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strangersmunsons · 3 months

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Eddie, My Love! eddie munson x reader // valentine's day special series Day 6 Prompt: Conversation Hearts 💕 ~ 2,300 words Eddie teases you because he thinks your crush on him is hilarious, but you don’t find it very funny.

A tiny, hard, unidentified object thwacks! against the back of your head.

“Ow!” You spin on your heel to confront the culprit, and…are actually not that surprised to see Eddie Munson standing there, smirking at you.

You rub the back of your head. “What was that?”

Wordlessly, Eddie holds up a small pink box. Conversation hearts. Of course.

You turn back around and keep walking, staring determinedly ahead, but he matches your pace. He strolls next to you down the hallway, nonchalant as can be, like he doesn’t have some trick up his sleeve to pester you with. When his arm brushes against yours, you shift subtly away, not wanting to touch him.

Well, that’s not entirely accurate, now is it?

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” you mumble back instinctively, the need to mind your manners overpowering your need to avoid engaging with Eddie Munson at any cost.

“So? Who’s the lucky fella taking you out tonight?”

There isn’t one. “None of your business.”

“Aw, come on, Princess. You gotta tell me who my competition is.”

Heat blooms in your cheeks. “That’s not funny.”

He pouts at you.

You abruptly veer off to the left and duck into the restroom; you don’t want to hear what he has to say next.

“Hey! Where ya going?”

You shut yourself into a stall and lean with your back against the door, eyes squeezed shut. Why couldn’t he just leave you be? Was it not enough for him to simply not reciprocate your feelings? He had to go out of his way to tease you about the stupid crush you have on him, too?

Used to have, you think bitterly to yourself, as though there wasn’t any lingering affection embedded deep into your heartstrings.

But it’s not that easy.

Eddie Munson was different. He was rowdy, snarky, and absurdly eloquent for a guy in his third go-round as a senior; he liked to read, he played guitar in a band, and he protected his friends like an attack dog. He worked at a bar and dragged on Lucky Strikes as he walked through the school parking lot, practically stomping across the pavement in his heavy boots.

But still, there was a softness hiding underneath that hard shell. You were sure of it.

Smitten kitten. That was you. Reaching your own senior year, you were finally, finally able to share a class with him. Ms. O’Donnell’s fourth period English became your favorite part of the day, the perfect place to indulge in your silly romantic fantasies, because the leading hero who starred in them was conveniently seated just two desks away.

Which was all fine and dandy for you, until he knew.

You still don’t know how he found out. Did Nancy Wheeler let something slip in front of her brother, Mike, who ran and snitched to his fearless club leader? Or did Eddie somehow glean it from you by sheer intuition?

It was little things at first. Cocky, arrogant smirks aimed directly at you when he came into the room and plopped down in his seat. Cheeky tugs at your hair in the hallway. He hissed your name across the library and pulled goofy faces when you turned to look, wagged his tongue and threw wadded-up balls of paper at you. These actions left you confused, and automatically put you on guard. What did they mean, and why did they start occurring so suddenly?

You weren’t left guessing for long. He quickly got bolder. Eddie was already behaving like a general menace, but then it went beyond the rude gestures and peskiness. He did the unthinkable; he started teasing you mercilessly about your pathetic infatuation.

He chased you in the hallways, calling you mocking pet names and asking when you were going to finally give him a chance. He blew kisses at you when you made eye contact in the cafeteria, pouting at you when you didn’t return them, while his friends all watched the exchange and laughed uproariously.

It was so humiliating you could cry, and you had, many times over. And to think you had liked him because he was supposed to be nice underneath that tough exterior.

You’d rather be on the receiving end of Jason Carver’s poisonous words, or even worse — a repeat of Tommy Hagan’s routine torture from the year prior would be preferable to this.

Having Eddie poke fun at your unrequited love for him was far too much to bear.

You sniffle uncontrollably, tears leaking out of the corners of your eyes. You wipe at them furiously with your sleeve, feeling hot with embarrassment. You wish you could hide in here forever, and you almost do — but the late bell rings, and — Goddamn it — you have a quiz. Heaving a shuddery sigh, you walk as quickly as you can without breaking into a sprint to Ms. O’Donnell’s room.

The ornery woman gives you a frown as you enter her class late; you keep your eyes glued to the floor as you scamper to your seat, pointedly ignoring the curious stares of your peers, who are no doubt wondering what’s got you in such a state. Certainly not meeting his gaze, which is trained on you. You can practically feel it.

Quiz papers are passed out, and you can scarcely focus on the questions. You skim and answer as quickly as you can, wanting nothing more than to put your head down and wait for class to end.

The period passes in a blur; you’ve spent most of it watching the clock, telepathically willing the red hand ticking the seconds by to move faster. As soon as the bell rings you’re out of your seat, throwing your bag over your shoulder and all but running from the room.

“Hey! Wait up!”

You ignore him, weaving in and out of the crowd of students.

He catches up with you anyway. “What’s wrong?” Eddie asks, for once sounding completely serious as he talks to you. “Why were you crying?”

Tears threaten to well up again. You purse your lips and shake your head as your face starts to crumble. God, you’re so over this whole thing. The teasing and the crying followed by more teasing, and more crying, an endless cycle that left you emotional and on edge every time you had to see him.

“Hey.” He tries to place a ringed hand on your shoulder, a touch that would have had you swooning mere months ago, but you wrench yourself out of his grip, face streaming.

Later at home, your parents are off to dinner, celebrating their own love story. You revel in the luxury of an empty house, taking a long, hot shower, and slipping on your softest pajamas. Ordering your favorite takeout and putting on a comfort movie has you feeling almost okay again; you’re determined that today will be the last day you let Eddie Munson get under your skin, ever.

There’s a rapping at the door. You hop up from the couch and grab the cash your parents set aside for your dinner, pad to the front door, and swing it open with a polite smile plastered on your face.

Except the person standing there is decidedly not a delivery boy with an armful of food, but one Eddie Munson.

Immediately, you try to slam the door shut, but Eddie sticks his foot out before it can close all the way. He yelps in pain as the heavy door squashes his Reebok, but he doesn’t move.

“Oh my God! Is it not enough for you to bully me at school? Now you have to come to my house?! How do you even know where I live?!”

“Wheeler told me your address!” His eyes are wide, alarmed by the ferocity of your reaction. Wincing, he asks, “Can you just talk to me for a second, please? I’m trying to check on you.”

Reluctantly, you ease the pressure you’re putting on his foot. You keep the door half-shut, peering at him from around the jamb. You say nothing, waiting suspiciously.

When it seems to Eddie that you’re not going to deck him, he relaxes a little. “I just wanted to apologize,” he admits, sounding as bashful as Eddie probably ever could. “I guess I upset you earlier today, and I didn’t mean to.” He pauses. “That was because of me, right?”

You sigh. “The fact that you even have to ask…”

His cheeks turn pink, and shuffles his feet nervously. “Look, I’m really sorry. For buggin’ you all the time. I guess…it’s some kind of…wish fulfillment thing for me, or whatever — anyway, it’s stupid, and I’m sorry for doing that to you. I swear I didn’t realize that it upset you so much, otherwise I never would’ve kept doing it.”

Eddie’s grimacing in shame, eyes downcast. He does look awfully sorry, but you’re not quite ready to forgive.

“I just don’t understand why.” Your bottom lip starts to tremble. “You know, you spend so much time fighting the basketball team, or anybody that so much as looks the wrong way at your Hellfire friends. You know what it’s like to get picked on. How could you do that to me? Even for a second?”

Eddie opens his mouth to interject, but you press on.

“If you thought it was funny that I liked you, then fine. You don’t have to like me back. But you don’t need to laugh in my face about it, either.”

He blinks. “I — what?”

“That’s so fucking mean, Eddie, for you to taunt me every single day —”

“You liked me?”

“Don’t play dumb,” you snap back.

“Princess, if you liked me, this is the first I’m hearing about it. I was under the impression that you hated my guts.”

Both of you fall silent, staring at each other intensely. Eddie’s brow is deeply furrowed, full lips parted in wonder.

You falter uncertainly. “I’m…confused.”

His face is a mirror of your own bewilderment. “So am I. You thought I was teasing you…for having a crush on me?”

You suddenly feel very exposed, like someone just walked in on you naked. “Weren’t you?”

“No.”

The words hangs in the air between you for a moment.

“Well, I definitely don’t anymore,” you state defensively, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Why did you think that?”

“Because you never looked twice at me and then all of a sudden you — you started calling me Princess and blew me kisses and talked about us going on dates like it was the funniest joke in the world!”

“Did it ever occur to you,” he replies, uncharacteristically quiet, “that I did all those things because I liked you?”

There’s an odd swooping sensation, like stepping for a missing stair.

A small smile pulls at the corners of his mouth, though his big doe-eyes still have a tinge of sadness in them. “I — I thought,” he wavers, then tries again, “I kept asking when you would go out with me because I really want you to. Go out with me, I mean.”

“Wish fulfillment,” you mumble, echoing his phrasing from earlier.

“I thought we were playing some kind of game, I guess. I thought you knew the meaning behind it, when I would do all those things. I had no idea I was hurting your feelings. And believe me, I had no clue that you had a crush on me — you’re way out of my league, Princess. I thought I was fighting a losing battle, so I kept hamming it up.”

You’re completely dumbfounded. “You threw papers at me. And pencils. And dice.”

Eddie chuckles nervously, thoroughly embarrassed. “Forgive me. I’ve been held back twice; that’s not really an indicator of a mature brain, is it?” He shrugs. “I wanted you to pay attention to me.”

All the emotional turmoil of the day hits you like a tidal wave. Impossibly, you find yourself getting choked up yet again. “All this time, I thought you were laughing at me.”

“I wasn’t,” he says softly, taking a step towards you. “I swear on my life, I never meant to make you feel this way. God, sweetheart, if I’d have known…” His gaze lingers on your watery eyes, your trembling lips, the way you’re almost hiding from him behind the jamb. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know how I didn’t see it.”

You swallow harshly. “It’s my own fault, I think. I always jump to conclusions — everyone tells me all the time that I’m too sensitive.”

“You’re not too sensitive,” he reassures you. “You’re sweet, you know? Gentle. That’s all.”

Oh. Eddie Munson thinks you’re gentle.

He cocks his head to the side. “Did it ever even occur to you? That I might have a crush on you, too?”

You laugh in spite of yourself, wiping at a few stray tears. “No.”

“Well, it should have. ‘Cause I did then, and I do right now, too.”

Eddie slips something out of his pocket, the tip of his tongue poking out of his mouth. He holds out the same box he had earlier: small and pink, still full of pastel candies rattling against the cardboard. He pulls the flap open and shakes a few out into his palm; after looking over his options, he selects a lilac-colored heart and holds it out so you can see the small text. It simply reads: FOR YOU.

“A small token of my affection,” he whispers. “If you want it.”

Without thinking you reach out and grasp his leather-clad forearm, tugging on his sleeve. “Come inside,” you whisper back, suddenly overwhelmed by the need to have him close and warm. “Please.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Definitely.”

Eddie bows his head. “Whatever you want, Princess.”

He finally crosses the threshold and steps into your arms, swinging the door shut behind him.

thank you for reading!! xoxo Valentine's Day Special Masterlist

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson reader insert #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader

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teddiesworldd · 1 month

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muffled moans and whiskey kisses.

is it morally okay to fuck a customer? (2.4k words)

a\n: thank you for all the love on my first posts! i hope you love this one just as much! also, if it wasn't made clear, ghost is wearing a mask with a cut-out for his mouth. enjoy!

pairing: ghost x female waitress!reader

tags/warnings: nsfw mdni!!, just a regular ol' bathroom hookup with the biggest guy you've ever seen, porn with plot, hickeys, a little choking if you squint

it was one of those shifts where the hours just dragged on and on. the day felt like it was never going to end as you wiped down another table and laid out the silverware neatly on top of a napkin. your mind wandered off somewhere else, but you snapped back to reality when you saw 4 huge guys walk through the pub doors and stroll over to the bar. one looked a little older than the others with a thick blonde moustache and cream bucket hat. two of them were a little shorter, a scruffy mohawk on one and the other with tanned skin covered by a blue jacket. however, it was the fella trailing behind them who made your hairs stand on end. he was absolutely giant. he was wearing a tight black t-shirt that showed off the thick, red scars which ran down his massive arms. and just to add to it, his whole face, except for his eyes and mouth, was covered by a worn-out skull mask. you realised you were staring when his dark eyes met yours and you shifted your glance back down to the table you were tending to. you could feel his eyes burning onto you as he walked past.

it was only when all 4 men were seated that you realised your colleague was still out the back and you'd have to go over and make their drinks for them yourself.

no biggie.

you make drinks for people all the time.

you desperately tried to calm your own nerves as you walked over to the bar, suddenly aware of how tight your clothes felt. the sweat on your palms. the loose hairs that had fallen from your ponytail and were now tickling your neck.

not people like this.

you were a confident person most of the time, but this skull-face guy was intimidating as hell. and the way he looked at you like a piece of meat earlier, like he wanted to eat you up. yikes. you pushed the little door open and walked behind the bar, smoothing down your waitressing apron and putting on your best customer-service smile.

"what can i get for you?"

the first three were relatively nice. the older chap was quite charming, really, making polite small talk and asking about your day. the guy with the mohawk tried cracking a few jokes which made you cringe a little but it was sweet regardless. and you noticed the military badge on the blue jacket of the third man, which made a lot of sense as the bar was right next to the military base. you had soldiers and the likes come in often, trying to drink away the stress of their day. but these guys were different. high-ranking, probably. after you had served the three, you moved down towards the fourth and asked the same question. it was only now that you realised how dark his eyes actually were. they were like dark pools of chocolate. like an empty street at night. and his pretty blonde lashes were like the stars. how could someone so big and scarred be pretty? you wondered.

"a whiskey, please."

his voice was so deep, and he had a bit of a manchester twang to his words. something about him, though frightening, was sort of attractive. the way the corners of his mouth turned up when he spoke to you. the way his huge hands rested on the bar, twiddling and fidgeting with his thick fingers and rings like he was nervous. the way he looked at you said otherwise. you wondered what those hands would feel like on you. in you. he didn't break eye contact with you the whole time he ordered, licking his lips with a sparkle in his eye. you poured the drink, then turned back to him and placed it in front of him. he thanked you and sipped it slowly.

the men stayed for a while, chatting about their recent missions and such, laughing and ordering more drinks. but the masked guy kept looking at you, sometimes at your face, sometimes at where your flesh spilled out over the buttons of your white shirt. he wasn't exactly trying to hide it either, the perv. you couldn't help but look at him too, shamelessly. he even caught you a few times looking at the way his muscles moved as he brought the glass up to his lips.

when he excused himself and walked over to the bathrooms, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, the tension between the two of you was almost suffocating. however, this was the complete opposite of a break from him.

he stood in front of the door like, well, like a ghost. his finger beckoning you to follow him. you questioned your life up to this point and scanned around the pub, it was pretty late on a weekday so it was completely empty except for the group at the bar. you put down the glass you were polishing, took off your apron and excused yourself to the three men who remained in front of you. luckily, none of them payed much attention, going straight back to their conversation.

you know what he wanted from you, of course, it wasn't like he was bringing you into the bathroom for a conversation. but still, a part of you just couldn't believe what was about to happen. he was probably a whole foot taller than you, and twice as wide.

he must be absolutely packing. he'd probably spilt me open.

you tried not to think about it.

you pushed the door quietly, your manicured nails tapping gently when they made contact. you barely even pushed the thing open before he was pulling you by the wrist into the nearest cubical, and locking the door behind him. he didn't say a word. he just pressed his lips to yours. the kiss got heated pretty quickly. you could taste the whiskey on his tongue. the way your mouths fitted together - it was like you were made for each other. it felt so perfect. so addictive.

he pulled away and moved his head into the crook of your neck, kissing and sucking and leaving dark red marks across your collarbone. you couldn't help the moan that left your lips, earning a quiet "shhhh, lovie" between kisses. his voice was gorgeous. he soon reached your cleavage, planting bites and kisses all over. there was something so refreshing about him. most guys you'd been with didn't care about any of this stuff, they just wanted to be done as quickly as possible. not him, he took his time marking you, like you were something rare and precious. like you were something special. he moved his hand up to undo the buttons of your shirt, looking up at you with lust filled eyes.

"do you want this? hm? do you want me?" he growled.

you couldn't believe he was teasing you already. of course you did. "mhmm" you nodded frantically, trying to speed him up by undoing your buttons yourself, but he stopped you at the first one.

"ah ah, no. be patient, doll. tell me. tell me you want me." he asked nicely this time, waiting for your response.

"please," you whined out, a little more desperately as you intended, trying to retain a little bit of your dignity. you were still fully clothed, you didn't want to seem too needy. yet.

after hearing your response, he placed another kiss to your chest and started undoing the buttons. so slowly. it was like torture. you placed you small hand onto the back of his head, guiding him down, which he must of liked because it made him look up at you with the most devilish glint in his eye. oh, this man was about to ruin you. he hooked his fingers into the waist of your skirt, pulling it all the way off and stuffing it into the pocket of his jeans. what a gentleman, he didn't want your clothes getting all dirty on the floor of the men's bathroom. gross. after spending a second admiring your pretty lace panties and matching bra, he asked you, "you always wear underwear like this, love? what a little slut you are." something about the way he spoke to you made you absolutely wet. he looked gorgeous at this angle, knelt down in front of you, shoulders broad, inches away from your heat. part of you wanted to just pull his face into you, but he was definitely much stronger than you, so unfortunately you'd just have to wait it out.

he kissed the inside of your thighs, then over your clothed clit, making you beg for him again. then he pulled your underwear to the side, finally pressing his mouth to your soaked pussy. he felt amazing. he must be pretty experienced because he knew exactly how, when and where to make you whine and pant at every movement. the way his tongue swirled in little circles around your clit made your head spin. and the way he looked at you, never breaking eye contact, he was intoxicating. you knew if you made too much noise then his friends would definitely hear you - the walls were pretty thin. but it was so hard when he was sending you towards the edge so quickly. and when he pushed two of his thick fingers inside of you, you had to cover your mouth to keep yourself quiet. he curled it just right to hit the perfect spot inside you over and over. just his hand was stretching you out, and hitting spots that had never been hit by your own fingers. you knew you weren't going to last much longer at the brutal pace he was moving inside of you. you hooked your leg over his huge shoulder, and when he started sucking you could feel the knot in your stomach twisting. he knew this too and when you clenched around his fingers he pulled away, leaving you a panting, sweaty mess and depriving you of your orgasm.

"don't worry, doll. i'm not done with you yet," he said, standing up and turning you around so your chest was against the wall with your back to him. "want you to come on my cock, not on my fingers."

you could hear him undoing his belt and his cargo pants dropping to the floor behind you. he grabbed your hips and pulled your ass back towards him, lining you up nicely. you just knew it was going to be the biggest you'd ever taken. his tip prodded at your entrance, and he pushed slowly into you. he was huge. you hissed as he pushed inside, and he immediately stopped, checking if you're okay before carrying on, splitting you open. once you had adjusted, he started moving at a more regular pace, fucking you deep and slow. your tight pussy gripping his dick like a vice. he managed to find that spongey spot inside of you pretty quickly, hitting it over and over and causing you to let out a pornographic moan. he brought his hand over your mouth in response, muffling your slutty noises.

"is that good, lovie? yeah? you like it when i fuck you like that?" he groaned into your ear, bending over to kiss your neck and bare shoulder.

your eyes rolled back in response, bouncing back into him, which he didn't appreciate very much. with a deep grunt, the hand that remained on your hip tightened its grip, keeping you in place as he pounded into you. your head fell back into his chest in pure ecstasy, the pleasure being almost overwhelming. you could feel like knot building inside you again, getting close to your orgasm once more. his hand moved from his hip down between your legs, rubbing your clit just right, causing you to shriek into his hand. your legs began to shake as you were hurtling towards your climax. when you finally came, he had to move his hand from your clit to under your waist, holding you upright as your orgasm rocked through you. you cried out into his palm, tears forming in the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure.

when you finally fell back down to earth, he brought you to your knees and pushed his huge cock into your mouth to chase his own orgasm. it was the first time you'd managed to get a proper look at it. it was the perfect shade of baby pink, your own juices gleaming on his tip. a thick vein ran down the shaft all the way to his firm, full balls. he had a decent amount of blonde hair that trailed upwards towards his bellybutton and disappeared under his t-shirt. you happily took him into you mouth, taking him as far as you could and stroking the rest with your hand. his hand found its way around your neck and squeezed gently, feeling so small in his massive hand. you looked up at him and noticed how he was biting his lip, trying to keep himself quiet. the way his eyes rolled back when you chocked on the sheer size of his dick was so hot that it almost made you want to turn back around and ask for round two. but before you knew it, he was holding your ponytail in his fist and thick ropes of cum were filling your cheeks and running down your throat. his grip on your neck and hair tightened as he let out a grunt, which was loud enough for the boys at the bar to hear for sure, but you didn't care anymore. this man was truly something else.

he helped you get up, dressed and clean afterwards, returning your skirt and carefully wiping your mouth with his thumb. he smiled at you as he did this, telling you how pretty you were and how he just had to fuck you. you went back into the pub one after the other, as to not raise suspicion. but your makeup was all ruined and he had sort of a pornstar sweat-glow to him, so it was pretty obvious regardless. he finished the last mouthful of his whiskey and left with his boys.

it was only when you'd cleaned up their glasses and locked up the pub that you realised you didn't ask for his number. or even his name, for god's sake.

but you were sure that this wouldn't be the last time that giant of a man would stumble in for a drink on a wednesday afternoon.

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#call of duty #cod mw2 #ghost smut #ghost x reader #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #ghost cod #call of duty smut #teddiesworldd

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prettyoatmeal · 1 year

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Confessing Feelings (König x Reader)

First tumblr post since years of being inactive and I’ve grown a real liking towards these fellas. They’re my baby girls ❤️❤️ Reader is GN and smaller-hinted (about 5'2-5'7). Sorry future me for horny posting.

WARNINGS: Very slight mentions of death but very tame. Overall fluff

SUMMARY: You confess your feelings to König in a dangerous situation and you don't want to go out without finally telling him how you feel. He feels the same and asks you out.

Word Count: 813

Masterlist here!

***************

König was a real gentle giant; it was no secret. Or well not to you at least. Being part of KorTac for a while now, you’ve gotten to know the Austrian military man over the time you’ve spent together. You were very intimidated by him at first, both because of his height and his build. Anyone would be if they saw a ripped 6’10 man in uniform with a hood covering his entire face and only his eyes able to stare down into your soul.

He was very timid with you at first as well due to his social anxiety, poor boy doesn’t have those confident friend-making skills. Long story short, you two were both afraid of talking to each other. You were scared of him, and he was scared of you. Though, you two were once paired together and had to look after each other. You’d finally built up the courage to crack a joke about the situation you were found yourself in, and then you two slowly started chatting both in and outside of missions.

He was charmed by your outgoing nature by the time you two were regularly talking, and he’d become attached. Super attached. You'd often be the one talking and he'd be the one doing the listening. But he didn't complain. He couldn't complain. He loved, loved, LOVED hearing you talk, finding the biggest comfort in your voice.

This wasn’t to say you hadn’t grown a fond of him either, realising how you two clicked instantly, you knew you’ve made a lifelong friend (eventual boyfriend, and maybe even husband, who knows?). If you two were on missions together, he'd never let you out if his sight. And if you weren’t on missions, you two would be inseparable anyway, always together, to the point of even creating little pet names for each other; him calling you Mous, and you calling him Bear. You two slowly started building those strong feelings for each other but neither of you wanted to admit it, valuing you guys’ friendship (and jobs) too high to lose.

You finally mustered up the courage to tell him you like him in a life or death situation on one of your missions. Finding yourselves in immediate danger, you didn't want to go out without telling him.

“I like you. A lot. As a crush.” You would whisper out, not knowing if it’s like last time you two will ever see each other again.

“… scheiße…” he’d reply to you in a low growl, causing your stomach to drop as you instantly figured he didn't feel the same. Though in reality, his gears were turning and he was preparing himself to grab you by the waist and sprint to safety with you in his arms.

The moment you two were back at safety, the adrenaline slowly wearing off, he asked you,

“Do you really, (Y/N)?” And you’d nod, looking down and feeling ashamed for developing such a crush on technically a co-workers. It was at that time when you’d felt the most vulnerable in your entire life as the beast of a man stood above you, his dark eyes looking straight down at you.

He thought his heart would beat out of his chest, taking his gloved hand and placing a finger under your chin to make you look up at him. Of course you two were both nervous out of your mind. Your eyes scattered as your knees went a little weak from that gesture alone before your eyes finally fixed themselves onto König's. You could now tell by the little squint in his eyes was that he was smiling widely under the hood. And by pulling it just enough to reveal his lips, he gained that little burst of confidence to lean down and place a small kiss onto your lips. All the worries and nerves calmed themselves as your lips moved in unison.

He was always scared to touch you, knowing how small and fragile you are compared to him. He'd slapped you on the back once after a successful mission like he would with the other boys. The difference is that they have that butt load of extra muscle mass to keep them grounded. The boys were massive, you were not. The 'harmless' slap caused you to jolt forward, almost losing your balance and giving him the biggest scare of his life. After that, he'd refuse to ever lay a hand on you, afraid of his own strength and hurting you any further. Only in specific situations would he ever touch you. This was one of those situations.

Pulling away from the kiss, König lets out a shy giggle as the burst of confidence in him slowly flying away and going back to his more timid, shy self.

"So, uh.. you free after we get back day after tomorrow, Mous?"

Yes. Yes, you were.

***************

Hello there. Sorry this was an impulse post I whipped up in like 15 minutes. This is not proof read so please ignore any grammar or spelling mistakes.

#könig headcanons #cod mw2 #könig mw2 #könig cod #call of duty #konig cod #Konig mw2 #Konig x reader #König x reader #König imagines #Konig imagines #mw2 x reader #Konig fluff #König fluff

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xcrust · 3 months

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Paint the Town Red

Full chapter!!!

Reader insert x Hazbin hotel and helluva boss universe

There is a chapter after this that is already published on my quotev

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FULL STORY

As the two of you continued down the bustling streets of Hell, Alastor's arm linked with yours, you couldn't shake off the sense of unease that lingered beneath the surface. The encounter with the stray demons had left you questioning the dynamics of power and respect in this infenal realm.

The air was thick with a cacophony of demonic chatter and the occasional shrieks of torment. Despite the chaos surrounding you, Alastor seemed unfazed, maintaining his composure and that eerie, ever-present smile. The contrast between his carefree demeanor and the volatile nature of Hell left you feeling like a pawn in a game you couldn't fully comprehend.

As you both entered a quaint little cafe, the atmosphere shifted. The aroma of sulfur mixed with the enticing scent of freshly brewed coffee. The dimly lit establishment provided a brief respite from the glaring scrutiny of the outside world.

Seated across from each other at a small table, you couldn't help but ponder the peculiar situation. Here you were, a member of Hell's aristocracy, sharing a moment with a notorious demon who seemed more interested in your entertainment value than your status. The clinking of cups and the hushed conversations of nearby patrons created a strange backdrop to the unfolding enigma.

Alastor, his unsettling eyes fixated on you, leaned back in his chair with an air of nonchalance. "My dear, have you ever considered the power dynamics at play in this chaotic realm? The hierarchy of Hell is not just determined by bloodlines and titles; it's a delicate dance of influence and charisma."

His words echoed in your mind as you tried to decipher his true intentions. Was he grooming you to navigate the treacherous waters of Hell, or was this merely a game to satisfy his own amusement? The lavish clothes, the newfound attention – it all felt like pieces of a puzzle you were still struggling to assemble.

The cafe's ambiance became a backdrop for an unspoken exchange, a subtle negotiation of intentions and expectations. As Alastor continued to speak, his voice taking on that distinctive, old-timey radio charm, you found yourself drawn into his web of words.

"Life in Hell is a grand performance, my dear. And you, with your unique set of skills and that fiery spirit, are poised to become the star of this infernal stage. Embrace the chaos, for it is in the unexpected that true power lies."

With every word, Alastor seemed to weave a narrative, blurring the lines between mentorship and manipulation. The cafe, once a haven from the outside world, became a stage for a complex dance of agendas and hidden motives.

As you sipped your coffee, the bitter warmth resonating with the complexities of your newfound existence, you couldn't help but wonder if this alliance with the enigmatic Radio Demon would lead to salvation or damnation in the twisted tapestry of Hell.

“So my dearest! I want to know everything about you and what makes you tick” Closing your new pocket mirror you glance at him before going to pick at your clothes, the bunny painted in red stares at you with a charming look in his eye.

“Alastor, you're going all out for a person like me. But what is it that you want.” curiosity might have killed the cat but in hell its survival of the fittest. Between you and him, that's an easy feat for you but survival in getting higher in the food chain? Well that's some grounds you need to work on.

“ Heavens me, or should I say hells me? HA can't a guy get to know another fella?” His burgundy pinstripe suit made your weakness to elegant things. In your heart you are truly someone that cannot be so easily deterred by another. If leaving the Morningstar household didnt prove it. Maybe working on social skills might be the first thing to work on.

“Who are you kidding? What?! Did you want to talk to my dad? Sorry to best your bubble but i'm making a nam-”

“Hush now” he quipped in “now what are you assuming on today” taking out a pocket watch from his top pocket. The ticking being comically loud. Being in hell should have you used to an odd face every once in a while. But looking at him felt like a lost cartoon. “As i've said before, i know nothing about you. You've just got a nifty little… look to you” There goes his smile again. It's so shameless.

“Yeah right” Being hell royalty should've put your name towards everyone that walks this street.

“Sorry doll face, having such a smooth face in this area of town might just be the most interesting piece of plot in these parts” you let out a sudden hitch in your breath. Does he actually not know anything about you? Maybe the overlord title might be a lot harder than intended. “Now doll you're never fully dressed without a smile, now play nice” The grimace on your face might’ve just drowned in your thoughts hearing him say that.

You couldn't make sense of his statement. An earthborn being known to you and probably the purest kind of entertainment in hell. Though if he didn't even know who you were then maybe this could be a better opportunity in the end. No phony respect. Something that would actually make a difference to yourself. Smoothing your expression into soft passiveness.

“Say there, bunny tail, how about you and I take a stroll down the boulevard and paint the town red”

“Aren't you a tough nut to crack? Well who am I to deny a bona fide high roller”

"You said WHAT?" Lucifer's voice echoed through the grand halls of the Morningstar household, a thunderous roar that reverberated with the weight of authority. The King of Hell had just stumbled upon a revelation, and the discontent in his tone was palpable.

In the dimly lit room, a dispute between the Morningstar couple unfolded like a tempest. Lilith, the Queen of Hell, maintained a composed demeanor despite the storm brewing within. Her response, a weary sigh, carried the weight of a thousand battles fought and won.

"Honey, you of all people should know I care for them more than anything," Lilith murmured, her words an attempt to soothe the rising tension. (Y/n) and Charlie, their two progenies, were her greatest achievements, the culmination of a love that had withstood the eons of Hell's existence.

The walls seemed to absorb the intensity of the argument as Lucifer mocked his wife's claim, a derisive edge to his voice. "I would believe that if you didn’t say, 'we don’t want you here,'" he sneered, his words dripping with sarcasm.

Outside the room, in the echoing hall, Charlie found herself caught in the maelstrom of her parents' discord. Her father's outburst struck her with an unusual force, for such vehemence was a rare occurrence in the Morningstar household. Her mother's apparent absent-mindedness towaed their youngest sibling, (Y/n), added complexity to the unfolding drama.

The parental strategy, harshness as a means of fostering strength, came to light in Lucifer's words. Hell was chaotic, but even in disorder, responsibilities lingered. Unfortunately, (Y/n) seemed to be the collateral damage in a plan designed to mold them into a resilient force.

“We are supposed to be tough, not assholes to them,” Lucifer's stern voice continued, challenging Lilith's methods.

“I know, I know… I might’ve been a little too harsh—” Lilith attempted to explain, but her words were cut short by Lucifer's interjection.

“A little?” he scoffed, emphasizing the inadequacy of her acknowledgment.

"But it was for their own benefit. Think strategically here. Our (Y/n) is an enigma. We know they’re strong, but being cooped up here would make them exactly like the rest of Hell's noble trash," Lilith concluded, her words carrying a hint of an unspoken plan. As she finished, she reached out, grabbing her husband's hand, a subtle gesture of unity despite their conflicting methods.

However, hidden beneath the surface, Lilith's intentions remained a mystery, a narrative that would unfold with time. The Morningstar family dynamics were far from conventional, and the fate of the forgotten child, (Y/n), seemed to be a puzzle piece that could alter the very fabric of Hell's existence.

“I hope you’re thinking rationally. If anything happens, we are pulling them out immediately,” Lucifer's stern warning hung in the air, the gravity of the situation reflected in his authoritative tone.

In the hallway, Charlie stood, tears welling up in her eyes. The concern expressed by her parents struck a chord in her heart, even as (Y/n)'s departure unfolded in a way that left a bitter taste in familial bonds. The Morningstar family, with its peculiar powers and mysteries, stood at the center of a tumultuous storm that could reshape the very foundations of Hell.

Stepping out of the cannibal colony, the stench of decay still lingered in the air, a grim reminder of the grotesque spectacle you had witnessed. The sight of demons feasting on each other was a nauseating experience, a repulsive dance of savagery that left an indelible mark on your psyche.

The transition from the macabre scene to the open streets felt surreal, as if you had crossed a threshold into a dimension where the boundaries between horror and reality blurred. Earthborn citizens moved about unashamedly, engaged in their daily routines in the twisted, chaotic tapestry that was Hell.

The urge to run away clawed at the edges of your consciousness. The grotesque scenes behind you urged a desperate need for escape. Yet, with every step you took, the reality of your surroundings pressed upon you. The chances to flee presented themselves like fleeting shadows, each second offering an opportunity to vanish into the abyss.

Beside you, the deer-like creature, the infamous Radio Demon, remained an enigma. His motives and intentions shrouded in mystery, he had neither encourage nor discourage your departure. His silence on the matter only added to the ambiguity of your predicament.

You shook your head in an attempt to dispel the mounting exasperation. Running away from the Radio Demon seemed like a rational choice, yet a voice within you questioned the feasibility of such an escape. What reason did you truly have to flee? Was it the instinctive fear of the infamous reputation he carried or an unspoken acknowledgment of the power he wielded?

The man beside you, though hardly recognizable as a man in the conventional sense, bore the weight of a fearsome reputation. Known for materializing out of thin air and instigating terror, his presence in Hell was synonymous with chaos. The stories of his sweeping massacres, leaving thousands in his wake, painted a portrait of a formidable and unpredictable force.

A curious creature indeed, one that you instinctively knew not to provoke. Falling on his bad side seemed like a dire prospect, a potential journey into the depths of torment. As the unsettling reality of your surroundings sank in, you grappled with the dichotomy of wanting to escape the horrors and the inexplicable allure that held you tethered to the enigmatic Radio Demon.

"What is this? Did Betty Boop get lost?" The cutting remark pierced through the air, drawing your attention to a feline-like demon gracefully approaching. The streets were alive with the unsettling sounds of demonic chatter, and a few other creatures sauntered past, their cackles echoing in the oppressive atmosphere.

The cat-figure's comment seemed to reduce the intricate elegance of your 1930s-era attire to a mere caricature of Betty Boop's iconic style. Yet, you resisted the urge to take offense. The choice of clothing was a deliberate nod to a bygone era, a personal expression of style that transcended the realm of mere imitation. You took a moment to glance down at your ensemble, contemplating if it truly warranted such commentary.

Never having ventured beyond the confines of the castle, criticism had been a foreign concept to you. The unforgiving eyes of Hell, however, presented a stark contrast to the insulated world you once knew. It made you ponder the subjective nature of style, an aspect you had never considered amidst the relentless demands of royal life.

"Aw, did we hit a nerve on you? Poor baby is going to cry?" jeered one of the random lackeys, the disdain dripping from their words like venom. The barbed remarks began to irk you, a gnawing discomfort that intensified with each passing moment. The first day outside the castle walls had transformed into a baptism by fire, with seemingly everyone taking a jab at your newfound vulnerability.

Turning your gaze toward Alastor, you found him unaffected, his closed-eyed smile unwavering. It begged the question – was he accustomed to the relentless scrutiny of the town's residents, or did he command a level of respect that rendered such provocations inconsequential? The enigmatic Radio Demon continued his unhurried stroll, seemingly unperturbed by the tumultuous scene.

As you grappled with these thoughts, a realization struck. You, who knew so much about Alastor, had never considered the potential consequences of his infamous reputation. Was he, too, a target in this volatile ecosystem? His status as a living, breathing murder machine, notorious for sweeping through Hell with deadly efficiency, raised an intriguing paradox. Why hadn't opportunistic demons exploited their knowledge of him for personal gain? The absence of information about Alastor seemed to deepen the mystery surrounding him.

Amidst your musings, the main demon from before voiced her frustration with a profanity-laced declaration. Clearly annoyed by the lack of attention she was receiving, she sought to reclaim the spotlight. The ever-growing chorus of chaos in Hell continued, an intricate symphony of malevolence that now included the relentless pursuit of the "pussy posse."

Turning on your heels, you were met with a chilling sight: the main demon from the group had conjured an ominous orb in her hand, a harbinger of chaos ready to be unleashed upon you. A quick glance toward the unflappable Radio Demon revealed that he remained nonchalant, seemingly indifferent to the impending threat.

Deciding that enough was enough, you steeled yourself for what was to come. The orb surged forward, gaining momentum, but in a split second, your eyes transformed into a radiant set of glowing velvet. The ethereal light intercepted the orb's trajectory, halting it in its tracks and dissolving it into nothingness between you and the aggressive demon.

"Looks like someone grew a pair of balls! Ha, maybe avoiding is what makes you special," she spat, her disdain evident. The audacity of her arrogance irked you. In Hell, such egotism was commonplace, but her unwarranted aggression struck a nerve. People like her, quick to provoke and revel in chaos, were the very reason you couldn't tolerate the denizens of this infernal realm. It was your first encounter with the lower class, and it was proving to be an eye-opening initiation.

"Lose your self-loathing and get over yourself," you retorted with a dismissive glance. The three demons across from you seemed taken aback, confusion etched on their faces. But you weren't about to let their insolence slide.

Holding the leader of the trio to the forefront, you locked eyes with her, delivering a cutting blow. "If you peaked in high school, you don't have to spread the word. We could smell how used you are from across the seven rings." The smugness on her face dissolved into instant rage, perhaps a taste of the humility she sorely needed.

She growled in frustration, and in a mockingly theatrical gesture, you magically sealed her mouth shut before continuing your lecture. "Such a potty mouth for a stray kitten. I'm sure hitting your nerves might be something I'm inclined to do to teach you some etiquette." The trio, now writhing in pain, lay on the ground, a consequence of your control over their nerve endings.

As you reflected on the situation, you questioned whether you were becoming a hypocrite, engaging in the very provocations you despised. Yet, in your defense, you weren't instigating fights; you were merely responding to the blatant disrespect thrown your way.

Alastor's voice, resonant and amused, chimed in from behind you, breaking the tension. In seconds, you released the trio, and they scattered like frightened mice. Attempting to explain yourself, you found it challenging, realizing a pattern emerging whenever you tapped into your newfound powers – a humbling force that seemed to be shaping your experience in Hell.

"I swear I'm not usually like this," you stammered, hating the fact that Alastor's towering figure loomed over you. The peculiar genetics that rendered everyone seemingly gigantic in comparison was a constant source of annoyance.

"On the contrary! This little spunk of yours makes you more of a dime," Alastor laughed, the eerie sound echoing through the chaotic streets. "Though we might have to work on your little temper." Taking your arm in his, he continued, "I crave the shiniest bits of entertainment down in this world, and you are giving me exactly that!"

Raising a skeptical brow, you couldn't help but question the concept of being entertainment in a realm as twisted as Hell. "I better not be some joke to you," you asserted, your body enveloped in a glowing haze in seconds.

"Oh, my dear, far from it! I am more enamored by your..." Alastor paused for effect, "charisma! Such a thing is simply irresistible to simply pass up." The compliment, unexpected from the notorious Radio Demon, left you questioning his motives. Was he to be an ally, or was this just the beginning of a more complex entanglement in the web of Hell's politics?

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hangmansgbaby · 1 year

Note

Hi!!! Can I request a one shot where reader is mav’s daughter/Bradley’s “sister” but she doesn’t have a good relationship w either because she’s always been in Bradley’s shadow. Instead of her moving around w MAV she was sent to boarding school and Bradley always says that Mav just didn’t want to deal w her and things like that. Reader and Jake are dating (bonding over daddy issues lol) and it’s apt of angst between Mav Bradley and reader and fluff between jake and reader 😭

Always Darling | 1 | J.Seresin

Summary: No one was prepared for what was going to happen walking into the Hard Deck that day. Maverick wasn’t prepare to see in daughter and nephew for the first time in 20 years nor the memories seeing them would bring up. Bradley wasn’t prepared to see the girl he saw as a little sister, let alone see her all over Hangman. Willow was not prepared to see both of them in class that next morning, let alone how small she’d feel like she was back in perfect Bradley Bradshaw’s shadow all those years ago. But when she finally confronts him? Their mission may be in jeopardy.

Pairings: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x OC!Willow "Vixen" Seresin, brief mentions of Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x OC Daughter!Willow "Vixen" Seresin and Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x OC God Sister!Willow "Vixen" Seresin

Warnings: angst, fluff, daddy issues

Note: none :)

Apr 2024 note: I did end up updating this into an OC as I dont write my series as a reader insert anymore.

Word count: 1.4k

Masterlist | Always Darling Masterlist

"What do we have here?" Hangman shouts smugly. "If it ain't Phoenix!" Hangman leans against the pool table as the Phoenix walks up to him.

“I missed you!” Willow hugs her.

“I missed you too.”

"And here I thought we were special, Coyote. Turns out the invite went to anyone." Willow elbows her boyfriend's ribs, walking straight back over to the table.

"Fellas, this here's Bagman." Phoenix introduces him to the boys behind her.

"Hangman."

"Whatever." Phoenix smiles sarcastically. "You're looking at the only naval aviator on active duty with a confirmed air-to-air kill."

"Stop." Hangman acts humbled, causing Willow to laugh.

"Mind you, the other guy was in a museum piece from the Korean War."

"Cold War. Different wars, same century."

"Not this one." Willow smiles, pulling the pool cue from Coyote’s hands.

"Who are your friends?" Coyote asks.

"Payback."

"Fanboy." There's a brief pause before he questions, "Who’s she?”

"Vixen.“ Jake answers, pulling her around the table to stand in front of him. He positions her to where her back is against his chest. “My beautiful girlfriend.” Jake kisses her temple as she laughs, pulling away from him.

"Hey Coyote." Phoenix greets.

"Hey."

"Who's he?" Phoenix asks.

"Who's who?" Coyote questions before the attention is turned to the man sitting in the barstool nearby.

"When did you get in?" Coyote asks.

"Oh, I've been here the whole time."

"Man's a stealth pilot." Hangman chuckles.

"Literally." Coyote chimes in.

"Weapons system officer, actually."

"With no sense of humor." Hangman sighs, handing Phoenix his pool cue, walking to the bar.

"What do they call you? Willow questions.

"Bob.”

"No your callsign." Payback asks.

"Bob."

"Bob Floyd? You're my new backseater? From Lemoore?"

"Looks like it. Yeah." Bob nods.

"Nine ball, Bob." Phoenix hands him the pool cue. "Rack'em." She takes the extended cue from Willow who walks after her boyfriend.

“Penny my dear. I’ll have 4 beers on the old timer.”

“Better be getting one for me too.” Willow bounces up to the bar top.

“I could never forget my best girl.” Jake’s southern drawl flutters out. Willow leans into his side as Penny returns with their drinks.

“Hey Willow! You back too?” Penny questions, wiping down the bar as they pick up the bottles.

“Yea. How have you been?” Willow smiles.

“Good, ya know I just saw-“

“Willow?” Willow glances behind Penny to see none other than her father sitting on the other side of the bar.

“Maverick.” She nods curtly.

“Sweetheart-“ Maverick tries but she shuts him down.

“Don’t. Not here.” She shakes her head, turning away from the bar. “Let’s go Jake.”

"Bradshaw!" Phoenix calls. "Is that you?" Willow snaps her head around.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” She groans. The pornstache and tacky Hawaiian shirt caught her eye.

"This is how I find out your stateside?"

"Yeah, I just thought I'd surprise you." Bradley smirks, walking up to the pool table just in time for Phoenix to pull back on the pool cue causing Bradley to double over in pain from the impact.

"I guess I surprised you back." Phoenix says, turning around.

"It's good to see you." Bradley smiles, as he stands up.

"Good to see you too."

"Bradshaw, as I live and breathe." Hangman says, returning from the bar. He hands out the beers he brought back before removing the pool cue from Bob's hands.

"Hangman. You look good." Rooster nods at him, already annoyed.

"Well, I am good, Rooster. Real good. In fact, I am too good to be true." Hangman answers looking around at the group. Willow groans, sitting in one of the barstools nearby.

"So, anybody know what this special detachment is all about?" Coyote asks.

"No, mission's a mission. They don't confront me. What I want to know: Who's gonna be team leader? And which one of y'all has what it takes to follow me?" Hangman says, making a couple shots on the pool table.

"Hangman, the only place you'll lead anyone is an early grave." Rooster retorts.

"Well, anyone who follows you is just gonna run out of fuel." Willow snarks.

Hangman leans against the pool table. "But that's just you ain't it, Rooster? You're snug on that perch, waiting for just the right moment, that never comes." Hangman says, stopping when he is inches away from Bradley's face. "I love this song." He smiles, walking away.

"Well he hasn't changed." Phoenix says.

"Nope." Bradley eyes Willow, offering her a smile. She just scoffs and walks towards the door.

“Darlin, where are you going?” Jake calls, pulling her to a stop.

“I…” she struggles with the words, hearing the piano radiate through the room. “Fuck.” She groans, glancing behind Jake as Bradley starts singing. “Can we just go home? Please?”

“Yea, baby of course. Let me go pay off our tab. I’ll meet you at the truck.”

“Okay,” Willow nods, quickly walking out of the Hard Deck.

“Willow! Wait up!”

Willow glances behind her to see her father following behind her. “No. I’m not doing this with you now.”

“Willow, come on. You can’t still be mad.”

“You sent me to boarding school!”

“You were a trouble stu-“

“Right, troubled.” Willow scoffs, laughing lightly. “I just wanted my dad to see me. Treat me just like he did perfect little Bradley Bradshaw.”

“I didn’t treat you any differently.” Pete defends.

“Oh really? ‘Bradley’s going to state champs,’ ‘Bradley got straight A’s,’ Bradley this and Bradley that!” Willow shouts. “But did I get any praise? No! I get one B and immediately it’s ‘well when Bradley took that class!’ I am so sick of you comparing us! He’s not even your son!”

“He’s been through a lot.” Mav says, but it only makes Willow’s anger worse.

“So have I!” Willow shouts. “I lost everything. Mom! Uncle Goose! Aunt Carole! You! I lost people too!”

“Me?” Mav questions.

“Yes you! You left as soon as you dropped me off at boarding school and never came back!”

“I did what was best for you!” Mav retorts, yelling.

“Yea, whatever helps you sleep at night asshole.” She mutters, turning away from him. “Go back to perfect Bradley.” Mav had since walked away but only to be replaced.

“You think I’m perfect?”

“Piss off Bradshaw! I am not in the mood.” Willow groans, still walking towards Jake’s truck.

“Come on! You seemed to have plenty to say a minute ago.”

“You know what? I am so sick and tired of you thinking you’re better than me!” Willow shouts. “Always telling me how I should feel, or act. You’re nothing but a spoiled ass little orphan who can’t take no for an answer.”

“Same old Willow. I don’t blame your dad for leaving you at that school. You were always too much to handle.”

“Oh that's it!” Willow goes to charge him but is interrupted by Jake walking up.

“Everything alright out here?” Jake asks, jogging up to Willow.

“Yea, let’s just go home.” Willow pulls him with her to the truck, immediately climbing inside.

“You okay?” Jake questions after about 5 minutes, halfway to the condo they rented.

“Yea, just… can we not talk about it?”

“Of course.” Jake smiles, his hand rubbing circles into her thigh.

Willow retreated to the master as soon as Jake parked the truck.

“Darlin?” Jake followed her in. He quickly dropped their things by the door and followed her into the room. “Darlin what’s wrong?”

Willow immediately curled into the bed. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” She sighed, willing herself not to cry.

“That's fine. We can just lay here, okay?” Jake sits on the bed, opening his arms for Willow to slide into him and she does. Her cheek resting in his chest, one arm over his torso while both of his wrapped around her. “You know I love you right?”

“Of course. You know I love you?”

“Always darling.” He plants a kiss on her forehead as she slowly drifts to sleep. “We’ll get through this detachment. Together like everything else.” Be gently kisses her head again before drifting to sleep himself.

2K notes · View notes

rookthorne · 1 year

Text

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐀 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠

Superheroes came in many different shapes and forms. Yours just happened to be a man with dark hair, blue eyes, a warm smile, and scrubs.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ღ Nurse!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ღ 825

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ღ Fluff, comfort, hospital stay, sick fic

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ღ Well, this was cathartic. It was originally just going to be a moodboard and then it turned into a drabble.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ღ Hearing by Sleeping At Last

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ღ @the-slumberparty Week 2 Creation Challenge — Masterlist

𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹𝑴𝑶𝑴𝑬𝑻𝑬𝑹 ღ 𝒂𝒏 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒆𝒎𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆.

𝐀 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

It wasn’t that you wanted to be stuck in a hospital room, no–it was the fact that your body, even after the best of care, still failed to maintain any kind of normalcy.

The constant beeps from the monitors around your bed lulled you into a fitful sleep that ended far too soon with shift change starting. There were hushed voices at your door doing handover and you stirred, shifting in your sleepy daze to look at the small window in your door, only to smile happily at who was looking straight back at you.

Bucky. Your favourite nurse who took care of you every single trip to this dreaded place. He was easily the most charming and handsome fella you’d ever met, and here you were, looking like hot garbage. You cursed whoever was listening for that particular turn of events.

The door opened slowly, allowing the bright lights of the hallway to flood into your dark room. You heard him call goodnight to Wanda, your day nurse, and he entered, smiling happily while he switched a softer light on.

“Hey, doll,” Bucky whispered, walking straight towards your IV pole, a bag of saline in his hand, your charts in the other. “How’s my favourite patient doing?”

“Absolutely fantastic,” you croaked.

Bucky chuckled and moved his hair behind his ear before he leant forwards, penlight in hand. You groaned loudly in protest and Bucky clicked his tongue. “I know it sucks,” he offered, frowning slightly. “But show me those pretty eyes of yours.”

Shock froze you in place and you looked up at him - he was smirking. “You smug asshole,” you grumbled, and Bucky laughed.

A temperature check was next, and for better or for worse, you were still delirious and half asleep. “Alright, your arm, please, madam,” Bucky said, a phoney British lilt to his voice. You pouted, but offered your cannula free hand to him. “Atta girl.”

“Y’know,” you started. “You’re hot.”

The beep of the thermometer echoed in the silence while he just stared at you, a brow raised in amusement. “Am I?”

“Yeah, you are, the thingy,” you gestured at the thermometer in his hand, completely forgetting what it was, “wouldn’t even be able to register how hot you are.”

Bucky snorted and put the thermometer down to record something on your chart. “Remind me to come into your room when you’re this tired, doll. You’re cute when you speak your mind.”

Reality suddenly dawned on you and your eyes widened. “Did I really just say that?”

“You did, yep,” Bucky chuckled.

Your vitals check went smoothly, if you didn’t count the little hiccup of calling your nurse hot. There were no drastic changes which, much to your surprising disappointment, meant you could be discharged home soon, and that meant not seeing Bucky, even in the shitty circumstances.

“How are you, Bucky? Still runnin’ round breakin’ hearts?” You asked around a yawn.

Bucky looked down at you fondly, hidden amongst the cocoon of blankets and pillows. He grabbed hold of the IV line that was attached to the cannula in your hand, and adjusted the speed of the flow. “Nope,” he said. “When I’m not here, I spend my time back in my apartment with my cat. She runs a tight ship.”

“What’s her name?” You asked sleepily, blinking up at him. Bucky went to answer but you hissed in pain when you moved your hand, the long IV line had caught on the bed rail and dislodged the cannula. Saline dripped steadily from the broken connection and you tried in vain to mop it up.

“Oh, doll, hang on,” Bucky rushed, his gloved hands grabbing yours with such gentleness and care. “Let’s fix that up.”

“It’s that damn saline,” you whined. Reattaching a cannula was an annoyance, but having Bucky so close wasn’t so bad - he smelt so comforting, all of your favourite scents rolled into one, and his presence was even more so.

“I know, I know,” Bucky soothed, working away at the dislodged cannula. “Whatever will I do to make it up to you, doll?”

Fuck it, you thought. “Get me a warm blanket and Introduce me to your cat.”

Bucky looked up from your hand, his lips quirked in a knowing smirk and a mischievous glint in his eyes even the low light showed. “Alright,” he said, smoothing down the tape that secured the cannula in place. “That shouldn’t hurt anymore.” Slowly, he stood, but he didn’t let go of your hand.

Embarrassment flooded you and you opened your mouth to backtrack, but a squeeze to your hand stopped you. Bucky was still smirking. “Alpine would love you.”

When you were eventually discharged, a piece of paper with a neat scrawl of, ‘your favourite asshole’ and a phone number was tucked into the pockets of your pants, and you felt like you had landed on the moon.

It paid off to shoot your shot, after all.

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes fluff #navy and roo's sleepover #rookthorne's works #ASWT

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carnivalcarriondiscarded · 6 months

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helloooo have a messy scribble page of oc concepts. unfortunately, im in love and will now proceed to ramble At Length

but before that! rudimentary height chart!

all i know rn is Mairy - the cow - is about the same height as Howdy/Barnaby/Poppy (around 8ft), Hettie & Daisy are in the Wally/Julie/Sally category (around 3ft), and Jesterly is more Frank/Eddie (around 4ft). Derry Drake is fuckoff huge, and Casey is... idk really. tall but not That tall

so. rambles. i... have those, yeah

Mairy Love - she/her - lesbian a gorgeous white/blue cow! originally she was gonna be pink/white, but blue/white is my favorite color combo and honestly? it's dairy colors to me. she's big! she's strong! she's very gentle and sweet but also takes shit from no one, even though she doesn't like confrontation much (unless its playful roughhousing! jokes fly completely over her head! i'm thinking she tends to a lovely orchard of various fruit trees, and probably cultivates some crops for fun as well. maybe seasonal ones? pumpkins for the spooky season, fir trees for those snowy days, etc.

Casey J. Mittens - he/him - aro this orange fella is scaredy cat central! unfortunately for him, he's also curious to a fault! curiosity killed the cat, and he fears the day that rings true for him! he'd rather curl up at home or in a cozy tree, crocheting something cute from one of his many balls of yarn than do anything else. he tries to be a voice of reason, but is too easily convinced otherwise. he's that friend who says "we shouldn't be doing this" as he wholeheartedly assists in the shenanigan in question.

Hettie (currently undecided) - she/her - bi true to her honeybee heritage, Hettie is a florist! she boasts an impressive array of flowers that she tends to like her life depends on it. she's always running around to make sure they're all getting the best care - and she's always checking in on her pals to make sure they're taken care of, too. she's a busy bee who wouldn't know a day's rest if it stung her on the ass! It takes a lot to make her mad, but everybody better watch out when her wings start buzzing

Daisy Hop - she/him - pan i actually created Daisy as a supplementary character for a certain au, but realized i could find a place for her in this little group. i'm thinking he runs a little shop - a roadside stall, more like - where she can both sell her own homemade candy & his friends' stuff! she's the only one in the group that can keep up with Hettie's energy, and even surpass it at times. though unlike Hettie, Daisy knows how to take (and appreciate) a break!

Jesterly - whatever/is/funniest - Derry a menace. they love pranks above all else, oftentimes at the expense of others. he's always up to something and is never not scheming something! there's always Someone to bother! in all honesty she's more like an annoying stray cat that no one can get rid of... and they better not try, or they'll face the wrath of this fool's Very large partner! The jester's cap never comes off, and neither does the mask!

Derry Drake - they/them - Jesterly there's no sugarcoating it - Derry is a big lazy grump! it's almost impossible to get them out of their cave, or off of any place they decide to nap. the only thing that can reliably get them moving is the promise - or prospect - of food. it's a wonder how they've accumulated such a hoard of random things in the back of their cave, seeing as they rarely get up at all. they're incredibly nearsighted and bite first, ask questions later - after all, who knows if the colorful blob in front of them is food or not! better to be safe than hungry!

currently in my mind they have their own little community deep in the woods. Daisy lives in a modified burrow, Maisy has a cute farmhouse, Casey lives in a cozy treehouse, Hettie has a small cottage, and Derry & Jesterly live in a cave. within their community, they share practically everything. want a snack? pluck something from the orchard. need a new pair of mittens? ask Casey! i suppose you could say they're communists <3 (except for Daisy. she won't charge his friends, but anyone else is free game)

Mairy and Hettie have romantic tension, Daisy and Derry are the only ones who can tolerate Jes, Mairy wants Jes dead, Casey is terrified of Derry, Daisy's rapid-fire speech confuses everyone but Hettie, etc. i should make a chart for funsies...

#if i want to get realllly out of my comfort zone #i could talk about how my brain automatically started going 'ok this is how they interact with The Neighbors'#but i think. ill save that for now #listen listen for my whole life ive always kept my fan-ocs expressly separate from canon characters #i either put them far away from the action or in a different point in time entirely #but i can. i can have fun? with this maybe? its just a silly side thing... im playing with dolls...#i have Thoughts...#scribble salad #wh oc #welcome home oc #mairy will sometimes crush Difficult To Crush things to intimidate choice people #she's intimidating and she knows it! she'd rather be nice but sometimes a bitch has to get smacked #mairy: im a pacifist #mairy: *loading shotgun* however-#derry often steals casey's yarn for their own hoard #so casey has to go steal it back (or ask for it. either way derry makes a fuss)#I LOVE THEM. FUCK #i dont need any more ocs please... i already have several hundred...

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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 3 months

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Baby Let the Games Begin

I'll Write Your Name Chapter 3

Roy Kent x Latina!Popstar!Reader

5.1k words

Warnings: Language, drinking, almost-nice moments ruined by Roy being Roy

Roy slouched in his chair and looked over the lineup, trying to focus his attention on Nate and Beard’s ideas after the previous night’s match. His mind kept wandering back to the club, to the lipstick stain he’d washed off his face when he got home way past his bedtime, to the way she’d danced too close to him, to the knowing looks the guys had been giving him all morning.

As his hand absently brushed over his cheek, Dani’s smile filled the doorway. Behind him, a few guys popped their heads in, looking far too eager for an early morning that followed a late night of drinking. “Good morning, Coach!” Dani chirped.

“Hmmph.” Roy nodded in acknowledgement. “Rojas.”

The striker strolled into the office casually, as if mischief wasn’t written all over his face as he eyed his coach. “Did you have a good time last night?”

Roy shrugged. “Fuckin’ guess,” he mumbled, slouching further into his chair. “You?”

“Everyone had a great time.” Dani’s smile grew as he pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket. “In fact, someone had such a great time, she asked if I could give you this.”

The little slip of paper contained numbers- numbers that were already in Roy’s phone, actually. It took Roy a moment to comprehend the looks of awe on his players’ faces and the excitement on Dani’s. Oh, fuck, right.

“Wow.” Roy lifted his eyebrows, giving his best surprised look. “Me? You’re fucking serious?”

Dani’s face softened. “She liked you,” he teased. “It was very obvious. She could not stop smiling after you danced together!”

Roy nodded, praying he looked thrilled enough to satisfy the guys. “Yeah, no, it was fucking cool.” He cleared his throat and stuffed the phone number into a desk drawer. “Guess I’ll give her a call or some shit-”

“Morning, fellas!”

Roy’s heart skipped a beat as he watched Keeley squeeze past the guys to enter the office, wearing a little dress and that big smile of hers, the one that could knock Roy over any day of the week.

“Don’t you lot have training to get ready for?” she teased. As the guys left, all shouting out their congratulations at Roy- as if he did something worth congratulating- she turned her attention to the gruff manager. “Can we chat when you have a second?”

Roy nodded stupidly. “Yeah, yeah, of course.” He nodded to Dani, who was the last to leave. “Thanks again, Rojas. Really.”

Once Dani shot Roy an exaggerated wink and strolled back into the changing room, Keeley whipped out her mobile. “Excellent job last night, Coach.”

She perched on the desk and showed Roy her screen, which featured a photo of Roy and a certain pop princess on the dance floor, huddled close and smiling at each other. If Roy didn’t know any better, he’d think they looked like two people in the early stages of falling in love.

With a small cough into his closed fist, Roy nodded. “Yeah, well. Glad we did a good job or whatever.”

Keeley stuffed her mobile back into her pocket. “Seriously, you two look great together. I was scrolling through some of the comments, and her fans are already obsessing over you. They’ll be calling you ‘Dad’ by the end of the month.”

“Dad?” he repeated, practically spitting the word out. “Why the fuck would they call me Dad?”

“It’s a term of endearment,” Keeley explained with a playful eyeroll. “Sometimes they call her ‘Mum’, and if they like her boyfriend, they call him ‘Dad’. Trust me, you want them to call you that. It means you’ve got their approval. And once you’ve got the fans onboard, the good press will follow.” She gave Roy a friendly little punch, the small touch leaving his skin burning. “Keep up the good work, Roy-o.”

As he watched her leave, Roy sighed to himself. Dad? What the fuck had he signed himself up for?

“D’you want a beer?”

“Sure.” I handed April my credit card. “And bring me a hot dog or something?”

I had dragged April along to my second Richmond game, insisting that I needed someone to chat with while I was supposed to be fawning over Roy Kent. As I waited for her to return with the drinks and snacks, I tugged at the sleeves of the Richmond sweatshirt April had bought for me. This whole thing was weird, so damn weird. My siblings had texted me about the photos of me and Roy Kent at the club- which they had seen thanks to my baby brother’s Google alert on me- and had teased me about my sudden “interest” in soccer. Of course, I’d played coy and said I was just supporting Dani Rojas, that Kent and I had just danced a little, and that he seemed nice. Of course, they didn’t see the way I wrinkled my nose as I texted those things.

Suddenly missing them, I sent a selfie with the pitch behind me, joking that the Dog Track was my new home. As I hit the Send button on our group chat, rousing cheers informed me that the team was coming onto the pitch. I cheered along with everyone else, this time adding some other names to Dani’s, like Colin and Isaac. Jamie Tartt lit up when he saw me, blowing a playful kiss. I waved coolly, keeping an eye out for-

There was that smirk. Roy raised his eyebrows when he saw me, looking pleasantly surprised despite the fact that Keeley had made sure to tell him exactly where I’d be sitting. I leaned back in my seat and raised my hand in greeting, hoping my smile and wink were playful and, more importantly, caught on someone’s camera. Roy tapped two fingers to his temple, saluting me, before turning to his team. I had to give him credit for his acting; from my seat, he almost looked like he was blushing.

“You see your man?” April’s voice was full of teasing as she resumed her seat and handed me a beer.

I rolled my eyes and took a sip before taking the hot dog she offered me. “My man,” I scoffed. “He’s not my man.”

April raised her eyebrows at me. “Not yet,” she hummed quietly. She nudged me. “You two’ve got chemistry. Even at a distance, there was some sort of spark or lightning strike or whatever you want to call it when you looked at each other.” She leaned in close to whisper, “You sure there’s not a real attraction there?”

“Do I need a new assistant?” I hissed, narrowing my eyes at her. She knew I didn’t mean it; it was my way of telling her she had succeeded in getting under my skin, one of her favorite pastimes.

Sure enough, she chuckled and nudged me playfully. “I’m just saying,” she teased. “Believe me, you could do a lot worse.”

I snorted and stole one more glance at the scowling and shouting Roy Kent. “Wanna bet?”

Roy tapped the side of his beer as he stared at the entrance to Ola’s. The team had decided to grab some dinner together after their match, and Dani had invited his friend to join them. The guys were tittering and shooting him what he assumed were supposed to be sly looks, which he repaid with scowls and eyerolls.

Those sly looks only got worse when the door opened and Dani led two women inside. Roy watched as the Greyhounds tripped over each other to re-introduce themselves and ask how the women liked the match. She was pretty fucking affable, Roy noted as she complimented Cockburn on his game-winning goal and laughed at whatever joke Moe Bumbercatch made. He found himself wondering how someone like her, someone who smiled so easily and seemed to have no problem charming a room full of people, could wind up with a reputation like hers, known only for the men she ran around with and the drama her “friends” dragged her into.

Her eyes lit up when she spotted Roy in his huddled little corner, almost bright enough to fool him into believing she was happy to see him. She grabbed the other woman- who Roy now recognized has her personal assistant- by the hand and pulled her away from the Greyhounds, not stopping until she stood in front of Roy, all flirtation with those batting eyelashes and that coy smile.

“Great job today, Coach,” she said with a wink.

Roy leaned back, keenly aware of the eyes that had followed her to his table. “Guess I was right about you being good luck,” he hummed with what he hoped was a flirtatious grin. “Glad you came today.”

“Me too.” She tugged the other woman closer to her. “This is my assistant, April,” she introduced, as if Roy hadn’t met the woman in Keeley’s office that very first day. “April,” she murmured, eyes still on Roy, “this is Roy Kent.”

April smiled and reached out to shake Roy’s hand. “Lovely to meet you.” Her smile turned mischievous. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

A small giggle had Roy’s ears turning red. “Stop,” the popstar whined, sounding like a teenage girl. “Go find a soccer player to flirt with, alright?” She gave April a playful shove before sliding into the seat beside Roy. Her smile remained in place as she leaned in close, looking like she was flirting and murmuring soft enough for just him to hear. “You see the photos of us online?”

Roy cleared his throat and nodded, unable to look directly at her and instead choosing to stare at his beer. “Yeah. Yeah, I saw them.” He took a sip, desperate for something to keep him distracted from how fucking close she was sitting. “Looks like the plan’s working so far.”

Her little hmmph confirmed that she agreed with him. After a moment, she nudged him; Roy’s shoulder practically burned at the contact. “You should probably, I don’t fucking know, talk to me or something?” She raised her eyebrows. “We’re supposed to be into each other, remember?”

With one of his heaving sighs, Roy forced his shoulders to relax as he finally met her gaze, a gaze that was far too attentive. “You… enjoy the game?”

Fucking hell. Was this what the next six months of his life would be like? Awkward small talk with someone who was just as disinterested in him as he was in her? Being two fish in a bowl with eyes on them all the time? Tonight, at Ola’s, it was the Greyhounds; soon it would be all of Nelson Road, and all their friends and acquaintances, and the fucking paparazzi, and all the people who’d be attending her highly anticipated European tour in the summer. Not to mention the very real possibility that one of them could find someone they were actually interested in (Roy had seen the way Jamie eyed her when she walked in), and then they’d be in a whole new mess of ending the “relationship” and dealing with blurry timelines and drama.

While Roy’s mind raced, she nodded, all at ease. “I did, actually, even though I don’t watch soccer very much.” After wrinkling her nose, she paused, eyeing him carefully, as if debating her next words. “Think I could take a picture with you?”

“I’m sorry?” Roy choked out, eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the sudden request.

“A picture,” she repeated slowly, a smidge of impatience dripping from her voice. “Like a selfie. I might not like soccer, but my brothers and nephews are big fans.” She took out her phone and laid it on the table. “And I learned recently that you, Roy Kent, are a pretty big fucking deal. So, if I send them a picture with you, I’ll finally be the world’s coolest sister and tía.”

Roy couldn’t help the snort that flew out of his nose. “Being one of the biggest popstars in the fucking world isn’t enough?”

She cracked a small smile. “Nope. To my brothers, I’m still just the little princess who always cried to get what she wanted.” She picked her phone back up. “So, are we taking a selfie, or do I need to get the waterworks going?”

That was… well, that was kind of funny, Roy decided. Funny enough that he didn’t argue with her, at least. Instead, he shrugged and leaned in close, reminding himself that he was supposed to look like he was interested in this woman, after all. “Take the fucking picture then,” he grumbled, mostly good-naturedly.

Almost as if she understood that this was as friendly a response as Roy Kent could give, she opened her camera. Roy was amused at the image on the screen; she had a nice smile, he admitted to himself. It was the same one he saw on album covers, the same one she offered the Greyhounds, the same one she flashed the paparazzi. Just cheesy enough to be endearing, while still holding something glamorous. Looking at the image of that smile, Roy didn’t have much choice but to give his own closed grin, coming out cool and cocky-looking, the way one would expect a retired athlete to smile with a beautiful popstar.

She quickly snapped a couple of pictures before lowering her phone, chuckling as she sent one to what Roy assumed was a family group chat. “Thanks,” she murmured, giving Roy a nod. “Like I said, they’re finally almost impressed with me.”

The gears in Roy’s head turned for a moment. “Could you send me that?” he heard himself ask. When she tilted her head at him, he cleared his throat. “My niece, she’s… a fan. And if I show her that picture, she’s going to absolutely lose her shit.”

“Anything to make a kid lose their shit.” She quickly tapped away on her mobile; Roy’s own phone buzzed a moment later. “She your only niece?” When Roy only stared at her blankly, she shrugged. “Might as well learn some shit about each other, if we’re going to be dating.”

“Right,” Roy breathed, again noting how fucking close she was sitting. “Yeah, she’s my only niece. It’s just me, my sister, and her.” After a moment, he realized she was waiting for him to ask her a question. “And you’ve got… brothers?”

She nodded, relaxing into her seat, shoulder grazing Roy’s arm. “Four brothers and a sister,” she added. “I’ve got one younger brother, everyone else is older. And I’ve got…” She counted on her fingers for a moment. “Eight nieces and nephews. My oldest niece just turned fifteen this year. We’re having her quinceañera this summer.”

“That’s the big fucking party, right? I remember Dani going back to Mexico for his cousin’s birthday, it looked like a fucking wedding.”

Her raised eyebrows looked almost impressed. “Yeah. I’m pretty excited to go home for it.” She paused, thoughtfulness crossing her face. “We’ll probably still be together,” she murmured. Her eyes were unreadable.

“Keeley’ll probably make me go then,” Roy grumbled. “Fucking hate flying all the way to the States.”

“And we’ll have to go to all the way to Los Angeles,” she added with a dry chuckle. “Eleven hours stuck on a plane together, there and back. Can you imagine anything worse?”

Roy’s eyes flittered across the restaurant to Keeley, who sat cozily with Rebecca, giggling and chattering. His chest ached, reminding him that, if Keeley asked, he’d spend twenty-four hours on a plane with this woman, no hesitation. He’d do fucking anything for Keeley.

With a sigh, he shook his head. “No,” he agreed. “I fucking can’t.”

“Crown and Anchor,” I mumbled to myself as I read the sign over the pub Roy had suggested we meet at. Keeley has urged us to go ahead with our first “public outing”; she’d left it up to us, but suggested something low-key enough to look real, as if we weren’t trying to catch people’s attention. After I offered to let him pick the spot, Roy had texted me the address of some pub not too far from the stadium; apparently, he’d be coming straight from work.

Sure enough, when I found him at the bar, he was wearing what I assumed was his ‘coaching uniform’: Greyhounds shirt, track pants that hugged his thighs, and sneakers. He nodded when he saw me, hand wrapped around the beer he was already half finished with.

Ignoring the stares of a small group seated at a table behind Roy, I leaned into Roy, relieved that he immediately wrapped me in a one-armed hug- a casual, friendly gesture, perfect for two people just starting a romance. He took my arm to help me onto the stool beside him and gestured to the barkeep, an older woman who eyed me carefully.

“You’re-” She stopped, raising her eyebrows at Roy. “Good for you, Roy Kent.” She leaned on the counter, offering a friendly smile. “What can I get you, love?”

I eyed Roy’s half-finished drink. “I’ll have what he’s having.”

With a smile, the barkeep quickly poured me my own beer and placed it in front of me. Roy absently tapped his glass to mine with a small clink! before taking a long drink.

“Tough day of training?” I teased before sipping my own glass; shit, would I ever get used to drinking beer that wasn’t ice-cold?

He shrugged, eyes focused on the amber liquid in his glass. “Long is more like it,” he grumbled. “Especially now that the idiots are smirking and winking at me all the time, giving me looks like they fucking know something.” Roy narrowed his eyes at me, almost playfully. “It’s all your fault, you know.”

“My apologies,” I huffed, trying not to laugh at his stony expression. My eyes landed on the darts on one end of the bar; Roy’s gaze followed.

“Want to play?” he asked, chugging the last of his beer and motioning for the barkeep to pour him another one. “Keeley said shit like playing games looks cute in photos.”

The word cute did not seem like one that should be coming out of Roy Kent’s mouth, but I ignored how humorous it sounded. “I don’t know how to play,” I admitted. “We used to have a dart board when I was a kid, but after my brother got hit in the arm, my mom made my dad take it down.”

Roy stared at me for a moment, studying me. “I could teach you.” He shrugged. “If you like.”

I glanced at the dart board. “Why the fuck not?”

With a hmmph, Roy grabbed our beers and led me over to the game, setting our drinks on a nearby table before grabbing the darts. He handed me one, careful not to let our fingers brush. “Go on,” he said, nodding to the dart board. “Want to see what I’m fucking working with.”

I stared at the dart in my hand, wincing at the embarrassment I was about to endure and preparing myself for the expletives and mockery that would surely come out of Roy Kent’s mouth. Finally, trying to reach back over twenty years in my memory to the last time I had thrown a dart, I reached back and gave what I hoped was an acceptable toss; I groaned when I saw the dart bounce off the wall far from the target and fall pathetically to the ground.

Roy retrieved the dart wordlessly and returned, mouth in a straight line as he stared at me harshly. “You’re the one that fucking hit your brother, aren’t you?”

Setting my face as expressionless as his, I folded my arms. “No comment.”

A smirk almost broke through. “Your publicist has you well-trained,” he quipped as he handed me the dart. “Better show you how it’s done before you fucking kill someone.” His eyes zeroed in on the dart in my hand for a moment before he cleared his throat. “Here, stand like this.”

Roy stood next to me, motioning for me to adjust my feet. After I mirrored his stance, he turned to stand behind me, hesitating before taking my hand, the one I held the dart in. When I turned my face to his, he was gazing at me with raised eyebrows.

“This alright?” he whispered.

I nodded, holding back the urge to gulp. “Anything for the cameras,” I joked, forcing my body to relax against his. “Get ready to trend on Twitter, Kent.”

With a hmmph, Roy pressed his chest to my back, his body warm and weirdly comfortable, and lifted my hand. “And you pull back like this,” he breathed. “And…” He moved my arm in a swift motion. “… Release.”

The dart hit the board only about an inch away from the dead center.

“Holy shit!” I squeaked, pretending I didn’t see the young couple in the corner of the pub pointing their phones in our direction. “Roy!” I jumped into his arms, acting as though learning to throw a dart was some lifelong dream.

“What the fuck are you-”

“In the corner,” I hissed in his ear. “They’re recording us. Act cute.”

Grunting, Roy wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug that lifted me off my feet, keeping his hands on my hips once he set me down. “Think you could do it on your own now?” He furrowed his brows and lowered his voice. “Or should we do that again?”

I thought for a moment. “Probably one more time,” I said quietly. “For the camera.”

“For the camera,” Roy agreed, letting me go so he could grab another dart to hand to me. “Right, so stand like before…”

Once again, his chest felt warm pressed against me, his heartbeat thumping against my back. When he took my hand in his, I observed how large his hand looked around mine, realizing I’d be holding it a lot in the coming weeks. Just like before, Roy pulled my hand back and guided it, instructing me when to let go. This time, my dart landed dead center.

In spite of myself, I turned to Roy with a giant grin. “Fucking bullseye, Kent!”

He wore a crooked smirk and held up his hand for a high-five. “Not bad,” he hummed as I slapped his palm. “Ready to try it on your own?”

Playing darts with Roy Kent wasn’t the worst way to spend an evening, I conceded. We sipped beer and took turns throwing darts, with Roy giving me pointers now that I was throwing on my own; he even admitted that I was a quick learner. In between throws, we’d glance up at the television playing soccer highlights; Roy mumbled about the men running around on the screen, telling me a bit about the players he knew, the ones he tolerated and the ones he hated. I listened carefully, realizing that, if I was going to be “dating” a soccer legend, I should know a thing or two about the game. I should also try to start calling it “football”, I thought to myself.

“Alright,” I declared after posting a photo to my Instagram, per Keeley's instructions. “I’m going to the restroom, when I get back, we play to see who’s paying the tab.”

It was the closest thing I’d seen to a full smile all night. “You’re fucking on. And I’m ordering another pint, because you’re paying.”

I rolled my eyes playfully and waved as I headed towards the restrooms. Shit, I thought to myself. I’m actually enjoying myself.

As I washed my hands before returning to the bar, I tilted my head at my reflection. Tonight was kind of fun, I admitted. Maybe, just maybe, Roy Kent and I could actually be friends. Maybe these next few months of fake-dating didn’t have to be complete torture. Maybe we’d have a good time hanging out and spending time together. Maybe-

Despite all my grumblings about this plan, I grinned at Roy as I approached him at the dartboard, where he leaned against the wall and frowned at his phone. When he didn’t look up, I cleared my throat.

“Ready to lose?” I teased.

Finally, Roy looked up at me. “Hmm?” After a moment, he shook his head and downed the rest of his beer. “I should head home,” he grumbled, slamming his glass onto the table. “Got fucking training in the morning. Early morning training with fucking Tartt.”

I glanced at my watch. “It’s only sev-”

“I said I should head home,” he repeated, wrinkling his nose. “Already paid the tab.” Without another word, he placed his hand on my lower back and steered me out of the pub, pausing only to offer a half-hearted wave to the barkeep, who smiled warmly at us on our way out the door.

“What the fuck, Kent?” I hissed as we stood on the curb in front of a giant black car. “Did something happen? I thought-”

The man growled and fished a set of keys out of his pocket. “I’m fucking old,” he muttered. “I have a bedtime on worknights. Get used to it.” He nodded to the monstrous vehicle behind him. “D’you need a ride home?”

Resisting the urge to fold my arms across my chest defiantly, I shook my head. “I can walk,” I mumbled. “Or call a car if I get sick of walking.”

“Fine.”

It felt like hours as we stared at each other, Roy’s lips parted as if he were about to speak. Finally, I nodded curtly, trying to keep my own expression relaxed, as if the man hadn’t just done a complete 180 in the time it took me to use the restroom.

“I’m going to kiss your cheek,” I whispered as I took a tiny step towards him. “Since this was a date and all.”

“Fine,” he repeated, leaning towards me.

Just like at the club, my lips brushed against his warm cheek, his beard tickling my face. I flashed him my best smile, the one I usually saved for men I actually liked.

“Goodnight, Kent,” I managed, taking a step back.

He nodded brusquely, not quite meeting my eye. “Goodnight.”

With that, he climbed into his car and drove off, leaving me on the curb with a few questions and a long walk home.

Roy stared at his phone as he walked into the Dog Track, as if he thought that doing so would change the Tweet that had distracted him the night before. While waiting for his “date” to return from the loo, he’d scrolled aimlessly on the app, looking for anything interesting in football news. When he saw the post with two names he knew all too well, his stomach had dropped.

He and Jamie Tartt didn’t have any sort of agreement, per se. But they both seemed to respect each other’s feelings for Keeley ever since the night they showed up on her porch and were properly scolded. The three of them had formed a close friendship, one that seemed to center mostly around doting on Phoebe and avoiding any mentions of dating and romance. Sure, Roy knew that Keeley and Jamie hung out sometimes, just like Jamie knew Roy and Keeley did the same. But seeing it online, linked with the idea of the two getting back together, had Roy gritting his teeth as he entered the already chatty changing room.

Despite knowing this conversation was better suited for a pub with some beers than their place of work- where Roy was Jamie’s boss- Roy made his way over to Jamie, who looked up at the manager with something close to awkwardness on his pretty face.

“Mornin’, Coach,” Jamie hummed.

Roy had cancelled their training that morning; Jamie was smart enough to know why.

“You two back together?” Roy’s voice was low and even. It scared Jamie and the eavesdropping Greyounds more than any shouting and swearing would.

Jamie furrowed his brows and shook his head gingerly. “’Course not.” He nodded to Roy’s phone, its screen opened to a photo of the two exes sharing a dessert. “Just friends, Coach. She had some brand deal she thought I’d be interested in, I was hungry, so we grabbed a bite. I promise, I’d tell ya if anything was going to happen.” He paused, pouting a little. “Besides, you’ve moved on, haven’t ya? Saw some photos of you two playing darts and shit.”

Oh. Fuck. Roy shrugged, praying his face was relaxed. “We’re friends,” he mumbled. “Fucking getting to know each other. That’s all.”

“In that case-” Jamie’s bravado returned, reminding Roy of the arrogant prick he’d met when Jamie first came to Richmond. His eyes were bright with teasing, and he did that stupid tongue flick that made Roy want to puke. “Put in a good word for me, yeah?”

Roy couldn’t help scoffing, telling himself it had everything to do with Jamie and nothing to do with the topic at hand. “Why the fuck d’you think she’d be interested in you?”

Tartt’s smirk widened as he winked at his obviously spying teammates. “She said it herself, didn’t she? That boyish look that I like in a man?” He gestured at his own face. “Beautiful and boyish, right here.”

Before Roy could even think, he bared his teeth at the striker, not aware of the way his fists were clenched at his sides. “Maybe she’s done with boys,” he all but spat. “Maybe she wants a real man.”

Jamie threw his hands up in surrender, eyes widening as he took in Roy’s reddening face. “Oi, Coach,” he chuckled, clearly trying to ease the tension. “I was just teasing. If you like the girl, just say so. You don’t have to go all caveman on me.”

All eyes in the changing room were on Roy, who took a step back; he hadn’t realized he was practically nose to nose with Tartt. He gave a little nod, not quite meeting the striker’s eye. “Right,” was all he could manage.

Satisfied that he had escaped another love triangle, Jamie gave Roy’s arm a friendly punch. “Now, next time you see her, could you ask about that assistant of hers? What was her name? May? April? She was fucking fit.”

Roy blinked at Jamie, barely registering what he’d just said. Instead, he sulked into his office, wondering where the fuck that little snap had come from. Probably still thinking about Jamie’s dinner with Keeley, he reasoned. That must be it. It had everything to do with Keeley and nothing to do with Jamie- or anyone else, for that matter.

Taglist: @infinetlyforgotten@ladygrey03@book-of-roses@thatonedogwithablog@misshall14@wibblywobblyvampywolfystuff@akornsworld@itswhateveripromise@purecinnamonextract@oceanncurrent@dearvoidgoodnight@hopefulromances@respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog@hotleaf-juice@emmy2811@captainorbust-blog@preciousbabypeter@shion-ah@royalestrellas @eugene-emt-roe @littleesilvia @teenwolf01 @sisinever @yagotgames @queen-of-the-downtown-scene

#roy kent i'll write your name #roy kent iwyn #he's here he's there he's every fucking where #roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent fanfic #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent imagine #ted lasso fanfiction

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slasherfckr · 11 months

Note

Hii!!!

You know some people have alligator to be they pet right?

So I wonder how the slashers react S/O have an alligator pet?

Bo Sinclair must, and whatever slashers you want to write.

Thank you and hope you have a good day!!

Omg I absolutely love this ❤️ If they weren't wild, dangerous as hell and illegal to own, I'd definitely have a long teefer toofer (what my family calls Gators and Crocodiles. Weird I know 😭)

----------------------------------

Only doing Bo Sinclair and Jason Voorhees for this right now. Maybe I'll come back and do some more slashers cause honestly I need to do Michael Myers' reaction to a damn Gator 🤣

Various Slashers x S/O who brings home a gator

Bo Sinclair

"I'm home!" Bo called out. No one answered. He didn't expect Vincent to say anything but he did at least expect you to come up running to him and tell him about your day, even though nothing in particular ever happens.

He headed to the bedroom you two shared and as he got closer, he could hear you giggling like a little schoolgirl from behind the door.

"Hey, why didn't you-" Bo stopped right in his tracks as he opened the door and found you on the floor in the middle of the room with a juvenile alligator next to you.

You turned your head to him and gave him a big smile. "Bo! Look what I found while I was out with Lester!" You gently grabbed your new friend and held him up towards Bo.

"I named him Tim. He really enjoys belly scratches! Can we keep him? Please?" You looked up at him, trying to give him the most pathetic puppy eyes you could. Bo only sighed and pinches the bridge of his nose in response.

"Now, ya know I love ya. But this is possibly the most stupidest thing I've ever seen you do. You do realize this thing could absolutely kill you when it gets bigger right?"

As he said this, you realized he was right. Disappointed, you stood up with Tim and went to go out to put him back where you found him but not before Bo put a hand on your shoulder.

"Hold on I wasn't finished. I don't mind if ya kept....Tim. He seems like a very fine gator. But we both know Vincent would most likely turn him into a pair of shoes or something, yeah? How about we find a spot somewhere in Ambrose where Vincent won't find him?"

Your eyes lit up and your smile returned to your face. If you didn't have Tim in your arms, you would give Bo the biggest hug you could give. So instead you settled for something else

"Thank you Bo!" You planted a kiss on his cheek as you thanked him.

-----------

Jason Voorhees

You peeked into the window of the cabin you shared with Jason. You didn't see him anywhere. Taking this as a good sign, you carefully opened the door and lugged in the box you were carrying.

Not taking any chance that Jason could be upstairs, you made your way to the small basement and went down. You found a small little area and put the box down. Opening it, you found your new little friend asleep.

Smiling, you gently rubbed the top of his head with the side of your finger as to not wake him. Or her. You couldn't tell the sex of your new alligator. They weren't very big but definitely weren't a baby. Maybe 4 feet long? You'd have to measure and weight the poor thing later.

You were on your way home from town when you spotted the gator on the side of the road. As far as you knew, Alligators weren't found in New Jersey. Poor fella must have been abandoned by someone who thought they could handle an exotic pet like this you figured. You just hope Jason wouldn't mind this new addition to the household.

You got your friend set up with a little warming area and took some raw meat from the fridge down for them. It took a while but you managed to find a small tub like container in the basement for them and filled it with luke warm water. After setting your new friend up, you needed to find Jason.

You first searched the cabin and turned up with nothing. You figured this would be the outcome as he typically wandered the campgrounds during the day, looking for trespassers. The sun was setting so you knew he'd be back shortly. You decided to go back to your gator friend and keep them company until then.

. . .

You didn't realize how long you were down in the basement for but it was long enough for you to accidentally doze off on the spare couch downstairs and to have Jason come home. You were woken up when Jason had come down looking for you. He's seen a lot of things but he never expected to find a 4 foot gator creeping up on his sleeping S/O in the basement of the cabin.

He immediately went over and picked you up bridal style, doing his best to avoid the animal in the basement completely.

"Jason? What are you doing? Put me back down there!" He ignored your request and set you on the couch upstairs. Your eyes widened when you saw him grab his machete and head towards the basement door.

"Woah, woah, woah! Hold on!" Jason stopped and turned to you. You got up and ran to him. You held your hand out for the machete.

"Hand it over. I can't let you hurt Chompers." Jason hesitated but he eventually gave up his weapon, tilting his head in confusion in the process.

"Chompers...You named it?" He signed. You nodded as you took his hand and led him down to the basement. Chompers was back in their little corner, chomping away at some leftover meat you had put down there earlier. You let go of Jason's hand so you could go and sit with your scaly friend.

"See? Friend. I found them on the side of the road coming home from town. I couldn't just leave them alone, Jason. Can we keep them? Just until we can find a sanctuary or something that'll take 'em? They aren't native here. They won't survive in the wild on their own."

You could see Jason mentally debating this. It seemed like forever before he gave a big huff and nodded. You jumped to your feet and hugged him tightly.

"Thank you! I'm sure you two will become good friends too!" You smiled up at him. He hugged back and patted your head before going back upstairs.

#slasher fucker #house of wax #slasher x reader #bo sinclair #friday the 13th #jason voorhees x reader #jason voorhees

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blingblong55 · 11 months

Text

Glitch- Simon 'Ghost' Riley x M! Reader, Vladimir Makarov

I was wondering if I could have Ghost x Male Reader with some Makarov, like Makarov likes reader and maybe scare the shit out of Ghost cause reader get captured

Based on a request:

M!Reader, established relationship, some angst (not really), fluff?,

You and Simon have been in a secret relationship for a few years now. It started off as you two being just colleagues, to him asking you to hang out with him. And now years later he is super happy you are his boyfriend. He adored the idea of always having you around. During missions he would always make sure you were safe. It was time for another mission, this time it was in Russia. It would just be 141 and you, nothing too big.

One day as you walked around a small village, Makarov saw you. You in some military uniform, a balaclava and your weapon. You stared at him as he passed by, he was mesmerized by you, your eyes so beautiful and so expressive. You were walking with Soap that day. Ghost had ordered you two to go get some food.

''That fella looks sketchy, don't ya think?'' you looked back and met with Makarov still staring at you.

''All Russians look sketchy, dead eyes, and that accent.'' Soap chuckled as he saw you turn around.

'' Yer little boyfriend might get jealous.'' he leaned in, which caused you to look at him. ''how do you-''

''please, the stares, the fact I saw you two kiss and also how he is more nicer to ya, I just knew you two were dating.'' he adds.

''does everyone else know?''

''yes and no, Ghost makes everyone shut up about it. He likes ya...really does.''

''how do you know?''

''He always blushes when you take your mask off, under all that eye paint, it's still noticeable. His voice is so soft towards you, it was bound to happen. S'nice to know the L.T. has someone.''

You smile taking all of that as a compliment. Simon Riley, the once cold hearted man, and now there he was waiting for his boyfriend to make it back to base. He had a picture of you two, you wearing his skull balaclava and he yours, you with a peace sign while he flipped the camera off.

Days after seeing Makarov, you were sent to look around the small village, no one could go with you, so you walk the same street as before, alone. Thats when Makarov saw you once more. He had grown some sort of infatuation for you. Well more like an obsession. He ordered his men to kidnap you, a truck pulled besides you and before you could react they knocked you down, dragged you into the truck and drove away.

Ghost was worried you hadn't returned to him. He almost lost all control of himself, he cursed himself for not trying to go with you. Laswell had found footage of the second they took you. And as the men made a plan, you were locked inside a basement.

Your hands tied to a chain, right in front was Makarov. He was in awe his hand slowly reached towards your balaclava. Once he removed it a satisfied smile was slowing creeping onto his face.

''well what a handsome man you are.''

You just looked at him, ''what is your problem?''

''My problem is I didn't have you, until now.''

''I am not yours too keep.''

''no? well, we'll see about that.''

In his mind, he had hoped maybe one day you would develop Stockholm Syndrome. That someway you'd accept to be his. But how could you ever love him when you love just one man and one man only.

As Makarov talked all you could think of was Simon, how much he would be hating himself. What if he had one of his episodes? who would be there to calm him down? talk him out of his own thoughts.

Four days passed, Makarov had kept you near him at all times, he had you tied up, but he wanted you around. He wanted you to see him ordering people around, thinking that might impress you. Wanted you to hear him speak Russian, as if the language would've made you love him.

But throughout the days, you only pictured one man. How his arms would wrap around you and how he would kisses your shoulder as he hugged you. He deep yet sweet voice ringing through your ears about how his day was. The cuddles and the small little touches he would give you throughout the day.

Yes, he was Ghost, but when you and him were together, it was Simon showing you his love.

On day 5, you were sure the team had been looking all over the country for you. At around 2 am, someone from the shadows wrapped their arms around you. You were in panic, but it soon stopped when he kissed your shoulder.

''It's me, love. Let me take you home yeah?'' he voice so beautiful. God did you miss his voice and touch. ''please.'' was all you could say.

He united you and carried you in his arms, the other men didn't say a word, they just trailed behind as they escorted you two out.

''Told ya.'' Soap commented, which made Price hit the back of his head.

Once you reached base, only Simon was near you, he wanted to make you feel safe, understood you could get overwhelmed.

''Missed me?'' he took his mask off. You smile, ''I'd be lying if I say I didn't miss your ugly face.'' you chuckled

''Oi, watch it.'' he too chuckled.

It was the little conversations like that, that made him try even harder for you. How you joked around him like mates would. How you let him baby you and vice versa. Simon was a lover, Ghost the fighter, you were the center of him.

He stared at you with puppy eyes. You were so..angelic in his eyes. He would fight a million and more wars to just have you. What he did to Makarov was just another love letter to you. No one in this world touches whats his, ever.

He leaned in and kissed you. He cups your face in his hands and he deepens the kiss. Maybe the kiss could prove to you he truly loved you. You kissed him back, a smile on you as his lips brushed against yours.

A brief interruption, a slight malfunction I'd go back to wanting dudes who give nothing I thought we had no chance And that's romance

Tags: @xweirdo101x

A/n: I know it's a little short, but I hope this is what you had in mind!

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

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moltedphoenix · 1 year

Text

Reunited| HellboyxGn!Reader

Hellboy x Gn! Reader

They/them pronouns

You get back early from a mission and decide to suprise Hellboy. He is escatic to see you again

NOT PROOFREAD

You have been gone for a few months on a mission and anyone at the BPRD could tell how much it had upset Hellboy. He was unresponsive to most and started leaving more often.

They attempted to fix the situation by hiring another person to keep him under wraps. This man was John Myers. Hellboy didn't mind him but he wasn't you. He hated the idea of someone replacing you.

He didn't have much time to dwell on it before they were sent out to subdue some other threat.

During the ride there Hellboy remained silent." they will be coming back you know" Abe spoke up tilting his head to look at Hellboy who continue to look out the one way window. Hellboy slowly turned his head " Don't get physic with me Fella" Hellboy replied his voice getting snippy." Nothing Physic about it. You're easy"

____________

Your trip had ended early and you were on your way back to the BPRD a month before you were expected to be back. While in your cab you contact Professor Broom you were on your way back and to not tell anyone. You wanted to suprise Hellboy.

" Guess they're out" you mumble, walking into the BPRD and setting your bags down. You wander around seeing what had changed, not much did. While you were walking back to the main area you heard a small meow. You bent down and looked up a book case. That's where you saw a little kitten. Poor thing looked terrified. You reach under and pulled it out holding it gently in your arms.

" what are you doing out here honey?" You asked petting the kitten who still meowed loudly crawling near your face. " have you guys been fed yet?" You walk down the hall to where you remembered Hellboys room to be.

You open the door and are met with countless hungry felines. You feed them and shower them with love before you hear the main door open.

You hurry out to meet the group returning. You distinctly hear a familiar voice. You move out with open arms and a big smile

" Suprise!" You call out before your smile falters " Jesus H.B what happened" the man was bloodied and battered. Hellboy hardly seems to notice was condition he's in after he saw you.

He stumbles over nearly falling on his way there. It wasn't until you go to him and help hold in up when he's able to steady himself " Y/N! You're back!" Hellboy exclaims a big grin

John leaned over to Abe whispered " Who's that?" He asked.

" Hellboys other 'Nanny' " he responded as John nodded

" Let's go fix you up. You look like a wreck" you continue to hold him upright as you make your way to the infirmary.

" I thought you said you'd survive with me gone" you asked as he lets out a dry laugh " I'm alive ain't I?"

" Hardly, you look like a train wreck, I just got back and you're already stressing my out" you smiled despite your clear worry. He reached over a tilted your head up to face him. Oh those soft golden eyes made you weak. You let out a soft sigh.

" I missed you"

" missed you too"

#hellboy #hellboy 2 the golden army #hellboy imagine #hellboy x reader #abe sapien #john myers #x reader

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twistedroseytoesy · 1 year

Note

Hi!

I'd like to be called 🍬 anon!

Could I request Savanaclaw with a quokka reader?

These little guys are the cutest things ever!

Oh, oh my gosh those little fellas! The happiest little creatures with award winning smiles! I absolutely would love to do this 🍬 anon!

Also image of an adorable little fella just under the cut

Description

you and your family happily lived on an island near the Sunset Savanna but technically outside of its rulings. you and the other Quokka beast folk lived happy lives, trading and bartering goods and trading goods with the mainland but not really needing a lot of money. Everyone gets along and everyone on the small island works together to make sure everyone else is safe and happy. You and your family were rather small but you never minded and always loved taller company. You have cute small little ears in your messy brown hair, with cute brown eyes and a continuous smile. you are about 4 feet tall, with dark skin and a short little tail. the tips of your hands and feet were slightly darker than the rest of your body and you had small little claws.

Savanaclaw

Leona: Tch, think those cute looks are going to get you pity from him your right wrong. He tries to ignore you a lot, but can't help but poke some fun at you since your reactions are just so cute. Though if anyone messes with you when he's nearby be prepared to be taken to be his nap buddy, his tail swishing angrily at someone messing with what he's now claimed. you were picked on a lot at the beginning but luckily after his overblot, Leona stepped up his leadership a bit and made sure to tell the other savanaclaw members t knock it off. he also never made you do spell drive practice, "you're too small to be any help" he would tell you. but for 1 he wants to show off to you on the sidelines, and 2 he knows how dangerous spelldrive can be and he would actually feel BAD if you got hurt. If you somehow become friends with him expect to be his nap buddy often, calls you his cute little plush. but only in private, Ruggie likes to chuckle at you two. Leona may never say it out loud but if you are observant you can tell he thinks you're cute, and he wants to protect you. will wake up only for you, also falls for your puppy eyes so bad don't tell anyone.

Ruggie: shihhihi well aren't you the cutest little thing? careful since a lot of beasts around would love to take a bite outa you. takes you under his wing, for a price of course. but honestly, you remind him of the kids from his village he would take care of. gets you to help him with some stealing, you distract them with your cuteness and he gets the goods. Eventually, he starts to share his food with you and protect you with no repayment required. Of course, from him, you learn a lot of good scavenging habits and self-defense. He honestly is so proud of you when you take down a bigger guy or weaponize your cuteness like how he taught you. He also uses you to get Leona out of bed. even Leona isn't immune to your little begging eyes! shihihihi. will feel betrayed if you turn those adorable eyes on him but he also can't say no to you...

Jack: Immediately was reminded of his younger siblings back at home and became unbelievably protective of you. Tsundere wolf style. he tries to stay near you and will fight anyone who tries to take advantage of you and your cuteness. He does smirk when you weaponize your cuteness, he will introduce you to epel also because you two are pretty similar. can't say no to you. Would rather die than admit it though. He tries to train you to be able to defend yourself if and when anyone tries to mess with you. his tail wags a lot when you're being really cute and you love and help him with his little cacti collection. He's proud of any accomplishments you do and likes to have you on his shoulders, it makes you smile so much and he can't help but smile too.

#🍬 anon #my writing #my stuff #savanaclaw #leona x reader #ruggie x reader #jack x reader #ruggie #jack #leona #leona kingscholar #jack howl #ruggie bucchi #twst x reader #twisted wonderland mc #twisted wonderland headcanon #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twst

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localsharkcryptid · 1 month

Text

With things FINALLY calming down I took the time to finish up some concept art and now post it :)

Getting back to work on the still unnamed Dragon Rider/ASOIAF inspired dsmp au and up first for concept art are the trio of dragons belonging to DTeam.

---

Blue Boy - Name pending. Will be getting a design overhaul features wise as I want them to be more flashy with almost betta fish theming, color palette will probably remain. A rather spoiled beast, having been the only one to be raised up from an egg, this little guy is just barely riding sized and can still slink through most sections of the castle thus has yet to really leave the comforts of the halls for the Dragon Keep. Considered prissy and entitled much like a cat this dragon reflects some of the more stereotypical traits of George and also has a small habit of getting between the man and anyone else present when they want attention.

Fire Fella - Name pending, though there's a high chance she'll be named Brimstone. Designed with general fire themes in mind as well as inspiration from my own design for Sapnap. Hotheaded and aggressive, also with a penchant for eating prized livestock (and Dream's horse that one time) this dragon is noted for her firey color and attitude that seems to reflect the more impulsive and sometimes violent habits of her rider.

"The Verdant Wraith" Nightmare - Ah yes the only one with an actual name right now and unfortunately I just have to live with the fact that Dream would inevitably name a dragon Nightmare. I've drawn this guy several times before but I decided to flip around his coloration entirely from bright greens to dark. Not much has changed over all aside from the color change. Still a once wretched and feared wild dragon who was only recently claimed, Nightmare is considered unpredictable and untrustworthy though there's more to the serpentine dragon than his vicious reputation and the very same is to be said about his rider.

#dsmp #dsmp au #dream smp au #dream smp #art #alternate universe #c!dream #c!sapnap #c!george #crypts art #art from the crypt #I really need a name for the au goddamn

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captain-mj · 1 year

Note

What do I have to do for more Warrior! Ghost and Spoil! Soap???

I am but a little Fella obsessed with you cod AU's so please begging on my hands and knees for a part 3 🙇‍♂️🙇‍♂️

Heyo! This is actually pt 4 now! Crazy how fast we got here! Part 3

Ghost stared at the ceiling after he woke up.

Bonnie.

He had heard the term before of course. Multiple times from other Scots. Usually not directed at him.

His skin tingled slightly.

Soap was an idiot. Whatever game he was playing at, Ghost wasn’t interested. Even if he did look good in his clothing.

Ghost bit the inside of his cheek until blood started to fil his mouth. He had to remember Soap was trying to survive. Doing his best to not be killed. He didn’t punish him for trying to escape. Wouldn’t punish him if he tried again, despite the vague threats he made.

With a small sigh, he dragged himself from bed. Price needed to talk to him, he was pretty sure. Or maybe it was Alejandro… One of them anyway.

He felt Soap’s hand on him, light and searching, still mostly asleep. Ghost looked at it for a minute before picking it up and slowly setting it

Ghost flushed, thinking about last night. The way Soap said called him pretty and leaned in. His soft mouth, inches away from Ghost.

Ghost was a glorious sinner, but the way Soap had said that.

He got up and cleaned himself in a nearby river so he didn’t have to worry about Soap. He redressed and went to look for his coworkers.

Alejandro was sparring with someone, trying to teach them how to sword fight more effectively. Their technique was terrible but he was a good teacher.

The student fell flat on their ass.

Most of the time.

“Hey, Ghost!” Alejandro put the blade to the person’s chest. “Need something?”

“Just out. Anything I can help with?” Ghost looked around, noticing Rodolfo trying to train someone else. The other guy was just as bad. This is exactly why he doesn’t train people.

“Mind telling this person where they went wrong?”

Ghost hummed and calmly told the person the long laundry list of what they did wrong. Their stance, their posture, the lack of center of gravity, even critiqued the way they held their blade.

“Eh, I think that’s enough, Ghost.” Alejandro was clearly laughing, even though the kid looked close to tears. “Now get up and try again with Smith.” He walked away from him, leaning against the fence.

“So. What state is MacTavish in this morning?” He grinned and leaned in close to Ghost, like they were whispering secrets to each other.

“I left him passed out in my bed.” Ghost answered, technically it was true.

“Damn. Stone cold Ghost.” Alejandro looked at him, something right behind his eyes. Some thought or emotion Ghost couldn’t quite pin down. “Price just got back from raiding a village. Had a bottle of bourbon he was saving for you.”

“Thanks, Ale. Good luck with these guys. They look hopeless.” Ghost pulled away. As he walked away, he could hear Alejandro laughing.

Price never locked his door so Ghost just slipped in. It smelled nice, like someone was baking. He could hear someone in the kitchen, so he looked for him there.

Ghost froze when he saw someone who was clearly not Price. Kinda short, blond hair, definitely not Price.

“Oh. Hi.” The person looked up at him. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

Ghost stared down at him, but they didn’t shrink back.

“If you’re looking for the Captain, he’s in his office.” They said after a moment. “Graves by the way.”

Ghost just stalked past him and went straight to Price’s office. “Who the fuck is that?”

“Uh. Long story, don’t feel like explaining. Why are you here?” Price was already sliding the bottle over to him and Ghost took it.

“Bored. Wanted to know when my next raid would be?”

“I think Shepherd has you grounded. Next one is Alejandro’s.”

“Fucking hell. I don’t like sitting still.”

“And Shepherd doesn’t like losing. Come on. Be honest with me, I know you. I know how you are. So I know for a fact, you aren’t doing anything to MacTavish.”

Ghost sighed. The scars on his body itch. “I didn’t… He said…”

“I know, son. But you painted a target on your back. You’re going to have to deal with the consequences until Shepherd gets over it. And that means being on basics for now. Stay home, protect the village, strike fear into people’s hearts. You know. You’re least favorite things to do.” Price smiled at him and Ghost groaned.

“Keep the booze coming. I’m going to be in a drunken stupor for the next few weeks.”

“Will do, Simon.”

Simon.

“It suits you.”

Ghost blushed under his mask and nodded. “Keep me updated on his moods. And the guy in there… It serious?”

“Working on it.” Price grinned at him. “Look, enjoy your vacation.”

“Absolutely not.” Ghost shook his head.

Price laughed. “Come on, Simon. It might be good for you. Get rested. What do you normally do between missions?”

“Hide in my home. I can’t exactly do that right now.”

Price was clearly trying to not laugh more. “Look, just… I think there’s a festival tonight. Go to that.”

“Where?”

“Near the church.”

“I’ll be on the opposite side of the city. Thanks.” Ghost stood up. “See you later, Captain.”

Price nodded and followed him out of the office, heading towards the kitchen. Ghost decided he didn’t want to stick around any longer, being in so many buildings lately was starting to grate on him.

He went by his home and put the bourbon on the table. Before Soap could notice him, he left again. The festival was one of the ones for the seasons. For once, all of his mind was in agreement that that was not something he wanted to do.

Ghost ended up perched on a building most of the day, standing like a gargoyle. His presence seemed to be enough to scare most people away. He sighed, watching a bird flit closer to him and sit nearby.

“What, am I not as scary as a scarecrow?”

The bird cocked its head but didn’t move.

“Guess not.”

Soap. It felt like all his thoughts lately were dedicated to the man. He had moved closer again in the night. Ghost knew he should stop him. Should’ve shove him off or make him sleep in the floor. But he didn’t.

Soap’s hands had gotten so close to his mask. Ghost tried not to compare him to… anyone really. It was difficult. Especially when he said things like that.

Ghost carefully put his hands over his ears, not wanting to scare the birds near him. He was perfectly in control of himself. He knew that. It would be a terrible idea for him to be anything other than that.

Ghost was a sinner. An awful one. Sin permeated his being. Scars lacing his skin from it.

But he lusted. He wanted to hear Soap call him pretty.

Maybe not pretty.

They could find a better word.

Would those lips be that soft against his skin?

Soap had looked stunning in his clothing. Even better when he was asleep in his bed.

Sex wasn’t all he wanted. Greed. He wanted more. Wanted Soap’s attention. To make Soap his. Intimacy. Devotion.

He wouldn’t act on it. Wouldn’t be… Wouldn’t be Roba.

Ghost sighed. “You’re a terrible conversationalist.”

The bird chirped.

Ghost shook his head. “Talk to you later.” He hopped down, landing rather hard. His feet ached, but it was a good pain.

The walk home was quiet. At some point while he had been up there, the sun had disappeared and the air had gotten chilly enough for him to see his own breaths.

Ghost, after kicking off his shoes because they were slightly muddy, went straight to the- his room. He stopped quickly at the door.

Soap laid out on his bed, clearly drunk. He had undressed but the blanket had been draped over him. Ghost remembered seeing paintings of people as a kid. Beautiful women and men in lovely portraits. Soap just happened to be missing the wings.

“You’re home.” Soap said softly, like he barely noticed Ghost was there. HIs head tilted back and Ghost could see all the way down to where the v of his hips were. Could count the scars on his torso. The blanket just barely kept him from seeing more and for once he was thankful for it.

“I am. Waiting for me?”

“Getting even. Fixing each other’s problems.”

“What’s my problem?”

“The mask. Take it off.”

“No.” Ghost mumbled to the air. Soap was too sincere which meant he wouldn’t hide his reaction. Ghost couldn’t fathom what would be worse. A look of disgust? Indifference? A comment about how pretty he was? The only thing he knew was he couldn’t handle any of it.

“You said you didn’t look. You’re looking now.”

“I suppose I am.” Ghost stared to move closer. He could see Soap was afraid, though not as much as he probably should be.

“Is this what you wanted from me?” Ghost’s hand gently cupped Soap’s jaw, his thumb pressed lightly against his mouth. They would be just as a soft.

He chose not to answer the question.

The bottle of bourbon, now half empty, sat on the floor by their bed.

“You’re drunk.” Ghost tried to keep his voice neutral.

“A little. Got nervous.”

“Why?”

Soap just stared at him and Ghost could see now. The glazed look in his eye, the redness of his face. He could smell the booze rolling off of him.

“I think I scared you. Just a little. I don’t understand how.”

“You didn’t scare me.”

“I did.” Soap grabbed his mask but Ghost caught his wrist.

“You’re drunk.”

“Exactly. Won’t remember in the morning.” It felt like bait. Ghost just couldn’t figure out what for.

He withdrew from him.

“I’ll sleep on the couch tonight.” He grabbed the covers and roughly pulled them up, covering Soap’s figure as he looked away. “You’re drunk.”

“Why would you care about something like that?” Soap stared up at him. It wasn’t judgemental. That was the worst part. It was just calm curiosity.

“You won’t remember anything in the morning, right?”

“Not a thing.”

Ghost nodded. “I kinda liked when you called me pretty.” He shoved him down so he was flat on his back and left him.

He made sure to grab the bottle.

It was empty before the morning came.

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