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himbosandhardwear · 8 months ago

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Eddie has a bad habit of picking at his skin when he's nervous. Not, like, shy nervous or stage fright nervous, but the real kind of nervous, not-sure-I’m-gonna-survive-this kind of nervous. Like while he was alone in the boat house, he'd shredded every one of his cuticles. That time Hopper caught him behind The Hawk, very obviously selling his wares, he'd bitten his lips bloody.

Tonight he's picking a scab off his knee. It's practically healed already, so it won't bleed, he just needs to feel something on his body come loose before he does.

“You good, dude?” Steve asks, so in tune to Eddie's nervous disposition. Such a good guy. What a friend.

Eddie lets his head hit his knee caps with a thunk.

“Yup.”

Steve snorts. “You don't look good. I mean… You know what I mean.”

He smiles, tilting his head to look at Steve, always happy to give him a hard time.

“Oh, absolutely. You think I look good, don't cha, Stevie?”

He gets a couch pillow to the face for that, but they're both laughing so he doesn't think he's crossed the line yet.

Yet, yet, yet.

“Seriously, what's up with you? You've been quiet. It makes me want to call the squad.”

“Har har,” Eddie mumbles, but he does uncurl himself, sitting back against the couch again. “I'm trying to work up the nerve to ask for advice but it's-” Christ, he doesn't even want to admit to being embarrassed, that's how embarrassed he is.

“It's what?” Steve asks, the picture of earnest encouragement. “You can talk to me about anything, man, we're, like, bonded in blood or whatever.”

“Right. Yeah. Except this has the potential to get real awkward, real quick, and I'm not sure we're at that level of friendship yet.”

“Well,” he drawls, “if you ask me whatever it is that's got you all flustered I'm sure that will level us up. Right?”

“I'm not flustered.” God damn his red fucking face. Steve just laughs at him. “It's just, I don't have anyone else to ask about this. Jonathan probably doesn't have this particular problem, cause he's got- Uh. Sorry.” Steve waves it away, so Eddie goes on. “The kids are too young and the band guys don't understand what we went through-”

“Eddie, just spit it out.”

“Fuck! Okay, fine! You asked for it.” He takes a giant breath, steels his spine and just says it. “The Trauma is affecting my ability to get laid and I don't know how to fix it. Every time I get close to it I freak out and have to bail.”

There. All out now.

He looks over at Steve, and it's so much worse than being laughed at or pitied. He just looks sad.

He shakes it off quickly, hair barely moving, Eddie notes. He finds Steve's hair routine both endearing and ridiculous.

“Yeah. Okay. That's super common, just so you know,” Steve assures him first. “Robin says it's all connected, your mind and your body, so trauma can, like, get trapped in weird places like that. I can't play baseball anymore. Cause the memory of beating demodogs to death.”

“As you do,” Eddie quips.

“Right. But your thing. Uh. Yeah, it took some time before I could relax enough to even attempt getting laid, let alone actually do it.”

“So?” Eddie drawls, waiting. “How did you get over it?”

Something is off. Steve's not known for being skiddish about sex, but his hesitation and his inability to look Eddie in the eye is setting off alarms.

“Hey, if this is too weird for you-”

“No, I'm good, it's fine. Just, I'm the only person you have to talk to about this, so I'm gonna try to be helpful but, uh,” he scratches at the back of his head awkwardly, “in all honesty, I haven't been laid since before Vecna either. Way before. So. Yeah. Not sure I should be giving out advice on anything.”

That's crazy. Like actually crazy. He can't even compute Steve Harrington not absolutely dripping in women. He must have some look on his face because Steve gives a dry sort of laugh, self deprecating, and leans back against the couch with him.

“Weren't you on a date with Brenda Mulligan the night- Vecna’s first attack?”

Steve shoots him a look. “Y- Yeah, but that didn't go anywhere. We weren't, like, compatible or whatever.”

Oh, yeah, it was weird that Eddie knew that at all, let alone remembered it nine months later. “That's too bad,” he replies lamely.

“Yep.”

He feels terrible for dragging down the whole night, it would've been better if he'd just kept his mouth shut. But that's never been his strong suit, as evidenced by him blurting out, “If the hottest guy in Hawkins can't find a suitable date, what fucking chance do I have.”

Steve snaps, “Don't say that. What the fuck?”

Great, now he's gone and made it weird. Good job calling your straight friend hot, you fuckin’ dipshit.

They sit in the awkward silence, out of things to say or out of useful things to say. Either way it's them breathing, the clock ticking, and the M.A.S.H. rerun playing softly in the background.

Steve clears his throat. “Whatever, let's get back to the point. You don't have to tell me if you don't want but…what do you think the specific reason is for your…issue?”

He thinks about it. Has been thinking about it, for a while now. “My dick still works, if that's what you're wondering.”

Steve chuckles, high and surprised. “Good for you.”

“Yeah. It's more like, I can't get out of my head. I start worrying about my scars, explaining them if someone asked. I think about how even though I don't want anything long-term, I wouldn't be able to do long-term anyway, because I'm a fucking mess. If it's really bad, I'll get flashes of Chrissy or Patrick's bones snapping, as a little soundtrack to the fun shit happening outside my head.”

Steve looks sad again. Maybe it is pity but it looks more turned inward, like he's dealing with his own shit more than Eddie’s.

“You hooking up with strangers then?”

Eddie blinks at Steve. “Well…duh. Right? Not like I have guys lined up around the block here in Hawkins.”

Steve is full blown scowling at the TV. It's weird.

“What if-”

Eddie waits but Steve doesn't finish his thought.

“What if…what?” He prompts, giving a little nudge with his foot.

He's still avoiding eye contact, not even turning his head to look in Eddie's direction.

In a soft voice, almost too quiet to hear, he says, “What if we helped each other out?”

He must've heard that wrong. Or he's misunderstanding.

“What?”

“What if we help each other out? Like, a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

That can't be right. No fucking way. It's a test. Like as soon as Eddie agrees, Steve yells ‘Aha! I knew you wanted to molest me! Goodbye forever!’ and runs out the door.

“What, exactly, do you mean? Like, what are you getting out of it?”

Steve finally looks over. “Well, I would think that was obvious. If you're willing.”

Eddie's legs are starting to go numb.

“Okay, so I blow you and you blow me, except when you're doing it I have to watch you take it like you're being force fed liver and onions at Grandma's house?”

Steve slowly shakes his head no.

“Oh, okay, so you're going to blow me and enjoy it,” he snaps sarcasticaly.

Steve nods once.

“You want to blow me?”

“Mmhmm,” he hums without moving a muscle.

“Since when!” Eddie brings his octave down from the upper atmosphere. “Since when, Harrington? This is insane behavior. Should I call the squad for you? I'm serious. I'll do it.”

“You don't have to say yes. I was just offering.” He says it like Eddie isn't one green flag away from stomping on the gas.

He starts nervously laughing, which makes Steve flinch unfortunately, but he can't stop.

“It's cool, just forget I said anything.” He moves like he's about to get up and leave, which is fucking insane because it's his living room. Eddie stops him with a tight grip around the bicep.

“Don't you dare. If you're even remotely serious, we have to have a much longer conversation. Sit.”

Steve drops like a sack of bricks. Which is…something.

“Right. First off, this is uncommon behavior in a straight friend. Is there something you'd like to tell me, so I don't think you've been body snatched?”

He pinches at the top of his nose, like Eddie is inconveniencing him greatly. Too bad.

“I'm probably bisexual.”

“Probably?” Eddie asks with a raised eyebrow.

“I'm an inexperienced bisexual,” he amends through clenched teeth.

“Good. Great. Happy to hear it.” His heart may explode from his torso à la Ridley Scott's Alien but sure. “Second on the agenda, what do you mean help each other out? What's on the table? Mutual handjobs and then we never talk about it again?”

“No,” Steve answers immediately. That's good. “I'm open to…whatever you're open to.”

“Steve.” He has to clear his throat. “You dont even know what you're agreeing to.”

“I trust you.”

Fuuuuuck.

“Okay, right, uh, let's circle back to that later. Third thing, what, uh, what is your level of commitment with this?”

He just stares at Eddie, all doe eyed. It shouldn't work, Eddie fucking invented that look. It's gotten him out of more scrapes than he can count. Now it's being used against him but to what end? Does Steve want to get bundled up in a blanket and tucked into bed? Because Eddie can make that happen for him.

“Whatever you want, I guess,” he finally says. “I mean, like I said earlier, friends who help each other out. Casual. I'm not interested in looking for Mrs Harrington anymore and you're having a problem relaxing around guys who don't understand what you went through.” He makes a gesture like ‘Ta da.’

He's not wrong. It makes sense. But…

“Fourth thing. Is this just an experiment for you? Cause I'm all for you exploring your sexuality but, historically speaking, friends are a bad place to start.” AKA ‘it will break my fucking heart if you decide you're not that into it and it's because it's me.’

“Eddie. Look.” He gets more comfortable, facing Eddie straight on finally. “What you're going to provide is practical knowledge on what has only been theoretical up to this point, but the theory has already been well established.” He taps his head. “Understand?”

A smug confidence melts Eddie into the couch. “You liiike me,” he sings. “You think about me naaaked. You wanna-”

Steve lands on him, lacking any elegance or grace, and nearly caves their skulls in with his Jay Garrick approach to kissing. Eddie doesn't say a fucking word. He does wonder at the fucking majesty that is making out sober. What a revelation. Steve keeps making these tiny, almost wounded noises, to the point where Eddie tries to back up and do a check in but Steve doesn't let him, he chases him down and latches back onto Eddie's bottom lip like he's Hannibal Lector. It's stupid hot.

Everything is going great until Steve lets out a sound that legitimately has Eddie worried he's upset about something.

He pulls back and asks, “Are you okay?”

“Oh fuck, I'm sorry. I just can't, I can't believe I got this fucking far. You're so hot I'm losing my fucking mind.”

“Me?” Eddie snaps. “Dude, you're out of your mind.” He pokes Steve in his meaty chest. “Literal. Prom. King.”

“Fucking stupid high school shit, are you kidding me?” He sits up, straddling Eddie's hips, which is boner enhancing to say the least; he's got Steve's thighs in his grasp immediately. “You don't get it, I'm gone on you. I've got it bad, man. I was playing it cool earlier-”

“At no point tonight were you in any way playing it cool.”

“-but, fuck it, guess I'm ruining it, cause I can't be cool about this. I don't want casual. I don't even want to date you,” and before Eddie can even worry about that, he says, “I wanna skip straight to boyfriends, man. I know you said you didn't want long term with anyone but-”

Eddie interrupts again, this time by pulling Steve back down horizontal and kissing him like he just bravely declared himself as all in.

If this is a pod-person, well, that's a problem for Tomorrow Eddie. Tonight Eddie just landed Steve Harrington as a boyfriend.

#i might save this to flesh out later #who knows #steddie #ficlet #my writing

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pricklyjim · 1 month ago

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I genuinely can't get past the idea that when Orion gets the Matrix it's got to be incredibly disorienting.

Imagine nearly doubling in height all at once, being given that much more strength, power in every fiber, and potentially not knowing how to use all of it appropriately. Good gods.

Anywhoo :] I want to know if your Orion would go though some kind of brief transition period where he has to like, figure that shit out. Stumbling and bumbling around like a new mech.

Haha- yeah, the idea of Orion gaining the Matrix and nearly doubling in size all at once is something I absolutely agree would be incredibly disorienting.

like- imagine being told you’re tiny and small your whole life and then waking up to a completely different body:

one that’s way larger, snd stronger, and far more powerful than anything you’ve ever known! It’s definitely bound to come with a very steep learning curve.

For my take, yes, I think Orion would go through a transition period where he’d have to learn how to function in his new frame. I picture him stumbling and fumbling like a newly-forged mech trying to find his balance, since it’s now off kilter-

He’d probably underestimate his strength too, accidentally break things, and feel utterly awkward and embarrassed.

And although cybertronian doorways are quite large anyway, since Optimus becomes an above average Mech, his attempts to walk through an average doorway, tend to leave him hitting his helm on the frame.

The loud clang startling nearby mechs, as Optimus mutters an emotionless, “Apologies,” as he ducks awkwardly, trying very much to not seem in pain.

While picking up things, he applies too much pressure and crushes anything with a sharp crack. His optics widening as he stares at the remains in horror, and mechs, watching from nearby, burst into uncontrollable laughter, and although they don’t mean harm. It makes Optimus feel quite incompetent in his new form.

Training sessions are also a total mess now, Optimus is unable to find a proper sparring partner, the only one able to do so being Magnus- but Magnus has never really been one to spar with his commander.

The physical adjustments wouldn’t be the only challenge, there’s also the psychological toll. Suddenly, everyone is looking up at him, not just in height but in status.

His face plate, previously shadowed by his helms cap, is now exposed and on full display for all to see. Where mechs once looked down on him, they now study him with closely, awed, at now being able to see Optimus’s face with such HD 4K 1080 detail, now able to see the tiny details and little dents that scatter his face like freckles.

and I think this is where the battle mask comes in.

For Optimus, it becomes more than just armor—it’s a shield from the weight of peoples stares. Even if others see him as regal or commanding, he struggles to see himself that way.

The mask lets him hide the insecurities he feels about his worn helm and dented face plate, protecting him from the crushing expectations from those he leads.

So, yes, I absolutely think there’s a period of stumbling… both physically and emotionally—before he becomes the Prime we all love. but It’s definitely a journey, one full of mistakes, reflection, and eventually, acceptance of one’s self ❤️.

But, I also believe, his transition with his height is far easier for him, then it was for Megatron. Since the only original part of Megatron’s body that remains is quite literally his memory drive, the body he currently has not being made from any of his original form.

#transformers #megatron #megop #optimus prime #fanart #optimusprimefanart #au #transfomers

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writersdrug · 10 months ago

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Thinking about Simon with a goth! gf, and introducing his team to you.

Warnings: cursing, very slight nsfw, pda

Typed this up on my lunch break, not thoroughly proofread, ending is meh but it's been rotting in my brain so I had to push it out. Feel free to send me asks about this headcannon, I'd love to write more about it! <3

Simon insists on dragging his team to the nearest pub after a particularly rough day, offering to buy then a round of whiskey. They are all reluctant at first, complaining about aching backs and heads, and Price saying that the missus was expecting him.

Then Simon mumbles something about how his girl would've loved to meet them.

"Yer wha' now?"

"My girl."

Suddenly, Gaz's headache is gone. "Must've just been dehydrated, I suppose." Soap's back feels much better, after being able to sit in the car for just- five minutes, now. And Price? Apparently, the missus was at a dinner raffle for her charity- thing, and he'd just now remembered.

So, drinks and a quick bite at the pub you worked at. It was settled.

Simon leads them in shortly after parking the truck. The other three quickly scan the room for anyone who stands out. As Simon brings them to a booth in the back, they all take a seat, heads on a swivel for some pretty thing to come bouncing over and latch herself onto him.

"Gonna hit the head." Simon says. "I'll put our drinks in- she'll bring 'em over, she'll be done with 'er shift soon."

As he leaves, Soap, Gaz, and Price all sit there in a few moments of observatory silence. It's much harder to sample the crowd, they realize, since there's apparently no dress code for the servers. Johnny eyes each person like a hawk, until he sees a potential pick.

"Tha' one." He says, nodding towards a busty, long-legged blonde. Price and Gaz follow his line of sight to her as she leans against the bar, playing with her hair and laughing at something her friend says. Her bootcut jeans and frilly top accentuate her curves, and it's obvious that every man in her vicinity is ogling. "Twenty on 'er. Seems like he'd be into swimsuit models, eh?"

Gaz humms, scrunching his nose disapprovingly. "Nah, mate- too simple."

"Feck is simple 'bout 'er?"

"I mean for Simon." Gaz corrects Soap. "Don't think he'd want someone so... ditzy- no offense to her." He adds. "I think he wants a girl who can hold her own, in the physical and the figurative sense. Someone..." he narrows his eyes, searching through the crowd of people. "Like her."

He discretely points to a woman across the bar. She's playing darts with a few people, and hits the bullseye perfectly just as Soap and Price look her way. Her tank top and cargo pants show how defined, yet lean her muscles are. She looks like she could last a few decent minutes in a brawl. "I bet on her."

"Well I'll raise ye forty - I ken LT wants someone more... passive."

"Forty it is, then. I'd love to have you pay my bill tonight."

"If I may..." Price chimes in, leaning against the back of the booth with a smug look, arms folded over his chest, "I'd love to get in on this little game o' yours, and walk away with eighty pounds t'night - because you're both wrong."

Soap smirks. "And how's tha', Cap?"

Price smooths his fingers over his mutton chops. "Well, for starters, I'm a bit ashamed o' you boys. Neither of those girls actually work here, do they? Mm?"

Gaz groans, letting his head drop against the wall behind him. It takes Soap another moment, but then he remembers Simon saying this was where you worked. The whole point of them going to this specific pub was because you'd already be here, on the clock.

"Shite..." he mumbles.

"Alright, sir." Gaz says defeatedly. "Lay it on us."

Price leans his elbows on the table and points his finger straight ahead; Gaz and Soap both follow it to the bar, where a sweet-looking girl is punching orders into a server tablet. She has long, silky, red hair, and a petite frame. She smiles so kindly at every patron who speaks to her, and when she makes their drinks, she is quick with it, still engaging in conversation as she shakes the mixer with a powerful arm. Despite the crowd, she seems to be managing fine on her own.

"Her." Price says, tucking his hand back onto the table. "Y' see that face? The way she talks to 'em all? How she's soft and tough at the same time? Imagine that birdie tucked under his wing, eh?"

Soap and Gaz can imagine it. She's a cute little thing, a social butterfly, it seems - the perfect polar opposite to Simon that just might be the perfect fit.

"And I know he's got a thing for redheads." Price adds.

"Piss off, how d'ye ken tha'?" Soap grumbles.

Price shrugs. "Call it intuition."

Simon comes around the corner, carrying several glasses of neat whiskey. "Sorry-" he says, setting a glass in front of Price, and handing out the others as he sits down on the end of the booth. "She's on 'er way now."

"No worries." Price says, trying to hide his smirk. "Didn't know y' were into redheads, Simon."

Simon pauses, looking down at the table in confusion - then he chuckles. "Yeah, s'pose I am. How did y' know? Did she come by already?"

Price laughs. "No, son. We were just sayin'-"

"Hey baby!"

You turn the corner and lean down, squealing as you throw your arms around Simon's neck and kiss him. The other three look on with shock, and Soap is about ready to throw this random woman off of Simon, until he holds you just as tightly and kisses you back.

Price's smirk falls right onto the table when he realizes that he is just as wrong as the other two.

You're Simon's bird. Simon's raven. Black, styled hair, with black lipstick that is currently smudging Simon's chin. You have a choker - no, several chokers, wrapped around your neck, as well as a tiny corked bottle filled with red liquid that makes Soap and Gaz nervous, dangling from a chain. Long, black-painted fingernails, with small spiderwebs decorating the tips, caressing his face and the back of his neck. Your arms and legs are covered with torn fishnets and small tattoos, and you're wearing a black number with a corset, paired with studded Doc Martin's.

You finally pull away and look at the rest of them. "Sorry- nice to finally meet the lot of you." You say, shaking each one of their hands. Your eyes are striking, with full, dark lashes, eyeliner, and red contacts. Gages and a bull ring, too. Soap feels a shiver run up his spine when he looks at you head on, and Gaz hasn't picked his jaw up off the floor since you came around.

"Erm-" Price clears his throat, "pardon us- call me John. This is Kyle, and Johnny." He gestures to the other two, still watching you with a mix of curiosity and awe.

"I've heard so much about you. It's good to put names to the face." You say with a smile, shaking the other two's hands. Gaz manages to smile a bit, but Soap has the same shocked expression plastered onto his face.

Simon has a love-drunk, black-smudged smile on his lips as you sit down in his lap. "She's been wantin' t' meet you all for a while, now. Sorry I kept 'er a secret."

"To be fair, I'm usually hard to find." You say, grabbing a napkin and wiping the lipstick off Simon's face. "I'm either here, at class, or roaming around and people-watching... at night, of course. People are more interesting when it's dark out." You traced a fingernail along his jugular as he stared up at you.

"John 'ere knew you were a redhead."

"How?! Oh my god- are my roots showing?"

"Nah, luvie, he's just observant. 'S our job." Simon places a kiss to your forehead. You smiled, leaning into the kiss.

"Oh, kitchen's about to close. You wanna split a burger, Si?"

"Sure, get what you like."

"'S no onions ok?"

"Fine w' me - chips?"

"You know it." You giggle, making a show of squishing his cheek and biting it. You turn to the rest of his team with a smile. "You boys hungry?"

Price is the first one to speak, taking a heavy breath in, causing Soap and Gaz to finally snap out of their trance. "Erm- whatever you get, we'll do the same. On us tonight."

"Oooh, you sure?" You asked, raising your eyebrows. Simon looked at Price curiously.

"You positive, cap?"

Price nodded. "Lost a bet."

Simon looks even more concerned. You pat his shoulder and stand up. "I'll go punch it in, be right back." You give him a peck on the cheek, and begin to walk away - Simon's attention returns to you as he hooks a finger in the chain choker around your neck and tugs you back.

Soap, Gaz, and Price all watch, stupefied, as you land back in Simon's lap with a giggle. He grabs your chin between his thick fingers and kisses you on the lips, shamelessly letting his tongue slide past your teeth and squeezing your thigh. You laugh into the kiss, letting him devour you for a moment, before tapping his cheek and breaking away.

"I got fifteen minutes to put everyone's order in, Si."

"That's plenty of time, dove."

"Yeah, but then kitchen will get mad for doing it last minute, and I don't want-"

He chuckles, gently shoving out off of his lap and smacking your rump through your skirt. "You're fine, go on."

You smile, then disappear behind the booth, boots thudding against the hardwood floors.

Simon looks back at the three of them - Soap is staring between you and him, a blush covering his face. Gaz immediately turns to look at the wall, scratching his chin, and Price is gazing into his whiskey, though there's a lingering surprise in his eyes.

"So- what bet?" Simon asks, adjusting his hips; Soap notices his hand reaching down to palm at the fabric over his groin. "I don' remember bettin' nothin'."

"We weren't bettin' on ye pullin' her out ye pockets, LT." Soap comments, trying to avoid Simon's eyes. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out forty pounds, slapping it onto the table.

"It makes sense..." Gaz, chimes in. "With your whole skeleton look, she fits you."

Simon slowly smiles, understanding what they had bet on. "Oh... I see. Lemme guess - you thought I's with someone more... simple? Lile that blonde at the bar, is tha' right?"

"Tha's what I said!!" Soap exclaims, dropping his fist to the table. "You got te give me credit fer pointin' t' a swimsuit model first, aye?"

"Oh- because every bloke on earth is shallow enough to care about swimsuit models." Gaz scoffs. "I at least picked someone who didn't look so bloody helpless." He gestures to the girl playing darts with her friends. "You don't even know if the other girl's a model."

"Well, one can imagine..."

"Feel as though I's the closest..." Price mutters under his breath, making the other two glare at him.

"Ye were not."

"Get off your high horse, cap-"

"Well- try this." Simon leans on his forearms with a smug look on his face. "My bird? She's a model, and she's a black-belt in Judo, and-" he looks at Price- "she's a natural redhead."

They all look between Simon and you, as you stand behind the bar and punch their orders in, laughing with the other redhead. Their eyes would drop onto the table if they were any wider.

"You sly dog-" Gas comments with a chuckle.

"I don' believe ye." Soap says, crossing his arms. "Wha' kind o' model?"

"Lingerie."

Price chokes on his whiskey.

"Bullshit." Soap snaps. "Pictures or ye lyin'."

"Nah." Simon sighs, leaning back in his seat and daking a sip of his whiskey. "Not the ones I have, at least. But pick up the last "Bloodletting" magazine, and she's there."

They all sit there, a bit dumbfounded, watching you walk back to the booth. How on earth did someone like Simon land someone like you?

Simon's full of surprises, even in his personal life.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost headcanons #simon riley headcanons #simon ghost riley headcanons #cod x reader #cod mw2 #cod headcanons #cod blurbs

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lvlyghost · 2 years ago

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The Things I Never Said: Part 2

Pairings: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Summary: upon learning about your pregnancy simon thinks there are things he needs to take care of.

Word Count: 1.2k

Tw: Angst, fluff, hurt with a lot of comfort, banter. The task force is there for you💞 i think that's it✨

A/N: here it is, i never planned a second part so forgive me if it's not as good! Still hope you like it. Already working on a request that's similar to this one🐸✨ thank you so much for all the support. Reblogs and comments are appreciated! Remember english isn't my first language, corrections are welcome🩵

Masterlist✨ | Part 1 | Part 3

Simon pulls you closer to his body, one arm draped over your form and hand resting on your stomach. The storm is raging outside, the thunder startles you every five minutes. You stay there in complete silence as the realization of this whole thing settles in your minds. He wants you to be safe now more than ever that's why when he's reliving the events of the day it hits him. He had thought the worst, that you were abandoning him, that you got tired of him. Simon would never say this to you but losing you would be the end of him. Enraged and with his heart racing he had hopped on his motorcycle. The soft caressing of his fingers stops abruptly, body going rigid behind you. You turn your face in worry.

"Simon?" You call him. You were beginning to fall asleep. "What is it?"

"That fuckin' muppet." He snarls. "I was so caught up in you leaving that I'd forgotten he hit you. That cunt... fucking Christ." He sits. "Let me see." He lifts your shirt just above your belly with gentle hands.

"Love, I'm... it's fine." Simon sucks in a sharp breath as his eyes land on the bruised area of your skin.

"What did the doctor say?" He demands, eyes somber.

"She said i should stay in bed for a few days and to not lift heavy things or you know just... overwork myself."

Simon rubs his eyes with the heel of his hands, disgruntled.

"This is on me... my bloody fault"

"Hey, stop now." You stand up, coming to a sitting position to mirror his stance. "You didn't know." Soft hands fall on both sides of his face. "I should've told you before this happened, if anything this is on me."

"If something happened to you i would never forgive myself, kid. Lie down. You need to rest. I'll be here when you wake up."

Simon's been waiting for this day since the incident. You're still at home, recovering from what could've ended with you in a hospital bed and a broken heart.

"You sure about this, Sir?" Gaz asks, worried about what might happen. "It's just training right?"

"Just training." Simon's eyes are set on that bastard. Craning his neck he steps on the sparring mat. As much as he wanted to go find him and kill him he couldn't do such thing. But after the images that flooded his mind made him realize how dangerous it had been. What could potentially have happened the rage within him is boiling his blood. And now he needs somebody to pay the price. Choices have consequences and he nearly had a painful one. If he had insisted just more...

Breathing harshly he looks him in the eye. Poor muppet doesn't know what's coming for him. He stands there confidently, thinking he has a chance against Ghost. Not Simon, the man only she gets the chance to see.

This is Ghost about to fight.

For some reason you decided to stop by the local pastry shop and bring something for the task force. You're feeling much better so that's why you're walking down the corridor of the military compound. With a shirt that's nearly too oversized a pair of combat boots and a cap. You figured you could have these outside of the base and enjoy a nice day with your teammates. You missed them already. Since Simon had been reluctant to leave your side, and you loved it that's for sure, but he wouldn't let you do much as simple tasks like washing the dishes or doing the laundry.

Walking past the doors you're greeted with loud cheering and yelling at the two men in the middle of the mat. Your smile quivers until you process the scene in front of you. Not surprised, not worried. He's gonna be just fine. The other poor boy... Price is the first to notice you, approaching you in three long strides. He had decided to stop by and watch, that's how they sort things out.

"Here, let me help you with that." He takes most of the desserts from your hands, scrutinizing your features with slight concern. Your eyes glued to Simon's hulking body. "I'm gonna assume he doesn't know you're here. Shouldn't you be resting?"

"I'm not on duty, Captain."

"I'm not asking as your Captain but as a friend."

You turn to face him with the ghost of a smile on your lips.

"I'm feeling better so I wanted to see you all, maybe we could have these together as soon as Simon is done with his personal grudge."

Price chuckles. Reluctant to see the rest of the fight, you keep talking to John until it comes to an end. More cheers and clapping echoing around the place. You take a quick glance and get a glimpse of the younger soldier limping while he plops down on a near bench, his teammates gathered around him holding a towel out for him to clean up his face. Footsteps approach you and Price, Simon's frowning behind the mask you can tell by the way the corner of his eyes wrinkle.

"Hey little lady!" Soap greets you with a big smile, hugging you tightly. "Heard you got all knocked up!"

"For fucks sake, Johnny!" Gaz scolds him. "Have some more respect for the girl."

Johnny rolls his eyes feigning annoyance letting Kyle hug you too.

"Don't bet mad at him. We all know why he had to do it." He whispers before pulling away.

When Simon joins you, you're aware of what's coming.

"You're out of bed." He points out, blankly.

"It's been almost a week. As long as I don't lift heavy things I'll be alright. Remember?" You speak back. You reach out for his hand and intertwine your fingers with his. The rest of the team silently walks away to the outside giving you some privacy. Simon studies you, all of you. There's a spark of worry in his blue eyes that you don't like. "Don't worry about me anymore."

He pulls you closer, arms wrapping around your shoulders as he inhales deeply.

"Is that my shirt, doll?" He asks in a hushed tone. You chuckle, burying your face in his chest.

"I missed you, and it smells like you." Simon prompts you softly to start walking outside and join the rest. "You're not hurt, are you?" You stare up at him.

"Don't you worry about me, he wasn't able to land one single hit, love."

You pull him down kissing over the black balaclava where his lips would be.

"I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for not telling you Simon." You sigh.

"I understand now why you didn't, kid. I'm not mad at you, I'm mad at myself for not making you feel safe enough to tell me. If anything I'm to blame."

"Is there any chance I may touch your belly?" Soap asks as soon as you sit down next to him.

"Yes." You reply with a wide smile.

"No." Simon growls at the same time.

"Jesus! I suppose that naming the child after me is also off the table?"

"Absolutely."

A round of laughs echoing around and along the backyard. Your eyes scanning every person gathered in this very moment. Loyalty, admiration, respect and love.

A family of your own that would soon get a new addition.

"What if it's a beautiful girl?" Gaz interrogates.

Everyone goes silent.

"Fucking hell." Simon whispers.

He's fucked.

#call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #cod #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod ghost #cod mw22 #simon ghost x reader #simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost imagine #john price x reader #soap mactavish x reader #gaz x reader #call of duty ghost simon riley #cod simon ghost riley #fanfic

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scribesynnox · 6 days ago

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Mer Worldbuilding

Ooooohohohohohoho!!! Man oh man oh man oh MAN!!!!! I have!! SO!!! Many ideas on mer culture but no where to publish them UNTIL NOW!!! With @keferon's mer au!!!

I just have so many thoughts!!!!

Different kinds of culture in different regions! Merfolk who live in rivers and lakes and near the shores, vs those who live out in the open ocean near the surface vs those who live in the abyss zone vs those who live near the ice caps. Religions centered around moon and stars and the rise and fall of the ocean as she breathes.

So like, this is more of a worldbuilding post than apocalyptic ponyo post but whatever, we ball.

merfolk who live in colder waters like the deep sea or near ice caps have antifreeze proteins in their tissues so they don't freeze

hey, a tf thought here: Skyfire being a big giant marshmallow of a mer, chilling in the north and just minding his own business, doing some research on the magnetic fields in the poles, but gets bothered by this tiny screaming little creature. He's pretty sure that's a human, but he's also pretty sure that humans aren't supposed to be this far north. Maybe it's lost? Poor thing. Meanwhile, researcher Starscream is screaming at whatever giant stupid fish keeps fucking up his readings and it's cold as SHIT out here and god DAMN it, he just needs ONE GOOD READING before he can go back, BUT THE STUPID- oh fuck that's a giant human-fish-mer thing actually. Oh shit.

counterpoint: skinny ass mer starscream doing research in the north who befriends the weird human that also lives here (though he didn't befriend Skyfire initially cuz the whole POINT of moving out here is so that he didn't HAVE to deal with the weird nosy uncanny things that have two weird arm things instead of a tail. But Skyfire wore him down and now they're buddies :) Skyfire is all bundled up in his arctic gear and Starscream is just out here like the temperatures here aren't cold enough to kill a man.)

Also, this means that Starscream has to worry SO much about Skyfire freezing to death, oops :)

and they were BOTH researchers! :D

merfolk who live near the hydrothermal vents being more poison resistant cuz of all the toxic metals there.

Much like how humans fucked around and found out with fire and electricity, merfolk fucked around with currents, thermal energy, stupid amounts of pressure, and magnetic fields. Those are their main power sources, depending on the area, like how humans primarily use electricity.

Hey hey hey, who wants to talk about eels for this tf mer au? Because i wanna talk about the idea of electricity being a relatively new power source for merfolk, that used to be a less common thing. Like, it was definitely used before for a LONG time, but it used to just not be feasible to have on a wide scale, and limited to just areas that have eels. And with transformers in the mix, combining mechs and eels and electricity, i don’t know what to do with it man, but the potential for something fun is there.

Ooooooo, prosthetics and cyborgs and mechanical enhancements maybe? I don’t know, I’ll have to get back to this later.

FUCK MAN, THINK ABOUT THE WHALE FALLS. Some regions who see it as a gift from above, other seeing it as just another part of the cycle of life, part of the ebb and flow of the ocean, life dying and feeding many others, and other regions just seeing it as a tragedy, a great majestic creature dying and lost to the deep abyss below.

I spend a lot of time on how people will have different philosophies based on the world around them and the ocean is a very different world indeed.

Speaking of religion, what about Drift? What would his religion be if he was a merman? I don't know enough about Drift to say what sort of philosophies and ideals he would have as a mer, but it would be so fun to think about.

Red is one of the first colors to go the deeper you get into the ocean. Many fish that deep down there flat out can't see the color red cuz they never had to. Ergo, red reading as caution or danger or scared or sneaky, etc, to any merfolk that come from the deep, because red is used as camouflage at those levels.

BIOLUMINESCENCE. Oh my FUCK can we talk about bioluminescence? Because ooooooo pretty shiny lights that flash and flicker go brrrrrrrrrr.

You know that moment in ponyo where they communicated via flashing lights? That morse code bit? Yeah, that but for merfolk. Flashing lights at each other so they don't have to whistle so loud, or in closer conversations, biolights just being used as a mood indicator, like posture and body language.

Also! Speaking of all those different mer cultures in different regions and zones, the TRADE!! The travel and trade between these regions and zones! Deep sea folk swimming upwards and having to squint from the bright lights, needing sunglasses. Surface layer merfolk swimming downwards and having to use specialized sonars or red light flashlights, like glowing red rocks or torches or something, in order to being to see their surroundings.

I have! More to say! But I am eepy and if I don't post this bit now, I never will, so out this goes, hit post.

#my posts #transformers stuff #my writings #writing ideas #apocalyptic ponyo #worldbuilding #mer au #i love thinking about different cultures and anthropology was my favorite class #I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS ON WHAT IF'S ON OCEAN CULTURE #clothes! music!! FOOD!!!!#DANCING AND TRAVEL AND SONG AND POEMS AND AND AND #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

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pastryfication · 7 months ago

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Can you please, if you'd be so kind, do one with Oscar x driver!reader, and him proposing on media day, when they're talking in front of people? And Lando has to hype him up before. 🤭

hi!! thank you for your request!!

i can’t imagine oscar proposing in front of so many people—i think he’d be more the type to do a private, intimate proposal—so i’ve changed the request a bit. i hope you still like it!

just say yes | oscar piastri

pairing: oscar piastri x driver!reader

content warnings: mentions of hungary 2024… also, this is messy! i’m not even sure myself what is going on.

the race hadn’t worked in your favour. starting p8 and moving down to p11 wasn’t good enough. just out of the points, in a race with so much potential, wasn’t good enough.

in the final lap, you wanted nothing more than to exit the car, throw away your helmet and hide yourself away in the hotel. but then, your race engineer turned on the radio and delivered the message you had waited to hear for so, so, so long. oscar had won the race. oscar passed the finish line in first place.

now, after such news, your eagerness to finish the race wasn’t build on the need to sulk, but instead, an eagerness to celebrate your boyfriend.

as soon as you were out of the car, you were running towards were you knew he would be. the smell of burnt tires and gasoline faded to the background and you threw yourself against him, race suite and helmet still on, and enveloped him in a hug.

you were so happy you wanted to cry. he deserves this more than anyone else and to see him achieve it was a dream come true for you. as he decented the podium, you were in the crowd and clapped louder than anyone else.

oscar had found your face in the crowd as he stood on the top step. he smiled brightly when your eyes met, and when lando initially ignored him and he felt the world slowly crashing down on his happiness, your silhouette was what he sought again.

you were there. you were always there. even when you had a shitty race yourself, even when he could see how sad you were about the position you ended up in, you still came to celebrate him. and you poured your entire heart into the celebration, pushing yourself into the crowd of papaya to be closer to his beaming face.

too caught up the the giddiness you felt, you truly hadn’t noticed anything wrong until oscar pulled you aside just before your media duties. he wasn’t smiling quite as bright as he was supposed to, considering he just had his maiden win. he explained, voice a bit strained, that he had been allowed to pass lando. he told you how the win didn’t feel completely like his own, like he didn’t quite deserve it, and you listened with a frown on your face.

this was his win. he deserved it. he earned it fair and square. and you told him exactly that. you told him while holding him close in another hug, your mouth up close to his ear so only he could hear the sweet words you whispered.

as you leaned your head on his shoulder and comfortingly rubbed his back, oscar mind began to cloud with thoughts of the ring in his trouser pocket. barely a hundred meters away, tucked safely away in his jeans in his drivers room, lay the diamond ring he so delicately had picked out with your sister.

he wanted it then, he wished so desperately to have magical powers so he could make it spawn in his hand, but he didn’t, so instead, he took your hand in his and dragged you along.

“where are we going?” you asked, but it was for deaf ears. he had a mission and he was going to accomplish it. he was going to propose right then and there. he was going to spend the rest of his life with you.

୨୧

the reporter had to fight hard to hide the smirk when he spotted the diamond on your finger. it stood in stark contrast to the dull race suit hanging from your waist, sparkling prettily against the sweaty fireproof shirt clinging desperately to your damp skin, compliment the op1 cap on your head perfectly.

“what is it i spot on your finger?” he asked, microphone pushed up against you eagerly in await of your response.

“well, what does it look like?” you answered, showing it to him with a joyful smile adorning your face.

“i guess your boyfriend wasn’t satisfied with just a win.” the reporter laughed.

“fiancé.” you corrected. “and my fiancé is quite satisfied with his amazing win. but you can never get too many things to celebrate.”

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miaoua3 · 12 days ago

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(pairing: bf!vernon x reader)

happy belated bday to my nonnie sorry i suck💔

you sneak around the kitchen quietly, stabbing the little yellow candle in the chocolate muffin in your hand. trying to be as quiet as possible as to not to give away your position, you light the candle, hissing when the lighter makes a much louder noise than you anticipated.

seeing that everything is ready (aka the birthday cap is on your head and the muffin is in your hand, you head for the balcony door.

it is a cold winter night in seoul, goosebumps raising on your skin even with the thick hoodie on (the one that you stole from hansol earlier today).

and although it might be cold as fuck outside, the thousands of stars that are visible in the sky makes you think that it’s all worth it.

vernon doesn’t react to your return to the balcony, too occupied with trying to find the constellation he has been looking for for the last 10 minutes.

using his distraction, you peak at the watch on your wrist to see when you can start with your surprise.

23:59.

perfect.

ever so quietly and shyly, but still with the biggest smile on your face, you start singing.

“happy birthday to you…”

hansol immediately turns towards you, his shocked face making you mentally coo at the cuteness of it.

a bright smile splits across his face, his already flushed cheeks getting even redder as you sing him the song.

“happy birthday to you…

happy birthday dear hansolie…”

he takes one step closer to you until you are right in front of him, looking up at him through your eyelashes, the flame of the candle creating extra warmth within them.

holding the cupcake right in front of his lips, you finish the song.

“…happy birthday to you.”

for a moment, you just smile at each other, love and affection bouncing off the two of you.

seeing how the candle is slowly but surely dripping, you urge him to blow it out.

“make a wish, love.”

out of all the possible things that universe could potentially grant him, as he looks you in the eyes and how pure love is dripping out of them, hansol finds himself wishing only for one thing.

closing his eyes, he prays to every god there is that they make his wish come true, and blows the candle out.

you let out a little “yoohoo” as he does as much, making him smile so widely his eyes disappear due to how high his cheeks get raised.

you lean over to him to lay a gentle kiss on his lips, mumbling a little “i love you” against his lips as you do as much.

with hooded eyes, he just responds “thank you, babe. not just for this, but for like…everything.”

smiling shyly, you inform him that you are going inside to remove the candle and also because you are freezing your booty off.

vernon watches you as you disappear through the balcony door and into the kitchen on the left. he watches as you move around his kitchen with grace, treating it as your own home almost.

to be honest, you are here 6 days out of the 7 anyway. as far as he’s concerned, this is as much of your apartment as it is his.

and he knows the exact way how to ask you to officially move in with him.

with the ring weighing in his right pocket, he just prays that his birthday wish comes true and you say yes, before he heads back through the balcony door as well.

#seventeen #svt #svt x reader #fypシ #tumblr fyp #fypage #fluff #vernon x y/n #vernon x you #vernon x reader #hansol vernon chwe #vernon #hansol chwe #happy birthday

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kawhh · 17 days ago

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I'm on the ground Dark Quinn wanting to financially support you, yes please! You're his girl and he needs to take care of his girl. He almost melts with happiness and satisfaction when you finally agree to quit your job. You stress that it's only temporary, agreeing to take a little break before looking for a new job (he will make this permanent, mark his words). He gets upset though when you still use your card ("I already mooch off you enough Quinn") because he wants to take care of you completely. He thinks he's won when you agree to start using his card, but then you don't buy yourself anything outside of grocery necessities and he's back to pouting because he just wants to buy his sweet girl all the things her heart desires.

He's starting to run out of patience with just letting you not rely on him. Really did think he was getting somewhere when you started using it, thought he'd won. But you're too stubborn. You're not ever gonna fully give in to him if it's your own choice.

He could buy every thing he thinks you need or want before you can use your own money or window shop, but then he has no way of knowing if it's everything you want.

It takes him a while to come up with potential perfect solutions. He can't cancel your cards without a plan. That'll make you just not want anything and that's not what he wants.

He doesn't want to scare you into it either. He adores you too much.

He considers putting a cap on a card for you so you'd feel better knowing that you'd only have x amount of money to spend, but he doesn't think that'll work either.

It's just making him feel like he's not protecting you enough, not caring for you like he should. He can't just leave it, can't let this nonsense go on.

Maybe he should freeze you card, making you spend a set amount of his money before he'll let you access it again. You won't want to waste his money so he knows you'd get what you need.

Maybe he should overstimulate the fuck outta you until you cry for him, until you promise to be a good girl.

Maybe he shouldn't let you cum or touch yourself until you agree. He'll have you sign an official legal document. There'll be no more fucking around for you.

#quinn hughes #qh43 #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes imagines #nhl imagine #dark quinn

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wonderjanga · 19 days ago

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idea: billy keeping Important League Stuff in miss bambis apartment for safekeeping cuz the rock of eternity has WAY too much evil stuff, and now all the magic users think that miss bambis magic-catwoman

Miss Bambi: “Billy, whats that?”

Billy: “Space cancer in a bottle!”

Miss Bambi: “Oh… I see.” *takes a drag of her cigarette* “Well, put it with the others.”

Billy: “Thanks, Miss Bambi!” *runs in and puts it with the other bottles full of space cancer*

William Joseph Batson is the World’s Mightiest Mortal. He’s also a 12-year-old boy who doesn’t have many adults in his life that he trusts. That’s why he leaves highly dangerous mission stuff with Miss Bambi. Because he trusts her. Also because he doesn’t think he should have a bunch of dangerous stuff in the Rock. Some of it should be in other places.

Anyways, other magicians who visit Fawcett all get concerned whenever they pass by a shitty apartment complex that has a bunch of evil and negative magic radiating from it. Specifically a single apartment.

This is the apartment complex I told you about.

Marvel: *staring at the building, thinking they know* “I see… and why are we here?”

Random Magician: “Wha- because there’s a bunch of evil magic practically oozing from it!”

Marvel: “And?”

Random Magician: “And what! That person could be extremely dangerous!”

Marvel: “I assure you, they’re not.”

Random Magician: “Yes they are! Magic can only become this bad through numerous evil rituals and sacrifices and spells!”

Marvel: “Look, just trust me, okay? It’s nothing.”

That magician did in fact, not trust him, and instead went to go check out the location of the source of the evil magic.

Random Magician: “Who’re you??”

Miss Bambi: “You can call me Bambi.” *looks them up and down judgmentally* “Are you one of Billy’s friends?”

Random Magician: *doesn’t know Billy is Cap* “No?”

Miss Bambi: “Oh.” *slams the door in their face*

The magic user eventually tried to suddenly ask about her and this Billy character.

Marvel: “That’s uh… My name?”

The magic user proceeded to go and tell everyone they knew because what the heck? This random, potentially very evil lady knows the champions real name? Also, the Champion’s name is Billy??

That’s how the “Oh, she must be magical Catwoman” thing cropped up.

From then on, they all had utmost respect for her cause the Champion is insanely powerful, so by stealing from the Rock of Eternity of all places that means she has to be pretty powerful herself. There’s also the fact that they can sense almost no magic from her so clearly she must be at least skilled to hide it that well.

Every single wizard that is evil is trying to curry to her favor.

Evil Magician: *looking extremely suspicious* “Mistress Bambi-”

Miss Bambi: “I told you weirdos not to call me that.”

Evil Magician: “-I have come to tell you about a special artifact that I think will interest you. It’s the eye of the Bermuda Triangle.”

Miss Bambi: *smoking, looking at them like they’re an idiot* “Yeah… Thanks…”

Evil Magician: “Your welcome, mistress-”

Miss Bambi: “Again, told you not to call me that.”

Later…

Miss Bambi: *chilling outside the apartment complex*

Billy: *jogging over so he can go inside

Miss Bambi: “Hey, Billy!”

Billy: “Yes, Miss Bambi?”

Miss Bambi: “Another one of those creeps came around and told me about some Eye of the Bermuda Triangle?”

“Another evil artifact? Dang. Well, I’ll hop to it! Thanks, Miss Bambi!”

See, the unfortunate thing is that an evil magician would tell Bambi about an evil artifact, and then Billy would go search for it and then give it to her for safekeeping. So they’d think she stole it, which would continue to feed the magical Catwoman rumors.

By the way, all the artifacts besides the ones that sound explicitly dangerous like the space cancer and a bottle, or just scattered about her apartment. Like, she has multiple evil pendants hanging from her ceiling fan because they look pretty and add to the ambience. She has an evil magic tome under one of the legs of her coffee table, so it keeps balance. She does not care.

Also, John Constantine eventually met her, and they vibe.

#billy batson #shazam #dc captain marvel #captain marvel dc #fawcett city #fawcett #fawcett comics #miss bambi

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ghoulfuckersincorporated · 9 months ago

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Prewar!Cooper Howard has a breeding kink because he loves being a dad. He and Barb married and started trying for kids later in life than most folks around them, so much of the sex they had, especially early on, was focused on getting Barb pregnant. If he'd had his way, they would have had a whole litter of children, but hey, sometimes life doesn't work out the way you want. Still, there's the fun of trying, and there was a lot of trying. After the divorce, he's shocked when he meets someone else, and even more shocked when he feels those same urges with you. He's been trained to try and knock one in basically every time, he jokes.

At least, that's what he tells himself.

He's also incredibly possessive, and it drives him wild to think about getting to see you all swollen and filled out with his child. Particularly with you being younger that him; the ugly part of his brain is barking at him to stake a more permanent claim on you every time a guy your age so much as looks your way. Personally, he thinks he's too old to have more kids, but between his secret urges, your forgetfulness when it comes to your pill, and your twin high sex drives, well...sometimes accidents happen.

He'd be over the moon, once he knew you were happy as well (he would also worry about the news potentially being hurtful to Barb, but that'd be an issue for tomorrow). Showing you off in public, knowing that other people see how gorgeous you are and know you fully belong to him, it really gets him going, and you certainly take notice of how amorous he is when you're out together (combined with how vigorously he fucks you when you get home). Thinks you're insanely sexy pregnant and likes to watch you ride him with a big belly. You'd both better be a lot more careful about your contraception after the first baby if you don't want another, because getting to see you that way only makes his kink worse.

The Ghoul has a breeding kink because he's incredibly possessive. It's been literal centuries since he's come across anything in this world that he cares for enough to want to claim it, and you're officially claimed. He wants everyone, including you, to know that you belong to him and only him. Other ghouls can smell him on you much more strongly if he cums inside you, and he enjoys the way filling you full scratches his most primal itch. It's just an added benefit that he's almost positive he can't actually get you pregnant, but...there are records of ghouls reproducing with other ghouls. Haven't stranger things happened?

The little thrill he gets at the idea is just nature trying to take over.

At least, that's what he tells himself.

You'd be hard-up to get him to admit it, but he wants you to need him. He wants an excuse to baby you and pamper you and force you to let him do things for you without the vulnerability of admitting that he wants to do those things for you anyway because he's deeply in love with you.

You complain that your feet hurt during your journey for the day? He'll carry you everywhere you want to go from now until the end of time, if that's what you want. Stomach and appetite troubles? Name whatever you want, he'll find it for you, no matter how many caps he has to pay. Tired? "Of course you're tired, sweetheart. Let's stop for today. Here, sit down. Do you need some water? Eat this, you need some calories. Let me rub your legs and feet for you." It is endless and sort of surreal for you to adjust to.

Speaking of journeys, I think he also secretly wants to settle down a bit. He does already after he meets and falls for you, seeing how much the constant trekking back and forth across the irradiated desert takes out of you, and he definitely would want to do so expeditiously if you were pregnant. It's not like secure places don't exist in this world. He can keep you, and anyone else who may come along, safe just fine.

He'd be afraid to fuck you if you were pregnant, worried that he'll hurt you or make you sick or make something bad happen with the pregnancy. But if you reassure him, maybe beg a little, he'll do his best to make sure your urges are satisfied. Sit on his face and let him slide his tongue through your insanely sensitive folds, lie back and let him fuck you with those agile fingers while he jerks himself off. You'll miss being properly penetrated, badly, but you won't go without.

He wants an excuse to be even more protective of you than usual. Give him a reason to literally pluck men's eyes out for daring to so much as look at you, a reason to never let you out of his sight ever again. If you thought he was ready to commit violence to keep you safe before, you haven't seen anything yet.

I can't imagine it would be easy to have a big family in the Wasteland, but reminding him how much he loves being a dad would certainly have the thought on his mind.

#cooper howard #the ghoul #cooper howard smut #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #cooper howard headcanons #prewar!cooper howard #fallout tv show #fallout prime #ghoulcy #vaultghoul

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fairlyang · 3 months ago

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thinking about wade’s freaky ass who’d somehow hear about the lip gloss that burns and kinda wants a demonstration

smutmas masterlist | main masterlist

it’d come up at the most random time ever because it’s wade and he remembers it hours after he heard about it.

“babe do you have any of the lip gloss that burns?” he asked, turning to look at all your makeup stuff, very tempted to get up and go through it.

you gasped and shook your head in disbelief, looking down at him then at your vanity then back at him, “you’re thinking of that now?”

he looks up at you, eyebrows raised and nods, “before i forget!”

you chuckle, shaking your head again then just nod, “why? do you wanna try it?”

“well i’m curious, does it really burn?” he asks, getting up from between your legs.

“only for a few seconds but it’s not too bad.” you explain and watch as he gets up to go look for it.

“there’s a clear one with a gold cap.” you say and he hums, opening the drawer that’s only filled with lip products.

“i can’t believe you’re having me find a needle in a haystack- do you really need these many lipst- OH HERE IT IS!” he says and stops himself from going on a long tangent.

he walks over to you, plops onto the bed, holding to the small glittery tube when suddenly his eyes go wide. as if a lightbulb turned on above his head, he gasps and covers his other hand over his mouth. “go on, shoot, what did you think of?” you say, letting out a chuckle while you sat up.

he hands you the gloss then clears his throat, “what if you wore it while you su-“

“wade-“

“hear me out!!!!” he whines and you just groan because he always has to come up with the craziest of things.

“you wear it and suck me off… for science, we both loveee science sweetums.” he says, giving you a wide grin to try to convince you.

“you don’t think it’d hurt?” you ask and he shrugs, “that’s the fun part.”

“you really are a freak, wilson.” you murder and he just laughs, “how bad could it be?”

——

“FUCK- NO STOP PLEASE ITS PAINFUL!!!” wade yelled and you quickly got off him, rolling your eyes, “i fucking told you so!”

he wiped it off his lips after you gave him a small kiss, apparently it was too much.

he stops and calms himself down, taking deep breaths before nodding, “i was just playing, gorgeous. alright come on lay it on me!”

you look into his eyes and he nods again so you lower yourself down his body until you got between his legs. you grabbed his dick with one hand and raised an eyebrow, “safe word?”

“pink pineapples.”

you kiss the side of his tip, just testing the waters before you went further. your eyes were on his face looking for any discomfort and there wasn’t any so you kept going. you kissed his tip some more before opening your mouth and taking him in making him moan, “fuck- oh god-“

“t-that’s not so bad- it’s like a good sting- fuck- a really good sting.” he moans and you take more in your mouth.

you bob your head up and down slowly, so he can really feel the effects since he had a bit of a pain kink. apparently he didn’t want it slow when his hands suddenly went to your head and brought you down so you took more, “keep going baby… fuck that’s good-“

you moaned against him and taking him all the way down your throat before coming back up then straight back down your throat again. he groaned and watched your lips, less glossy now but his dick was shiny, glittery. it was the smallest bit painful, as if he burned himself by being too close to a firepit but it wasn’t unbearable which was a damn shame.

“y’know what princess, i think we overestimated this things potential… i mean i know my body’s a little different but i expected more of a show, more pain!” he exclaims and you just roll your eyes.

you bobbed your head faster, closing your eyes and ignored the gloss doing it’s job of plumping your lips. he groaned and thrust his hips upwards, making you take every inch. he moaned at the sight below him, what was better than his pretty girl giving him what he wanted?

absolutely nothing.

so him cumming down your throat this fast was surprising but definitely not anything to complain about, if anything it was hot knowing he liked something new so much.

he claimed it was witchcraft and that it didn’t really happen, that you were both high off coke and that sleeping it off will make you wake up from a dream. he’d say anything to not have to admit that this science project went well.

#wade wilson #wade wilson smut #wade wilson x reader smut #wade wilson x reader #deadpool #deadpool smut #deadpool x reader smut #deadpool x reader

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saveyourblood · 4 months ago

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Pretty Boy - Ch 2 (Evan Buckley x Reader) (Eventual Buddie x Reader)

Summary: You can feel Buck staring. When your eyes meet his, you realize he’s staring at your hand, which is still on Eddie’s knee. You slowly retreat, which makes Buck turn his attention to your face. You smile softly. He just looks out the window. The one where you’re an advanced paramedic, Buck and Eddie are firefighters, and you think you might be in love with both of them.

Ch 1

Chapter Summary: Buck faces a few challenges, and you're there for some of them.

A/N: This is such a niche story and I am desperate for validation, please tell me if you enjoyed reading! Word Count: 3.4k Warnings: descriptions of gun violence, mental health issues/suicide ideation (nothing overly graphic IMO)

Unlike some people who work in this building, you know how to take orders. So, instead of dragging your feet and prolonging the inevitable, you go to Bobby’s office the second you get back from the call. Hen tries to say something to you, but you’re so focused on having this conversation behind you that you ignore her.

Despite the door being cracked open, you knock a few times.

“Come in,” Bobby says.

You step in. He looks up.

“Ah,” he remarks as if it’s a surprise to see you. “You can close the door behind you.”

You close the door and lean against it.

“Have a seat,” Bobby instructs as he files through some random papers.

You let out a sigh. You were hoping to be in and out, but Bobby clearly has other ideas. Still, you do as you’re told.

“I wanted to talk to you about what happened with Buck.”

As if you’d be in here for anything else.

“Are you gonna write me up?” You ask instinctually. You’ve never been formally disciplined, so the question is gnawing at you.

“Buck wants me to.”

You snort. “Buck wants a lot of things; most children do.”

“You’re a year younger than him,” Bobby points out.

It’s true—Buck is 26, and you’re 25. But in this context especially, age is just a number. You’re a 25-year-old advanced practice paramedic with 3 years of experience who acts their age. Buck is a 26-year-old firefighter in his probationary period who acts like a frat boy.

“Are you going to write me up?” You repeat.

Bobby gives you a look, then sighs with a crooked smile. “No. But if you do anything like that again, you’ll be hearing from me and Sergeant Grant.”

“Fair enough,” you cede.

There are a few silent beats in the conversation. This is why Bobby made you sit—he has more to say.

“Why does he bother you so much?” Bobby asks.

“Literally everything I told him: he’s wreckless and he’s gonna get someone killed if he doesn’t change.”

“So why not teach him to do better, to be better?”

“Trust me, Cap, I’ve tried,” you chuckle. “I mean, even earlier today, I taught him how to clear an obstruction in a neonatal airway. And honestly? For a few minutes, when he was running down the stairs with that baby in his arms, I thought, ‘Hey, maybe he isn’t so bad after all.’ And then he yells at Sergeant Grant, and he proves me wrong. Again.”

“I’m talking to him and Sergeant Grant about how everything went down,” Bobby says.

“I’m not telling you that to get him in trouble, I just…” You take a deep breath through your nose and let it out as a sigh. “It felt like no one was holding him accountable. And I’ve tried playing nice, and I’ve tried teaching him, and he still had the nerve to pretend that he can play god. And I just… lost it, and thought that maybe if I treat him like a man would, he would finally listen to me.”

Bobby nods, taking in everything you’ve said.

“You think I don’t hold him accountable?” He eventually asks.

You let out another sigh. “If Buck worked under any other LAFD Captain, they would have canned his ass about three months ago.”

“But is that the right thing to do?” Bobby counters. “This job is tough, and it isn’t something that can be taught overnight. Buck has potential—he could be an invaluable asset some day.”

“Is firing him the right call? Honestly, Bobby, I have no idea,” you admit. “But if people have to get hurt in order for Buck to be good at his job, then it isn’t worth the price.”

Bobby ended up firing Buck a few days later. It wasn’t for what happened with Sergeant Grant; it was because, apparently, Bobby caught him having sex with some girl on a roof. He used one of the fire trucks to drive there. The moron didn’t realize they have GPS trackers. You got all of this information in a text from Hen.

You turn the corner to the locker room, planning to put away your keys and wallet before starting your shift like you always do. You didn’t expect to see Buck sitting on the bench in front of the lockers.

You plan on opening your locker, throwing your stuff in it, and leaving before Buck can say anything. The second you lift the lever, though, Buck turns his head towards you.

He doesn’t say anything, and you definitely aren‘t going to break the silence.

“So you heard, huh?” Buck says.

You close your locker and spin the lock to scramble it. “Yeah, I did.”

“Aren’t you going to say anything else?”

“Tough break. Sorry, man,” you say with a shrug. You turn on your heel to leave.

“That’s it?” Buck says with a laugh. “A few days ago, you were slamming me against an ambulance, and now… nothing? Aren’t you supposed to say, ‘I told you so’?”

Buck doesn’t even work at the 118 anymore, and he still has a way of getting under your skin. You close your eyes, hoping you can gain some composure before you say anything.

“I’m sorry for pushing you; that was unprofessional,” you say and make your second attempt at leaving.

“But that’s all you're sorry for,” Buck says, rising to his feet.

You turn around and eye him from head to toe. His chest isn’t puffed out in that hypermasculine way it normally is. Buck shifts his weight between feet, and when the pressure of your stare becomes too much, he breaks eye contact.

“It’s like Sergeant Grant said: I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true,” you eventually reply.

“Then say it: you’re happy to see me go.”

Jesus Christ, he can be such a baby.

“Okay, fine, you wanna go there?” you retort, taking a step forward. “You wanna know the worst thing about you, Buck?”

He just looks at you.

“You. You’re the worst thing about you. Because you could’ve been good. You’ve got decent skills, and you have heart, but you have no discipline. You can’t take orders, and you can’t look at a woman for more than thirty seconds without having sex with her. You’re a 16-year-old boy trapped in a 26-year-old man’s body, and ever since you started, you haven’t done anything to change it. You get in your own way and are too busy flirting or running your mouth to even realize it.”

You take another step towards him to ensure he hears what you’re about to say. “You could’ve been good. And I hope that shit haunts you. Because maybe, it’ll finally make you grow up.”

You start to make your exit again but linger in the doorway. You turn back around; there’s one more thing you want to say.

“I’m not happy to see you go, Evan. In fact, I was really hoping you would prove me wrong.”

And with that, you’re gone.

You and Hen go out on a ‘shortness of breath’ call that ends up being a STEMI — a heart attack. You get him to the nearest hospital in five minutes, and if they can get him to the cath lab, he has a really good shot at surviving it. The patient’s wife hugs both you and Hen, thanking the two of you for doing such a wonderful job. You savor the feeling; most calls don’t end this way.

When you pull into the station, there’s an engine missing. At first, you think it’s no big deal: the boys are probably out on a fire call. Then you see Bobby standing where the engine’s supposed to be.

“What’s going on, Cap?” Hen asks as she closes the door to the rig.

“There’s an engine missing.”

“Yeah, clearly,” you chuckle.

“There were reports of a residential break-in on Lambert Street in Winnetka,” Bobby continues.

“Damn,” Hen whistles.

You both heard something about that over the scanner on your drive back to the station; there was a suspected hostage, a young girl. Last you heard, the subject was trying to flee by motorcycle.

“All of the 118 firemen are accounted for,” Bobby concludes.

You and Hen share a look. Who has a track record of borrowing engines without permission?

The truck pulls up and slowly backs into the garage. You catch a glimpse of the driver in one of the rearview mirrors.

“Pretty Boy,” you say simply.

Buck steps out of the truck, still wearing the jeans and long-sleeved grey shirt you last saw him in. “I know what this looks like.”

“Looks like you took the engine out in your street clothes,” Bobby says as he approaches the younger man.

“I didn't really have time to change,” Buck counters. He doesn’t say it in his normal cocky tone, though. Frankly, he looks nervous.

“Athena Grant called me, wanted to tell me what an asset you are.” Bobby continues. “Told her she was half right.”

Buck frowns. “Are you giving me another chance?”

“You’ve used all your chances; so have I,” Bobby says, “because somehow I have failed to communicate to you how lucky we are to do what we do.”

Bobby starts to walk away, but Buck isn’t letting him get away that easy.

“You're wrong, Bobby. I absolutely do get what a privilege it is to serve here,” Buck says, “and you know what? You were right to fire me.”

That makes Bobby stop dead in his tracks.

“I was a punk,” Buck continues, “still am one. But I'm a punk who understands what he lost. Just… needed you to know that.”

“I hope you mean that. Now go get dressed.”

Buck stands cluelessly for a second, then turns to you and Hen. “I think I’m not fired.”

“Your shift’s not over yet,” Hen points out.

You go to follow her, but Buck stops you by calling your name.

“I just wanted to tell you, uh…” Buck says, wringing his hands together. “I’m gonna prove you wrong.”

Normally, words like that coming out of his mouth would set your skin on fire. Between the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes, though, something in your gut tells you to hear him out.

“Yeah?” You ask simply, waiting for him to elaborate.

“Some day, I’ll be good,” he says, “but until then, I’ll be better.”

Buck extends a hand for you to shake. It’s the most chivalrous thing you’ve seen him do since you met him. You look at his hand, then at his eyes. There isn’t a trace of humor in his gaze. You take his hand and shake it.

“I look forward to seeing it.”

Your first call of the shift is to an amusement park where one of the rides malfunctioned. A rider was thrown from the ride as it was moving, and it sounds like he’ll be DOA. When the operator deployed the emergency breaks, though, it meant the rest of the train stopped at the top of a loop, which one rider is now dangling out of.

Buck is the first to volunteer to climb the ladder and harness the passenger. You’re not surprised. He’s grown a lot in the last few weeks, but he still jumps at every exciting opportunity, no matter how dangerous it may be. Maybe that’s just how Buck is.

“Hey, he’s asking about his friend,” Buck radios once he’s at the top.

“Chimney, how’s the kid on the ground?” Bobby radios.

You look up and shake your head.

“We lost him,” Chim radios back.

“All right, I don't need the people up there seeing that. So, do me a favor... He survived, right? Get him on a gurney. You know the drill,” Bobby instructs.

“Copy that,” Chim replies.

Once you and Chimney get him on the gurney and out of everyone’s sight, you look up at Buck.

“Come on,” Chimney mutters encouragingly. “Come on, Buck.”

After a painfully long minute, you see the man’s grasp on the rollercoaster falter. Then, you watch him let go. You close your eyes before you see him hit the ground, but the sound will echo off of your eardrums for a while.

You go the rest of the night without seeing Buck; you don’t share another call, and when you’re not out in the field, you’re asleep in the bunks. It’ll probably kill you in the long run, but these days, you learn to sleep whenever and wherever you can.

When you wake up for morning report and breakfast, Buck is already sitting at the table. You wipe the sleep out of your eyes and get a cup of coffee before sitting across from him.

Bobby was nice enough to make breakfast; he knows how hard these calls are. No matter how many you get, it’ll never get easier.

Bobby sets a plate in front of Buck.

“I’m not hungry,” he says almost instantaneously.

“This is America, Buckaroo,” Chim replies as he sets some silverware on the table. “Eating has nothing to do with being hungry.

“Man, I was right there. You know, all he had to do was reach up and grab my hand,” Buck says instead.

“People do funny things at times like that,” you offer, sipping your drink. “ Sometimes they just freeze up.”

“I’ve never lost anyone before,” Buck says quietly. He looks up at you. “Does it get any easier?”

Bobby answers for you. “No.”

“Look, people die, and that’s part of the gig, right?” Chim says as he sits next to you. “See, your problem is, you're looking at every job like it's a long-term relationship. They're one-night stands, man. In that moment, they mean everything to you, but once the morning comes... it's on to the next one.”

“How silly of me to think you’d say something productive,” you roll your eyes.

Chim furrows his brows. “What?”

“You’re such a man,” you say to Chim, then turn to Buck. “Look, dude, we all go through it, and you just have to figure out a way to deal with it,.” You pause. “You know why we wear these uniforms?”

“Sex appeal?” Chim answers, which earns him a quick kick to the shin from you.

“So people can easily identify us,” Buck responds.

“That’s true, but… I don’t know, I like to think it’s because when we take it off, we can leave it all behind us. Right now, you’re firefighter Buckley, but when your shift is over, you’re Buck. It just… symbolizes letting go, I guess.”

“I see his face every time I close my eyes,” Buck says. “Does that happen to you?”

“It’ll pass,” you promise.

“And if it doesn’t?”

You stare at Buck for a moment. It’s hard to imagine that this is the same man who mouthed off to a police Sergeant mere weeks ago.

“Then you talk someone,” you eventually say. “A friend, a therapist, a bartender… you find a way to let it out, and then you let it go.”

Once again, you don’t see Buck for hours. You heard on the scanner that the 118 responded to several rescue calls, none requiring an RA unit. You spent the rest of your shift bouncing from call to call and ER to ER, seeing everything from stab wounds to childbirth. It’s shifts like this that remind you why you do what you do. It’s chaotic, stressful, and bloody, but it is fun. After a certain point, you don’t even have to use your brain; the adrenaline in your veins kicks your brain into autopilot, and your pounding heart is just along for the ride.

You step into the communal locker room, completely exhausted. You still have to change, and considering everything you’ve witnessed, you should probably shower too. Most of all, you want to go home and crawl into your bed.

Buck is sitting on the bench in the locker room, similar to how he was a few weeks ago after he was ‘fired.’ Just like you, he’s still wearing his uniform. His head is bowed between his shoulders as his elbows rest on his knees. This time, his head doesn’t perk up when you open your locker.

“I heard you used The Manuever today,” you spark the conversation. “Nice save.”

Buck finally looks up and then chuckles quietly. “Yeah, if only I could’ve done that a few days ago.”

You take a seat next to him. “Still thinking about Devon, huh?”

“I’m trying not to, I just…” Buck says, then cuts himself off as he shakes his head.

“It’s easier said than done,” you conclude.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” you agree.

Both of you sit in comfortable silence for a few moments. You open your mouth a few times only to close it. You don’t want to tell this story; you hate even thinking about it. But if you’re going to sit here and tell Buck that he has to let things go, you have to do the same. It’s only fair.

“The first person I lost… her name was Katherine Vanec. She was 17 years old, wearing a University of Washington shirt, white shorts, and black Converse High Tops. We got a call from her mother, who was at work when she started getting strange texts from Katherine. It was supposed to be a welfare check, and when the cops got there, they found her locked in her bedroom. When fire and rescue broke down the door, she had a .22 caliber revolver pressed to her temple.”

“Jesus,” Buck mutters.

“Katherine had a history of Borderline Personality Disorder and suicidal ideation. She figured out that her high school sweetheart had been cheating on her for almost a year. They made plans together, I guess — they were gonna go to the same school, find a place off-campus to live together. He pulled the rug right out from under her, and she couldn’t take it.”

“So what happened?”

You smile sadly. “By the time we arrived, a negotiator had been talking to her for almost ten minutes. They thought she was in a good spot that all she had to do was put the gun down, and we would swoop in and 5150 her.”

“Involuntary admission,” Buck says.

“Yeah,” you confirm. “That didn’t happen. When the negotiator asked her to set the gun down, she lost it. She kept talking about how every time before, she chickened out, and she couldn’t let that happen again. She turned the gun on us.”

“Suicide by cop.”

You nod as a few tears well in your eyes. Even all these years later, that case haunts you. “Her finger wasn’t near the trigger; she didn’t want to hurt anyone. She just didn’t want to be alive anymore, and she couldn’t think of another way out. I can still hear the sound of the bullets tearing through her.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Buck asks softly.

You wipe at your eyes and clear your throat. “Let it out and let it go,” you answer, then nudge his shoulder with yours. “Your turn.”

Buck smiles; the expression is bittersweet. “I keep replaying what happened. I can’t shake this feeling that there’s something else I could’ve done. Maybe I could have grabbed his arm, or maybe there’s something I could’ve said differently.”

“Or maybe, no matter what you did, it was always going to end that way,” you suggest quietly. “Maybe he felt the same way Katherine did—like he had no other way out. We can try to rescue people, but we can’t make them want to be alive. Some people just don’t want to be saved, Buck.”

“That really sucks.”

You laugh. “Yeah, it does. I guess that’s why we have each other; it makes it suck a little less.”

“‘Each other’ as in you and me?” Buck asks in a lighthearted tone.

You roll your eyes, but secretly, you’re thankful for the change of pace. “‘Each other’ as in the 118, which technically includes you and me.”

“Sounds like a copout.”

You laugh and clap a hand on Buck’s shoulder before standing. “Have a good night, Buck.”

You make it to the doorway before he says your name. You look back at him.

“Thank you,” he says softly.

You bite your lip, but it isn’t enough to conceal your smile. “Anytime.”

Ch 3

#911 abc #evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #911 show #911 on abc #911 reader insert #evan buckley/reader #eddie diaz x reader #eddie diaz #eventual eddie diaz x evan buckley #evan buckley x eddie diaz x reader #Buddie x reader #i can write

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