#can’t explain how much this show is life

[dissapointu]

ARCANE characters x Innocent S/O headcannons

____________________________________________

Jinx

• Playful Corruption: Jinx lives for how easily you blush or get flustered. She’ll drop the wildest innuendos just to watch your face turn bright red. “What? Did I say something wrong?” she teases with a mischievous grin.

• Childlike Chaos: Your innocence balances her chaotic energy perfectly. She adores your wholesome reactions to her antics and will sometimes soften her usual mischief just to make you smile.

• Bedroom Teasing: In intimate moments, Jinx is both playful and surprisingly attentive. She loves guiding you through new experiences, her hands ghosting over your skin as she whispers, “Don’t worry, doll. I’ll show you how it’s done.”

Vi

• Protective Big Sister Vibes: Your innocence brings out Vi’s protective side. She’ll shield you from Zaun’s darker realities and anyone who tries to take advantage of your trusting nature. “Don’t worry, babe. No one’s messing with you while I’m around.”

• Loves to Tease: Vi can’t resist playfully poking at your naivety, but it’s always affectionate. “You seriously didn’t get that joke? Oh, babe, you’re too pure for this world,” she says with a laugh, pulling you in for a hug.

• Gentle Passion: In private, Vi is surprisingly tender. She takes her time, guiding you through every touch and kiss. “You okay? Just say the word, and I’ll stop,” she murmurs, her voice full of care.

Sevika

• Smirking All the Time: Sevika finds your innocence endlessly amusing and lowkey endearing. She loves dropping suggestive comments just to see you fumble for a response.

• Teaches You the Ropes: Whether it’s poker, drinking games, or…other activities, Sevika loves showing you the darker, more thrilling sides of Zaun. “Stick with me, sweetheart. I’ll take good care of you.”

• Domineering in the Bedroom: When it comes to intimacy, Sevika takes full control. She loves guiding you step by step, her deep voice soothing yet commanding. “Relax, baby. Let me show you how it’s done.”

Silco

• Fatherly Patience: Silco appreciates your innocence as a rarity in his gritty world. He admires how you see things with such optimism and takes his time explaining the harsh realities in a way that won’t break your spirit.

• Subtle Seduction: Silco enjoys using his smooth, persuasive tone to draw you out of your shell. “Come now, my dear. Let me teach you the ways of the world,” he says, his gaze intense but tender.

• Slow and Intentional: In intimate moments, Silco is precise and patient. He takes his time exploring what makes you tick, savoring every sound and reaction you give him. “You’re exquisite, my love. Absolutely exquisite.”

Vander

• Protective & Gentle: Vander treasures your innocence, seeing it as a breath of fresh air in his rough life. He’s fiercely protective of you and goes out of his way to ensure you’re safe and happy.

• Big Softie Energy: He loves your wholesome nature and enjoys simple moments with you, like teaching you how to pull a perfect pint or listening to you ramble about something you’re passionate about.

• Intimate Tenderness: Vander is incredibly soft and gentle in the bedroom. His large hands cradle you carefully as he murmurs sweet reassurances. “Just tell me if it’s too much, love. I want this to be perfect for you.”

Ekko

• Adorable Duo: Ekko thinks your innocence is absolutely adorable and finds your reactions to his jokes or compliments hilarious. He’ll often say something flirty just to see you squirm.

• Patient Teacher: Whether he’s showing you around Zaun or teaching you new skills, Ekko is incredibly patient and encouraging. “You’ve got this, babe. Just take it one step at a time.”

• Playful Yet Caring: In intimate moments, Ekko keeps things light and fun, easing your nerves with jokes and soft kisses. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

Jayce

• Golden Retriever Boyfriend: Jayce loves your innocent nature and often acts like your personal cheerleader. He’s always there to hype you up or explain something you don’t understand without making you feel silly.

• Big on Reassurance: He constantly tells you how amazing you are, especially if you’re feeling overwhelmed. “You don’t have to know everything, babe. Just be yourself—that’s more than enough.”

• Loving Exploration: Jayce is incredibly affectionate and patient when it comes to intimacy. He takes his time, kissing every inch of you and making sure you’re comfortable every step of the way.

Viktor

• Gentle Curiosity: Viktor finds your innocence fascinating and refreshing. He loves explaining complex ideas to you and is always amazed by how quickly you pick things up.

• Soft Protectiveness: Viktor has a quiet but strong desire to protect you from the darker sides of Piltover and Zaun. He’s always looking out for you, whether it’s offering his arm while walking or pulling you closer during tense moments.

• Tender & Thoughtful: Intimacy with Viktor is full of soft touches and whispered reassurances. “You’re so beautiful, my love. There’s no rush—we’ll take this as slow as you need.”

Caitlyn

• Gentle Encourager: Caitlyn adores your innocence and often takes on the role of your guide in Piltover’s social scene. She’s patient and kind, never making you feel out of place.

• Sweet & Supportive: Caitlyn is incredibly affectionate, always finding small ways to reassure you—whether it’s holding your hand in public or giving you soft kisses when you’re flustered.

• Soft Yet Passionate: In private, Caitlyn’s love shines through in every touch. She’s gentle yet firm, always focused on making you feel cherished. “You’re perfect, darling. Let me show you just how much you mean to me.”

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Listen the ‘Bruce brought dick in to stop him killing Zucco” is fun

You know what’s more fun

The fact that Dick Grayson is the fundamental opposite of Jokers one bad day

Because he was 9 and insane

Jokers “all it takes is one bad day” meet Dick Grayson also terminally insane but in the opposite direction.

(“I had a bad day not a fan, it’s illegal now”

“Chum murder is already illegal”

“Yeah in the eyes of the law, but who follows that! I’ve decided it’s illegal for people to have bad days”

“You have to follow laws Dick. You have to”

“Says the man getting shot at by the cops bc he dresses as a giant bat monster and fights crime using ancient martial arts”

“Hnnng”

“Anyway it’s illegal now, people suffering I have decided and I’m adorable so what I say goes!”

Bruce pinching bridge of nose “Dick you can’t save everyone and change every person you meets life”

“How about! No!”

“Di-“

“Great talk Bruce! Bye bye now!”)

Like when I say Dick Grayson was the crazy Robin I don’t mean he was aggressive or cruel

No I mean this man would not be out of place in Lewis Carol’s Alice in wonderland.

He’d see all the insane shit in Gotham and go ‘that makes perfect sense’ and continue on his merry way

Like he’s the type of kid who when he’s mad at Bruce for sidelining him on a fight against the joker (and making him fight Harley)

Will pull out a chessboard, grab Harley Quinn and go “I win, you get arkhamed you win we fight”

“Kid-“

“I have a gymnastics competition coming up and I wanna show up this douche in my class- you are not breaking my legs before then. Sit down. Play chess”

“Shit kid why didncha say so”

Why does he wanna fight the Joker who will objectively injure him far more throughly

“Well it’s simple math, I grew up in a circus, I like clowns, he is the biggest disgrace to clownery I’ve ever seen bet he didn’t even go to clown college. Doesn’t even have any iconic makeup, he just has toxic waste skin?? Like not even eye makeup or a red nose?? If you wanna do thematic crime do it right? Anyway it’s my legal obligation to try at any given moment to reck the embarrassment to all things goofy and funs shit.”

—————

Bruce looking for his 9 year old ward who was kidnapped as Robin

Dick hanging upside down on semi sentient vine gesturing wildly at poison Ivy who is nodding empathically

“And the water here is not normal!! Like how do you grow plants! I used to have to take care of plants all the time and now if I water them they rot! Like right in front of me!!? And I feel so bad but?? It’s water?? Please drink it?? Mr plant”

“Oh yeah it’s because of all the toxic ace chemicals in the water, you have to triple filter it. Honestly Robin I’m disappointed, your plants should be drinking the same water as you”

“ they do tho!”

“You…drink… Gotham tap water? Batman lets you drink Gotham tap water?”

“Well no… he always tells me to use the filter but I like the tap water!! Sometimes it’s fun colors and spicy”

“oh… oh that explains so much about you..”

“No he just came like that.”

“Oh HI B I was asking miss Dr.ivy why my plants keep dying”

“Robin don’t consort with villains”

“Miss Dr. Ivy you’re a doctor right”

Poison Ivy who is violently amused “PHD not MD but yeah I am”

“So you’re smart”

“Yeasss”

“Cool!…. What does consort mean?”

————-

Annoys the riddler by going with the most out of pocket technically true answer

Think “a sparrow with a shotgun”

———-

Makes the Jokers goons laugh, louder than the joker. Even while under threats of death by sufficiently wacky murder plot

———-

[unhingedangstaddict]

Because the weather is absolute garbage (well below freezing temperatures and snowing) and I'm feeling kinda unmotivated atm here's a small teaser for the next chapter of All Of You, All Of Me (Intertwined) - my bucktommy mpreg fic

The next morning Tommy walked to the coffee shop and arrived early, only to find Evan had also just arrived. “Hey.” He said as he approached Evan.

“Hey, why don’t I grab us drinks while you find us a table?” Evan suggested.

“Sure.” Tommy agreed.

“What do you want? Not that I forgot your usual order but you probably can’t have your usual because the caffeine…” Evan frowned. “Not that I’m trying to police what you eat or drink!” He added quickly.

Tommy had to chuckle a bit at how nervous Evan was. For a moment it could almost be Evan’s regular old nervous excitement and not the new much more complex nervousness that Tommy had instilled in Evan yesterday with just just five words. “You’re fine. Get me a decaf mocha with raspberry syrup-” Tommy could see Evan’s face twisting into one of confusion or perhaps disgust. “It’s what she wants. I’m not exactly a fan but it does taste good.” Tommy explained, gesturing vaguely at his stomach.

“Got it. Coming right up.” Evan nodded and went to order.

Tommy got them a table in a quiet corner of the coffee shop and waited patiently for Evan, who soon came over to the table with their drinks in hand.

“Have you uh, have you had a lot of cravings?” Evan asked as he set Tommy’s drink in front of him, then sat across from Tommy.

“Yeah. This drink is one of two consistent repeat offenders and there’s been lots of one time cravings for different things too.” Tommy nodded. Tommy knew they should be talking about more important things but Evan was nervous and it was probably less nerve-wracking for him if they eased into it, and maybe it’d be easier for Tommy too.

“What’s the other consistent one?” Evan wondered.

“Lucy makes fake gagging noises every time it comes up,” Tommy admitted. “Grilled cheese with peanut butter and tomatoes on it. Usually needs to be on sourdough bread, cinnamon-raisin bread on one particularly notable occasion though.”

“Like all together in the sandwich heated up?” Evan wondered.

Tommy nodded and shrugged. “It's what the kid wants. Can’t wait til she decides she’s sick of them.”

“No kidding.” Evan mumbled and sipped his drink.

“Look, I’m sure you have things you want to say and ask, and so do I. There’s a lot up in the air at the moment and I just want to make something super clear before we get any further.” Tommy told Evan.

“Okay,” Evan sat up straighter and made sure he was showing that he was paying attention.

“I know I told Lucy, to tell Eddie, to tell you this, but I wanted you to hear it from me directly also. If you don’t want to be involved, I don’t expect you to. The last thing I want is for you to feel trapped by this in any way. So, if you’re not interested you can walk away now, no hard feelings. I can’t promise she’ll never get curious or grow up and find you herself, but if you don’t want to be a part of this, I will keep you out of it as much as I can.”

“Tommy I want to be involved-” Evan started.

“And if that is genuinely what you want Evan, then great.” Tommy cut in. “But if you think there is even the smallest chance you’re gonna wake up one day and regret staying, just walk away now. It’s one thing for us to break each other’s hearts, it’d be another to do that to our daughter.”

“I know I just found out but I swear I’m not going anywhere. I- I’ve been a sperm donor before- I told you about Connor and Cameron’s son- and I’m not interested in doing that again, Tommy. I want to be a part of my daughter’s life.” Evan insisted.

Tommy nodded and almost smiled. “Okay.”

(Read the full chapter on ao3)

[shutupineedtothink]

Ok this has been sitting in my drafts for a minute but since nobody asked for it, here’s my full Nicky headcannon. It leads into an insane MCU witch movie with Agatha, Wanda, Rio, Billy, Tommy (?), maybe Jen and even Alice. All the witches! I got yall.

So, Nicky Scratch. That boy is Agatha and Rio’s but most prominently he is Death’s Son, right. A demigod something or other, an entity, Something Else. Not really human/mortal, but certainly not dead either. He’s in the same class of whatever Rio is. Rio knows this from day one. Agatha does not.

That means two main things: Nicky isn’t really “dead,” (he wasn’t even supposed to be “living”) and that kid should have hella powers. We should have seen some indication of that imo in the show but I can explain it away easily enough in a minute. Either way, under the surface he should have scary magic along the lines of Billy if not far more powerful.

Except while Billy has essentially Wanda’s magic, creator magic, Nicky’s is much, much darker. You know, something fitting of a child of Death.

Let’s say Nicky has Black Magic. 👀 haven’t seen that one on the color wheel of magic colors yet amirite. (Except the Darkhold I suppose, which is an interesting connection potentially.) Or maybe it's like Dark Magic, as in literal darkness. Darkling style. Maybe it's somehow a dark/light binary, like how Rio is technically a death/life binary. Idk I'm working on it, but you get the idea. He's on another level, something adjacent to Rio but not quite the same.

His magic is so strong, corrosive, not evil necessarily but heavy and consuming, that it was killing his mortal body from the beginning.

That’s why he was never meant to live in the first place — like Rio he is Another Being, his magic is Something Else. It’s too much for a human little boy. He needed to join her to really “live” and have any hope of control over his magic.

His powers also make him a massive target for who knows what demons and underworld beings. … you see where this could go.

So in this version, let’s say Rio has a much deeper connection to Nicky on a magical level. She can tell when his magic is about to manifest in the world of the living and takes him right before that happens, otherwise both him and Agatha will be in danger. Perhaps she even tells Nicky what’s happening, and he can feel it coming too, which also accounts for why he goes with her so willingly, to protect his mama from his own power. Kind of a lot for a six-year-old to understand but again, he’s Special.

Maybe Rio’s even been keeping the monsters off Nicky and Agatha’s trail while Nicky was human. Tbh it was a miracle she managed it for six years alongside her other responsibilities. She never told Agatha a) because she didn’t want her being more afraid than she already was, b) because would it have really made any difference, Agatha would hate her either way and c) For The Drama.

When Rio takes Nicky, maybe she stashes him in some kind of purgatory space. Pocket dimension? Idk we have no idea what she has access to but let’s say she hides him away somewhere so that she can teach him to use his magic and keep him away from the demons. This is where I would pull in Alice if possible, after we see Rio take her into the smoke in ep 8 Rio makes her an offer to help her protect Nicky in purgatory for a while, because his powers are only getting stronger and she's starting to get worried something's going to happen. Yes, diverting a soul like that is wildly against the rules. She does it anyway for her son.

All of this of course makes Agatha’s hatred for Rio that much worse, because Nicky is still “alive” in a sense and Rio is doing everything she can to protect him and raise him and help him control his magic. She can’t tell Agatha any of this because anyone else who knows about Nicky is a liability. Again, she really shouldn’t have even let him live with Agatha in the first place, it was a massive risk to everyone involved. But she did, and Agatha has no idea what a gift that was, for her and for Nicky.

All of that said, this would set us up for some CRaZy MCU witch/underworld stuff. So here’s the rough outline of my movie: let’s say the demons finally find Nicky wherever Rio has him hidden and take him to the underworld, Mephisto, blah blah whatever. I’m not worried about the motive at this point. Age Nicky up to Billy’s age roughly so he can be a real character. Btw, in my head Nicky is still the sweetest bean, total opposite to either of his mothers, too good for this world, cursed with this insane power he doesn’t know what to do with. Obviously, we have some opportunity to develop him from there.

Anyway, once she finds out he’s gone, Rio is forced to tell Agatha the truth. There’s no one else she can trust to get Nicky back. (I’m imagining a juicy confrontation between the two of them where we just let Kathryn and Aubrey cook with the exposition.) Rio can’t go to the underworld herself for some reason, because of The Cosmic Rules, and the Jac Schaeffer rules of Rio can’t hang around on screen for too long (which I like, actually).

Rio only deals with the mortal plane and directing souls to whatever comes next. So it has to be Agatha who rescues him, but as a ghost she’s stuck on the mortal plane too. So now we gotta “bring her back to life,” because I need real life Kathryn Hahn in this full movie not as a ghost, you feel me. And she has to be able to use her magic. So we gotta manifest a new body around her ghost form. At first they think Billy can do it, but even he’s not that powerful, not to mention still relatively untrained.

… Do you see the vision yet?

There’s only one witch, who may or may not be dead, who can manifest Agatha Harkness back into a living breathing body. And Agatha HATES it with every fiber of her noncorporeal being, but she needs the Scarlet Witch to make her mortal again, so that she can go to the underworld and save her son. Of course, chaos and shenanigans ensue, and Wanda and the boys end up going with her.

I’m calling the movie — Agatha Harkness and the Scarlet Witch. It’s a team up babyyyy! It’s about women and power, Wanda and Agatha being two sides of the same coin, mothers and their sons, rewriting your story, reuniting and letting go, etc etc etc. Yes I have entire scenes already written in my head, no I’ll never actually write the fic or the screenplay, if somebody wants to run with this please let me know and I’ll give you what I got.

The point is, the story potential on Nicky is insane to be The One Who Brings Everyone Else Together and I really hope they don’t just throw it away.

[theheartcollecter]

Chapter 1: Revival

Fem Ghoul reader x Monster 141

Warnings for this chapter: torture, blood, cannibalism (lemme know if I missed any.)

You were turned into a ghoul about 2 months ago. Battling with urges to carnivore humans and fight rival ghouls. Your life had changed drastically since then, no more university or jobs, hell, you can’t even talk to friends or family the same.

You don’t remember how exactly you got here, in a secluded room. The walls and floors bare exactly for a single chair and the pool of blood forming around it. You eyes can barely stay open, when they do you star at the only light source in this huge room. The white light shows your life before, the people you met and human foods you ate.

Many people don’t know when exact the influx of ghouls started to appear in England, they just remember the stories. Mother and kids found dead after father cannibalizes them. Except they didn’t know it wasn’t cannibalism at the time, no, something much worse, a new form of monster. Ghouls in England began running rogue, eating anyone they pleased, and turning whoever the thought fit.

That’s how you ended up here. Wrists and feet tied to a chair, restraints beyond tight. You stopped making sounds of agony a while ago, the pain now numbing. Squelch! Another toe being cut off, forcing your body to replace it. Since you’re a fairly new ghoul, your body hasn’t gotten a hold of the whole immortal thing. Your new ghoul body takes longer than most to heal itself, which only makes it more agonizing.

You can hear a man laughing, or ghoul laughing, the one who brought you here. You forgot his name; useless information now. But you’ll never forget what he did or is doing to you. He’s cut all of your toes off by now, all forced to regrow. By the 15th one you stopped feeling it, which he was clearly amused by.

You feel something touch your hair lightly, “It’s white,” the man says, English accent cutting through your head. You open your eyes, cold sweat running down your face. “Your hair has turned white.” You glance down and, yes, he’s right. Your hair has indeed turned white, another thing added along with your freakish new powers.

You can’t find the words to complain so you just stare into his eyes, revenge now corrupting your mind. His eyes, a pale yellow, hair blonde, and brown suit. Must be 6ft or taller, typical muscular build, maybe late 40s.

You don’t know if you’ll survive this, not sure how long it will take, how many more things he can cut until your body stops regrowing them.

It’s like god hearing your prayers, a guardian angel coming to save you as you hear someone kick at the door. It only takes a few kicks to get it to collapse onto the floor. The male ghoul in front of you is blocking your view, you can’t see who’s come to, hopefully, save you.

“Hmm, who are you?” The male ghoul says, amusement lacing his voice. You try to say something, anything, you open your mouth but no sound comes out.

“Task Force 141, remember the name.” An English man says, before you see them, rushing towards the ghoul. Four men, two with, is that wings? A wolf hybrid, and a giant with a mask on. They all wear protective gear, guns and knives, and the wolf is wearing a …choker?

The ghoul tenses, amusement gone. He steps back before his kagune, a ghouls predatory organ that functions as their weapon, comes out. You think he’s about to fight them before he rushes towards the side of the building, crashing through the wall into the night.

You turn back to your saviors, getting a good look at them, but not for long. The loss of blood must’ve got to you, your eyes slowly close and before you know it you’ve passed out. The last thing you feel is being untied and picked up into big, warm, arms.

A/n: AHHH, this is my first time ever writing something like this, so don’t bash me too hard.🙈 I wrote this with the anime Tokyo Ghoul in mind, but I think I explained enough to make it make sense without knowing the anime. But please know this whole series (if it gets that far) will be heavily based on the anime. If you have a suggestions to make my writing better, please let me know!

[wizzdot]

Sunshine

Chapter 4

Description: will Ray agree to join the team? Will she go to Mexico with them..? Will she remember how to shoot straight? Who knows..

You listened to what Price had offered. You really tried to find it in yourself to agree, but no. “I can’t do that..”

“Can’t do what..?” - “expect your men to trust me. To, for want of a better term, take a bullet for me.. it’s not fair. Christ, even I wouldn’t trust me as far as you could throw me..”

“..” You glance around at the three men, all silent, the Scot fidgeting with his hoodie strings and Ghost staring straight at back at you. The Captain starts to respond, but you cut him off, earning an exasperated sigh from the man.

“Also.. I’ve been out for months, over a year, in fact... What makes you so sure I can still shoot straight. Hold my own in a fight? What if it’s all gone? Any potential you may have seen in me. It’s gone. I’m exhausted, Captain. You’re placing too much trust in me. I’ll let you down. Your team, I can see it’s precious to you. I can’t be trusted with that responsibility…”

The man clears his throat and sends a wry smile in your direction.

“You don’t lose that sort of skill. It stays with you forever. If, for your own peace of mind, you’d like to go down the range and sharpen up, then feel free. Likewise, if you’d like to spar and polish up on your hand to hand, then I’m sure one of the boys here can help. Gaz, too, once he is fighting fit, which won’t be long. As far as trust goes, I look at it this way. Trust is a two way street. If you trust me, my team, enough to join us, then we will trust you enough to fight alongside. Simple as that, really”.

You clench your jaw, annoyed at yourself for even considering this. No, surely not.. snap out of it!! Just as you think of something to say to help get you out of this, the captain speaks again.

“You have my word, y/n, you’re free to leave. If at any point you want out, just tell me. I’ll sign the papers, set you up with a new identity and new house, you’ll be out. For good. I’ll give you the clearance, make sure you get your pension, your insurance, retirement, everything, you'll be discharged. I can say it’s on medical grounds.."

You can’t quite believe his offer. When you’d thrown that tantrum at the ceremony, they’d take everything from you. Everything that the Captain had just listed, gone, you had a red stamp across your name.

DISHONOURABLY DISCHARGED

You feel your throat constrict. You clear it slightly, trying to relieve the lump that had settled there.

“Fine” you murmur, not looking up from your shoe laces, if you looked at any of them now, you might change your mind and go running back to your shitty life on the outskirts of town. You’d been more dead for the past 18 months, than you would have been if you’d actually have died in Russia, with the rest of your unit. It had been a sorry existence. One of solitude, and misplaced anger. You’d made your bed and laid in it, so to speak. And God, was it a horrible, lumpy, uncomfortable bed..

“Fine, I’ll do it” you repeat, turning on your heel and leaving the room.

“Welcome to the team, Ray. Johnny will show you to your room, and give you a quick tour of the base” the Captain replies, in an even tone, hiding his slight surprise at your agreement.

You glance to Johnny, who immediately snaps out of his dazed state and jumps to his task. “Right, yeah, ok! Follow me, lass”.

You follow Soap, who cleverly decides not to make conversation, this time. He arrives at a room.

“This is you..” he explains pointing to the door in front of him. He then points to his left “that’s Gaz..” then to his right “and that’s me - Cap and Ghost have their own rooms in the next hall. The common room is at the end of this hallway - 141 only. The communal mess hall is back the way we came, near the infirmary. The gym —”

You decide to interrupt. “That’s all, you can go.. I know where everything else is” you murmur, accidentally harshly. He immediately turns and it makes you feel guilty for your tone. Christ, you’d not had to be nice to anyone for years.. you were rusty.

As he turns away with a glum look on his usually too cheery face, you wince, realising that you’d upset him. You step into the room he had shown you, closing the door behind you. It was a typical military base room. A bed in the middle, a chest of drawers and a wardrobe, with a desk on the other side of the room. Basic and simple. You dump your bags on the bed and start rummaging through what little you had left.

These bags hadn’t been touched since you’d left. They were still packed from when Price and Kyle had arrived to your room immediately after storming out from the ceremony. As you unzip the rucksack, filled with your old life, your dog tags tumble down and snag on the zip.

You try to blink away the sting in your eyes, holding them up to the light with the metal chain. They clink against each other, flashing the artificial ceiling light into your eyes . Up close, you can see small scratches and tiny divots - scars left behind from years of service.

After a deep breath, you lift them and secure them around your neck - finally back where they belong. They feel cold against your skin, but the sensation feels familiar. Pull yourself together!

The next thing in your bag, is your old shemagh. It is tattered, torn and frayed at the edges. It’d always been with you on the field. You’d never been anywhere without it. If it wasn’t around your neck, it was tied to a gun, or around a belt loop. It was your good luck charm. God, the miles that old scarf had done…

You noticed that the Captain and Gaz usually wear one of their own around their necks. You weren’t sure if theirs held the same emotional attachment as yours did, but you assumed their ‘items’ were the hats that always donned their heads, and Ghost’s was his mask. You weren’t sure what Soap’s thing was yet..

As you pull it from the rucksack, the fabric feels so soft in your hands, you scrunch it up and take a huge inhale of its scent. Memories flood your vision. You sit down on the bed, allowing yourself a moment to reminisce on the past.

A knock on the door pulls you from your thoughts.

“Y/n? Still in ‘ere?” The voice asks.

You roll your eyes. It was Gaz.

“What do you want?”

“To catch up..” he replies, undeterred

“Already have..”

“C’mon, Ray.. let me in..” he whines, trying the handle.

Damn it, should have locked the door.

He freezes when he sees you, sitting on the bed, hands wrapped around your military scarf and wearing your dog tags around your neck. He eyes you for what seems like ages. Eventually he speaks..

“There she is!” he smirks “knew you couldn’t resist...”

[bzedan]

Oh man a bounty of tv. The first ep of This Fool season two is so deeply LA. God what a delight.

[xx-sketchy-xx]

You have peaked me interest..

And you’ve peeked his!

[echosdaffodil]

Thinking about how Phoenix did everything for love, from writing relentlessly letters to get attention to almost killing him self in court.

And then, it came to him, in the darkest hour, in the form of a little girl, just as lost as he is.

[pepprs]

bad enough that i am stuck in my life but even worse when i have to work through / around the stuckness in front of people i care about / explain it / be perceived in experiencing it. UGH!!!!!!

[mrburnsnuclearpussy]

I wish so badly that I never started watching Downton abbey because here I am now having near anxiety attacks over a fictional character and it’s just miserable and I want out!!!! This obsession hurts more than it feels good but I can’t get rid of it and idk how 😭

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[kavehater]

Which shipper put a curse on me I literally feel so dizzy

[killerpancakeburger]

Thinking about a Reader who ends up having Scary Dog Privileges with Ghost without meaning to. It just happened.

Then they have to deal with the fact that this comes with duties too.

Tags: civilian!reader, gn!reader, mostly fluff, a bit suggestive, smug!Ghost, smooth!Ghost. 800 words.

Part 2. Part 3.

When Ghost is reluctant to getting sutured in Medical after accidentally opening his stitches, grumbling he can do it himself, who does the nurse call for? Yeah, you.

She could stand her ground, after all she's used to dealing with big, whiny men, but it's much more fun to knock on your door and smile at your bewildered gaze and gaping mouth when she explains the situation in two sentences.

"Ghost's being difficult, mind taking over?" "I'm sorry, what the hell does this have to do with me?" "C'm'on, everyone on base knows he's got a soft spot for you. Don't you want to make my job easier?"

You roll your eyes and slam your hands on your desk as you get up. Groaning as you walk past her— "I'm doing this for you, nothing else, got it?"

Mumbling to yourself "you've got to be kidding me" as you barge into the sick bay. Ghost is coolly seated at the end of a bed, large as life, casual clothes as black as his mask and— oh. You weren't told the wound was on his thigh— you weren't warned that he didn’t have pants on. You can’t help it, your eyes go down, down, your lingering gaze and your flustered silence forming a confession louder than words.

A noise — a scoff or a grunt, you’re not sure — emanates from him, breaks your trance, makes you look up. The amusement in his gaze tells you he noticed your oggling— of course he did. Nothing gets past the Ghost, and you've been remarkably unsubtle. Despite the mask, you swear you can make out the smug smirk on his lips. His cockiness reignites your irritation. Annoyance making you bolder than you really are, you charge at him, crossing the distance between you two in a stride, stopping close— too close. He doesn't back off.

"What's wrong with you?" you snarl. "Nothin'," he retorts, imperturbable.

It's actually the first time you’re overlooking him. You may be enjoying it a bit too much. Nevermind the fact that you've had to wedge yourself between his parted legs to get there.

You frown, unconvinced by his answer.

“Did Soap contaminate you?”

Bargaining to be cleared out earlier was the Scotsman's trademark.

“Johnny throws a fit cos he hates feeling useless. That's not what I'm doing.”

A smirk stretches your lips.

“Oh, no? I'm sure your reasons are much more noble.”

“Doesn't matter. Got what I wanted anyway.”

He's way too self-satisfied for a man in his underwear.

You throw an unequivocal look in the direction of his injury.

“What you wanted? A still open wound?”

“You.”

He replied without missing a beat, as confident as usual. It is both alluring and aggravating.

“And your idea of wooing me is making me upset?”

You don't add “because if it is, that's really fucking stupid” out loud, but you’re sure he got the message through your tone.

“Nah. But you're more honest when you’re angry. Gutsier.”

You only realize he slipped his index and middle fingers in your trouser loops when he sharply tugs at them. Off balance, you steady yourself by catching his shoulders.

Taking advantage of the strip of bare skin between your shirt and bottoms, the pads of his thumbs idly stroke your hip bones. The contact sends electricity through you, shivers of pleasure running down your sides.

“Ghost,” you start, severe, trying not to let the effect his touch has on you show in your voice.

“Simon,” he counters, surly. “Told ya it's Simon when we're alone, didn't I?”

He did, but you didn’t think he was serious. If that's what it takes to get him to listen… you’ll play by his rules.

“Simon. What's the rest of your brilliant plan? I'm here, but I can’t stitch you up.”

“How ‘bout a deal. I'll stop resisting… for a price.”

You raise an amused eyebrow.

“What kind of price?”

“A kiss.”

You snort. You didn’t believe him capable of something so… puerile.

“With the mask on?”

He doesn't move a muscle to get rid of it.

“Take it off.”

You usually wouldn’t obey what sounds like an order so easily, but it's the first time you get to touch the skull. Slipping two fingers between skin and cloth, you slowly roll up the mask all the way under his nose.

You gently trace the scars surrounding his lips. Then, the second you feel him relax, grip on your hips slackening and intensity of his gaze waning, you grab the bottom of his mask and drag it back down vigorously, making the holes for the eyes land way too low for him to see anything.

“If you thought you'd get a reward for acting out, you've got another think coming.”

[hanasnx]

“ I WAS MADE FOR LOVIN’ YOU ” — logan howlett.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ WARNINGS: fem reader ノ age gap ノ established relationship ノ size difference ノ suggestive content ノ sexual content: naughty daydreams about pussy eating, nipple play, and groping; masturbation; voyeurism.

“I’m gonna take care of you.” Those six words—six—have defined your relationship with your husband, LOGAN HOWLETT. There’s a great protector in him, this compulsion to mentor and house within him that stretches far beyond his own needs. You fall within that range, and as soon as you met him you latched onto him. It didn’t take long at all before your imprint was reciprocated. Now he thinks of you first in everything he does.

He may not always look it, but you’re a factor in all his decisions. Settling down, nabbing a good job—one that didn’t ask for his background—was all to put you up in a house in the mountains. Far away from civilization, an ivory tower made up of wood he cut himself, surrounded by acres of nature. He’s always thought of himself a hair on the wild side, somehow you tame that down. It’s good, he tells himself, you and him.

It’s a partnership, and all he wants out of you is your safety. He likes you where he can keep an eye on you, make sure you stay out of trouble, make sure you’re comfortable.

You wish you could explain just why he thinks he has to protect you, why he married you, why he pays all the bills and expects nothing in return. You wish you could explain just why this relationship comprises all facets of a real marriage except for intimacy.

Logan won’t touch you. You’ll eat off each other’s utensils, fall asleep on his chest on the couch watching a movie—hell, he’ll reluctantly incline in your direction with a roll of his eyes to let you peck his cheek good-bye when he leaves for work. Yet, he won’t even kiss you. Even before he married you, there wasn’t so much as a grope or a stray look.

There’s home in Logan. You live to please him. You’ll cook him whatever he wants, keep the house he built for you clean as a whistle, you’ll spend all your free time with him, grab him his nightly beer and light his cigar so he stays content—but you’ve never even seen him naked. You doubt you ever will. Regardless, you stay, you can’t imagine leaving this life, leaving him.

It’s defied your expectations the fairy-tales of your childhood gave you. Your knight in shining armor rescued you, yet refuses to plant even true love’s kiss. When you’d matured, you’d fantasized about an insatiable husband that found you so irresistible he couldn’t keep his hands off you. Logan’s never looked at you that way, even though he calls you his wife without hesitation, married you without a second thought.

“Is it because I’m younger than you? I’m only in my early twenties. That’s not a big deal!” you’ve reasoned with him, but he still treats you like you’re naive. He must want passion, you’re sure of that. Why else are you young and beautiful if not to take advantage of it while you still can? Just once you’d like to see him yearn for you, to show lack of restraint, to come home one day so hungry for you that you don’t make it out of the kitchen.

Those claws… those deadly metal claws… you wish he’d use them in fantastical and deviant ways. Just one would glide through your nighty like sheet paper, bareing you to your husband—a sight for him only. You lie awake next to him at night, envisioning raunchy dreams of him proudly boasting the size difference between you two, demonstrating his sheer raw strength by overpowering you and taking what he wants from you. You’ve run your fingers delicately over his lips and the rough pad of his shaved chin, but you can’t imagine just how good it’d feel against your tit, swirling his hot tongue around your perked nipple while his callused digits pinch the other. You can pretend his head is ducking between your thighs, the sensation of his soft hair tickling your skin and tangling in your fingers as his masculine jaw scratches the fragile tissue of your pussy. As starved as you are, even discomfort like that is enough to make you moan into your palm, only to check over your shoulder to make sure you still hear your husband’s snoring.

You steel yourself at the noise, the low rumbling of his sleep cautions you to stay quiet but to proceed nonetheless. Your hand creeps down your neck, your chest, your stomach… You really should leave the room, but you’d risk waking him up for real at the sound of the door. Instead, you fuck yourself yet again, the soft rocking of the mattress as you hump your own hand filling the ears of your kindhearted husband—who’s been awake this whole time.

[k9wa]

𑣲 RILE HIM UP ! ft BOOTHILL.

⠀ — your least favourite cyborg is brought back to you a mangled mess.

⠀ OR

⠀ — being boothill’s mechanic when you lowkey can’t stand each other.

⚠︎ sweet sweet tension, a little suggestive towards the end, gn reader (no referring pronouns), can they fuck already, this was ib by his lightcone, wc 1.9k

boothill's eyes flickered to life, emitting a faint glow of red as his systems began to reboot.

a pair of familiar red pupils met yours, two crosshairs fading into sight as boothill regained his sight and— to your dismay— consciousness.

as the cyborg regained his motion he attempted a step forward, only to realise he didn’t have the feet or legs to do so. the only thing keeping him powered on were some metal claws screwed into his back and a few loose cables connecting to your terminals.

“sugar plum,” boothill's scruffy voice cut through the silence. “do y'care to explain where my legs might’a run off to?”

you actually cocked an eyebrow. how the hell were you supposed to know? boothill was brought back to you in a mess of scraps and wiring— the damn hunk of metal was lucky you made him as blast proof as possible and he was left salvageable. 

“care to tell me how the hell you got this roughed up?”

you asked in turn, crouching down to look at the detached and ruined internals of boothill's torso where the stand-in wires were connected. you ran a finger carefully along the edge of his shredded metallic stomach.

“guess i didn't make you as smart as i thought. time for a newer model, maybe?”

boothill's eyes flickered down to his missing lower half, then to your hand that was more or less caressing him. it was amazing how much annoyance they could show in all their artificial glory.

“look who’s talkin.” the cowboy grumbled, pointy fangs poking out in an irritated grin. 

“how ‘bout, ‘gee, boothill! i’m real glad y’ain’t get blown to smithereens beyond repair!’” 

“it would've been less work for me if whoever blew you up finished the job.”

you sighed as you stood up, putting a hand lazily on your hip.

“how’d it happen?”

boothill bit back another argument with a gruff chuckle.

“some real cutie-pies i was huntin’ down had a lil’ more firepower than i expected. guess they didn’t appreciate me spoilin’ their party.”

boothill visibly cringed as his insult was substituted with some cutesy nickname mid explanation.

“and can you fix my beautiful synesthesia beacon already? this thing is drivin’ me up the wall.”

the request fell on deaf ears as your fingers typed something on your laptop, likely another string of code.

“you’re more concerned about your censor than how long it’s gonna take me to put your legs back on…” you sighed to yourself, still leaned over your workbench, eyes focused on your screen.

“i'm not touching it right now. you’re lucky i’m even letting you stay sentient after this.”

boothill snorted at the remark, brows furrowing in a steady grimace.

“well, ‘scuse me for wantin’ to speak freely–  i’m a grown man!” his pointy teeth shone as they peeked out again in a grin.

“y’know what? just leave yer lil’ tools and all the pieces there— i’ll get my legs back on myself. don’t need no charity work from the likes’a you.” he laughed. “heck, may even give myself a new pecker while i'm at it!”

the mechanic had half a mind to listen, sit back and watch boothill struggle to reassemble himself just to prove a point and simultaneously bask in his embarrassment when the former realised it wasn’t possible.

(not that he would’ve admitted defeat– you would have begrudgingly stepped in and helped before he inevitably messed up his wiring more.)

you stepped back over to boothill, hands moving to hold his cheeks so you could tilt his face side to side to check for any more damage.

“cool it, cowboy.” your eyes squinted in focus as they looked at boothill's, lightly tugging up on his eyelid to check for scratches or cracks.

“i'll get you back up and running, just lose the attitude already.”

boothill's eyes narrowed as he felt your touch on his face. the temperature difference of warm fingers on his cold, mechanical body stirring an oddity where his gut should have been. though he tried to ignore it, the sensation was there, clear as day against all his artificial nerve endings. 

“real easy for you to say,” he huffed, avoiding your eyes as he was examined like a broken toy. “let’s see how peachy you are when yer all strung up and legless, love muffin.”

that censor really was gonna drive him insane.

“just get it over with.'' boothill muttered in annoyance. “and try not t’fuss anythin’ up.”

it took quite some time, as expected, for you to successfully reattach boothill’s legs and fix his mangled midsection. when you were finally finished, you tugged out any leftover wires that connected boothill to your terminals and pushed back in your wheelie chair to beckon the cowboy forward. you pushed your glasses up to your forehead, some hair getting swept out of your eyes with them.

“feel fine?”

boothill rolled his ankles and bent his knees, giving his legs a good stretch to test their mobility.

“mighty fine,” he responded, satisfied to feel they were weighted and moved the same as before. “though i can’t say i’m lovin’ the breeze up my backside.” 

boothill glanced down at himself, steel body completely bare and lacking any of his signature clothing. 

“got my pants lyin’ around anywhere, sugar plum?”

you pointed to another table in the room, where boothills clothes— (or rather the new ones you had to go and get—) were neatly folded, his hat placed on top of them. 

boothill went to get himself dressed, hoisting up his bell bottomed pants and sliding on his jacket. he stole a glance in your direction every so often, resisting the childish urge to roll his eyes at the mere sight of you.

the artificial man hit a small bump in the road as he went to zip his jacket (could you really call it that with how little it covered?) up—  his fingers weren’t responding as well as they should have been. he could open and close his fist, but lacked the precision to pinch and hold the zipper.

“hey, honeybun,'' boothill called over to you with a furrowed brow. “didn’t i tell you not to go fudgin’ anythin’ up?”

you, in all your overtired glory groaned, turning around in your chair and waving boothill back over.

“what are you talking about?” 

“my cute lil’ fingers ain’t workin’ that’s what i’m talkin’ ‘bout!”

boothill's footsteps were clunky and loud as he stomped his way back over to his mechanic.

you reached for his hand, an uncharacteristic gentleness in your touch as you examined five mechanical fingers.

“make a fist,”

boothill obeyed, curling his fingers into his palm.

“open it,”

he obeyed again, letting them open and relax.

“hold up two fingers,”

boothill tried, but his fingers got stuck halfway into the motion, locking at the joints.

“son of a bitch.” you sighed, turning for one of your tools. “sit back down.”

boothill grumbled and went to hoist himself back onto the workbench.

“least one o’us can say it…” 

“do you want me to fix you or not?”

“i'm sittin’ ain’t i??”

you pulled boothill's shirt off his left shoulder and popped open a tiny panel on the curve of his neck, sliding your glasses back on to the bridge of your nose. with a lean forward you began carefully looking at a few thin wires that filled the space.

boothill tapped his fingers against the tabletop while you worked, that same oddity as before settling in his now repaired gut. he rarely got messed up enough for you and him to spend this much time together, or for you to have to really be in such close proximity.

it’s not uncomfortable, but the feeling is by no means familiar. it’s actually a little embarrassing– a galaxy ranger, a space cyborg and expert hunter, feeling almost flustered at some close contact like some kind of shy little girl.

“something the matter?”

boothill nearly jumped as you spoke up quietly to check on him, voice quiet and so close to his ear he had to refrain from leaning both closer and away.

“nah, everything’s just dandy.” boothill’s voice followed yours– quieter and a little softer as a result of the closeness.

“you’re sure?” you looked up from the small mess of wires, eyes glancing up at your cyborg over the rim of your glasses. “might as well fix anything else that’s bugging you while i’m here.”

boothill would have swallowed if he had the need to lubricate his throat. he shook his head, turning to look somewhere— anywhere else.

yours lingered on him, albeit briefly, observing the clench of his jaw and the way he tried to shift in his seat without being disruptive to your work. he didn’t see the little smirk tug at your lips as you refocused on the task at hand.

boothill’s cybernetic limbs felt almost human in their sensitivity, sending faux shivers up a spine he didn’t even have. the mechanics fingers running down his forearm are doing him no favours as they move to hold his hand again.

“close your fist…open it…two fingers up…”

each command was obeyed, ten gunmetal fingers finally holding up a little peace sign.

“that should be it, come see me if they start acting up again.”

you stood up, tentatively reaching out to fix boothill’s jacket and begin to zip it for him.

boothill didn’t protest the act, but it was…confusing, to say the least.

“reckon i’ll just start seein’ those auto bots again,” he leaned back on his palms as your fingers fixed his collar, straightening it out.  “much as i love our lil’ visits.”

you only hummed, smoothing out a few wrinkles and neatly tucking his scarf into it’s neckline, as he liked. “you could,” you mused, hooking your finger lightly into his collar and giving a gentle tug forward. “they don’t take as good care of you as i do, though.”

this time boothill caught the little smirk on your lips, clear as day and enough to make him question if short circuiting was possible.

you’re doing it on purpose, he knows. the careful touches to his hands and body against the sensors you put there, quiet voice leaving him with a frisson you made it possible for him to have.

boothill returned the smirk, albeit a little wobbly.

“you tryin’a rile me up, sugar plum?” 

he entertained you with a lean forward, two white crosshairs looking right at you while he considered if a hand on your waist was too forward or the perfect cornering move. 

“just like watching you squirm.”

you were gone as quickly as you’d arrived, finger unhooked and going to pick up his hat.

“but say i was,” you didn’t bother with a glance over as you made sure the brim was straight and unharmed. “i hardly have to try.” 

boothill hopped down from the table, following your path and offering a scruffy chuckle when you reached up to place it on his head.

“yeah? and what makes y’say that?” his hand found a place on his hip.

you didn’t respond— not verbally, anyway. a quick flick of your eyes downwards was all he received. 

so he followed, looking down as well, to the very appendage he had insisted you give him over and over again pushing against his trousers. 

his own dream, now his downfall. 

boothill pushed passed you, pushing his hat further down onto his head while he stomped away. the profanities that left his lips filled the air— or rather their replacements. something something i love you blah blah peach cobbler something cutie-pie or meow!

“remind me t’settle for them lovely auto bots next time!”

he opened the door with a firm kick of his boot, stomping out with a scowl. 

as if he wouldn’t be back. you took better care of him, after all.

⠀ 𑣲 MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?