aside along with his sweatpants. Their shirts went next.

Both Y/N and Brock were still exhausted, but not too exhausted for each other. Brock held onto her thighs for a moment as he was pushing his cock into her. Y/Ns head fell back in a soft moan. He eased himself inside her until his tip nudged her cervix and his balls pressed against her ass.

He could hardly hold himself up though. His muscles ached and everything in his body was sore. Her legs were over his shoulders as he leaned down and put his nose into the crook of her neck. They took a moment to just lay there together and adjust before Brock made slow rolls of his hips. Y/Ns hands ran down his back and then back up to tangle in his hair.

Brock’s grunts and Y/Ns moans were all that could be heard. There wasn’t much energy (or any at all) in their movements, but every small thrust or slow roll was full of love. His mind was completely fogged over and he couldn’t think of anything except for her. Y/N. His wife. The love of his life. That was it.

Neither of them could last too long, it was too early in the morning and neither had the energy to try and fight off their orgasms. Brock had one of his hands touching her waist and the other beside her head to keep himself stable.

Brock’s hand on her waist drifted to her stomach. It ran over the parts of her body which one day could carry his child. He let out a groan at that. She let out a sharp gasp when he thrusted a little bit harder than before. Brock muttered an apology against her skin, but he couldn’t stop himself.

He was greedy. He wanted as much of her as he could take and that she could give. His groans and grunts got louder and she was muffling her moans in his collarbone.

Her legs twitched and Brock realized she was close. His hand moved from her stomach to flick her clit. She whined and instinctively tried to move away, but she couldn’t. Brock made sure of it. He wanted to feel her cum around his cock.

She whimpered and cried his name as her orgasm hit. Brock put his head next to hers and she was basically moaning into his ear. He could only get in a few more thrusts before he realized he was also nearly at his climax.

“Fuck- come on, sweetheart.” He grunted and his thrusts got a bit more irregular. She gasped and her nails dug into his back. He was babbling into her ear at this point, begging for her to give him a baby. To give him a son to raise in his footsteps. His eyes were screwed shut and his thrusts managed to hit deeper and deeper until he came.

It seemed as if he came straight into her womb. He continued with shallow thrusts, still not a single thought in his mind. Y/N pushed lightly at his chest and he leaned back a bit to look at her.

“Hm?” He hummed.

“Are you gonna pull out?”

“Dont think so.” He responded blankly. “I cant let anything drip, can I?” He teased as he pulled her close and had them move a bit. He laid on his back, she laid on top of him. It was easier for them both that way.

They just laid together like that for a while in silence before Brock spoke up.

“Are you hungry?” He asked, murmuring into her hair. As much as he wanted to just lay there with her, he had to make sure that she was ok.

“No, I’m not too hungry right now.”

“I guess you are pretty full.” He gave her waist a squeeze. Y/N snorted at his stupid joke.

“You’re a goof.” Y/N giggled softly as she rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes. Brock wrapped his arms around her and sighed.

“All yours.”

#brock purdy smut #brock purdy x reader #nfl smut #nfl imagine #nfl #nfl football #san fransisco 49ers #49ers #kansas city chiefs #football #brock purdy #purdy13

[adalwolfgang]

What shall I tell my ma...

Chapter 1

Teen!Beaugard (Bo) Sinclair x Teen!Fem!reader

Summary: You met Beaugard Sinclair back in 1989 when Ambrose was still heavily settled with people. This is how it yalls story started.

A/N for future chapters: Bo is 17 and you're 16 and the story takes place in 1989, back then if you told a kid to go left, they'd go right. I asked my ma who was born in 1974 in a rural town questions before writing this and all I got to say is, back then things were very different. Kids underage did things they shouldn't have been doing but did it anyway. That being said I don't condone kids under the age of 18 doing anything that's mentioned below or in future chapters. This is fictional, not real life. I also plan to make this a series if people ask for it enough.

Warnings: 1989, Victor and Trudy Sinclair, Bo being Bo, Small harassment, Characters might be a little ooc.

Credit to @cafekitsune for the banner(s)!

You step over the small grate as you make your way to the front door of the gas station. A canister held firmly in your hand. Your fathers truck ran out of gas, so he sent you into town with $10 to fetch some for him. In return, he'd given you 5 more dollars to buy a treat for yourself at the gas station. It wasn't uncommon for kids your age to be running errands like this for your parents or anyone for that matter.

The door chimed as you entered. Led Zeppelin meets your ears as you spot a radio resting on the counter. You walk around a bit, looking over the selection of drinks and snacks. As you do, a brunette around your age it seemed, walked out of the back room holding a dirty rag. When it spots you, a small smirk appearing on his face.

"How can ah help ya little lady?" He wipes his hands clean with the rag before tossing it over his shoulder and going behind the counter. His eyes never leaving yours.

You raise the canister a little in your hand, "In need of some gas. Whatever $10 will get me." You place the canister on the counter, along with a drink you picked up from the cooler. "I'd also like to buy this please."

"We got plenty uh fuel, no problem'." He took the canister off the counter and walked to the back. After a couple minutes, he came back, setting the now full canister on the counter. As he rings up your drink, he try's making small talk. "Are ya headin' sumwhere in particular or yer uh local?"

"I live just outside of Ambrose, just never really had a reason to stop by here until now," You explain to the young man as you watch him ring you up. You give him a puzzled look when all he charges you for is the drink.  

"I see." That wasn't interesting at all he thought. When he notices your confusion, his smirk grows bigger. "On thuh house since yer uh new face." His eyes wander over your figure before looking back up at your face. "Yer uh purdy little thang though," he looks you up and down once more, clicking his tongue in thought. "Ya got anybody waitin' for ya back home?" he asked with a teasing grin.

You bite the inside of your cheek, your grip tightening on the handle of the canister. "Just my parents. I best get back before my dad runs me a new one for wasting time," You explain as you give a polite smile. His face falls a little in disappointment before perking back up as if his demeanor hadn't changed.

"How often do ya thank you'll come back here again? Sure ya can't stay uh bit? It gets quite borin' here alone..." He leans his elbow on the counter, resting his chin in his hand. His eyes traveling up your body, lingering for a moment on the curve of your hip. He smirked teasingly, "Ah promise, you'd enjoy yerself."  

You give a nervous laugh nodding your head to him before muttering a small goodbye and retreating out of the station with the canister and your drink held firmly in your hands. Bo watches your retreating form, smiling and shaking his head to himself as he lets out a small sigh. His eyes spot a couple of bills laying under a notepad, this causes him to smile softly at the cash. "Touché darlin'...."

A few days go by as you carry on with life. The small interaction at the gas station long forgotten. You walk down the street of Ambrose, a small list of errands your mother had tasked you to do for the day. As you read over the list, you hear someone call out, "Hey!" You look around for the voice, quickly spotting the guy from the gas station a few days prior sitting in an old Chevy k-30. He hops out of the truck and start jogging over to you. "Where ya goin', purdy girl?" He walked right infront of you, blocking your path.

Your faces show a little of puzzlement and amusement. You ignore his question, instead asking one of your own. "Aren't you that mechanic at the station?"

"The mechanic, yeah. Bo Sinclair." He nodded with a grin, his eyes moving up and down your body before they meet yours again. "...And you?" He asked, casually wrapping an arm around your waist. "Purdy girl like you gotta' hav' uh name." He asked playfully.

Your face heats up a little from the bold gesture, a nervous smile appearing on your face. "Why do you want to know my name?"

"Cuz ah just wanna make sure ah git' yer name right when I'm introducin' ya to mah ma as mah new girlfriend!" Bo said, that teasing smirk back on his face, he was clearly not backing down. "So? Whut shall ah tell mah ma when ya come back home with may fer dinner?" He said, the playful tone in his voice clear.

"Mhm....well, as interesting as it would be meeting your ma, I have errands to do, so I'll have to politely decline. But I'll generous with telling you my name since you gave me yours. It's (Name)." You explain as you move away from his grasp, making sure your list wasn't crumbled. You start walking again, leaving Bo to talk to himself for a second.

"Name," Bo said, tasting how it rolled off his tongue. "I like thet." He had a grin on his face, the sound of your name on his tongue felt oddly charming to him. "Ah promise mah ma ain't scary," he cuts himself off before adding "atleast not tuh guest's." He comes back to reality when he notices you walking away. He lets out a short huff in annoyance before calling out to you, "The more ya reject uh man, the more he wants ya!" Bo shouted, as if it was the truth, a smug grin plastered on his face. "It's gist the way it iz!" He shouted, shrugging before he continued with a teasing tone. "But ya gist keep playin' chur little game girl! Eventchly you'll give into me!" He shouted one final time before you turned a corner, a smirk still plastered on his face. "I know it..."

Tags: @ninakuli

#reader insert #x reader #bo sinclair #bo sinclair house of wax #beauregard sinclair #Beauregard sinclair x reader #house of wax #house of wax 2005 #house of wax (2005) #house of wax fanfic #house of wax x reader #house of wax x y/n #bo sinclair x reader #slashers x reader #bo sinclair x female reader #bo sinclair fanfiction #vincent sinclair #lester sinclair #trudy sinclair #victor sinclair

[joannaliceevans-fanficblog]

The One That Got Away: Prologue

Yay! Here is my new fic! I got this idea from when I was writng one of the chapters for Hello Sunshine. It took me some time, to figure out, and getting the ideas going. And so here it is!

Summary: Mobster, Lloyd Hansen had everything he wanted, even the girl of his dreams, You. He loved you with all his heart, and swore to you that he would someday marry you and to never break your heart. 

You came from a broken family. With a mother that wasn’t even around, that slept with random guys and your father working for The Drysdale Family. You didn’t have the best, but your brother Andy tried to protect you, until he left. 

The day your world came crashing down, was the day that Lloyd broke your heart. 

Mob Lloyd Hansen x Reader

Before I shut up. I just wanted thank @princessofdarkwinter​ ! She’s not only beta this chapter...but she made this beautiful mood board for me! Thank you babes!

Rain and thunder poured hard as you sat in your car. Tears after tears kept pouring down, blending in with the weather outside. Anger rises within you as you hit the steering wheel. 

His words kept flowing through your mind as it broke you more and more. 

"I'm sorry. I have to honor my father's wishes." 

That one sentence kept replaying in your mind like a broken record. Lloyd kept reminding you that this wasn’t what he wanted nor the path he wanted to go and that you were the one for him. But now, none of it matters. You thought today was the day that you would tell him, but now it’s too late.

You needed to figure out where to go. You only wanted to get out of this place and never return. Heading out of the city, you ended up in the suburbs of Boston and a private neighborhood. The guards knew you and let you drive in. You ended up in an area you last visited a long time ago. You started the car and drove. 

You had no place to run to except this one place you called safe haven. You parked your car and got out. But you stood frozen in the rain. You remember how much you wanted to get out of this hell of a place, remembering when your father beat you as a child. You remember how you were warned not to be dating someone you weren’t supposed to because, in the end, you would get hurt. But you couldn't help it, and you fell in love. 

But you didn't have anyone else. Your brother lives an hour away from where you are. Starting to get drenched, you made your way up the long driveway. Making it to the front, your shaking hand rang the doorbell twice. The door opened, and a little girl about years old appeared. 

"Uncle Ebi dares a purdy lady-"

"Young lady, I told you-" 

You heard the familiar deep, rich voice. And that little girl that you knew all too well. You then looked up slowly, to see the man that you hadn't seen in over five years. 

"I-I-" You tried to get your words out, but the cold and being drenched started to take a toll on you. Your body gave out as you fell forward toward the man who caught you before you hit the ground.

The man immediately picked you up, and the little girl ran to the dining room. 

You felt like being placed down on the bed, and everything went dark. Everything seemed so fuzzy and cold. You try to make out what's going on, but all you can hear are frantic pleas from an older lady and the man carrying you. 

**

Two Days Later 

“Uncle Ebi, she's waking up!” You heard the same little girl from earlier. You tried to get up, but your body felt exhausted. 

“Olivia, let her rest, okay?” You heard, and she ran out of the room. You watched him take a seat next to you, and he took your hand into his. You took a good look at him, and you now realize who the man is.l

"Ari, I didn't know where to go. I wasn't thinking-"

"Shh, it's alright. I told you, you are always welcome. Now get some rest," Ari said with a smile, knowing no matter how heated things get between the two of you, he could be the person you could count on. 

Closing your eyes, knowing you are in a safe place. 

#lloyd hansen #Lloyd Hansen x female reader #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen x you #chris evans character fanfiction #mob lloyd hansen x reader

[cryptid-killjoy]

The Rez / ((Back Dated - also please note as Brother Bear uses a fictious and cumulous variety of native American cultures to create the indigenous lore even though they've stepped out of Feral I'm taking them to a ficticious rez and tribe and those will be cumulous too even if anything sounds realistic or has the same names))

Their road trip finally made it to the grounds his father was raised on.

"This is it. This dusty road. We're almost there."

Koda was smiling.

"Home."

Not his home away from, or vacation home, second home, like home, but just simple home. Koda had family. He had places he could go unlike so many others in the circle. He wasn't alone. It made stepping into Feral that much harder. Delta always felt he was a wild card, but he's proven loyal thus far.

When they finally hit civilization the area was run down and there was an old man with nothing on just sitting on a ledge talking to himself.

Koda smirked and waved. The guy waved back. "Nothing's changed." He chuckled to himself and said, "Moose is on the drunk again. Don't worry about him. He just doesn't like tan lines. He's harmless. He always finds his way back home."

And that was her first image of his town, but boy did it have Koda smiling. They'd pass other people, all native, different ages, all moderately dressed, middle to lower class neighborhood style homes, trailors.

"Here we go. This is it." He'd say again as they'd pull up to a little place. What could be noticed quickly was the place was plain, not a lot of personal touches to the outside. There wasn't even grass. If one checked out the windows close enough they'd notice even that was faux. They were for show to look like a normal home on the outside but the real windows were boarded up so no light could get in during the day. This was his uncle's place. There was nothing fancy around because as a vampire he wasn't much into decorating at night when he couldn't admire it during the day. It served no purpose to him.

"Come on. We can finally stretch our legs." He got out of the truck and took a look at the back where his mothers were stored and still frozen ready for ceremony soon. That's what they were here for. It was time. It was long overdue.

He opened the truck door yanking on it hard because it stuck sometimes and then slammed it shut. Then he shook his own legs out as he walked up the steps. He got out his keys. He wasn't even going to knock. That's how home he was. He had his own keys to this place.

"Denahi! Denahi? I'm home. We're here." He called as he pushed the door open.

Of course there was a vampire trap foyer to make sure the light didn't hit. It was a small room to go through with a second door for safety. The rule was always shut the door before opening the next and then everything would be alright even in the day.

"He might be asleep. You know how they are."

He meant vampires of course, but right as he said it an older gentleman came out of the back room.

"No chance. Not with you hollering through the house like that."

He grinned at the boy.

"It's been way too long." There was emotion in both their faces for all to many reasons.

"Besides, you haven't introduced to his purdy lady yet. Bring 'er in Care Bear."

Koda rolled his eyes. "Don't call me that."

"Oh, it's happening. It's never not happening, Care Bear." Then he puled Koda into a big ol' bear hug, pardon the pun.

Then since Koda hadn't quite managed to intro Elsa yet the vampire made his way in front of that blonde lady and gave her a smile too. "Well hello there. I don't know what a fine woman like you is doing with a boy like this, but I sure am glad to meetcha. I'm his uncle. Denahi Skies. I'm the wolf totem of this here Crow Clan."

"Alright, alright, wise one. You sure you didn't get the peacock?"

"Funny, funny. Now who do we have here?" If she would take his hand to shake it she'd notice that same ice cold of the dead as she had before with the last vampire she'd known. This was an aged vampire and blinking rather well, learned to fake the human condition rather well like pretending to breathe even though he did not need to. But, he couldn't hide the paleness of his skin no matter the tone of his heritage. Dead still looked dead. There was strange sheen to vampire's skin that could not be mistaken as normal. The only reason half of them got away with walking around like normal people was because they were out in the darkness sheilding them from full view.

#where I bog the dash cuz I finally can write again #keeps going #kodaxelsa #finally #backlog #denahixelsa

[blimbo-buddy]

👵, 🗺, 💕, 🌈 for da ask game

👴 : fav elder?

Purdy and that one Loner who gave Tiny that chicken leg. I like to call her Chicken Bone

🗺 : first map you ever watched?

Originally I thought it was Everything Moves, but I thought about it and realized that a long long while back, I watched Ready As I'll Ever Be and the Tonight We Strike map. Way before I knew what the fuck a Warrior Cat was, I watched it and wondered who these characters were. Man.

(Unsure what the double hearts are but I'll do the closest one) 💔 : have you ever lost friends over warriors related topics?

I don't think so, no. I did lose a lot of respect for people over warriors related topics (mainly having to do with the anti-indigenous writing and the feather thing)

🌈 : what's the most 2010s wcforum era esque fandom opinion you still hold onto and will fight people over (things like scourges collar color, dovewings eye color, etc)

Hm. No clue honestly. I don't really care what color people make Scourge's collar or DoveWing's eyes. Closest thing I can think of is defending Bone's death with my life and making it apparent that Bone wasn't weak he literally got jumped by multiple soon-to-be graduate cats with knives

(Ask game here)

#blimbo rambles #ask #wc