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courtingchaos · 9 months

Text

Speeding

Gator Tillman x Fem Reader

Warnings: Cheating, sex, mean-ish reader

A/N: starting off, this isn’t my Gator from Shared Inflicted Pain. This is me trying to Frankenstein Fargo Gator together, though I’m probably still off 😂 anyways this is a little rough, a little sloppy, but it’s a prompt! It’s okay! Have fun!

Having to fuck your way out of a speeding ticket or a possession charge or something with gator (from that prompt ask from last week)

Red and blue lights flash off the tree line and the spotlight blinds you where it reflects in your rear view. You’ve been sitting here on the shoulder, both wrists draped over the steering wheel with your ID and insurance in hand. The muggy heat of the night creeps in from your rolled down windows, just incase whoever is pulling you over decides to ride your ass about your tint too.

The cruisers door closes and you can hear footsteps approaching your driver side. He comes into view slowly, his hand resting on his gun, thumb tapping the nylon of the holster. You don’t even need to look all the way up or make out his badge, the tilt of his hips telling you exactly who it is.

“I caught you doing 85 in a 40.” He bends down to look into your car, a few strands of his slick hair falling with his head tilt. “That sounds like you were tryin’ to get caught.”

The flat look he levels at you makes you smile big. “Well if it isn’t Sheriff Tillman! Didn’t know you were patrolling this particular stretch tonight.”

“Where you going in such a rush?” He ignores your comment and swings his ticket pad around so you can see it.

“Oh like you give a shit.” You snort and start to relax, dropping your hands into your lap. “Do we really need to do this little song and dance?”

“I should be arresting you.”

“Come on, you really need these?” You barely flash your drivers license at him and he’s reaching in to snatch them out of your hands. “Hey!”

“45 over!”

“Are you suddenly Mayberry’s finest? Seriously you’ve never actually written me a ticket.” Gator just shakes his head and laughs, wedging his penlight between his lips to shine on his notepad. “What, daddy on your ass about quotas or something?” You see his eyebrows knit and you can hear the huff he pushes out from his nose. “Oh that’s what it is, Roy’s disappointed.” You lean on your windowsill and prop you chin on your forearm, other hand freely dangling down your door. “Still not his favorite deputy?” A big frown pulls at your lips and you slowly reach out to hook a finger in his belt.

He’s annoyed. No longer writing your ticket but staring through the pad of paper as you tug on a pouch. “You’re my favorite deputy, though.”

“Don’t be a bitch.” He mumbles around his flashlight and starts writing again quickly. Your head shoots up and you pull yourself up and out of your window. “I’m not being a bitch!” You gasp, the hurt in your voice true. He was your favorite deputy and not just because he let you flirt your way out of umpteen tickets. “I’m serious!”

“Get back in the car.” He drops the light into his open palm and rips your ticket off to shove in your face. “Make sure you actually pay this on time, I won’t be the one to come get you otherwise.”

You snatch the ticket and your license and he immediately turns on his heel to walk back to his cruiser. “Gator!” You yell out the window and he doesn’t turn but you can see his shoulders all hunched up around his ears. There’s a minute where you sit in your car and contemplate speeding off, gravel kicking up into his headlights and making him chase you but you know it’ll just end in cuffs and not in a fun way. You listen to see if he’ll start his engine right away and when he doesn’t you roll your windows up and turn off your headlights, pushing your door open with a kick. That spotlight is still on your car so you can’t see into his windshield but you keep walking, shoving the ticket into your pocket.

“Get back in your fuckin’ car!” He yells out of his window. You ignore him and when you stop next to him he pretends like he can’t see you staring directly into his SUV.

“What are you upset about, huh?”

He pointedly ignores you now, instead looking over to his laptop dimly lighting up the front seat. You lean into the driver side, face close enough to his to smell his aftershave.

“I’m not upset, I need you to get in your car.” His jaw flexes when he clenches it and you laugh.

“Yes you are! I thought this was our little game? I speed around the county roads and you pretend to get all mad about it and be a ‘real sheriff’.” Your air quotes get his attention but the look he levels you with is dead weight. “You threaten me with a ticket, I bat my lashes, we get in the back of the cruiser.” You jerk your head towards his backseat with a slick grin. “What changed?”

That muscle still ticks along his jaw, especially when you drag a fingertip down it and flick up off the tip of his chin. “You got a girl now or something? Anyone I know?”

“No.”

“Oh then she doesn’t need to know I guess.”

He pushes your hand away from his face but keeps his eyes trained on you.

“I can keep secret.” You start to inch your way to the back door, waiting for him to unlock it. When you’re far enough back you watch him in the side mirror sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose. A click from inside and you’ve got the door open, pulling yourself up and into the back, fingers weaving into the small holes of the partition. He gets out before you can open your mouth again, undoing his belt and tossing it in the front seat. He climbs into the back and shuts the door behind him, sliding into the middle of the bench seat. You don’t wait for him before you crowd him, swinging your knee over to straddle his lap.

You’re immediately working at his buttons while his hands find your hips. The small gold cross glints in the dark as you work your way down to pull the hem out his pants and he watches your fingers move smoothly to unbuttoning his pants.

His front pocket vibrates and you laugh. “Excited?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” He digs his phone out and ignores the call before you can see who it is. You can’t even get his belt undone before it goes off again a moment later. He tries to toss it off the seat but you snatch it before it leaves his hand. The contact says Jess and her long hair gleams chestnut in the setting sun behind her, gold chain cross prominent around her neck, an obvious selfie sent with the intent of a contact photo.

“Is this her?” You flash the screen at him. His eyes flick to the phone still vibrating in your hand. “You might want to answer it before she calls you in.” You grin at his predicament and he snatches it back from you.

“Hey.” He answers, a flat tone to play at neutrality. Her voice comes through tinny, an immediate dive into a conversation that he won’t be paying attention to. You move with purpose, avoiding anything that would make a sound over the phone, a slow roll of your hips while you close in on his other side. Lips pressed to his warm ear that turns bright red under the tip of your tongue.

“Is this one Roy picked for you?” A whisper made of mostly breath and directed only to him. He stutters for a second before clearing his throat.

“No, I’m just…sorry I’m working on paperwork. Yeah, just lost track of time.”

You grab his earlobe with your teeth, a soft press before you pull a little. “Church leader? Something to do with the kids, right?” You run your tongue up over the shell of his ear before you trail kisses back down the side of his face. “She looks like a preschool teacher.” You giggle quietly, still firmly on the other side of his head. Fingers push up the hem of his shirt slowly, featherlight touch of your hand so you can keep him quiet.

“I got it. I know, he told me.” He sighs deep when you run your palm up his stomach but it’s not from pleasure. “Well why are you talking to him about that? No, it’s a valid question.” He snaps and there’s a change in the mood. “You don’t need to talk to my father about it!”

You refuse to let the church mouse ruin your good time. Gator sighs again and tries to sit up, tries to push you off his lap but you press your knees in and hold on. He shoots you a dark look and nods his head to the side like that would make you move, instead it just urges you back into the crook of his neck. You find those two moles under his jaw and start there, lips and teeth and tongue leading your way to his collar. Still quiet but no longer silent, you almost hope she catches a hint of a wet kiss against his neck through the phone.

You undo his belt slowly to avoid the clink and rub of the nylon and metal slide, he keeps arguing with Jess and you get his pants open. He’s close to pushing you off at this point but your hand getting in to grab him over his underwear makes him falter.

“L-look. I’m gonna call you on my break.”

You run your tongue up his flushed neck as you run your hand down his cock and he has to tip his phone away from his mouth, face pointed into the roof to catch his breath.

“Yes I will, I’m busy.”

“So busy.” You say and he turns his head enough that you can see the red circle to hang up. With one hand still in his pants you creep your other up and tap the screen once, cutting off his conversation. He stares at you and blinks slowly before clicking his tongue and dropping his phone.

“I’m never gonna hear the end of that.”

“Do you think she heard me?” You ask, leaning away and taking your hands off him.

“No, but it doesn’t matter, she’s gonna think I hung up on her.”

You start working on your own jeans. “Do you even give a shit?” He helps you when you struggle to pull them down your hips, his brows creased in thought. When your shoes and pants hit the floor you settle against him again and leave space so you can work him out of his underwear.

“If Roy’s picking them then why do you care?” You ask softly while wrapping both hands around his cock. He’s still a little soft but he throbs when you let a line of spit fall from your lips, collecting it in your palm to slide over the fat head of him. “Or do you actually prefer her?”

He won’t look up at you, just watches your hands working over him slowly, concentrated on something that isn’t your voice. “You can be stoic all you want, I’ll keep asking questions.”

“She’s fine.”

“Just fine?” You let fingers wander lower so you can grab his balls firmly. That earns you a pant that blows across your face and makes you smile. “Does she fuck you in your cruiser too? Right here?” You move both hands in tandem and he still won’t look up at you. He grips at the hem of your t-shirt and pulls it in his fists to wrap around his knuckles when you spit into your hand again.

“N-no.”

“Not even in the church storeroom?” You tut, palm rubbing over and over the sensitive underside of his cock. “No?” There’s a tremble in his breathing that tells you he’s loosing his focus on his anger, exactly what you were aiming for. “See, there’s the difference.” You speed up your hand, wet sound of your spit loud in his backseat. “I would.” He squeezes his eyes shut and whimpers through his nose, fists digging into your sides. “I do.” You can feel his balls tighten in your palm and you know your teasing should come to an end. He just looks so different like this, face twisted in pained pleasure in the dark. No shitty smirk or grimace on his face and you can actually see how handsome he is under all his stupid bravado.

From the front seat there’s a crackle of his radio, the station calling in to check on him. A line of codes you don’t know and then a pause.

“…Gator where are you?”

You let him go to slide your underwear over and before he can protest you guide him along your folds, already wet from your antagonizing. “Yeah Gator, where are you?” You rub the head of his cock against your clit and grin at him falling apart at the seams.

“Tillman? Jessie called and said you hung up on her.”

“Jessie?” You laugh and roll your hips against him more, slowly working him towards your entrance. He does look up at you then, his fingers leaving your shirt to dig into your soft hips.

“Gator…c’mon answer damnit, I don’t wanna have to call Roy.”

His cock finally catches and you push down in one swift move. He stretches you but it’s his jaw dropping and his cursing filling the air.

“Oh fuck fuck.”

“You better be dead in a ditch if we send someone out, asshole.”

You use the back of his neck for leverage, nails digging crescents into his hairline every time you roll your hips. Knees dig into the cloth seats, the feeling of rug burn already evident. There’s more radio talk and you can see that frustration shining in his eyes, that anger rolling back in when he drops your gaze.

“Don’t listen to that.” You grab his head between your palms and make it a point to drag your nails against his scalp. “Listen to me.” You pant through your smile at his rapt attention, slight nod under your hands. His phone vibrates against the cloth seat, ignored again in favor of keeping his eyes trained on yours. You can see that sunset photo bright until she hangs up again and you give him a shake to keep his eyes on yours.

“Look at me.” You’ve built a rhythm that he’s just along for, something he’s actually good at. He can follow instructions, just from the right teacher. You rock into him, thighs sweaty against his canvas pants, the cargo pockets digging into sensitive skin. The humidity in the backseat rivals the outdoors, the murmur of the radio mimicking the crickets outside in the tall grass. His jaw tenses before he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes tight again, forehead dipping down to hit your chest.

“Aw, Gator.” You coo and cradle the back of his head. “She doesn’t fuck you like this, huh?”

“No.” There’s a sob somewhere in his throat that he’s keeping down and you make it your goal to ride it out of him.

“You wanna cum inside me so bad, don’t you?”

“Fucking-please!”

“Who’s Jess?” You ask it right into his ear, fingers gripping his hair to pull his head to the side.

“Nobody.” He bucks up into you then, pulling your hips down to keep you against his lap. You clench around him when you feel him throb and that cry finally cracks his voice when he bursts. Still pressed into your chest, nuzzled into the underside of your jaw, this is better than any climax you could hope for in the back of a sheriffs car. He trembles under your hands and breaths heavy against your neck, a distinct wetness that you don’t draw attention to.

He doesn’t say anything in his afterglow. He stays leaned into you until you push him back against the seats and then he sits there looking lost.

“You okay?”

“Mm.” He feels blindly beside him till he hits his phone and flips it so he can see his screen. Another blank stare until he snaps out of it and taps your leg to get you off of him. He shoves his pants back up his hips and has the decency to gather your stuff off the floorboards for you before he jumps out of the back.

“Oh what, no goodnight kiss?” You laugh at him and he shuts the door in your face just to open the driver side to grab his radio. You listen to him call in and apologize, tell dispatch he was doing paperwork and fell asleep. When you’re dressed you make it a point to slam the door on your way out so it makes him grimace. He gives you a stare when you stand in front of his headlights and wait for him to finish.

That sweet begging he slides into when he’s close never lingers long, something you miss when he puts his sneer back on.

“Should I tell them we already handled the ticket?” You wave the paper in front of you like a white flag and he hastily puts his uniform to rights. He hitches his belt back in place and double checks his holster and hefts himself back into the driver seat.

“You can tell them whatever you want.”

It’s then that you actually look at the ticket for the first time and see his note.

Your backseat or mine?

#Gator Tillman Fic #Gator Tillman Smut #Gator Tillman x Reader #My Work #My Fic

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magpie-to-the-morning · 2 years

Text

Wild Child

Moodboard by @acrossthesestars

Rating: Mature

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Reader, could be read as Eddie Munson x Chrissy Cunningham

Tags: Fluff, A bit of spice, consensual drug use (pot), reader experiencing anxiety due to fireworks

Word Count: 3k

Author’s Note: I’m playing fast and loose with the Stranger Things timeline because I needed some romantic Eddie fluff this weekend goddamn it! For my own peace of mind, the reader is 18 and Eddie 19 or 20.

Alex, this one’s for you 🎸

_________________

When you were little, you loved the Hawkins Fourth of July Celebrations; the excitement thrumming in the air, the riot of color and sound that accompanies an entire community celebrating together. The sense of nostalgia and tradition and belonging it gave you.

So why is the holiday making you so damn jumpy this year?

It started at the parade. The lone firework that always erupted at the start of the festivities with a boom like cannon fire set your heart racing every year, but this time it also sent you into a near panic, bumping into the younger cheerleaders you were supposed to be leading in a display of school spirit.

“What’s wrong with you?” One of them hissed.

You tell me, you thought wryly, even as you apologized and pasted a bright smile over your face to get back in formation. People were counting on you, after all, and they would damn sure notice if the captain of the cheer squad was anything less than flawless.

By the time the parade ends and people begin to disperse to barbecues and parties, your face is aching from the skeleton grin you’d forced yourself to wear.

When did pretending to be okay get this hard? You used to be so good at it.

Maybe sometime around the mall fire, and the latest round of grisly deaths in your once sleepy town. No one talks about it but there is something rotten beneath the manicured lawns and bustling Main Street of Hawkins. Something that has you on edge, and feeling like you’re the only one seeing it makes you wonder if you’ve simply lost it, cracking under the pressure of being the town’s pretty, perfect princess.

You’re so wrapped up in these thoughts that you don’t notice how far you’ve wandered from the crowd until a growl rips through the air. It’s a wall of sound - music, you realize once an electric guitar wails to life. It’s coming from a radio set back in the shadowy bay of a mechanic shop, the volume cranked loud enough for the bass and lyrics to bleed onto the street. It’s a howling, furious clamor, but something in it soothes your soul, calling to the restless spirit within. It’s a call to battle and you surprise yourself by thrilling to it.

You take a closer to the music, so caught up in the moment that you collide with someone inside the shop, barely catching a glimpse of them as you do. Just a quick impression of wild, dark hair tumbling over a startled face, doe-eyed and full-lipped. Eddie Munson, you realize as you draw a steadying breath.

“Shit!” He jumps back, looking as startled as you, his soft brown eyes widening even more when recognition dawns. When it takes you a moment to recover, your nerves still jangling from the glare of the festivities, he cocks his head, watching you carefully.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He holds his hands up and takes a half step back, dropping the stereo volume as he goes.

You shake your head, embarrassed. “You’re fine it’s, it’s not you.”

“Did you uh, need something?” He glances over your shoulder as though looking for a broken down car. “The shop’s not really open.”

“Oh, I wasn’t - I was just… walking. I’m surprised you’re working today.”

“Yeah, well, some of us have to work for a living, you know?” There’s an edge to his voice, but he’s looking at his hands as he says it, the comment half muttered as though more to himself than you.

“You should take a break, enjoy the holiday. Everyone else is.”

Eddie chuckles and rolls his eyes. “Oh don’t worry, Mayberry’s doing just fine without me. Besides, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’m not exactly the patriotic type.”

“I didn’t feel much like celebrating either.”

He’s looking at you like you’re a mystery to be solved, uncertain if you are friend or foe. You can hardly blame him - your starched, pristine cheerleading outfit clashes with the comfortably worn, grease-streaked jumble inside the garage. The two of you are assessing each other like soldiers on opposite sides of a war that’s been waged since high school began. The haves, the have nots. The popular and the freaks.

The lines weren’t always so harshly drawn.

When the awkward pause becomes oppressive, you venture “What were you listening to before?”

“Black Sabbath,” Eddie replies with a knife-sharp grin, his eyes theatrically wide although you could swear uncertainty still flickers there. “Better be careful. You know what they say: it’s the devil’s music. Could lead to all kinds of mischief.”

You just shrug and turn the radio’s volume back up. “What sort of mischief?”

He raises his eyebrows, amusement and something like admiration creeping into his tone. “What kind are you looking for?”

You bite your lip, unsure, but ask “Do you still deal? I could use something to take the edge off.”

A slow, impressed grin unfurls over his features. “You little rebel!”

He pulls out a battered black metal lunchbox and digs through it, finally coming up with a baggie half full of brownish green weed that looks like it’s several months out from fresh, but will still get you where you need to be.

“I can do… fifteen for the half.” Light catches on his thick silver rings as he offers the bag to you.

Electricity races up your arm when you move to pass him the cash. Despite Eddie’s fierce image, his touch is tender, his palm pressing lightly against your own, and you find yourself reluctant to pull back. Meeting his gaze makes your heart race for the third time today. He’s studying you just as closely - a curious look in his soft brown eyes. It gives you the courage to ask “So, do you have to keep working, or…?”

You should be on your way to a party by now. All your friends will be waiting for you. Your varsity-lettered boyfriend too, a few beers in and looking for somewhere to drape his kingly, possessive arm, your shoulders its rightful place.

You should. But instead…

Instead, you’re sharing a joint with Eddie Munson on the swings. The playground is deserted, all the wholesome townspeople off following the script you've left behind, leaving the afternoon sun-drenched park blissfully free, with no one to care how loudly you’re giggling at Eddie’s antics.

He’s standing on the swing beside you, his previously cautious face animated and gleeful now that he’s let his guard down, his hands wrapped around the chains as he recounts his Dungeons and Dragons group’s latest campaign.

“Oh, you should have seen them - warriors to the last. A Dungeon Master’s never been so proud.” His smile falters a little at that and he drops heavily into the swing beside you, his head ducked. “Sorry, I get a little carried away sometimes.”

“I don’t mind. It sounds fun.”

He looks at you skeptically. “I wouldn’t have taken you for the nerdy type, princess.”

Hurt flashes through you and before you can stop yourself, you blurt out “Don’t call me that.”

“Woah, hey, no offense intended.” Eddie lays a hand on his heart, his expression suddenly both open and solemn. “It’s just - “

You cut him off. “That would be like me calling you a freak. That’s all anyone else sees me as.”

As soon as the words are out, you clap your hands over your mouth. “Oh, I didn’t - that was rude, I - “

To your surprise, Eddie just throws his head back and laughs. “Don’t apologize, I was being a shit.” For the first time, he looks completely at ease in your company and his infectious good mood coaxes a smile back onto your face.

“What’s so bad about being a princess, anyway? Some of them are pretty badass.”

“Name three.”

“Princess Leia,” he announces triumphantly. “And…”

You raise an eyebrow as he trails off.

“Okay okay okay, um… Ha, what about Susan and Lucy in the Narnia books? You know, the one with the lion, the witch and the wardrobe?”

“First of all they were queens, and second of all that’s bullshit! Aslan wouldn’t even let them fight in that battle, and when everyone else got swords they just got a horn and a bow. Typical. Their brothers get to go be warriors and they just have to be all polite and ladylike.”

Eddie’s eyebrows have nearly vanished beneath his shaggy bangs. “Wait have you actually read the books?”

The two of you launch into an animated discussion of fantasy books, and how you had loved them as a child until your friends’ changing tastes made you put them aside, feeling like the odd one out for still reading about magic and checking the backs of closets for snowy forests.

By the time you’re finished, Eddie is looking at you almost worshipfully.

Pleased heat creeps up your neck. “What?”

“You are full of surprises, aren’t you, rebel?”

Before you can answer he leaps up and points excitedly at you as though he’s just remembered something. “ÉOWYN. Or, oh, Lúthien! Talk about badass - she went into Morgoth for her love.”

You blink at him sort of apologetically. “Who?”

“Ohh, you haven’t read The Lord of the Rings?”

“No, sorry. Is it good?”

“It’s the best. You’ve read The Hobbit though, right?”

When you shake your head, Eddie takes you by the shoulders, radiating excitement. “Ohh, we need to fix this. I’ll lend you my copy - you’re gonna love it.”

Shadows lengthen around you as the two of you talk, the streetlights coming on before either of you run out of things to say. Eddie tells you about his band, about living with his uncle, about working odd jobs to help make ends meet while he finishes school.

You find yourself relaxing in his presence, and not just because of the joint you shared. His enthusiasm lifts your spirits, his walls falling as he tells you about the things he loves - and listens when you do the same. He lights up when you do, the two of you swapping playful teases and reminiscences of middle school.

“I didn’t think you remembered me!”

“Eddie, your band’s name was Corroded Coffin, how was I supposed to forget that?”

“I thought you were too busy practicing that cheer routine. Which I thought was pretty cool, actually.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And it still is, you know. The band. We’re playing at the Hideout next week, you should come check it out.”

You’re just about to tell him that maybe you will when there’s a shrill whistle through the air, an explosion of red light, and a loud boom. Noticing the way you jump, Eddie shifts to kneel in front of you, peering up at your tense expression.

“Still need something to take the edge off?” He rests his palms lightly on your knees, ready to back off at a moment’s notice. When you nod, your lower lip between your teeth, he only hesitates for a moment before rising to his feet. Eddie offers you his hand, saying “Come on. I know somewhere we can go.”

He leads you through the park and up a steep hill, putting more distance between you and the baseball field where the town’s fireworks display is beginning. His fingers are warm and reassuringly solid in your grasp, his touch grounding you even as it sets your pulse pounding. When you stumble over a nearly invisible rock in the dim twilight, he’s there with a hand under your elbow, courtly and reassuring.

“Come on, almost there.”

He stops near the crown of the hill in front of a small hollow. It’s not quite a cave, but a spot hidden slightly away while still affording an unobstructed view of the fireworks display.

“Oh wow, how did you find this place?”

Eddie shrugs, a pink blush spreading over his cheeks visible even in the low light. “Would you believe me if I said satanic rituals?”

You raise an eyebrow, waiting for the real answer.

“Fiiiiine. I used to play out here and pretend it was my castle.” He tosses his hair as though daring you to tease him, even with a playful look in his eyes.

“Eddie Munson that is adorable.”

“You’re gonna leave my reputation in tatters, aren’t you?”

“I would never.”

The two of you settle beneath the protective overhang and somehow, it feels only natural to lean back against Eddie’s chest while he rests his chin on your head. This far away, you’re able to relax and enjoy the fireworks the way you used to, a glittering display of color and light that instills a sense of wonder rather than anxiety.

Eddie wraps his arms around you in a loose hold and your breath hitches, the air suddenly crackling with possibility. He’s uncharacteristically quiet, like he’s waiting to see what you’ll do next. Without saying anything, you lay one hand over his, playing idly with his cool silver rings. Eddie goes completely still behind you - until he raises the stakes in this unspoken game, winding his fingers with yours, his thumb brushing questioningly against your palm.

You’re so caught up in the moment you don’t even notice how chill the air has turned until Eddie’s warm breath huffs against your cheek.

“You’re shivering. Here.”

You turn to see him shrugging off his black leather jacket. Warmth clings to it, seeping into you when he wraps it around your shoulders. The movement brings him impossibly close, your noses nearly brushing and your breath mingling in the small space.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Neither of you turn back to the fireworks.

Curling his fingers beneath your chin, Eddie tilts your face up to his and breathes your name as though saying it too loudly will break whatever spell brought you into his orbit. “Can I kiss you?”

You know you shouldn’t. There is no version of Hawkins where you can get involved with Eddie Munson without either of breaking every law of high school and small-town expectations. No version of this story that ends with a happy ending.

Well, you’re tired of living in someone else’s story.

“Yeah,” you breathe, already reaching for him. You close the distance between you, the sweet shock of Eddie’s mouth making your lips part in a gasp.

No one has kissed you like this before. Generously. Coaxingly. Sweet enough to make you melt and deep enough to make you moan. Every kiss before has been perfunctory. The hurdle to leap over before the finish line. But Eddie… Eddie kisses you like he craves it. He takes his time, tracing your lower lip with his thumb, seemingly more intent on tasting you and pulling out all those little sighs and gasps you make than getting up your skirt. It’s that leisurely pace that leaves you panting, your eyes bright and your heart beating hummingbird fast. When Eddie doesn’t so much as try to slip a hand up your shirt you draw back, glassy eyed and puzzled.

“Don’t you want to…?” You bite your lip and trail off, embarrassed heat creeping up your neck.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie groans. He catches your hand, kisses your palm and presses it to his heart so you can feel it racing. “You tell me. Do you want to?”

When you take off your shirt in silent answer, Eddie’s eyes roll back in his head in a mock faint, his back hitting the ground with a low thump. You laugh and lean in to check on him, playing along by ‘slapping’ his cheek. He rolls you over, one hand cupping the back of your head, making you shriek with laughter.

Your laughter fades, softening into silence as you make out the look on his face.

People in this town don’t see you any more. Oh, they may glance your way, but all they’re seeing is the neatly groomed and meticulously crafted version you present. That is, if they even bother looking past your cheerleading outfit. Most don’t.

Eddie Munson is not most people. He looks at you like he would follow you into battle. Like you scattered the stars across the sky. Like he sees you. All your jagged edges and puzzle pieces that just don’t fit, no matter how hard you try to work them into place. He sees them, and accepts them.

You wonder if he has someone who looks at him that way.

Shyly, you lift a hand and run it through his long hair a few times before scraping your nails gently along his scalp. Eddie leans into your touch, eyes half-lidded and a look of contentment on his face.“You’re not what I expected, Munson.”

His grin is a bright flash in the dark. “Neither are you, rebel.”

By the time the fireworks are over, the two of you are grass stained and giggling, half-rising only to tumble back down into kisses you both know won’t really be the “last one, I swear.”

Eventually Eddie sighs and lifts his head from where it’s been resting in your lap. “It’s getting late. I should probably get you home before you turn into a pumpkin.”

There’s a wistful note in his voice and it chimes a hollow ache in you, too. What happens after tonight? The queen of Hawkins high can’t possibly show up in the fall with the town outcast on her arm.

Can you?

You let Eddie pull you to your feet, his jacket a comforting weight on your shoulders as the two of you make your way down the hill and through the dark town. You head for your house, the darkness shielding you from prying eyes and gossiping tongues. It gives you the same thrilling sense of liberation that Halloween used to - the one night in the year you could defy expectations, running freely through the streets with your wind in your hair and a wild laugh on your lips.

Maybe you should play in the dark more often.

Eddie leaves you to your thoughts, your hand in his like he’s afraid someone will spirit you away if he doesn’t. Not tightly or possessively, just… carefully. Intentionally.

When you reach your doorstep, Eddie takes your hand and brings it to his lips.

“Farewell, lady,” he says, the quaint language somehow right in his distinctive cadence. “Morning approaches and I must away.”

He takes a last, lingering look before leaping off your doorstep and sprinting into the night, turning an almost stumble into a theatrical bound and making you laugh with the same surprised delight he’s pulled from you for hours.

“Goodnight,” you murmur, a smile still playing over your lips as you let yourself into the silent house.

Eddie lifts his head from where he’s bent over his guitar when a quiet knock rattles the trailer door.

Expecting it to be his uncle, he calls out “Forget something, old man?” He blinks when he pulls open the door, startled not by the bright late morning sunlight but by the sight of you standing on his doorstep. You’ve traded your cheerleading outfit for jean shorts and a t-shirt but otherwise, you’re the girl who’s been pleasantly haunting his dreams.

With a nervous smile, you reply “Yeah, I forgot to borrow that book from you last night. What was it again, The Hobbit?”

Eddie’s astonishment melts into a radiant grin as he steps aside and welcomes you in with a flourish.

To be continued…?

#Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson x F!Reader #Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader #Eddie Munson x Chrissy Cunningham #Eddie Munson #x reader #Fic #My fic #Stranger Things #I don't THINK there are any real spoilers for the show

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attaboyluther · 1 year

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OMG such sad news!

She sadly passed away yesterday at the age of 98, Jan 11, 2023, just three days before her birthday. 😢 RIP Angel ❤️

Carole Cook was most known for her appearances on The Lucy Show and Here's Lucy.

She also has a part in Mayberry-ish history as she played Don Knotts' human wife in THE INCREDIBLE MR. LIMPET (1964)- his first major starring role in a movie while he was still on The Andy Griffith Show.

#films #the incredible mr. limpet #don knotts #carole cook #1960s #r.i.p.#old hollywood

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abalonetea · 10 months

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I want to hear about the werewolf summer vibes!

Werewolf Summer is has killer vibes, I love them! It’s about, uh, werewolves! Very expected and typical of me, I know. But this one has like, a very interesting plot going on! It’s about Colton and Dizzy, at the heart of it. See, Colton lives in a small little town with a small werewolf problem. His family has been in charge of keeping this underwraps for a while now, and they mostly do a good job at it.

Unfortunately, there’s a very nasty werewolf running around causing other problems. Three counties up, he bites Dizzy – who goes searching out the nearest wolf he can smell, Colton’s big brother, out in Mayberry. He gets there right before the sun comes up and shows up buck-naked at Colton’s place. Chaotic hi-jinks ensue.

Werewolf Summer is about sweaty summer days and nights spent out at the lake, and learning about yourself in ways you didn’t know needed to be discovered. It’s about getting over past loves and past lives, and making something new out of something that's kind of a mess. It's also being relentlessly hunted by a new werewolf who is also your boyfriend except that he wants to rip you to shreds when he's a werewolf.

And more than anything else it's about grief and shame and love <3

#werewolf summer wip #my writing

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thebunniesgrim · 10 months

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Ok so like part 1 go to part one for context

Clothing!

But they don't say alot about her to me it's just a crop top with Mickey Mouse buttons and torn pants. Also it's just plain black :/

Lol her outfit is so black she camouflaged into the background of the wiki I nabbed these pictures from...

Anyway with Moxxie's outsit I looks professional and business ready he even looks like music conductor.

I'm not sure how I'd dress millie, but I think I'd make her outfit less black add more colors to compliment the red of her skin

you know?

I suppose the ripped pants show that she's rough

Maybe put her in practical clothes or she still wears clothes like how she did when she still lived with her family

But I honestly think viv is better at designing male characters they look awesome in they're outfits. See look

helluva boss characters

Male Female

Idk about you but it seems like the Male character look more appealing and to me

The male characters get more detailed they're seen in brighter colors they just look better

And don't get me wrong Sally Mae and verosika are a definitely a slay and a bucket of paint but they're outfits are SO boring to me

Even fan fav loona her outfit is very boring to me it's just shorts and crop top... if she's so goth and rebellious why are her clothes so normal?

If Blitzo and Stolas were women how different do you think they'd be? Or would viv do what she did with Angel Dust and said step the female protag for the more popular male counter part maybe Moxxie or Fizzarolli (if introduced earlier) would be helluva's Angle Dust.

( I think Fizzarolli is already hellua's Angel Dust after the Fizzarolli eps for S2 are done I think alot of people are going to stop watching. )

Also is it just me or does viv use brid logic for her character designs?

Like male birds or colorful and female birds or dull and gray

Because most of the female characters in Helluva have like 2 or maybe 4 colors

Millie is mostly red and black. She also has buttons, a tooth gap and a tattoo. Also very few white spots with how violent and rough she is I'm surprised she doesn't have more

Moxxie has black, white, yellow and whatever off blackish blue color his suit jacket is. Moxxie also has freckles, his bow tie, his buttons. It's just more detailed

What I'm saying is male characters are just better designed even Vortex has way more detailed than loona... wait

You know what!?

Even Beelzebub!

Bee and Loona have the same fucking outfit! Just different colors, and Loona's shorts has distress on the bottom and they're crop tops have different straps but other than that pretty much the same outsit to me!

OH LOOK!

Even the sinners! like lyel and loopty look way better than Mrs./Ms. Mayberry

Mrs. Mayberry is just in the outfit she died in but her hair is a different color and her clothes torn this there's barely anything to her old job as teacher

And it's not like she didn't have time change clothes she was in hell long enough for Martha to recover with should have taken at least a while

And lyel and loopty just came with they're outfits and what I'm assuming is they're ship.

And this isn't just helluva boss it's hazbin as well vaggie and Charlie's outfits are so boring to me

Pilot

Official (I think)

I even personally think Katie Killjoy, Tom Trench, Cherry Bomb, and Sir. pentious

are also victims of this lets be honest with each other Tom and Pentious have better designs that Katie and Cherry. (I mean with they're respective person like Tom and Katie and Pentious and cherry. I'd pick cherry over tom and so would Tom)

I mean come on Charlie's outfits is literally just bell hops uniform! Where's her glam! The spark?

Small character quirks!

Like how moxxie has that possum thing going

Or Stolas botany thing

Or Blitzo's horse thing

Or Blitzo breaking his phone

Or Blitzo being sleazy

Or blizto being mean

Don't mean make her like Apple Jack from my little pony where country is a part of her personality. I mean what she had a small smoking thing or she had a random thing about gum flavors. It seem only important characters get little hobbies or interests.

But yeah! That's just stuff I'd change or add to make Millie even better than she already is

#helluva boss critical #helluva boss #helluva millie #helluva boss millie

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infernal-feminae-archived · 2 years

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Anonymous said: A loud knock sounds at Mayberry's door, followed by the sounds of someone slipping something in the crack underneath it. A tabloid entitle 'The Weekly Nark' sits inside her threshold, a very candid picture of the demoness and her goddess lover, Hecate, front and center on it. Splashed across the photo in bold lettering, "WHO IS THE MYSTERIOUS SUCCUBUS SLEEPING HER WAY INTO THE UNDERWORLD HIERARCHY! EXCLUSIVE STORY! 'page 1 interior'."

Well this was curious. Usually, Mayberry would trash the gossip rags she had the displeasure of getting in her mail. Before she could toss it into the trash bin where it belonged, the headline captured her attention. As well as the picture of her and Hecate.

“‘Mysterious succubus’...? ‘Sleeping her way into underworld hierarchy’??” Her grip on the magazine tightened, crinkling the edges. An all too familiar emotion slowly twisted her expression into one of pure fury.

Mayberry let out an enraged bellow that seemed to shake the walls of her apartment. “GRAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!” She ripped the tabloid in half and then proceeded to rip what was left into pieces.

She heaved out deep breaths. Already feeling a bit calmer now that she took her anger out on something. But it still wasn’t enough. How dare they write those blatant lies about her. How dare they try to paint her as some gold-digging whore.

She wanted the slimy bastards who wrote that shitty article to pay.

Ment. @hecatcd

#👿ᴅᴀᴍɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴇᴀᴄʜᴇʀ: ɪᴄ ᴍᴀʏʙᴇʀʀʏ #❖ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴍᴍɪᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʙᴜᴛ ᴀ ᴄʀɪᴍᴇ: ᴀꜱᴋꜱ #slur tw #Mayberry x Hecate tag tbd #Anonymous

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chorusfm · 9 months

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Lauren Mayberry Talks Solo Work

Lauren Mayberry talked with NPR about her solo journey: Me and the managers and the label were like, “What song do we put out?” I definitely wanted to make it clear that I’m not just going to be trying to rip off the band all the time, but also it’s not all going to be downbeat sobbing piano ballads. I love the band, I’m grateful for the band, I’m never going to cut that grass — that grass is meant to be over there. And I think that’s partly why I was like, something that’s so different is a good palate cleanser. It kind of, like, scorches the earth. So people can be like, “Just so you know, don’t expect that.” But then there’s definitely more bangers --- Please consider becoming a member so we can keep bringing you stories like this one. ◎ https://chorus.fm/linked/lauren-mayberry-talks-solo-work/

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marktavaresartist · 2 years

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“Godspeed Rich” (18 x 24. Acrylics on Gessoed Maple Plywood Panel ©️Mark Tavares) This was a bittersweet commission. . Rich Mayberry was an accomplished painter in the special makeup effects industry who loved among other things Godzilla and a good Porterhouse. At least that’s what I have been told. Unfortunately I never met the man. . Despite working in the business for 20 years, our paths never crossed. I did get to “know” him in the broadest sense of the term when I was asked to include a caricature of him with the rest of the crew for the Autonomous FX company Holiday Card. I got a real kick out of trying to interpret his reputation for having shall we say an “explosive” personality. 😀 I figured we would meet up at some point and I could see for myself if I had gotten it right! . Rich passed away suddenly a short time ago. Tonight, the folks at Autonomous FX and some other shops that employed Rich’s talents put together a celebration of life party in his honor. I didn’t feel it was appropriate to attend since I didn’t know him. However they did ask me to create this painting for the event which I was honored to do. . The event was live-streamed for those who could not be there. The outpouring of love for this man and the grief at his passing was palpable. There were many stories shared about favorite memories, legendary bear hugs, and laughter. Lots of laughter. His absence will be keenly felt by all who knew him for some time to come. I am truly sorry I never got to meet the man. . (I included some pics of the process. This one came together fast! Thanks Rich!) . #RIP #GODZILLA #porterhouse #bearhug #caricature #noregretsjustlove https://www.instagram.com/p/CipBiucuZie/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#rip #godzilla #porterhouse #bearhug #caricature #noregretsjustlove

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my-fall-from-grace · 3 years

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tom my beloved

#y/n energy #tom mayberry #wilbur soot #lb #man’s getting bullied #you did guess spain when you saw singapore but other than that #rip

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sketch-pencilpoint · 3 years

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Art dump

If you saw any of my previous posts about me, ignore the missing arm and grainy effect, I decided to remove that as it was dumb. Also, we got phantter, a crappy redo of that one vine with the guy who almost dropped his croissant, and my ice mayberry cortex, neo's twin sister. She is almost exactly the same as her brother, just tends to be more cold towards foes and friends alike, and is also a flower specialist and weaponist.

#crash bandicoot #land of creation #neo cortex #mayberry cotex #land of creation b #phantter #land of creation shatter #phantom of the bwahpera #tom phan #steven universe #spinel #vine #rip vine #self sona #oc

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duranduratulsa · 3 months

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Now showing on DuranDuranTulsa's Television 📺 Showcase...The Andy Griffith Show: Mayberry On Record (1961) on classic DVD 📀! #tv #television #comedy #sitcom #theandygriffithshow #mayberryonrecord #andygriffith #RIPAndyGriffith #DonKnotts #ripdonknotts #RonHoward #FrancesBavier #ripfrancesbavier #elinordonahue #howardmcnear #BillIrwin #60s #DVD #durandurantulsa #durandurantulsastelevisionshowcase

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dr-pepper-cherry · 3 years

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The Crimson Rangers

Where would Robin Hood be without the aid of his Merry Men? Or how could Butch Cassidy & The Sundance Kid accomplish their heists without the aid of The Wild Bunch? Neither of them could have gotten as far as they did without the aid of their gangs and the same goes for Deadeye, legendary gunslinger or not. Deadeye's group, The Crimson Rangers are composed of rogues and mercenaries two hundred and fifty strong that bring their own sense of vigilante justice to the lands of Hell. Founded and led by the Ranger In Red, Deadeye, they are infamous for their skills in stealth, accuracy and deadly efficiency. Whether it is to steal from the rich to give to the poor, assassinate the malicious and monstrous or to simply lend their skills as the greatest gunslingers and sharpshooters in Hell, they are the guns for hire when quality is wanted more than quantity.

Wiley “Dust Devil” Jackson

Demon Form: Jackrabbit

Age: 26

Division: Gunslinger

Rank: Sheriff

One of the fastest gunslingers around in both his time and the modern day, Wiley has always been quick on the draw, quick on his feet, and quick to run his mouth. Born as an orphan on the back alley streets of Boston, Massachusetts in 1860, the young outlaw began his path to banditry after he grew tired of the upper classes complete disregard to his existence and stole food from them to feed himself. Overtime, his quick hands and quicker feet would gather more than just food as he stole money, bullets and a gun, which finally got him in trouble after he used said gun to shoot a state marshal dead. With a bounty on his head at the age of 18, he ran off to the west, where he would only continue his life of crime by robbing stagecoaches and shooting strangers with a smile. His time finally came to an end when he entered a quick draw contest and attempted to draw guns against Johnny Harlan, who he discovered too late was just a bit faster.

Even after his death, Wiley refused to slow down his wild ways and continued his life of crime, unaware of all the attention he was drawing. When he crossed guns against a overlord who wanted him dead, he thought he was as good as gone until another gunslinger, cloaked in signature red, saved his life. Between feeling indebted to The Ranger In Red and wanting to be on the stronger side, he joined up with Deadeye's growing gang and was even promoted to the rank of Sheriff after his service in the Black Army Wars. Now in charge of the Crimson Ranger Gunslingers, he always skipping with a smile, running as fast as he talks, and ready to draw on just about anything.

Fun Facts About "Dust Devil"

. He has a tendency to be rather boastful about himself and his skills as a gunslinger. But if he can shut his mouth for two minutes and focus on the task at hand, many demons find out the hard way that he can back up his claims.

. Out of all the Crimson Rangers, he knows the streets of Pentagram City best, having grown up in a similar background.

. He's a pretty big fan of baseball, having spent most of his childhood playing baseball with the other orphans before his turn to gunfighting. Because of his years of practice, he is also the best thrower of the Rangers.

Voice Claim: Jack Marston - Red Dead Redemption

Art Credit: gimmieasmile

Doc "Rip Van Winkle" Friday

Demon Form: Hound Dog

Age: 76

Division: Sharpshooter

Rank: Sheriff

A soldier since adulthood and a sharpshooter since his first rifle, Old Doc may seem lazy, lofty and so paranoid he will never use his real name, but give him a reason to stare down a scope and he'll happily demonstrate why he leads the Crimson Ranger Sharpshooters. Born in Monterrey, Mexico in 1787, Doc joined the army at a young age and fought in many wars over the century, such as the War of 1812, the Texas-Indian Wars and the Mexican-American War, before entering the Civil War for the Union as he believed Mexico would be next, should the Confederates win. Being assigned into the 1st United States Sharpshooters Regiment, he lent his skills with his rifle to the United States and took control of the forces after his former captain, Josiah McGrath, was believed to be killed.

Although he was renowned for his sharpshooting prowess and professionalism, the horrors of both wars past and present began to take a toll on his mind as he began targeting anyone and everyone who even supported the Confederates, soldiers and civilians alike. His last fight would be at The Battle Of The Crater, as he was caught up with trying to shoot down another confederate when he was caught in a blast of cannon fire.

In Hell, Doc slowly began to cool from his soldiering days and often explored the many forests that laid through Hell before stumbling upon The Red Woods and even finding the son of his former captain, Cyrus McGrath who was now known as Deadeye. Helping the McGrath get back on his feet in an attempt to pay back Josiah, Doc was the first of The Crimson Rangers and even led them in the Black Army Wars, leading to his promotion to Sheriff. Even hundreds of years old, Doc doesn't plan to retire any time soon.

Fun Facts About "Rip Van Winkle"

. He's quite skilled with an acoustic guitar and doesn't mind playing the occasional song on his time off.

. Due to his laid-back personality, his years of wisdom and the occasional complaint about his old bones, he is often referred to as Grandpa Doc or Old Man. He doesn't really mind the old man nicknames. He does mind being called McGruff, however.

. His bloodhound form has made him a far better tracker than he was when he was alive. With enhanced senses, including a much stronger sense of smell, he can follow the trail of practically anyone.

Voice Claim: Raul Tejada - Fallout: New Vegas

Art Credit: Juju

Tacitus “Taci” Macello Andronicus, III

Demon Form: Alligator

Age: 44

Division: Stalker

Rank: Sheriff

An quiet and silent enforcer to The Crimson Rangers, one may be surprised to learn that the giant in scales actually leads the Crimson Ranger Stalkers, something that they might find funny until they realized Taci is right behind them. Raised in New Orleans in 1846, Tacitus's human life is a subject he barely likes to touch upon. Aside from his past as a enforcer for a local gang and his death at the hands of a rival gang throwing him to the gators, not much else is touched upon in his tales of his past. But while his past may remain a mystery, his present in Hell is all well known.

After his death, Taci's was quick to rejoin his old gang, making a comfortable living off cracking open skulls and bashing in debtors who tried to swindle them. He grew so comfortable in his position, he would even believe himself unbeatable. But that attitude was all but lost when a new arrival in Hell, a maniacal fox who called herself Viy, sought to take claim over more than just the business. Even though Taci tried to end her reign of terror then and there, he underestimated the warlord's strength and was beaten to unconsciousness. When he next awoke, the hideout was burnt to ruins, the bodies of his allies laid scattered around him and he himself was taken as a prisoner. Enslaved and transferred to Camp Beznadiynyy, Taci was experimented on and tested on with many of the Black Army weapons in an attempt to get him to break to the warlord's will. But even after being a test subject for several years and the torturous process that left numerous unhealable scars all across his body and the lost of his left arm, he would refuse to break, clinging on to a hope that he can escape and crush that warmonger's throat.

While he would never get to deal with Viy personally, his hopes for escape were answered when The Ranger In Red attacked the camp and freed the prisoners inside, Taci included. After Deadeye got him to safety in his woods and even crafted a replacement arm with a hidden cannon from his father's blueprints, Taci felt indebted to the gunslinger and served with Deadeye in the Black Army Wars, even being promoted to Sheriff for his efforts. The gentle giant he may be, he will show no mercy to anyone he hunts.

Fun Facts About "Taci"

. There have been some rumors that Taci manages to keep his assassination targets hidden by eating them, bones and all. It's probably not true. Probably.

. His mechanical arm actually contains a few more nifty gadgets. His fingertips can shoot out .357 Magnum ammunition, his wrist can detach and shoot out with a chain, allowing him to grapple objects or pull targets to him from far away and by detaching his arm, he can fire a last resort cannon blast.

. Due to his crocodilian form and his own swimming skills, Taci does his best work in the water, being practically undetectable in the waves.

Voice Claim: Wrex - Mass Effect

Art Credit: FatForSurvival18

Jessie "Silver" McCoy

Demon Form: Wolf

Age: 19

Division: Gunslinger

Rank: Deputy

While tales of The Reaper in Red struck fear and terror into the hearts of most who hear them, Jessie only found them awe-inspiring and hopeful. Born to a middle class family in Kansas, Jessie had always sought to separate him from the boring deeds of his family. He didn’t want to be known as some random farmer. He wanted his name on wanted posters, to be the next outlaw of legend. Going so far as to begin dressing up like a gunslinger, this wish for fame got him into a bad spot when a greenhorn bounty hunter believed he was the infamous Reaper In Red and forced Jessie to a duel, where he discovered his knack for the quickdraw just in time to shoot the bounty hunter dead. With the bounty hunter's death, Jessie found pride in his actions and left town to continue his life as an outlaw, even though he had no bounty. Despite his lack of experience, his talent for gunslinging was not only keeping him alive, it also brought a good amount of fame to his name. He might have become a legend of the west if not for the bounty hunter's younger brother, who stabbed the "outlaw" to death while his back was turned.

At first an aimless drifter in the afterlife, his actions as a gunfighter soon landed himself an audience with his childhood idol. But instead of greeting the Reaper In Red with the standard hostility, he left Deadeye confused as he went completely starstruck, going on a million miles a minute about Deadeye's past. While Deadeye was confused at the sudden attention, he found Jessie to be a reliable asset to the rangers, not to mention rather enduring that there were some people who actually liked him. So when the ranger offered a spot in his growing gang to the kid, Jessie joined on the spot with a grin on his face. Even after all these years, Jessie may still be as reckless as ever, but his persistence and talent have never once failed The Crimson Rangers.

Fun Facts About "Silver"

. Silver, by his very namesake, is one of the most charming and charismatic members of The Crimson Rangers. Because of his wordsmithing talents, he is often sent as the messenger and communicator to many deals with other demons or those who claim they wish to aid the rangers. And should his wording fail, he's got one hell of a gun hand to back himself up.

. Despite the form of a wolf, Silver is one of the kindest members of The Crimson Rangers, always facing every problem with optimism. However, during the rare times he actually loses his temper, he has a tendency to growl and bear his fangs.

. Having spent most of his childhood pouring through adventure novels and the like, he seems to be a bit genre savvy and tends to anticipates tropes that their targets would use in order to catch them.

Voice Claim: Shinji Ikari - Neon Genesis Evangelion

Art Credit: ✘❝ • 𝕱𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖊 𝕰𝖝𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗 • ❞✘

Todd "Ranger" Clarkson

Demon Form: Elk

Age: 20

Division: Sharpshooter

Rank: Deputy

Character Owned By: Ranger Todd

Out of the thieves and rouges in the Crimson Rangers, practically no one would expect to encounter a park ranger from the 80's. But don't be so quick as to laugh him off as the eye down the iron sights of his Winchester may be the last thing you never see.

What started as a simple summer job in Beaver Brook National Park quickly spiraled into a mysterious death trap for any poacher who dared to step into those woods. Park Ranger Todd Clarkson, who loved nature and wished to preserve it, often used his rifle to hunt poachers and those who disrespected the forest. While missing posters began to fly up on billboards and milk cartons, his fellow rangers never thought much on it until another park ranger discovered his hideaway shack, filled with evidence of the missing poachers. In his attempt to talk with Todd about the bodies, words were mixed up and a fight broke out. Although Todd managed to win, a fire had broken out in their brawl and gave Todd no time to react as he passed out from both his wounds and the smoke.

Todd would continue to stay near the trees and forests he grew attached to and was even bold enough to camp in the Red Woods, drawing the attention of the Crimson Rangers. While wary of Todd at first, the Crimson Rangers soon found his skills impressive after he aided in securing their home from corporate hands and offered him a place among them. With some refinement from Deadeye and Rip Van Winkle, Todd grew into a valued sharpshooter who now lends his rifle to the cause of The Crimson Rangers.

Fun Facts About "Ranger"

. His hat was given to him by the love of his life just before he died, and it's his most sentimental possession.

. Ranger dosen't keep pistols. He's confident in his ability to nail his target with a repeater at long range or short. And on the rare occasion he misses a point blank shot, he has even more confidence in his hunting knife.

. While a rarity, there’s a chance every now and then where he will cough up smoke. He’s not really sure why.

Voice Claim: MacCready - Fallout 4

Kozō "Kage" Jirokichi

Demon Form: Rat

Age: 41

Division: Stalker

Rank: Deputy

Originally a street rat from the streets of Kyoto, Japan, Kozō had grown to hate the taxes and laws that oppressed his people and sought to fight against the might of the local lords. His attempts to protest against the lords resulted in his branding and banishment, further dragging his name into the dirt. However, he was undeterred in his fight and instead snuck into the palace and ran off with their entire supply of gold. Working on his own, Kozō adopted a Robin Hood like persona, robbing the rich and sharing his wealth to the poor. He grew infamous for his exploits and managed to sneak and steal for fifteen years until he was finally caught and executed. Even though his intentions were for the greater good, thievery is still a sin and so he was dammed to Hell.

Upon arrival, Kozō attempted to fade into obscurity, but his actions had caught the attention of the overlords. They were worried they too would be robbed by the infamous thief and attempted to have him killed once again. But before one attempt almost claimed his afterlife, he was rescued by The Crimson Rangers, who he felt rather grateful towards as they were some of the first few people who showed him kindness since he landed down in Hell. Lending his skills as a thief, he was taken into their fold and has resumed his old life of stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. Just with the aid of more than himself.

Fun Facts About "Kage"

. The blade at his hip is the infamous Juuchi Yosamu, or 10,000 Cold Nights, that he stole from legendary swordsmith, Sengo Muramasa. The blade is so perfectly sharp that it is able to slice through anything as if it was passing through water, be it solid steel to even the air around him. While it is a incredible weapon, he finds it is also an incredible thieving tool since he can practically make his own entrances and exits.

. He is rarely ever far from a bottle of sake. While he usually keeps himself off the bottle until his task is complete, there are times where he will sneak a quick sip if things get too stressful.

. While he primarily speaks in Japanese, he can understand English fairly well and has been teaching some of the rangers Japanese in return. It's a slow process, but a process nonetheless.

Voice Claim: Kazuma Kiryu - Yakuza

Art Credit: Shakers

Rosa "Bullet-Weaver" de la Costa

Demon Form: Fox

Age: 28

Division: Gunslinger

Rank: Deputy

For Rosa de la Costa, life is as wild as you wish to make it. And if you must be the one to make it wild, you better leave a performance that will be remembered. A dashing pistolera from Mexico, Rosa life started out with a dream to see the world and indulge in every pleasure she could achieve through dance and song. But in a time before such things would become popular and where those who reached fame had to twirl guns or be feared, life was often poor for Rosa who had to expand her talents to keep a stable income. Through a combination of dancing, singing and sleeping with anyone who paid every now and then, she had begun to earn a name for herself, short as it was yet enough to live a life of comfort and carefreeness. Of course, this life wouldn’t last forever, much to her dismay. But a richer, more exciting one would be drawing near as one night, she was accosted by three thugs, a gaggle of foul-mouthed morons who were interested in a free performance and were not looking to hear a no. But when they fired upon her after a rather violent refusal, the dancer was miraculously unscathed from the flurry of bullets, leaving her bewildered and amazed. Even more so as she stole a pistol from them and fired three rounds in their heads, despite never even holding a gun before. For Rosa, this was a sign that her life was meant for more, a sign to be something greater. And with three men dead and her being the only witness, she was eager to leave her old life behind anyway. Over the next few years, tales of the Bullet-Weaver were spread far and wide, a queen among gunslingers who no bullet could touch. She was feared for her pistol work, beloved for her beauty and skills, and was proud of the reputation she had earned. But she had attracted more than just looks as she found out too late one night when a handsome stranger she had taken to bed revealed himself to be a bounty hunter. And while no bullet could ever touch her, the hangman's noose certainly could.

She may have known exactly where she was going in the afterlife, but she had no idea it was going to be so alive and vibrant, especially in Pentagram City. Putting her pistols aside for the moment, Rosa spent her early years lavishing in her original dream, finding fame and fortune as a lounge singer. But even though she had found a life of comfort, she found it rather boring and uneventful. Every day was a song she knew and every want was taken care of in tandem. The life of a wandering pistolera had left quite the impression upon her and she ached to return to the life of adventure once more. But with the end of gunslingers approaching and more advanced guns being forged, she felt as if it was a dream she couldn't reach. She felt she was now stuck in her afterlife until one of her fans, a certain jackrabbit who knew about the pistolera, was more interested in her skills with a gun instead and invited her to join The Crimson Rangers. Finding comfort, safety and familiarity in the Crimson Rangers, Rosa has since become a valued member of the gang, even teaching them her ways of evasion. At least to anyone who can keep up.

Fun Facts About "Bullet-Weaver"

. She may no longer practice prostitution, but the attitude for it never left her. She’s not above using her charms to seduce her targets, loves a good dirty joke and tends to flirt with just about anyone and everyone.

. Though her skill with guns is as good as any ranger, she’s also quite skilled in the capoeira marital art, often getting through every fight with flare and grace.

. The red bandana she wears was a gift from the first man she ever grew to love. While his name has now been lost to her, the bandana remains as a treasured possession.

Voice Claim: Isabela - Dragon Age: Inquisition

Art Credit: Sugartooth

Holly "Iron Maiden" Mayberry

Demon Form: Horse

Age: 35

Division: Sharpshooter

Rank: Deputy

While she is now known for her tough-as-nails personality and unwillingness to take anything lying down, There was a time in Holly’s life where her only wants were raising a family and living a life of home and comfort. But that dream has long since died.

Formerly a loving wife to Eric Mason, a local cowboy in Marble Falls, Texas, her former life was taken from her after the recently appointed sheriff took an interest in her. Even though she was married and completely uninterested in such a vain and callous man, he cared not of her concerns and wanted to make her his, no matter how. And when one of his attempts earned him a black eye from Eric, the sheriff twisted his sentence from assault to attempted murder and sentenced him to hang. Seeing her husband hanging from the gallows brought something cold and vengeful in her soul as she used the sheriff’s feelings against him, brought him out to Eric's grave and murdered him with her bare hands before giving one last goodbye to her husband and running out of Marble Falls as fast as she could. Bringing Eric's killer to justice brought a sense of belonging that left an impression on the widow as she decided to pick up a line of work she knew would both be bringing in money and the feeling of vengeance being dealt: bounty hunting. Over the next years, her true talents began to shine through the veil she had once believed she had to be. With either rifle or revolver, her skills as a shootist made her into a force of nature and a fearful sight to any bounty she chose to pursue, even managing to match the best bounty hunters in the west. However, her final target, the infamous Johnny Harlan was never claimed as she was shot and killed by rival bounty hunter and inside man of The Outlaws, Graham McKendrick.

At first, she was a bit distressful where she had ended up. But she knew there was no undoing what was done now and continued her bounty hunting ways. Incidentally, one of her bounties, more specifically the bounty on Doc, led to her recruitment into the Crimson Rangers after finding their ideals appealing to her need to dismantle the corrupt people in power. Finding no reason to doubt her or her excellent sharpshooting skills, she quickly became a welcomed addition. And while she mostly keeps her outlook of stoicism and bluntness, there's been the occasional smile on Holly's face since joining the rangers.

Fun Facts About "Iron Maiden"

. Her eyes are a bit sensitive to light and, as a result, are why she often wears a pair of sunglasses. While she's went through many over the years, her favorite are a pair of aviator shades.

. Her hat and lever-action Winchester rifle, Ol' Hickory, were the last gifts from her husband before they parted long ago. She refuses to let another soul lay so much as a finger on either.

. Holly has a weakness for similarly tough women and tends to get a bit flustered around them.

Voice Claim: Femgineer - DustyOldRoses

Art Credit: 𝕾𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖗 𝕻𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖚𝖘𝖘𝕾

Roblyn "Huntress" Valencia

Demon Form: Chicken

Age: 27

Division: Stalker

Rank: Deputy

While many have the choice to become a criminal or not, this wasn’t the case for Robyn Valencia, daughter & heir to the Valencia mafia family. Born between the union of mob boss and leader, Alessio Valencia, and a former mistress of his, Robyn had spent her whole life learning the skills of a criminal and was personally taught by both her father and the members of his growing gang. Despite their infamous reputation, she never saw them as villains as they treated all with the upmost respect, especially her and her father. She grew to carry a great respect for her father and his trade, finding their work powerful and practical, even growing proud how one day it would all be hers. That day came sooner than she would have liked when her father was killed by a shot in the back after he attempted to duel a swindling gambler in white. She wished to avenge her father by tracking his killer, who had fled to the United States, and began a promising start to her family by expanding their work to the San Francisco area. When she learned that her father’s murderer had been killed by a so called “Reaper In Red”, her fury grew restless and disastrously as she attempted to take on The Reaper In Red. But her attempts to kill him ultimately resulted in her end after a risky chase across the city rooftops caused her to miss a step and fall to her death, leaving her gang without a leader.

For the first few years, her afterlife was spent in waiting, doing hit jobs here and there to improve her skills. And when The Reaper in Red finally died, she attempted to try again on Cyrus's life, who had long since calmed from his more murderous days as The Reaper in Red. Even though he had retired from his murderous persona, he managed to win once more but wanted to put away his past and chose to spare her. This left Robyn in a state of disbelief and revaluation of both her afterlife and what had led here. When tales of The Crimson Rangers began to surface around Hell, it was surprising for Deadeye to see her again, especially hearing that she wanted to join them. Her reasonings remain a mystery but she joined the gang and slowly began to move on from her past. Finding a home with the Crimson Rangers, she decided to stay and has stuck with them ever since.

Fun Facts About “Huntress”

. Huntress was one of the first benefactors of The Crimson Rangers as her ties to the Valencia family remain strong and loyal. In exchange for turning a blind eye to her family, she has supplied the rangers with plenty of soldiers, hundreds of weapons and a whole lot of money for whatever else is desired.

. Huntress is prehaps the coldest member of the group, but there is hints that the Crimson Rangers examples of selflessness are starting to rub off on her. Barely, but it's there.

. Do NOT make fun of her sinner form. Taking cracks at her appearance tends to never go well for whoever started it.

Voice Claim: Rose Of Sharon Cassidy - Fallout New Vegas

Art Credit: I just exists

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