#Female oc | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ghouljams · 2 days

Text

The Price of Fire(Prologue) Rating: M Tags: John Price x oc, 3rd person POV, fae au, witch oc, fae!Price, first meeting, slow burn Summary: Lio is a young witch. Young, not stupid. She's made it this long without being eaten, and she intends to make it longer. Until she meets a man deep in a cold, silent, forest. He's handsome, and all the more dangerous for it.

Lio marks nearly two decades of life without meeting a witch-eater. She’s heard stories from her mother, has seen the fae all her life, but to actually meet one? No. Precautions are taken and kept: faerie circles are avoided, the path is followed, and wards are drawn on her skin in charcoal ink. Lio knows better than anyone where the forest meets the fae wild and she skirts that invisible barrier with each step. Every trip into the forest is a risk, so every interaction with the fae must be closely monitored. Too many witches meet their end to hunters with honey on their tongues.

But the forest must be braved, witch-eaters or no, and Lio finds herself forced deeper and deeper into it as the winter creeps along. Winter is a time of sickness. A busy time for witches. Ingredients for spells and potions grow in the dark recesses of the wood, and no amount of hoping will coax them closer to the forest edge.

There are no birds or bugs to guide Lio as she weaves her way through the trees. Silence the best marker for how deep into the forest she’s traveled. It’s snowed recently and the branches of the trees hang heavy with their winter burden. Red curls frizz out from under the witch’s hat breaking up with stark whiteness, a spot of fire in the winter chill. Lio’s feet crunch through the thick snow, she follows deer trails, keeping track of broken branches and tracks. The deer know where it’s safe to travel, even if they can’t tell her why. She trusts that she’s on the right path.

There’s a crispness in the air that almost chokes her lungs when she tries to draw too deep a breath, ice ruling even the oxygen that fills her lungs. It’s the warmest part of the day, and still Lio cups her fingers over her mouth to warm them. Her gloves do just enough to keep the wintery chill at bay as she breaks branches off of trees and tucks them under her arm. She stops occasionally, following her mental path, tracking the deer, winding through the tree trunks, stopping when she pleases, and collecting wood as she goes. Her hatchet weighs heavy on her belt, hardly touched.

As she walks the forest grows darker, the trees crowd closer together. She murmurs a quiet spell, the charms in her boots heating up to keep the cold from chewing through her toes. Lio stops to check her trail, her head turning this way and that, watching her tracks weave through the forest. The line of steps is straight, the forest hasn’t turned her around yet. Still, it’s getting quieter. The leaves don’t rustle the same here, the breeze dying among the trees as easily as the animals do.

Lio walks past a man leaned against one of the tree trunks. She ignores him, and continues her walk forward. In her periphery she sees him side step around the wood only to reappear ahead. He raises a brow questioningly when she stops short. Lio glances around the forest, blinking once, twice, and a third, before settling her eyes back on him.

It takes a moment to adjust her sight to the fae. Her magic draws the veil back from her eyes as they take in the man before her. The heavy black wings, feathers dragging through snow and the protruding horns from his forehead speak to what he is. Though even if she couldn’t see him, she’d know he wasn’t human. There’s something in his eyes, a golden ring around the blue that speaks to magic. His beard is too neatly kept, his smile too generous, he’s handsome in a way that she’s never seen. Dark and dangerously alluring.

He takes a step towards her and her fingers tighten on her bundle. The young witch takes a step back. Witch-eater, her mother’s voice whispers in her mind. Charming fae whose only goal is to increase their magic, eager to eat up any witches foolish enough to fall for their honeyed words. Despite the chill that runs through her blood at meeting him, Lio smiles, polite in the face of a danger. There are rules for these sorts of things. Rules that have been pounded into her head until she knew them in her dreams.

“You’re far from the trail,” The fae man says bluntly, inviting conversation. Lio hums, she knows, she can see the lights of the willowwisp starting to drift between the trees. She’s taken a step too far into the wild, her home forest bleeding into the faerie’s realm. She’d noticed the trees growing bigger, but hoped she still had some time before running into anything.

“I am?” Lio feigns ignorance, “I hadn’t noticed.”

The man turns to look away from her, smiles to himself at her lie. She can see the way his tongue moves over his teeth while he thinks, even with the wire of his beard in the way. His eyes are as icy as the winter snow when he looks at her again.

“It’s dangerous this deep in the forest,” He tells her. As if she doesn’t know. As if he doesn’t know she knows.

“I’m quite alright,” Lio responds, starting on her trail again. She intends to pass him, but he catches her arm, and hauls her to a stop.

“If you’re smart,” He warns, “you’ll run home, little witch.”

Lio stares at the hand gripping her arm, the black soot that sticks around his nails, she wonders if he was tending a fire nearby. Tipping her head Lio meets his gaze, she’s young, but not stupid. At least, not quite so stupid as this man thinks.

“I’m being careful.”

“You’re being foolish.”

The man’s grip on her tightens, and he turns her to follow the trail back. The trees straighten Lio’s winding path, the forest bending not to her will, but to his. She looks at the man again, there’s a tightness in his jaw that makes her think he’s holding something back. His eyes burn as they stare into hers. He smells like blood. She raises a brow at him, ever too eager to poke sleeping bears. The rumble in his voice is worth it when he tells her:

“If you’re fool enough to wander this far into the forest, you’re fool enough to be eaten.” A harsh squeeze to her arm as she glares at him is followed by his deep, “Run along.”

“If I’m foolish enough to be eaten, you’re a fool to turn me around,” She turns back, takes her first step back down the path and feels his hold on her loosen. Something unwinds in her chest as his fingers drop from her arm, some tension she’d been ignoring slipping free. Lio takes her first full breath in as many minutes and feels the sting of ice in her lungs.

“Maybe.”

His low rumble makes her pause, the hair on her arms standing on end at the chill in his voice. He wouldn’t eat her now would he? Lio raises a gloved hand to her chest, her fingers feeling for any threads between the two of them. Nothing. She hasn’t misspoken, hasn’t fallen into any traps, she wonders why he’s letting her go. There’s nothing stopping him from eating her, from tearing apart her flesh like an animal.

“Thank you, for the advice” Lio tosses it over her shoulder, baiting the man, “I’ll try to remember it for next time.”

Again her arm is caught, and she’s dragged back. Her back bumps against the fae’s sturdy chest, she softens her breathing, pushes down panic. There are wards sewn into her clothes, written over her skin, she’s protected. At least from magic. She can only hope that his teeth, his fingers, are less willing to do the dirty work. The strength of him- she can’t compare to it. If she tried to run, would the path twist under her feet? She doesn’t hold the forest’s reins like he does, can’t direct it as expertly as the fae. She’s barely come into her magic and now she’s going to be eaten.

The man leans over her, drags his hand down her arm to hold her wrist. He raises it, his fingers pressing to her pulse as he inspects the seal on her gloves. Small magic, she tells herself. Nothing that would interest the fae, certainly nothing that would interest one like this.

“And if I decide to cash in your thanks?” The man asks. His voice is too low, too quiet, it splits through the silence of the forest, the chill of his breath skirting her cheek. Lio steels herself for the pain as she speaks, unsure if he means it as a threat or something else.

“You won’t.”

“I might.” There’s a smile in his voice, one that makes her smile in turn. Relief slips down her spine.

“Any fae that would make a witch turn around isn’t one that would cash in a favor so small.” Still, Lio feels the soft sting of her thanks tethering them to each other, a debt to be repaid. Small but present.

“I could say I saved your life.”

“But you won’t.”

“No,” The fae agrees, “I won’t.”

His release is soft. His hands relax and drop their hold on her, letting Lio take a few steps forwards. She wastes no time looking back, following her footprints back through the forest towards home. It’s a lucky thing to meet the fae and come away without a scratch. Luck she isn’t going to waste on something silly like ‘goodbye.’

Price watches the witch pick her way back through the forest. There’s no fear, no hesitation, in her steps. There hadn’t been any on her skin either, and no fluttering pulse or short breaths. What an interesting woman. Her eyes were so clear, staring right through him. A seer, he thinks to himself, so she must be used to these sorts of sights. He feels a pang of interest, ill-advised curiosity, bubbling in his chest. There was something about her.

She was warm.

For the first time Price shivers against the cold of the winter forest. The heat which had been pressed into his chest disappears with the witch. The season wraps its tendrils around him, bringing him back into the familiar chill. The trees shake off their snowy burdens, filling in the holes left by the witch’s feet, holes which seemed to melt all the way to the dark leaf strewn dirt. Price can’t help smiling to himself. He supposes winter isn’t for everyone.

divider by @/saradika

#x oc #cod x oc #1fae1 #fae au #oc: witch #captain price mw2 #captain john price #captain price #john price #captain price x oc #john price cod #john price x oc #female oc #nobody can come for me because the pov character reads like an oc #I'm leaning into the oc-ness #you're all forced to deal with Lio now

98 notes · View notes

wintfleur · 1 day

Text

👩🏻‍🎨 ͡ ꒱ STELLA HUGHES PROFILE

au masterlist - you can find everything under #👩🏻‍🎨 ͡ ꒱ Stella Hughes!

ᥫ᭡ BASICS!

NAME Estella Hughes

NICKNAMES Stella, Stell, Stells, Stellur, Stink, tiny hughes.

BIRTHDAY May 5th 2004

ZODIAC Taurus

SEXUALITY Bisexual (only a few people know)

BIRTHPLACE Manchester, New Hampshire

HEIGHT 5’7

PIERCINGS 2 in each ear, bellybutton, nipples

FACE CLAIM Gracie Abrams

LANGUAGES english 100% Korean 100%

MAJOR An art major, she's on the woman's figure skating team.

ᥫ᭡ ABOUT!

PERSONALITY Stella can be very quiet , but she is very friendly and cheerful! She can be quite flirty to people , she's very sweet and always wants to help everyone , but she is a little bit of a people pleaser so she struggles with that! She can be very hard on herself.

HABITS going super quiet, getting lost in her own thoughts, biting her lips.

LIKES Her nintendo switch, bored games, video games, ear muffs, twilight, stuffed animals, the canucks, sleeping, mini skirts, lando norris.

DISLIKES hiccups, driving, messy places, being compared to her brothers, rude fans, feeling stuck, loud places, her anxiety.

HOBBIES reading, photography, hockey ,ballet, all types of dancing, baking, scrapbooking, singing.

FEARS drowning, deep water, being alone, being stuck in tight places.

ᥫ᭡ FAVORITES!

FOOD cherries, french fries, blueberries ,

DRINKS water, coke, hot chocolate, redbull.

COLOR pink , green, brown, white.

ANIMALS bunnies, bears, dogs, cats.

SEASONS Winter, fall/autumn.

HOLIDAYS Christmas.

BANDS AND ARTISTS ABBA , Lana del ray, Tate mcrae, enhypen, wallows, 5 seconds of summer , honestly so many artists she listens to so many genres.

SHOWS pretty little liars, Criminal minds, too many kdramas to name.

MOVIES tangled, every batman movie, mamma mia, bride wars, mighty ducks 2.

PERSON quinn hughes and daisy ahn

ᥫ᭡ FUN FACTS!

She is the youngest of the Hughes clan, and as the only girl and youngest that means her older brothers are very protective. Mostly Jack and Luke, Quinn isn’t as intense as the other two.

Quinn is her favorite person in the whole world, she tells him everything. He likes to say that she’s his favorite, and it’s true.

She had the biggest crush on Trevor growing up, he likes to tease her about it. So does Luke.

Jack and Luke scared off all the boys growing up!

She’s not the biggest fan of swimming.

Her love language is physical touch, she’s a big cuddler and she loves holding hands.

Her two best friends are lily (lils) and Carmen (minnie) they have been friends since they were little, lily is on the women's volleyball team and Carmen does figure skating with her.

Her best best friend, who is like her sister is Daisy Ahn ( an oc made by @qoqurt ) they have been best friends since they were little

Her other bestie is dahlia !! (An oc made by @bbrissonn )

Her best guy friend is Park Sunghoon, yes the sunghoon from enhypen, they are childhood friends and met through figure skating.

Secretly made out with Luca fantilli in a closet at her first college party, obviously before she and Rut started dating.

She loves spending summers at the lake house.

She went viral at jacks draft, she goes viral a lot.

The nhl fans love her, the delulu fans hate her.

Is very close with her parents, she’s a family girl!

She’s a homebody, she likes going out but prefers to hang out at home/dorm or at her friends' homes/dorms.

She is a very talented artist and got a scholarship to umich for her art. She loves all types of art. She likes drawing and painting but has started loving ceramics.

Stella loves the library and I mean lovesss it! If you can’t find Stella, she’s either in her bed or at the library

She loves photography, ever since Quinn bought her a Polaroid camera when she was 13, she has quite the vault of embarrassing pictures of her brothers

Momma's girl? Daddy’s girl? No she’s a Quinn girl

She used to figure skate with a partner but things went wrong and she's very hesitant to have a new partner

She’s actually really good at hockey, and could join a women's team if she wanted to. But she could never, she hates getting hit.

She hates seeing her brothers and friends getting hit, makes her cringe and flinch.

Went viral after her reaction of Jack getting into a fight goes on the big screen.

The camera people are always putting her on the big screen whenever she goes to her brothers and friends game.

She did get exposed on the big screen taking a sip of Trevor’s beer…Trevor couldn’t stop laughing while her dad gave her a disapproving shake of his head.

Trevor and Jack accidentally got Stella really high for the first time, forgetting to tell her that gummies on Jack's desk are edibles. A freaking out Trevor and Jack trying their best to calm down a panicked Stella, let’s just say the two boys were anxious for Quinn to come back. (I really want to write a thing for this, it would be so funny)

Her and Lily secretly went and got their nipples pierced, Carmen being there to hold their hands.

Not really a coffee or tea person

She loves playing board games and video games with her brothers

She’s a sweet person, but isn’t afraid to speak her mind. She’s the youngest of three brothers, she knows how to stick up for herself!

She’s a passenger princess…with everyone!

She knows she’s in trouble if someone calls her Estella

Stella really wants to be a mother

Her trainer is pushing her (nicely) so she can be in the 2026 winter olympics!

Here is a link to more fun facts about her!

She has 3 instagram accounts. @/stellahughes is her main account that everyone follows, @/entersteller is her private account where only her friends and family follow, @/nicohischierluvergurl is her secret private account where only a few of her close friends and Quinn follow.

ᥫ᭡ HER CLOTHES AESTHETIC!

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( so this is the updated version of her profile !! I’ve been wanting to redo it for a while , I really hope you guys like it lovelys !! )

°. — taglist ( @cixrosie @toasttt11 @lovings4turn @bunbunbl0gs @petite-potato4 @winterbarnesblog @yoontwin )

©️WINTFLEUR

#👩🏻‍🎨 ͡ ꒱ stella hughes!#⋆ ˚｡⋆୨👩🏻‍🎨୧˚ stella hughes au!#💌stellahughes!#rutger mcgroarty au #nhl x oc #nhl #hockey fluff #rutger mcgroarty imagine #female oc #hughes sister #hughes!oc #hughes!sister #jack hughes #quinn hughes #luke hughes #nhl fic

47 notes · View notes

sweetiebean00 · 3 days

Text

Hey Bartender

I love my angsty boys as much as the next guy, but I feel like it's Dick Grayson's time in the moonlight! Hope you enjoy!

Dick didn't tell anyone what he did when he wasn't patrolling, when he wasn't in uniform. When being Richard "Dick" Grayson got to be too much. His family didn't need to know, Bruce and Alfred had dealt with a literal demon. Not that anyone else knew it. He pretended far too well at that, he was used to it. To pretending. To playing up the smiles, and the bad jokes. The care that was real for his family, but none quite understood why Nightwing was feared in Bludhaven, in any of the cities they went to. Not that they noticed, not if Dick could help it.

Still, as he walked through the doors of the same old club that hadn't quite been shut down yet. No evidence of any illicit dealings, he did check before arriving. Especially in case he was recognized by being Bruce Wayne's adopted son, his ward. He's been coming to this place for months, wanting to be lost. To be forgotten. It was easy too, gave them his name, his last name as his first. He hated lying, it was part of the job but he hated it at times. Made it easy when everyone who saw him, who got used to the twenty something year old looking like a child soldier (because that's what he was) coming in and sitting at the counter.

Avoiding looking in the mirror behind the bar, the club danced and pulsed with light. With energy. Men and women, teenagers and adults, and everything in between was allowed in and they danced. Had fun in a safe space to forget. Those who didn't take no, received a shot in the head. At least that was the first thing Dick encountered. The girl behind the counter, her hair pinned up and eyes narrowed as she put the gun on the bar. The warning was silent to the man who had been reaching for an abandoned drink. Her threat was clear, and when the gun was fired off at someone who had been trying something fishy, a butcher's knife slammed into the counter. Inches from the hand trying to tamper with the drink inside.

She had looked to Dick, looked at him through the lenses of her glasses that hung on the end of her nose. She nodded once, as if understanding something Dick himself hadn't understood. Only poured him a baby shot, with a half-smile. A silent taunt, a test to see if he could handle the liquor properly and not like the morons about the club. After the next five, she had given him a proper glass, and three more in she looked at him. His hands clasped on the top, his fingers interlocked and told him the rules. Had him sign a contract that was legitimate and he wondered if she drew it up herself. When asked for a name, he gave her his full name and she didn't bat an eye.

That night he woke up slumped on the counter, and the bartender, who he learned was Angel, was shaking him awake. Asking if he wanted her to call someone because they were closing up. He didn't have the conscious thought to respond, and when he woke again he was on a couch. A blanket thrown over him and a bucket by his head, a glass of water and an unopened bottle of ibuprofen next to him on the floor. What was important was that his clothes were still on, there was nothing arrayed with him, his senses. His phone was plugged in, and a sticky note was taped telling him to turn the sound off next time he wanted to pass out else he'd find it broken by a bullet.

"Watch yourself tonight Grayson," The bouncer, Brutus, broke him from his thoughts. He blinked, turning to look at him. He was tall, large. Bald and sporting tattoos from the eyebrows down over every inch of his skin but his back. "Angel's in a mood tonight."

Angel's in a mood? Dick swallowed, brows furrowed as he side stepped those entering the club next. It was a little out of the way place, nothing fancy and apparently the only way people find it is by needing an escape, a safety net to catch them in life. Angel called it Haven for a reason, after all. Brutus nodded his head at the sign by the door, easily missed but Dick knew what it was. There was a tally mark for every scumbag that entered and didn't leave the way they came. In a body bag, missing a finger, etc. His eyes widened, it must be a bad night for it to be hitting ten marks. The sound of a gunshot rang, and he watched as Brutus sighed. Adding another mark to the chalkboard.

Dick turned, turned into the crowd and part of him so badly wanted to fix it. To help. But that's not why he came here, and when old habits kicked. When he tried being the hero once, he had been stopped right in his tracks by Angel. She handled the situation, and when he woke up on that shitty couch she was at the bar. Head in her hands, and he had seen just her back. Seen silvery blonde hair that fell about her shoulders messily, had seen that her skin was sunkissed and golden. That she was covered in ink, with an entire sleeve on her right arm that ended at her elbow on the left. She had what looked like wings on the nape of her neck, and she spoke without her voice being hidden by the base drum. She spoke soft, cool, and calm. There wasn't an edge, there wasn't anger, or anything. Just quiet facts in a soft, but raspy voice. Probably from all the yelling she needed to do in the club at night, but it was.. it shocked him. She didn't look at him once that morning, and when he saw himself out he saw her face hidden by a cup of coffee and fogged up glasses.

This time, he took a deep breath. Side stepping the regulars and the new ones, teenagers and adults wanting to forget. He swears he saw Roy Harper in here once, but like Angel had said. This was the club people came to be forgotten, to forget. To get lost. He promised himself to never approach anyone he recognized in the club outside of it, never bring it up. And despite the detective inside being curious, he didn't investigate it. Didn't even put it in the search engine, didn't look up a blonde woman named Angel. Not even when his fingers twitched, and he burned with wonder.

His shot was waiting for him when he looked down, and he looked up to see a fire in her eyes. She watched the crowd like a hawk, her glasses pushed up her nose and he wondered if they were for show. Babs hated it when her glasses hung too low, got in the way. He didn't ask, instead knocking it back like he had been for months, weeks, days now. A knife left her fingertips in a split second, and he watched it soar through the crowd. Her aim was never off, never wrong, and he wondered how she did that every time.

"Gray." She greeted with a nod, the music was changing to something slower. More somber, but still a rapid beat. He listened to it for a moment, before knocking back the shot again. Sometimes he wondered if this was magic, if it was magic that kept the glasses refilling. If he was in some fevered dream. If Angel was a meta, or a magic user that Batman hadn't sniffed out.

"Angel."

"Why do you come here, Gray?" Angel questioned, taking the glass from him and adding another one next to it. He blinked, she grabbed a bottle from the back pouring it without breaking her gaze from the dancing and the drinking. "To forget, to be forgotten? Maybe both? Maybe neither?"

He swallowed, hands twitching. He caught the glass that slid along the bar top, watching her people watch. What was her aim? What was to gain by breaking her own number one rule? Never address the elephants in the room. She sighed, knocking her glass lightly against his. He heard her muttering, heard the voice blend with the music and he noted it was low enough he could make out the solemn tone of her voice. Was it on purpose or was the music just rigged to some playlist and shuffling?

Dick cleared his throat, mind scrambling for an answer besides 'um'. He didn't know if he wanted to share with her the truth, the reason for his hiding. The way his mind was getting too loud, the eternal battle for Gotham's people growing heavy on his shoulders. He swallowed as she filled her glass again, as she tapped it with her finger until he downed his own and then refilled it.

"I- I want to forget, and not be remembered." He finally admitted, quietly. In the same notes she had spoken in, as if they were sharing their dark secrets. His skin itched and it took him everything to not start clawing at his arm to scratch the itch inside his bones. He downed the shot and then swiped hers, downing it too. "I-"

"Grayson, stop." She said, softly, no room for argument but it wasn't firm. She reached her hand out, palm up to him on the table. "I'm not asking for the story, not even sure I know why I was asking. It's just, you've been coming here for months now. Late, like two in the morning late, you stay until you can barely think straight, talk even. I just, I've seen that kind of thing before. I know how it ends."

He didn't know how to respond, a lump forming in his throat and now he understood what Brutus meant. She was in a mood, a mood for the deep gritty pain of others. Not to cause it, not to revel in it. He's seen her approach customers before, seen her offer her hand and a way to help. Watching those that took it seem as if they became... lighter. Lighter than the traumas and stress, watched as she fixed them with another kind of drink. Watched as one of the people, her helpers, put a blanket over their shoulders and led them outside. He didn't see them again, but he'd notice that she would seem more tired. More run down, and out of it. Like the weight of the world was on her shoulders now... Dick swallowed the lump.

"You need help, Gray, and not the kind of help the glass can provide."

"I-" His voice cracked, and he couldn't bring his gaze from the table. Not as she slowly retracted her hand, offering him another glass. "Thanks, Angel, but-"

"I'm not offering you the help, I've offered others." She said quickly, and he looked up. Ignoring the sting in his eyes as she ran a hand through her hair. "I was just stating, have you considered therapy?"

He laughed. The sound wet, watery, but it was a laugh better than the fake one that has been grating on his nerves. On his ears. He took the shot slower this round, savoring the bitterness that coated his tongue. The burn that followed the drink down his throat. She smiled, it wasn't the same smirk she gave everyone else. It wasn't the same half-smile he's seen her sport when she's snickering at one of his shitty jokes, or Brutus’ begrudging groans. The smile is soft, gentle and almost sad. As if she knows what he's feeling, as if she can feel it, understand it. He didn't know how to feel about that, what to think, or even what to say. Instead, just kept drinking from the glass that kept refilling as the music changed, the dancers returning to their wild carefree behavior as she kept an eye on the crowd and on him. As if worried he would break if she looked away.

He wanted to tell her not to worry, that everything would be fine. That she could do what she did best, make drinks and help her patrons. He wouldn't break if she looked away, if she stopped filling his glass or paying attention. He smiled bitterly; Richard "Dick" Grayson was already broken. She just didn't know it yet. It's okay, his family didn't know either.

He doesn't know how long he spent there, sitting at that countertop. On that old barstool with a cushion jimmy rigged to stay in place. He wonders if it was Angel or Brutus that had the idea to staple it on, and he snickered at the idea of Angel getting pissed and just taking a stapler to the thing. It wouldn't be out of character, not even close to it. He rested his head on the counter, the cold wood soothing to his heated skin. The music, the sounds, all drowning into one as colors merged and swirled into a mosaic. Angel's face, lit by strobe lights, was in his line of vision. A hand gently shaking his shoulder, and he watched her brows furrow. Lips pursed and eyes roll, before the world went dark.

Dick woke to a mild headache, the world far too bright. He groaned, rolling over into his pillow and pulling the blanket over his head. He loved drinks from Angel, the hangover was always mild. He breathed, only to freeze as his brain caught up with his surroundings. He was in his room, in his apartment. He jerked up, hands grasping at his clothes and... he was still dressed. Still fully dressed, even his shoes were still on his feet. There was no glass of water next to him, no unopened bottle of ibuprofen or Tylenol. His phone was plugged into his charger next to his bed, and there was no sticky note reminding him of certain death if he didn't silence the phone, mute the calls, or stop whoever or whatever was pinging his phone despite the silent mode activated.

He frowned, swallowing at the lump forming in his throat as he climbed warily out of bed. Everything was how he left it the night before, his suit on the floor that he very quickly shoved under his bed with his foot. Hoping whoever brought him here, didn't see it. He pressed a hand to his chest, trying to ease his racing heart; and failing. Slipping from the room, he froze.

There passed out on his couch, is Angel. Silvery blonde hair was all over the place, some hanging into her face. The rest pushed back, he saw freckles dusting her cheeks. This is the first time he has seen her properly, in the light no less. He looked away, avoiding the way her noted her lips were pink and pouty. She didn't want others to see her face in the light, in the dark of the club with nothing but neon strobe lights her hair was hidden. Her skin tone, her eyes. There was enough light to see others, to see the faces around him, see the clothing people wore. But the colors were so strong it was hard to tell if someone's hair was black or blonde, freckles, dimples, and moles were gone. Designs on clothes faded, only silver catching light, only the metal of piercings shined clearly.

Dick moved to his kitchen, rubbing the back of his neck and combing through messy black hair. This is fine, he is fully dressed. Everything is intact, he could question how the hell she knew where he lived later. Question how they got in also, much later. Along with if she managed to carry him herself, or drag him, or did Brutus take care of it. He shook the thought off, he'll find out later. Probably when she woke up.

In the meantime, breakfast. For two. Maybe some coffee as well. He could do this, he knows how to cook... ish. Okay, so he had received a ban from Alfred's kitchen, but he can cook! He sighed, really wishing he had asked Alfred for lessons now. It's fine. Scooping the grounds into the filter, he started the pot. Letting the warm smell heat his apartment and hoping it wouldn't attract a coffee addicted brother of his today. Not yet anyway. He loved his siblings, his family, and he normally didn't mind (too much) them crashing into his place whenever (especially when Bruce became too much for them). However, Dick had no idea how to go about explaining Angel, about why she was on the couch, not even how he met her. While he could try and play off another hook-up, her being on the couch bespeaks another story alone.

He took a deep breath, this was fine. This is fine. Everything is going to make sense. Dick heard a groan, heard a soft grunt and could see as the head of silver pushed up from behind the back of the couch. Angel shifted, stretching her arms over her head with a whine that had this mouth growing dry. He swallowed thickly, forcing his focus on the coffee pot still brewing. He could hear her getting up, could hear her moving. Her footsteps barely made a sound on the floorboards beneath her, and if he hadn't been trained by the Bat he was sure he wouldn't have even heard her. As it were, he heard her get closer. Felt her eyes as she shuffled her feet and sighed near silently.

"Good morning," She greeted with a yawn.

He glanced at her slowly. Waiting for her to either hide her face or something, but she did neither. Instead meeting his gaze head on, with a sleepy smile-grimace on her face. She had freckles dusting her nose and the apples of her cheeks. A scar ran from the center of her chin down and another was on the corner of her lips, she blinked green eyes slowly up at him. Running slender fingers through pale hair and waiting until he was done.

"Morning Angel..." There were so many questions, so many things he wanted to say and so little time. What to say first, how did he get here. How did she? What happened? Why were they here and not in her club with him waking on that shitty faded green couch with patches sewn into it where holes formed. "Coffee?"

She hummed, "Yes please, I'd have made some when I first got here but... that was an intrusion I refuse to make."

His lips twitched at the corner, nothing changed. Angel was still Angel, even if he now knew her eyes were framed with dark lashes. If he knew her eyes sparkled at the sight of caffeine. He poured some into a cup, one he was pretty sure had been left by Tim. But it was clean and it would do, even if it was covered in a skull and crossbones saying 'Death before Decaf'. He slid the sugar her way, watched as she dumped several packets into the black liquid. Watched as she gestured at the fridge and didn't open until receiving a nod, and watching as she grabbed his milk carton out to pour some in. He sipped his, long and slow as she stirred hers quietly. The only sound was the metal spoon clinking against the glass.

"So..."

"I know you have questions, but I need to say this first, Gray." She cut off, hand raised as she slowly brought the cup to her face and inhaled. "You are going to drown yourself in whatever sorrows and thoughts are inside your head? Fine, but if you do not deign to talk to a therapist, a friend, family, anyone even, for every shot you get from me? You have to talk."

He frowned, "Excuse me?"

"Did I stutter?" She raised a brow, meeting his narrow stare with another one back. He noticed her glasses missing, could see dark bags beneath her eyes. "Look, the club is there for a reason, and you are welcomed. But if you want help to forget, to be forgotten, I ask that you share it for every shot. Or you won't be drinking a shot, I'll give you shitty ass tap water."

He mock-gasped, hand clutched to his chest as if he had some fancy pearls on. Internally, his stomach was rolling. Twisting and knotting as ice started to build inside his fingertips, and he ignored the way his hands had started shaking. Downing a gulp like it was a shot of the coffee, feeling a different kind of burn. She didn't roll her eyes, like he expected. Didn't even bat one. He sighed, he didn't want to talk about himself. Not.... not like this, not like that to anyone. They didn't need the worry, the stress... the burden was his to carry.

"Grayson."

She crossed her arms, brows furrowed now. Yet her tone never became demanding, never scolding. She was giving him choices, options, and yet... he didn't detect the threat. The warning of anger, the promise of demand. He didn't know how to feel about that.

"I'm not saying you need to go walk out there and do it, to pick up a phone and jump the gun, and I don't know what your life is like outside the club. What I do know is you can't keep drinking yourself into a stupor, I can't help you with that."

He licked his lips, breaking from the intensity of her stare to look at the dark liquid sloshing in his glass cup. It was ceramic, a milk white color with flash symbols dancing all over it. A housewarming gift from Wally, and he knew there was a matching Robin one in there, another to match was Superboy, was Aquaman (they pretended it was Aqualad), and Artemis, and Miss Martian (technically Martian Manhunter). For their morning brunches, they had said when they brought it over. Even if Wally's was the most used.

"What do you want me to do?" He hated how his voice sounded like a broken sound, just barely louder than a whisper. He saw her frown out of the corner of his eye, but not once did pity cross her features. Not once did she show a sign of being disappointed or anything.

"All I ask is this, talk to someone. Maybe someone more licensed than some random bartender you met in a club for people who want to get lost."

For the first time since he's met her, Dick heard the steady, even cool notes of her voice waver. They went higher, a lighter note that sounded... almost nervous, dare he say? He found himself breathing a short chuckle at her joke, her lips twitching at the sound.

"Either you can talk to one of them, and if you do -I will know if you don't, keep that in mind- I won't bug you again. Otherwise, for every shot you get from my bar, from my club, from me? You need to spill something for me to keep spilling that liquor in your cup."

"Why do you care?" Dick blurted out after she had finished speaking, her brow raised. "It's not like me drowning myself is costing you anything."

"Oh, Mister Grayson, don't you get it?” She laughed, a short and bitter sound more akin to nails going down a chalkboard. “You will cost me everything."

He blinked, once, twice. Unsure how to respond to such a bold declaration. She didn't break, her eyes never wavering. Focus never splitting even as she blindly reaches for the cup of coffee on the island counter and brings it to her lips. He swallowed the lump in his throat, it wouldn't be hard to spin her some tall tales. To lie, to try and get out of this entire arrangement.

Except, he knows he's never been the best when it comes to expressing himself. To share his inner bits, the vulnerabilities, insecurities, the fears and memories that plague him. He had unfortunately, after a month of being cooped up in his shitty apartment in Bludhaven, had learned to mask it. The face of Dick Grayson becoming a mask as strong as the domino he wore at night, it... it sucked. Feeling too much and too little all at once. There were times he considered calling up Dinah, asking if she was willing... but then the demons in his head would get to him. Too loud, too nasty, and he'd wind up bottling it all up. Caging everything in once again come sunrise.

"You don't have to give me names, give me details." She said softly, back to that somber tone of voice. To the softness and lowness of an alto with a slight rasp. "Give me anything that can clue me in to who you are when you just want to forget. But, I think you need someone to listen. And if you're going to drown yourself in my establishment, I ask that you let me listen."

"I..." He cleared his throat, tipping back his cup. "I'll think about it."

She smiled, it wasn't like the half-smiles or the smirks, not like that rare grin that lightly curled her lips. It was... It almost looked sad, accepting. As if she knew his answer before it even came to his lips, as if she knew how this would end. As if she could see the train coming off its tracks heading right her way. Or is it his way? He didn't know, and a glance at the microwave showed it’s far too early for that line of thoughts. It's only ten in the morning, way too early for that. Far far earlier for an awkward silence by his standard.

"Do you like cereal?"

She blinked at him, and her smile twitched. In five minutes, they were sporting two bowls of cereal. Her apple jacks floating atop the milk, while lucky charms filled his to the brim. She was seated on a barstool, her eyes crinkling with mirth at the corners as he sat atop the island itself ("You fucking heathen!"). The talk was quiet, the awkward silence having disrupted a debate on what cereal is obviously the best. On whether sitting on the counter is in fact something sophisticated adults did ("I'm not a hoodlum, Grayson!").

She explained that Brutus is the one that helped her get him home, that he had signed the legal document with his address for any tab problems that would arise if he walked out without paying. Apparently, it happened enough times for her to make it a legal thing, and he wants to say he's surprised. Honestly, he's not. This is Gotham for crying out loud.

As time began to near noon, their bowls, cups, and silverware washed in the sink. He snickered at the way her eye twitched at the way he left them to dry on a towel, her glasses being plucked off the coffee table and shoved up her nose with a finger. She stretched, the black leather tank-top-corset thing riding high on her stomach to show off a glittering purple-blue gemstone on her belly button. He ignored the heat that burned at his cheeks when he saw it, immediately directing his eyes to the ceiling. She wore hip hugging blue jeans, the knees worn enough to show her knees and he noticed she was wearing heels. Raising her to his chin, he had to resist making a short joke as rustled her hands through her hair.

The silence returned, suffocating and awkward. It made him want to make a joke, say something or another to make her green eyes roll. To make her snort again. Instead, she beat him to the punch, tugging a tie from her jeans and throwing her hair into a messy bun.

"Hey Grayson, have you considered dancing?"

24 notes · View notes

skz-suki · 3 days

Text

(☆)….SUKI AT THE 2024 MET GALA

☆ - her styling

- her outfit was a reference to/reinterpretation of the iconic plays on suits by Vivienne Westwood in the 80s and 90s!

- she pitched this idea to the tommy hilfiger staff while they were trying to figure out what to design for her, and instead of making her a beautiful gown she wanted to wear some sort of suit just like her members.

- the suit was tailored wonderfully to her body and even featured a corset, which is on brand for vivienne westwood.

- the fabric and patterns of the suit was custom made to be the iconic westwood tartan plaid but with the tommy red and blue.

- her shoes were also inspired by Vivienne Westwood featuring the red and blue plaid once again, embroidered with lace flower detailing.

- other accessories included layers and layers of different lengths of pearls, calf-high white lace socks with the same embroidery as the shoes, and a mix of silver and gold rings.

- her hair was slicked back with a cute finger curl on her forehead, adding to the vintage charm of her outfit.

- her makeup was light and cool-toned just to accentuate her features and not distract from the outfit. she actually wanted to go a bit bolder with the makeup look but the styling team convinced her against it

29 notes · View notes

sacrrior · 17 hours

Text

I still struggle to get rid of my line work, but eventually I will figure it out haha.

Anyway, here's my MC from the AMAZING IF story @collegetennisoriginstory. Her name is Maya and yes she's head over heels for her BFF Sam, even rocking her old jacket to an official Doubles Match!

#ct:os #college tennis: origin story #digital art #fanart #art #female oc #character art #tennis #look at that tennis ball

21 notes · View notes

mpw-04 · 2 months

Text

Making a comeback 💥 tried a trend that’s been floating around, oddly proud of the results.

/Feedback is appreciated/

#black dress #dress meme #kemono #anthro #oc #artwork #drawing #digital art #digital illustration #rkgk #rkgkillust #my art #female oc

1K notes · View notes

sparkrls · 3 months

Text

girl uncle

MASTERLIST

Summary: in which Harry becomes an uncle and has a bad case of baby fever

Author’s Note: congratulations to Gemma, i’m so happy for her and the entire Styles family. if this sucks, it's because babies scare me and i tried to write a fic about baby fever... not my smartest move

Word Count: 1k

···

“Baby? You okay?” Y/N murmured, brushing the hair out of Harry’s face. His lower lip trembling as he stared at the rose-flushed baby.

Harry shook his head, the first tear trailing down his cheek. Y/N could never stand to see him weep. It made something inside of her shatter as he lost his composure.

Y/N wrapped her arm around his shoulder, pulling him in close. He leaned his head against her shoulder, tears trailing down his face and onto her shirt. His eyes never left the baby.

Gemma laid fast asleep in the bed behind them. In a little while, the nurse would come in to check in on the baby and Gemma. But for now, Harry and Y/N were left with a sleeping Gemma and a baby to gaze at.

Harry had been stressed out of his mind when Michal called to tell them Gemma’s water had broken and they were headed to the hospital. He had fussed over every detail, and Y/N had been the one to grab the car keys and usher him out of the house. She knew he wasn’t in any mental state to be driving.

The time in the waiting room had been spent by Y/N helping Michal with all the paperwork and Harry pacing in circles. She’d gotten him a tea and ordered him to sit down. As he sipped on his tea, his face still in an anxious frown, she’d pressed a notebook and pen in his hands. Y/N had cupped his face in her hands and instructed, “Everything on your mind, write it down. All the anxious overthinking- lay it down on the page.”

Harry had done so, filling a worrying amount of pages with all that was on his mind. She had skimmed it and found he kept repeating certain thoughts, a clear sign he was just in a spiral of overthinking.

Y/N sat down next to him and simply hugged him until the tension in his muscles dissipated and he relaxed- not completely, but enough to soothe her worries.

When they’d finally been let into the room to see an exhausted Gemma, grinning Michal and a fussy baby, Harry had been handed the baby to hold. He rocked her lightly in his arms, smiling down at her.

“You’re a girl uncle,” Y/N had said teasingly. Harry grinned nonetheless.

That had led them to this, a day after the currently unnamed baby was born. The sun had long set on the horizon, and dark flooded the streets with lamplights turned on.

“We’re adults now,” Harry whispered lowly, as to not rouse the sleeping figures in the room. He sniffled. “I can still remember being kids and climbing trees. How Gemma cleaned up my knee when I scraped it learning to ride a bike. And look at her now.”

A warmth spread in Y/N’s chest, somewhere between happiness and an indescribable satisfaction at knowing they’d made it this far. And a melancholic feeling thinking about how they used to worry about whether their parents would let them go out to the park with their friends or not. Now, they would soon become the parents themselves.

Harry sighed, and she wiped his tears away from his cheeks. Y/N placed a tender kiss on his forehead and said, “You’re an uncle now.”

Looking up at her as if she’d been the one to freckle the sky with stars, Harry said, “Uncle Harry. Has a ring to it, doesn’t it?”

A soft chuckle escaped Y/N’s lips. “Definitely.”

“Dad would sound even better,” Harry whispered, pressing himself close to her and nuzzling his nose against her neck. “Don’t you agree?”

Eyebrows raised in light surprise, Y/N asked, “You want to…?”

Harry nodded. “Wouldn’t it be nice?” He whispered, a small smile tugging at his lips. He had that soft look in his eye he always got whenever he talked about their future. “Maybe a ring on your finger before… and then a baby in your belly.”

“You’ve got baby fever,” Y/N groaned quietly, turning her head away from him. Her gaze landed on the baby again, wrapped in a light pink blanket. For a moment, she imagined that being her baby. And a rush of affection swelled in her chest, a pinch of fear tingling on her fingertips.

Fuck, maybe she had baby fever as well.

They certainly did look adorable, faces all scrunched up, skin a rosy pink and fingers all chubby.

“Is that a no?” Harry prompted quietly.

Y/N sighed as if she were exhausted by him. They both knew her every word was laced with affection, “How’d you go from crying ‘cause your sister’s a mom now to begging for a baby?”

“Marriage and a baby,” Harry said, matter-of-factly. “Get your facts straight.”

Holding back a laugh, Y/N said, “Begging for marriage and a baby.” She took one good look at the man beside her, with brown curls and green eyes that looked almost a forest green in this light. “I never could say no to you.”

“That’s a yes?” Harry asked hopefully, leaning in close.

Y/N rolled her eyes affectionately. "It means be patient. We'll see how things go." She gave him a playful glare. "But we are having a wedding before a baby. Got it, Styles?"

"Got it, baby,” Harry confirmed with a grin. He knew he was going to get what he wanted. Maybe more in the future, he would spend an obscene amount of money on a Tiffany engagement ring and a Vivienne Westwood wedding dress. But for now, those plans were stowed away in Harry’s mind. They would come to fruition eventually. It was just a matter of time.

1K notes · View notes

johnbspup · 7 months

Text

Yandere Jock x reader x Yandere Cheerleader

Warnings: Yandere themes, gaslighting

Ethan Moore and Sonya Ross are the picture perfect couple. They’re the couple everybody is jealous of or hates, yet the two felt like something was missing.

The moment the new transfer student entered the classroom, Sonya knew that you were the missing piece to her and Ethan. She immediately invites you to sit next to her, introducing herself and complimenting you. Once class starts, she sneaks a picture of you and sends it to Ethan. Ethan immediately fell in love too. You were so cute and everything about you was perfect.

Once the bell rings, Sonya immediately grabs your arm. “Oh hon, you should sit with me at lunch!” She says, you’re confused expression going completely unnoticed. You attempt to say no but Sonya is already tugging you with her.

Tbh both are incredibly delusional

Like if you reject them, they just think you’re playing hard to get

They most likely guilt trip you into dating them

They also make you sit between them at their lunch table. Sonya always tries to gossip with you while Ethan attempts to teach you about football

If you miss any of their practices or games, they get real upset and guilt trip you

Ethan loves, loves, LOVES seeing you in his varsity jacket. Since it has his name on it, it shows everyone that you’re taken

Sonya loves to take you shopping. Spoiling you is her hobby

#yandere oc x reader #poly yandere #poly yandere x reader #Sonya Ross my oc #Ethan Moore my oc #yandere jock #yandere cheerleader #yandere girl #female yandere #female yandere x reader #yandere male #male yandere #male yandere x reader #male oc #male oc x gn reader #male oc x reader #female oc #female oc x gn reader #female oc x reader

1K notes · View notes

roxineedstosleep · 4 months

Note

Can you do platonic batfam with a male reader who is like Hunter from the owl house

Imagine having a manipulator uncle and is a clone of someone

Clones have no personality.

Not at least in the interim of their realization.

At the beginning they know what they want and that, then, when they interact with a more real world they realize that they are nothing and at the same time they are someone.

The emptiness that comes with realization, anger, loss, parendiza and acceptance are things that take time. They take time, tears, reproaches, rejections, acceptances, cries, screams, health and so many other things.

Conner surely understands what the reader is going through, he knows what it means to be someone's clone and not knowing what else to do for oneself.

Conner didn't know he could be himself until he stopped trying with Clark.

The reader… well.

Being Dick Grayson's clone wasn't something you'd like to have known.

Worse yet… meeting Dick and then the whole family was even worse.

You no longer knew if your affections, hobbies, likes and dislikes were a macabre work of genetics or because that's what you'd really be if you weren't a clone.

You were- are? soooo much like Richard.

But at the same time you were so different. His dark light skin was like a beautiful bronze compared to your uneven brown skin. It looked like your hair waves were hideous compared to his perfectly wavy hair. His eyes were the perfect shade of blue, well-place mole on the chick, his voice was more enchanting than yours.

Every time you saw him more and more, you felt as you looked in the mirror something about your appearance warp into an eternally striking malformation.

Your nails or your fingers didn't seem to be straight, your teeth were getting bigger and twisted(?), your hair was not manageable, your skin started to get more pimples or pores… nothing seemed to have an end.

You were too young to even be considered Dick's twin, at best, like Damian, you could be considered his younger brother… his son? To old for that?

Well, like Conner, someone had to have given the egg for that cloning thing to work.

That wasn't the point.

The point was that you were everything Richard wasn't. You never would be and never would become.

You didn't have the strength or the agility or the courage or the chutzpah.

When Bruce found you, it was as if he had stopped time and locked you in the Batmobile until Zantana and others came to see what they should do with you. You were just looking for the quickest way to buy candy. A simple detour around a corner and all of a sudden you were being pecked and bewitched by a bunch of people in tights who wouldn't stop asking you questions or wanting to get inside your head.

Your only mistake was scape from the orphanage for candy.

When the spells failed, when the manipulations came to nothing and when everything looked like it was going to end with you ten feet underground behind a ditch… they resigned themselves to completing the last box in the "kidnap a civilian" kit: they had to see if you were a fucking clone.

Bruce didn't even think of Dick as a possible cloning victim in the first place.

You didn't look like him… not in the right way. At least from Bruce's perspective; being the genius detective that he was.

Bruce had just squeezed the wheel of possibilities with the DNA of everyone registered in the Watchover system… the genetic co-incidence was just that.

A fucking co-incidence.

And Dick, he had the terrible luck to show up as a match. But even with that proff he did not believe it.

You, you couldn't be a clone, you had to be something else. Didn't you?

Your son? a mistake from the past?

No.

You were just the result of a crazy ex-girlfriend, an idiot Dick and a test tube.

They took you with them. You couldn't walk around without anyone watching you. Besides, a mansion was better than a low-security orphanage. Wasn't it?

But it didn't help any.

To them, to Dick himself, you were just a token that everyone was replaceable.

Bruce wanted to test if you were trainable to be Robin, but you could barely run without dying in the attempt. It didn't matter how many days you stayed in training or fighting.

Nothing worked.

Your belly was visible, your fatigue was or seemed chronic (some cloning error?), your appearance definitely resembled Dick but not in the right way. Or at least that's how you began to perceive it over time. As they, the Waynes, used to constantly emphasise to you.

Sometimes you could stand for hours in front of the mirror wondering if you were really a clone or if the machine had broken down.

And just as your relationship with your image began to deteriorate… the relationship with the members of the house didn't even seem to get off to a good start.

Damian didn't know how to treat you, Jason definitely looked at you with pity, Tim watched you like a lab rat, Alfred and Bruce tried to make up for all their faults with you.

Dick… Dick, like Clark, didn't want anything to do with you or relate to you.

At the beginning he tried. I mean, one of his best friends is a fucking clone, who was fiercely rejected by the person who should be his family. Wouldn't it be hypocritical of him to reject you?

But it was no use. The few times you did hang out together it was clearly awkward for both of you. And even if anyone asked how you were related, Dick was quick to reject any connection.

"He's a friend's cousin, I babysit." "Oh, a co-worker's son." "He's one of the Wayne Foundation kids."

Over time Dick really emphasised that he wanted nothing to do with you, or to know about you or even to consider accepting your existence. He pulled away, with different excuses or reasons to the point where there was no reason why they should relate to each other.

So, seeing that nothing could ever be the same again… you decided to take the next step.

Clearly they didn't want to see you. They didn't want to relate to you.

Dick was, much to your consternation considering that he even never get you a proper ID, your legal guardian, but even he didn't make a big deal out of it.

Damian wouldn't give you the time of day, Alfred and Bruce were always busy, Jason for clear reasons didn't want to be there, and Tim had a purely clinical interest in your existence.

Why be with them? Well, you needed a roof over your head, yes, but other than that there was no reason why you should waste your time and effort wanting to be there.

You were taken off the streets almost as an adult, you could see your way to entertain yourself until you could get out of there. You didn't have the same pressure as they did with public image, you didn't have to go to galas or society balls.

So, you looked for other ways to entertain yourself.

First it was sports, but you sucked. Really sucked.

The arts didn't seem to be your thing, even if you tried.

Dancing was also out of the question and singing, even though you weren't terrible, wouldn't bring you any kind of personal satisfaction.

That's when the clandestine outings came in.

You drank, you tried drugs, you did whatever it took to get out of the Wayne family's sight for more than a day.

There were bad experiences, definitely, but it seemed like life wanted to somehow make it up to you for everything it put you through.

Before long, you found relatively decent people.

People who, in the worst situations, you wouldn't hesitate to ask for help.

There were even times when you would spend up to a month or more away from the family home and never get a call or message about your whereabouts.

Before you knew it, the years passed and you had turned 18… or at least you could say so considering you were a fucking clone.

Months away from the Wayne's, calculating that time away from home, I'd say it was a total of 2 cumulative years that you were away.

And you were happy in those months far from the Wayne mansion. You had two good friends, who were in and out of drugs just like you. They would meet in a small, ramshackle studio and eat and get a job to survive together. When the going got tough, you'd rush back so your buddies could make ends meet.

Sometimes you would even send them some food and old clothes that everyone in the house was reluctant to throw away.

Many of your clothes were, ironically, things that others had left behind. Not because you didn't have clothes of your own, but it was easier to finish wearing worn out clothes than to wear something new that you could wear later.

But that wasn't the point.

You didn't know anything about the Waynes at that time, and they didn't know anything about you.

And that seemed to work just as well for them.

Worked perfectly for you as well.

You didn't have to deal with them, they didn't have to deal with you. Wasn't that the best thing?

If you came back alive, with tattered clothes and calloused hands, they wouldn't say go. It didn't matter if you'd spent most of the winter sleeping without heat or if you moved the bathtub into the living room to avoid flooding the floor during the rainy season.

You were invisible to them. And you were happy about it.

But, like everything else in life, nothing seemed to be enough, everything seemed like a sick joke and no matter what you did, you always ended up in the same mental hole that kept you from moving on.

You don't even know how the fuck you ended up like that.

It was just a party, a private fucking party with your two best friends. Jackovy had brought a new sour candy (real sugar tasty candy) to try, Luz brought her own special drinks. You had gone out of your way to make spicy mac and cheese that had just the right amount of creamy yet tangy cheese. What was the worst that could happen?

A fucking Joker bomb, half a block from Jackovy's ramshackle building, that's what. Just as the three of you were halfway through dinner, ordering takeout for something sweet for dessert…. a stinking bomb shattered the front windows to the street and Jackovy jumped on you to get you out of the place.

Without thinking too much you grabbed Luz by the arm, and both of you held on to Jackovy's large figure to escape from the building that was collapsing second by second. As soon as Jackovy put one foot out into the street, the whole building collapsed and you pushed him and Luz as far away from the collapse as you could, they pulled you in time, but your leg got caught in some of the debris.

You didn't want to see it, you didn't need to see it, but that leg was definitely broken. You didn't know the severity, but from what Luz was shouting in her native language and the insults your other friend was hurling you knew that a bandage wasn't enough.

Clearly, as if it were a bad joke, because the Joker really was a lousy comedian, it wasn't long before Gordon and a member of your family arrived at the scene of the crime.

It seemed so strange to you, so weird.

They really were good at acting their double persona. I mean, you never saw Dick be gentle with you before. Not when you broke your arm after trying to climb the chandelier like he once did. Not when Bruce yelled at you until he was hoarse because he couldn't do gymnastics.

You never saw Bruce act carefully when pulling out the debris. You didn't feel Dick's desperate way of calling a paramedic like fake.

But, it didn't matter.

Really, if you didn't get over that everyone in the family had taken acting classes you could believe a little bit about their acting.

Really, omitting all the obnoxious disinterest you had in them, you could say they were worthy of an Oscar for best acting or at least they were too professional to care whether you were the forgotten clone in the house or not.

As soon as one of the two wanted to get into the ambulance with you, you shouted Luz and Jackovy's name for them to follow you. The paramedics didn't know what to do, but there wasn't much to say about it either.

"Only family members or couples can join-"

"Jackovy is his husband" Luz had shouted, noticing how you were trying to run away from the nurses' restraints " Besides he always use his husband's"

"A child can't be an adult's boyfriend-" Dick had tried to say, frightened looking at Jackovy, who definitely looked to be at least about 27 years old. His prominent beard and his height and musculature really made him look old, how funny that he was only a couple of years older than you or Luz.

His unfriendly face didn't help the current situation either, but that didn't matter. The point was that Jackovy had health insurance in his name, so why did the technicalities of the safe age of consent matter now?

"I'm 23, his MY husband, he's coming with me" You interrupted.

The opinion of two men in dark spandex didn't matter anyway. You're married? Perfect, the husband has more right to be with you in the ambulance.

Your friend stuck around while Luz stayed behind to see if anything could be salvaged from the wrecked apartment.

Neither you nor Jackovy or Luz felt sorry for the place, it didn't belong to either of you, it was just an old building used as a game room. But, some things were of sentimental value.

If they could be salvaged it was worth a try. Also, probably many of the drugs were there. Was a better option to clean it before the police started to seek there.

Getting to the hospital and getting your leg fixed was easy. Making sure the fake marriage paperwork and the fake ID Jackovy had gotten for you passed as real was the tricky part.

You and Luz had done a perfect job in creating all the false documentation in order to generate a fake ID.

Better job of adding a little more age to you.

They knew your ID was functional, as you had even been able to get your friend out of the police lockup on a couple of occasions.

But the fake marriage paperwork they weren't sure about. those were, in a better word, almost new. Not even more than a week.

They would not have been created had it not been for your friend's last minute idea to be covered in this way. Jackovy did it expontanea.

It was fraud that paper, not that your ID was any less fraud than that certificate, but at least you only had one ID.

Jackovy had several marriage certificates with different people's names on them. Some for a greencard, others like you, who needed to be able to use health insurance.

But the paper passed as valid, Jackovy's insurance cover most of the expenses and now you could get some rest before you could leave for Luz's now truly owned apartment.

The bad joints, at the end of the day, had ensured that you didn't lose the money you had saved… but for some reason had lured a falsely concerned family into the hallway outside the room you temporarily had in the hospital.

What the fuck were they doing there?

509 notes · View notes

oh-koenig-my-koenig · 6 months

Text

(to the tune of Avril Lavigne's sk8terboi)

He was a human battering ram.

She was a recon sniper.

Can I make it any more obvious?

Headcannons - Fit for a King - König x fem!OC fanfic

Instead of making a y/n fic, I decided to create an original female character because I ususally write all of my stuff in POVs. Due to posting the chapters often right after I've written them some of the context and the characterization might not be explicit in every single piece, some of the information is only gonna get revealed down the road.

(TW: alcoholism, death, violence)

Karina Müller is almost 30 years old, she served in the Norwegian military from right after school until the death of her brother who was KIA on a mission together. She fell off the wagon after that, feeling responsible for his death and effectively being shunned by her family after that. Her pick of poison was alcohol and it got so bad that she more than once was drunk on the job which led to her getting kicked out.

The years after that she spent getting help, trying to get clean and going back to a civilian life, but the military was what she knew, so the civilian jobs didn't stick and she started to work as a mercenary, now a dry alcoholic. Which might be an issue for some contractors, but KorTac doesn't really bat an eye.

She's a compassionate person who loves to laugh, she's seen enough shit not to take any from her teammates and can stand her ground when faced with any challenge thrown her way. She's still working through some stuff, coming to terms with her past, but she has an optimistic spirit and a strong will.

Even though the Colonel seems scary at first, she learns pretty quickly that he is to be respected in training and on the battlefield, but on a personal level he's really not that bad. The 6'10'' killing machine, Austrian war criminal (insert "what murdeeer?!"-meme here) is quite an anxious person when it comes to basic human interaction.

Shouting orders at his team, stomping his enemies into the ground is more comfortable to him than just talking about mundane stuff with other people, he mostly keeps to himself (except for Horangi because that little shit would never leave him alone). And for the first time in a long time, Müller makes him wish that he could just go up to people and strike up a normal conversation like a normal person (don't we all).

König is 38 years old (we don't know his full name) and has the biggest metalhead dad vibes without actually having any children himself (his favourite band is Death, although he listens to a bunch of different ones, it's also their merch shirt Müller steals in "Are you wearing my t-shirt?").

When he started out in the military, he shaved his long metalhead hair off because that was the way to go back then, but he let it grow back when he was older and already Colonel. He has gauged ears and a plethora of tattoos all over his body because the soft pain of body modifications and working out until he almost passes out are his ways of dealing with his anxiety and stress. His body is a testament to that.

He has a huge scar on the right side of his face from when he got beaten to a pulp by his bullies at school, something he never let happen again after that (five on one was really unfair). His nose has been broken two times and sometimes his tattoos get destroyed by battle injuries, but he doesn't really care about that - or his looks in general. He's a soldier and not a model.

So the reason why he's always wearing the selfmade hood is not the scar. He prefers not to show his feelings to others, staying hidden underneath the mask for his own comfort, even if it makes him scarier also in situations where he doesn't want to be.

(CW: some nsfw headcannons ahead, talk about not wanting to have children) They're both switches, though König is leaning more on the Dom-side while Müller is a sub who likes to brat a little too much, just to see her man falter (for example when she calls him a good boy in random scene #1).

Müller is bisexual, something she discovered when serving in an all-women-taskforce of the Norwegian military (we don't really know about König's sexuality though). She decided a long time ago that she doesn't want to have children (she doesn't see herself leaving service again anytime soon and given her past, she doesn't see herself fit to become a mother), so she got her tubes tied. Which also comes in handy when a certain Colonel's favourite pasttime (well, actually second favourite) is leaving creampies inside her (no 'unexpected pregnancy' trope in this household).

König definitely eats pussy for his own pleasure, begging Müller to let him eat her out in "Sit" or losing a little friendly competition for a sexual favour in "But no funny business" (oh and he definitely steals her panties at any chance he gets). She's totally not opposed to servicing him as well, but the size of his dick makes this a whole endeavour (like seen in "Open wide, Prinzessin").

They match each other's energy pretty well, just going at it like rabbits at every chance they get, which sometimes proves to be difficult as they're sneaking around in secret.

Their arrangement is kind of a fuckbuddy/fwb-situation, they fuck hard and rough, without ever really kissing (the mask stays on), but after a while feelings start to get in the way... After all they do belong together <3

Read more at the Fit for a King - Masterlist or keep an eye out for the AO3 link - coming soon.

#könig #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig mw2 #könig x fmc #könig fanfiction #cod mw2 smut #könig smut #konig smut #cod smut #female oc

489 notes · View notes

steviewashere · 21 days

Text

Single Parent Eddie Munson who goes to a hair salon with his daughter. His daughter is thirteen and experimenting with her style for the first time and got permission to use Manic Panic in her hair. On one condition: she goes to an actual salon to get it done because Eddie does not trust her or himself to do it correctly.

Steve Harrington owns the local hair salon, just a couple blocks away from Eddie's apartment. He specializes in coloring and haircuts. He recognizes the man who enters his salon with his kiddo—Eddie Munson, three time senior, small town rocker and mechanic, who had a kid only a couple years after finally graduating. He thinks it's cute, though, what his clients want.

Eddie's daughter wants her whole head dyed red, bright cherry red. And, Eddie who doesn't want to completely dye his hair, worried about ruining the curls—he just wants a streak in his bangs to match his girlie.

Cue them becoming regular clients, trying out all the new colors they can get their hands on, Eddie with his one streak. And Steve with a heart about to explode out of his chest with adoration and...love for Eddie. It's unethical, probably, to fall in love with his client. But he won't say anything when Eddie's daughter invites him over for dinner because, "My dad won't shut up about you! Which is so annoying of him, but he hasn't been this excited about somebody in a loooonggg time. And, y'know, you're cool in my book."

And sure, when Steve and Eddie start a tentative relationship that eventually blossoms to them moved in and married—Eddie's girl takes full advantage of Steve's skills. She gets her hair done in their bathroom, Eddie on the toilet chatting away, and Steve the most content he's ever been.

Concept :) I don't know if I have the time and whatnot to write this, but if it inspires you, I'd love to read what you write.

#stranger things #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #single parent eddie munson #female oc #fluff #domestic steddie

227 notes · View notes

whiskyguts · 1 month

Text

184 notes · View notes

pistachiozombie · 4 months

Text

[Fallout 3 - 4] Your old 'pals' Kaite and Lennie 14 years later. How are they still alive?

#Fallout 4 #Fallout OC #Fallout art #redraw #post apocalyptic #Super Mutant #Kaite Reymond #Kaite and Lennie #Lennie #my art #female oc #orginal character

293 notes · View notes

wanderingaldecaldo · 2 months

Text

Top: canon/original streetkid; middle: corpo au; bottom: President's Merc au.

Red+Black

Dear @breezypunk gifted me these gorgeous shots of Val in all her (current) incarnations. Breezy, I love how you see her! 😩

164 notes · View notes

kyynas · 11 days

Text

Two sides of the coin [OC]

📖 Livro: Two sides of the coin

✍️Autor(a) : kyynas_ (wappad) / kyynas (Spirit Fanfiction)

📍 Disponível: Wattpad e Spirit Fanfiction

#monster oc #illustration #female oc #male oc #ocart #ocs #original caracter #two sides of the same coin #my art #monster lover #monsterlove #hunterxmonster #monster hunter #romance #ship #concept art #fanfic #fanfiction

101 notes · View notes

wintfleur · 12 days

Text

ᥫ᭡ ‘Guitar lessons’ and kisses!

﹕─┈ pairings ( Gwendolyn Caufield oc! x Juraj Slafkovský )

°. — summary ( Juraj’s guitar lessons don’t go to plan , but neither of them are complaining )

°. — details ( g; fluff . w; kissing . wc; 1.3k )

au masterlist - everything for the AU is under #📷 ͡ ꒱ GwenCaufield

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( AHH MY FIRST FIC FOR THIS AU 🤭 I’m so excited to finally get something out for them !! Please let me know what you guys think , and please comment if you would like to be added to the taglist , love you all mwah x )

“Do you wanna try?” Gwen asked him softly, the newly couple were relaxing in her room while her brother and a few of his friends were watching a football game in the living room. They were relaxing in her bed as they looked through some pictures she had taken and printed out, but she noticed that her boyfriend's gaze kept on moving to her guitar that was propped up prettily on the other side of her room next to her vanity.

“Can i?” Juraj asked with a hopeful smile, he had seen his girlfriend play her guitar many times and God was it so attractive, he knew it was a strong passion for her, and he wanted to be able to enjoy her passions as well.

Gwen perked up at the thought of her teaching him how to play and she quickly and carefully placed the pictures in the brown box that was covered in a bunch of stickers and placed it on her side table. Juraj watched her with a smile as she skipped over to her guitar and carefully picked up her black electric guitar.

“Of course, you just have to be careful with my baby” Gwen smiled as she gently held the neck of her guitar as she walked over to him, careful not to trip over her black and white star fluffy carpet. Juraj quickly took off his hoodie, leaving him in his white shirt and sweats before moving to sit on the edge of her bed, looking up at her with a smirk “I thought i was your baby?”

“You're my baby boy, but Saide, Saide is my baby girl” Gwen teases as she holds her to her chest, slowly rubbing the neck of her guitar teasingly throwing a wink his way, they both knew what she was doing. Juraj chuckled and reached forward, resting his large hands on her legging clad thighs and pulled her to stand between his legs, tilting his head to look up at her “Should i be jealous?”

“You are pretty hot when you're jealous” Gwen teased as she looked down at him with her own smirk, brown eyes meeting. Juraj bit his lip and felt his heartbeat faster from being under her gaze, he cleared his throat and turned his attention down to her guitar – oh sorry Sadie, and moved his hands for her to pass her to him.

Gwen noticed the flustered look on his face and decided it was time to stop her teasing before it went further then they both were ready for. She passed him sadie and showed him how to hold her properly, a smile on her lips as he looked up at her with his puppy eyes, ready for her to reach him more.

“Am I holding it right?” Juraj asked quietly after a few minutes of him just strumming the same cords she taught him. Gwen moved from sitting by his side and moved to sit behind him on her knees, resting her chin on his shoulder as she looked between his hands and his perfect side profile. Gwen has a small frown on her lips as she noticed his trembling hands “Your hands are shaking”

Juraj’s breath hitched, and he stopped strumming, his hands were in fact shaking, and it was because of her. Having her so close, her chest pressed against his back, every time he took a breath he could smell her perfume, the perfume that drove him crazy. The smile and small giggle she let out every time he made a mistake was not helping him concentrate at all. He really hoped she couldn't hear or feel his very fast heartbeat.

Gwen watched him with knowing eyes, her gaze falling to his Adam apple as he swallowed hard and cleared his throat. Gwen smirked and moved closer to him, resting her hand on his shoulder while the other rubbed the closest one to her, sending a chill down his spine at the feeling of her black nails scratching softly against his skin. Gwen whispered in his ear ‘Do I make you nervous?”

“You know you do” He whispered back, his accent strong. Tilting his head to get a better look at her, he’s welcomed by the sight of her big brown eyes looking up at him and the prettiest smirk on her face. He felt goosebumps spread across his neck at the feeling of her warm breaths hitting his skin.

Gwen let out a small hum of satisfaction from his words, it was nice to hear that she also made him nervous, because she knew it was obvious to him that he also made her nervous. She watched as his eyes dropped to her lips before quickly looking back to her eyes. Her eyes in turn fell to his lips, not looking away as she slowly leaned in.

Juraj couldn't help but hold his breath and freeze completely under her touch as she moved closer to him, tilting his head more towards her and fluttering his eyes close at the feeling of their lips locking in a soft kiss. It was an awkward position but neither of them cared. Gwen moved her hand from his arm to softly caress his jaw before cupping it, as their lips moved slowly in tandem.

Juraj’s neck was starting to ache from the position, and he desperately wanted to pull her close and touch her, but he couldn't with Sadie in his lap. So, he reluctantly pulled away from the kiss and stood up from the bed. “Where are you going?” Gwen asked with a pout as she watched him walk to the other side of her room, a blush on her cheeks from the breathtaking kiss.

“Putting sadie away, wouldn't want your baby girl to get jealous” Juraj teased as he looked back to send her a wink before he gently put the guitar on the stand. He could hear the distant shouts from Cole and their friends in the living room, clearly not happy with how the game was going. Juraj paused at her record player and carefully placed the needle on the outer rim, the sound of the smiths filing her room.

“You're such an idiot” Gwen laughed happily as she changed her position in bed, now laying on her back, resting her head on her pillows. Juraj chuckled and moved to the bed, laying down on his stomach by her side, looking down at her with a smile. She looked so pretty looking up at him with her pretty brown eyes, her hair all over the place on the pillows.

Juraj hummed and brought his hand up to softly caress her flushed cheeks, his large hand was bigger than her face. He leaned down and softly kissed the tip of her nose, chuckling when she does that adorable nose scrunch “Mhm but I’m yours”

Gwen smiled and snuggled closer to him, wanting his warmth. The sweet sound of The Smiths playing in the background made the moment sweeter. She gently took hold of the collar of his shirt and pulled him down for a kiss. He let out a hum of surprise, but he was eager and quick to kiss back.

Juraj took charge of the kiss, nibbling softly on her bottom lip so she could get the hint to part her lips and that's exactly what she did. Their tongues fought in a battle that turned in his favor too fast, the kiss turned heated, and she felt herself sink deeper into her bed as Juraj moved closer to her.

Gwen moaned in the kiss and pulled him closer to her, one of her hands cupping his jaw while the other rested on his lower back, one of his hands cupping her jaw while the other was traveling down her side, squeezing her waist softly. Gwen slowly pulled away, both of their eyes fluttering open, a smile on their lips as they locked eyes. She whispered breathlessly against his lips

“And I'm yours”

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( I LOVE THEM SM I CANT BREATHE 💔 pls pls pls feel free to send in some thoughts or requests, i would love to talk about them more !! Again please let me know your thoughts !! )

°. — taglist ( @lovings4turn @toasttt11 @cixrosie @prettyboywoll @petite-potato4 @winterbarnesblog )

©️WINTFLEUR

#📷 ͡ ꒱ GwenCaufield #⋆ ˚｡⋆୨🖤୧˚ Gwen & Juraj #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #caufield sister!#montreal canadiens #juraj slafkovsky x reader #juraj slafkovsky imagine #juraj slafkovsky #juraj slafkovský #juraj slafkovsky x oc #nhl fic #nhl x oc #nhl blurb #nhl fluff #Juraj slafkovsky fluff #female oc #nhl x reader

107 notes · View notes