In A Sleepy Town [Headless Horseman X Reader][pt 6]

In a Sleepy Town [Headless Horseman x Reader][pt 6]

Summary: “The horseman who rides atop his alabaster steed, cloaked in crimson without a head.”

In the sleepy town of Moorwick, you are drawn into the legend of horseman when you learn it is associated with your father’s disappearance twenty years ago. When the local ghost story turns to be anything but that, and a bargain goes awry, you delve into Moorwick’s dark history with hopes of saving more than just yourself.

———

Chapter Six: You are determined to get answers from the horseman regarding the whereabouts of your father. It goes horribly awry. To make matters worse, new information comes your way about the peculiarities of Moorwick, making the search for the horseman’s head far more complex and there are some people determined to keep it that way.

———–

The rumpled picture of Colson and your father stayed with you from that day on, laid flat against your chest in the breast-pocket of your coat. Having a piece of him so close to you meant something that you couldn’t place into words, only knowing that it had a heftiness to it, a presence so near to your heart that you could never forget it was there. The horseman had scared you that night when he took it, sent the blood racing into your ears loudly and your mind festering with anger.

You could not recall another moment where you felt so compelled to hurting. Just as an itch beneath the skin was unbearable, you thought fire burned in your veins through your fingertips. That anger did not belong to you, it felt almost as though something else wished to guide your hand.

Doubtlessly, the horseman was unflappable and you would have gained nothing in return. Your wrist would shatter and he would remain pristine, strength boundless, and your death imminent any time he so chose it to be. It made you wonder if there was a lingering piece of him that wished to destroy you still, after these long months nurturing something with him.

Your thoughts spiraled wildly, deteriorated at the notion of what could be. When he helped you find your father; when you returned his head to him, would he draw his blade on you again? Could you even manage to return to an office job in the city after all of this?

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In a Sleepy Town [Headless Horseman x Reader] [MASTERPOST]

This is going to be the main post I use to navigate people to in regards to chapters and information on the story and such. While I would appreciate liking and reblogging the post; I would sincerely appreciate it if you would like and reblog the actual chapters as well!!

The notes shouldn’t matter, but they do. I am continuing this story based on response that I receive from it.

I’ll be adding more content over time.

Chapters:

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR 

CHAPTER FIVE 

CHAPTER SIX [coming soon

Non-canonical/Side-stories:

PARTY-CRASHER [oneshot][non-canonical]

Asks in regards to the story (generally non-spoiler asks that I’ll answer about the characters, town, plot, and everything else):

What Moorwick looks like

Dumb stuff I’ve found:

Went to Ross for cups, found this

Because of Tumblr’s complete lack of response to what has happened to me, I am starting a petition for them to change and/or update their policies on Bullying and Harassment. In the seven years I have used this platform, I have never once seen them side with the victim. They always side with the bully. 

As the users of this platform, the consumers of their content, it is our right to be protected. Why offer the opportunity to report abuse if you aren’t going to do anything about it?

It’s time to take action and tell Tumblr we want change.

summertime sadness .8.

deja vu

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

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 (masterlist under construction)

Warnings: non con 

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

Summary: The reader tries to avoid disaster.

Note: Not much to say for this one. Just enjoy. 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.

💋💋💋

Friday night. You were on the train before six. Loki let you go fairly quickly. He had cum fairly quickly. The remnants were on your blouse, barely concealed by your cardigan. The shadows of the underground flickered through the windows and the noise of the crowd drowned out that in your 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.

Beautiful and Damned 7- Recover [Geralt of Rivia x Reader]

A.N: My loves, your wonderful feedback makes me so happy, thank you! Please don’t forget to tell me what you think of this chapter, kisses!

Reminder: This story will not follow the show’s plot, so even if you haven’t watched the series, you can still read it.

The previous chapters are on my masterlist!

Summary: Recovery comes with confessions.

Word Count: 3140

Warnings: Mentions of violence and death.

You drummed your fingernails on the table, biting inside your cheek. Your stomach was making flips as you tried to ignore the nervousness nagging at you and shuffled through your sketches to distract yourself. A specific sketch caught your eye but you turned it over as soon as it did.

So what if you had drawn Geralt, without him knowing?

It’s not like he would ever see it, nor did it mean anything.

You looked up when Cassie knocked on the door, then peeked her head in.

“Your highness, Sir Leander is here as you requested.”

“Send him in please.” You said as you put your gloves on, then straightened your back, your eyes narrowing as soon as Sir Leander stepped inside. He curtsied,

“Your highness.”

“Sir Leander.” You nodded at him, “Take a seat.”

He looked almost nervous for a moment, and you tilted your head, eyeing him up and down. He did look quite handsome, with striking green eyes and wavy hair framing his face, there was no wonder why Fin was quite taken by him.

“I’m glad to see you well,” he said, “I’ve heard you preferred the solitude of your chambers and were feeling unwell.”

“I feel much better, thank you,” you said, “Were you….at the hall when the incident occurred? I don’t remember if I saw you.”

“I was there, your highness.”

“Oh good,” you took a sip of your tea, “So you had the chance to see personally what this curse entails.”

“I did.”

“Great,” you smiled at him, and slowly pulled your gloves off your hands. He sat up straighter, swallowing thickly.

“Your highness, what-?”

“Do you know the punishment for harming the crown prince, Sir Leander?”

He eyed your gloves lying on the table, “No?”

“Exile,” you said, “Or death. Depends on the crime, really. People should really be more careful these days. I hear your family has a state at the skirts of the city, close to the countryside, is that correct?”

“We have been blessed with wealth, yes.”

“Very well.” You said, “Once the confinement is over, perhaps you would like to go there for a while…..a year or so. At least until the dust settles around here.”

He gritted his teeth, “Or what?”

You drummed your fingernails on the table, drawing his attention to your hands for a moment before you shrugged,

“Court is a very dangerous place these days,” you said, “Accidents happen, a lot.”

He blinked a couple of times, then leaned in, glaring daggers at you, “Are you threatening me, your highness?”

You smiled at him calmly, almost like a snake, then shook your head,

“Consider it as a suggestion,” you told him, and leaned in, “You’ve already seen what I would do to protect one of my brothers, Sir Leander. Would you like to see what I would do to protect the other one as well?”

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