Party Crasher [Headless Horseman/Reader]

Party Crasher [Headless Horseman/Reader]

Summary: AU Special!: With the town of Moorwick in the thick of its preparations for the holiday parade and unmasking the fake headless horseman, you briefly forget your commitments tot he true horseman waiting for you in the forest. It’s inevitable that this parade will go on record as the most memorable yet.

a/n: please make sure to read footnotes on this for back story and more info! 

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There wasn’t a soul in the eccentric town of Moorwick who knew of your secret. It dwelled there in the darkness amid the thicket and ancient, gnarled trees where no one dared to venture and where no light from town reached. You disguised your furtive, knowing smiles behind a hand, a mug, another smile that barely breached your facade. 

You could only assume that those who knew you best chose not to ask, while others who kind-of knew you weren’t sure what to ask. Undoubtedly, the air about you had changed from a year ago where you barreled into town with the ferocity and ardor of a stranger, a person who would not be derailed from their mission.

Now you were more subdued, but only a little. Moorwick had taught you that not all things needed to be spoken, yet everything that didn’t matter would be discussed first. So you instead talked about Sherriff Decatur, his lackeys, and ridiculous taste in cheap coffee; you prattled on for hours with Nellie in her shop about Nigel’s lunacy and impetuous choice in daily price changes for orange juice and beef jerky.

Weekly dinners with Asta Lang and Winston, the adoring couple of over seventy years, always set your heart aflutter and brimmed it with warmth at their stories from youth. Had it not been for Asta’s letter prompting your subsequent visit to Moorwick, you would have never known your best-kept secret.

Your secret was lost to the unforgiving movement of time, unaware of how the world around him had changed as centuries passed. And yet, the world knew of him and who he was. Moorwick had nurseries for children beginning to explore what existed beyond their front doorsteps; a man aboard an alabaster steed, cloaked in red without a head.

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medic!reader and sniper!bucky first meeting please! with the prompt “let me take you out on a date”

      —— first meeting between the medic!reader & the howling commandos, ft. not-sold bucky and a lot of lovesick steve/peggy feels. 

      i’m glad so many of you liked this! my wwii!bucky is not so stereotypical – a little colder, a little bit more distanced and not so womanizing. i’m excited to develop the #duckandcover ship!

“She’s good, Steve – really good. I can’t say enough about her.”

Peggy matches his stride, fingers clutching the docket on the woman in question. Her lips, red and smirking, move quickly as she speaks outside of tent of C.P. and she hands the manila folder off with graceful ease. Her boots sink into the mud.

“And what am I supposed to do with this?” Steve asks, brows raised. He thumbs through the pages, eyes your record and your enlistment photo. The rain makes the pages curl.

You’re pretty.

Bucky’s type.

Peggy smiles, bright and dizzying and it makes Steve’s heart sing. 

“Think about it. The Commandos need a medic.”

And they did. They really did.

The growing reliance on field hospitals was getting a little pitiful, actually, and Steve’s growing concern about his men was getting out of hand – it was well warranted, though. After all, Falsworth had managed to duck through sniper fire only last week and come out of it with only a shred of shrapnel lodged in his left ass-cheek. 

It had made for laughs, but the Howling Commandos needed someone to keep them together; stitches and morphine and bandages included.

And you. 

Phillips was impressed, Peggy was impressed – hell, you’d made this camp your own a week in; going off book and ducking into the forest surrounding Marigny to haul wounded men back in a crumbling jeep, dodging sniper fire and German artillery in the meanwhile. The stunt had gotten you a stamp of approval, earned you an accommodation and a shiny medal and a letter from the president. 

And a reference for the Howling Commandos.

Steve finds Peggy later that week – Operation Cobra was slowing rolling, but every inch was proving worth it, and if the boys could barrel past the Germans this fast, maybe there was hope they’d be home for Christmas.

But, after the company is looking worse for wear.

Peggy seems proud he puts in word for this new medic’s reassignment, promising she’ll be worth it.

You get your re-assignment on a Friday, and that night you’re shipped back from the front-lines to the cozy position within Marigny. You ride back with a quiet Corporal named Turner who says nothing, only waves you off with a salute after dropping you in the stirring Ally-occupied town. 

The villas are crumbling from the bombardments and warfare that’s swept through this area as part of Operation Cobra, but part of you is thankful to be back – it’s quieter here. No mortar fire or screaming or shots in the night.

Just soldiers trying to get by.

Peggy nearly bursts at the seams when she sees you, sweeping you into a mutually respected salute and a soft squeeze of the arm. 

“Come on,” she says, “Let’s get you settled with your new company.”

The thrown-together tent that the Commandos called home was empty, save for some tossed sheets over cots and bags and stray ammo – and you snag a cot by the end of the row that’s empty. Your bag doesn’t have much in it – supplies and a journal and a handkerchief for your hair – so you drop it and your helmet before following Peggy.

She’s slow walking as she talks.

“The men are in the pub, I believe,” she says, “Celebrating, no doubt.”

“Oh,” you breathe, “Pub?”

“A gutted out bank turned watering hole. The 107th like to think themselves the hosting types.”

You laugh, soft and controlled, fingers knitted into your pockets as she swings a hand out and catches the door open. 

You have to admit you feel a bit small standing next to Agent Carter.

She’s gorgeous, really, swathed in victory curls and a red lipstick and here you are, straight off the front-lines looking like hell – your hair is bundled under head scarf, white like the medical patch burning across your shoulder. It’s not so white anymore, though. 

You toddle, shifting your weight for boot to boot – eyes sweeping across the room. 

The not-really-a-pub grows quiet at the entrance of Peggy; no doubt a call to her rank, and she dismisses to the respective silence with a wave. 

It’s warmer in here, and the winter air doesn’t bite so hard through your uniform. The lull of a piano in the back calls to the two of you.

She weaves through the crowd, through the raucous cheers and drinking and straight to the bank of the room – there, a gathering has started over a game of burn and turn. A group toddles around the piano, singing some off-tune hymn about ribbons and being far from home. You recognize Steve Roger’s nearly immediately; he’s draped over the back of the piano, chattering with the dark hair man in the blue jacket tittering on the keys.

Steve’s busy looking at Peggy – openly admiring, actually – to notice you.

The crowd erupts into laughter and whistles at the realization of Steve’s affections and Peggy’s spontaneous appearance in the wolf’s den. The Howling Commando’s are elated to see her. She has to wave them off to calm them down. 

It’s… sweet.

“Gentlemen.”

Peggy gestures to you with a well-manicured hand and you blink, clearing your throat before stating your name and rank fast – smile cautious and slow.

“Your new medic, boys.”

A beat of silence.

“No shit.”

It’s the man by the piano with the dark hair and dark eyes that speaks first – he pushes himself upwards from the bench, leaning against the grand piano with a glint of interest in his eyes. 

He shares a look with Steve. It’s guarded. They’re both thinking the same thing.

Bucky Barnes has never seen a broad in the field before.

He’s heard rumors about nurses getting shipped in after D-Day, there to clean up the mess, but… you? You seemed… very different from Peggy in all respects. 

Pretty, though – not very delicate looking but bright-eyed and strong. 

Dum Dum Dugan is falling over himself, tripping really, to stand and shake your hand and smile. He’s laughing, a bit drunk and face twisted into a genuine grin. It’s funny, and Bucky spies Jim trying to muscle a laugh down.

“God, you look exactly like my girl back home, you know,” he says, “Jenny is her name. Sweet girl. Where you from?”

“New York, sir.”

“No shit!” Dum Dum mimics Bucky, waving to the duo, “Those boys are Brooklyn through and through, you know.”

You blink at Captain America, that poster boy, and the tall man by the piano – when you cock your head and flash a grin, they cross their arms. “Queens.”

Steve likes you. Already. Bucky can tell.

“You’re… You’re that nurse that saved those men a couple of weeks ago, aren’t you?”

It’s Pinky that speaks next, froth from his beer littering his upper lip. 

You seem to stiffen at the question, shrugging. Blinking at Peggy, she gives a nod of approval – as if it was classified, half the town had heard you barking out orders in the field hospital and seen you tear out with that stolen jeep like a bat-out-of-hell. Everyone knew about it.

Not everyone approved.

Not every man approved.

“I got a shiny medal from it if you wanna see,” you chirp, “I asked for a decent pair of skivvies but the President said no.”

A beat of silence.

And then a roar of laughter that buckles your own sense of walls – you laugh a bit as Dum Dum slaps the table and muscles Falsworth around.

“You oughta let me take you out some time,” says Jim, “Pretty girl with a medal? Doesn’t get any better than that.”

“That’s a girl worth fightin’ for, huh, Buck?”

“S’pose so,” Bucky, the one by the piano, says slowly, “So long she don’t get in the way. No room for stunts here.”

Steve nudges his friend, quelling the swell of skepticism. 

“Ignore him,” Falsworth says, adjusting his beret and standing, “Our lovely James is just in a mood because he was hoping the new medic would be someone he could boss around – and with a repertoire like yours, miss, I doubt you’d allow something like that.”

“Maybe if he asks nicely.”

“Not likely.”

You smirk and his lips quirk enough.

“Play the piano?” you ask, head tilting.

Bucky stiffens, stepping away from the keys. “If you buy a ticket.”

“Shame,” you mutter, “Don’t have any cash – god know the army doesn’t pay me enough anyways.”

His laugh is ducked to his chest as he shifts from foot to foot, and Steve couldn’t be happier, really – it shows, and Peggy shares the same sentiment. 

And so the Commandos got their medic.

The Wedding Date

Characters: Male Orc, Female Reader Rating: LEMON Content: NSFW, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Chubby Female Reader Word Count: ~6800

Notes: This is a “fake dating” commission for @hufflesmonsters <3 

Story is also available on AO3 & Wattpad.

And now this story has art! Check out this piece by @pyxyydraws

“Are you bringing a date to the wedding?” Your mom asked.

“Maybe,” you said, leaning your hip against the kitchen counter and staring at the calendar; your perfect, successful, younger sister’s wedding was in a month.“I don’t want to rush things with the boyfriend. You know the impression it sends when you drag them to weddings. Then there’s all the extra stuff since I’m a bridesmaid, so it won’t be fun for him.”  

Also, you didn’t want to bring him because he wasn’t real but you weren’t going to admit that to your mother. When Anna had mentioned her engagement everyone had been so excited, but they’d also turned to you and started asking questions. Why aren’t you dating? Why are you still single? Do you have a job yet? So you’d lied. You’d lied your ass off, and now you had to keep up the lies. As far as your family knew, your boyfriend was gorgeous, successful, madly in love with you, and had been for eight months.

“Just bring him, darling. All of us want to meet him!” Your mother said, ignoring all of your protests. “We’re having a family barbeque this weekend and going over some details, you should bring him by! Finally introduce him to everyone! I insist.”

You grimaced. Maybe you could fake break-up? Fake an emergency for him the morning of? You’d figure it out. You had to.

“Sounds good mom, I’ve gotta go now though. Love you! Bye!”

You hung up the phone and buried your face in your hands. You had no idea what you were going to do, but the pressure was on. You were running out of time to figure this out.

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Warm Bodies

pairing: zombie!shigaraki x reader

contains: non/dub con, gore, the works

this is a zombie apocalypse au. ive never written for shiggy before but I was h word and watching the walking dead so. enjoy.

nsfw under the cut

He’d been following you for quite some time now.

He watched you survive day by day, laying waste to zombies with your machete, trying your hardest to keep surviving. You’d spotted his corpse trailing behind you once, and your biggest mistake was not ending his existence then and there. You didn’t know it, but the zombies were starting to change; they were starting to feel things again. And this particular zombie was hungry for something other than your flesh.

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summertime sadness .5.

work day

Sequel to kiss me in the d-a-r-k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 (masterlist under construction)

Warnings: dub con sex (fingering)

This is dark!(dad)Steve and dark(professor!)Bucky explicit. 18+ only. I know they aren’t super dark, but like questionable so I’m keeping those tags just to be safe.

Summary: Loki adds to your workload.

Note: Right, here we go, here we go, here go again. Girls, what’s my weakness? Men! Sorry, minor detour there but are we ready for the darkness? Y'all hold onto your panties. Thanks everyone for their support and I love you all! 💋

<3 Let me know what you think in a reblog, reply, or like. I’m loving the feedback from y'all and the enthusiasm! Also as always, memes accepted.

💋💋💋

You didn’t sleep much. Every time you closed your eyes, the scene flashed behind your eyelids. Loki standing over you, the image on his phone, his hand on your chin. And then you thought of Bucky. It was hard not to; your phone buzzed all night as you ignored his messages. Steve’s too. It had finally caught up to you and it felt worse than you could imagine. A man you admired thought you nothing more than a floozy. Well, maybe you were.

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summertime sadness .7.

night moves

Sequel to kiss me in the d-a-r-k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 (masterlist under construction)

Warnings: non con sex (oral, intercourse) WARNING LOKI CHAPTER. 

This is dark!(dad)Steve and dark(professor!)Bucky and dark!Loki and explicit. 18+ only. 

Summary: Loki takes what he wants.

Note: Well, despite everything I finished this yesterday before the flood of dismay. That being said, this series has an arc and we will follow our course. Next chapter, back to other characters. And a final warning that this chapternis rough. REALLLY rough so please proceed with caution. Thank you!💋

<3 Let me know what you think in a reblog, reply, or like. I’m loving the feedback from y'all and the enthusiasm! Also as always, memes accepted.

💋💋💋

The walk-up was just as refined as its resident. Loki’s arm was around your waist as he led you up the steps of the upscale townhouse. It wasn’t as endearing as Steve’s suburban mansion or as cozy as Bucky’s urban loft. It was as cold and unwelcoming as the man who lived there. 

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