#cookiewrites

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ────

-`♡´- Hello Everyone! -`♡´-

I'm Cookie! I don't do very much, but when I do, you will find me in the cervices studying my head off in college work, scrolling online to peak (OMORI, Sally Face, Undertale/Deltarune, KOG, and so much more...check out my carrd eueueu), or jamming out to some sick tunes (Machine Girl fans PLEASE hit me up).

Please DNI if you are -17 or 21+ (19 and not comfortable with ppl that age int), or if you are a generally disrespectful person (please check my carrd for more on int and dni lists)!!!!

I hope to be able to write a ton on here and just blab about my day, maybe spark a fan fic writing career for me and my twins. I will be mostly posting blogs and writing so, uh stay tuned!! I'll post under #cookiewrites or #cookiesblogs for the most part, so check those outttt

Lots of love and corazones! ♡ ☕︎

> romantic interaction with Sebek, please!

Have a nice day/night!

Thanks you too!

This is my first interaction rq so I hope I didn't do too badly ;;

Due to the request being romantic imma make Reader S/O for simplicity sake-

Apologies if Sebek is OOC

“Crocodiles you say?” The half fae repeated your question keeping his posture still. His arms locked behind his back looking towards at your direction with a steady gaze as his brows narrowed.

“Of course I do!” Sebek exclaimed rather proudly. “As a crocodile fae I am obligated to know so!”

“...You'd like to..?” He trailed off once he heard your request. You? A mere human, wanting to brush the scales of a crocodile that can literally devour a human less than minutes.

“That's some bravery you have there, but it's too dangerous for someone like you to do so!” He warned his S/O before clearing his throat as the heat on his cheeks began to grow pink.

“..Although perhaps my hair could suffice since they are like crocodile scales..”

“Got some bad guys up here,” comes the call.

Tony grunts as he takes another hit. “How many bad guys?”

Clint’s voice is strained. “Uh...thirty-seven?”

“That’s specific.”

“I’m specifically guessing.”

“That—” He stops for a moment, distracted by the AIM thug trying to take him out. The fight only lasts a few minutes, and then he’s standing alone in the street, out of breath and tired as hell.

“That doesn’t make sense,” he says. “How can you specifically guess? Don’t they cancel each other out?”

No answer. Tony gives it ten seconds, then takes off, already ordering JARVIS to give him Clint’s location. Turns out he doesn’t need it, though—there’s a blob of yellow suits on the roof where Tony had set him down.

“Thirty-seven was a generous specific guess,” he says, circling. He doesn’t see Clint in there anywhere, and his heart starts to beat a little faster.

“I count fifty, sir.”

“Well, let’s go give him a hand.”

Tony doesn’t give them a chance to react. He lands smack dab in the middle of the group and starts shooting, repulsor blasts flying with impunity. One of the AIM guys raises a nasty-looking gun at him, but before he can fire, an arrow suddenly knocks it from his hand. The guy falls backwards, and Tony looks to his left to see Clint. He’s beaten and bleeding, and he looks woozy as hell. He’s still deadly accurate, though, firing off multiple arrows without a second glance as he focuses on Tony, examining the various dents in his armor.

God, Tony loves him.

“Welcome to the party,” Clint says. “Meet my thirty-seven new friends.”

“I don’t like them,” Tony says, nailing another with a repulsor blast. “They’re not invited to dinner.”

“Good.”

They’re good together, always have been, and it only takes them ten minutes to clear the rooftop. Clint chases the last one off with an arrow, then stands where he is, breathing heavily. He must be hurting badly, Tony thinks. Usually he’d be running after them, demanding to finish the fight.

“Why did they all come after you?” he asks, and Clint shrugs.

“Dunno.” He sways a little. “Think they wanted me for something. Probably nothing good.”

“You don’t know that,” Tony says, watching him with concern. “Maybe they needed a thirty-eighth player for a giant game of freeze tag.”

Clint lets out a hollow, exhausted laugh. “Maybe,” he says, and then he starts to fall.

Tony’s there in an instant, catching him. “Hey,” he says, easing him down to the ground. “Hey. Clint. Look at me.”

Clint blinks awake after a moment, and Tony breathes a sigh of relief as he flips up his faceplate. “Hi,” he says. “We’re gonna sit here for a second, okay?” He comms Natasha, tells her what’s going on.

“Be there in five,” she says, and cuts the line.

Clint looks confused. “What...what happened?”

“You fainted. Straight into my arms.” Tony grins. “You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

Clint smiles faintly. “Your fault, Prince Charming. You just looked too good, fighting those assholes.”

“You see me acting badass and you swoon, huh? That’s alright. I know.” He looks up, hearing the sound of a Quinjet approaching. “You know that makes you a damsel in distress, right? Which means I’m honor-bound to take you home, get you cleaned up, and ply you with food and drink until you feel better.”

Some slightly adult content at the very end, nothing crazy though

As she approached the very same cell Benvolio had occupied just days before, Rosaline shuddered and had to remind herself that he was safe back at House Montague.  He no longer awaited execution...he’d been cleared of all accusations leveled against him.  She’d seen him back to his home...his villa now, though the transfer of title and power had not yet been formally made...before excusing herself under the guise of seeing her sister.  She would see Livia...after making this brief stop first.

Damiano Montague looked up as the guard led her to him. The same guard, she noted, that she’d bribed to allow her to see his nephew.  “L-Lady Rosaline!  Thank the Lord you have come, perhaps you will be able to speak sense to Benvolio!  The Prince will surely execute me if he does not rescind his accusations!”

Fury burned her cheeks, and Rosaline took a calming breath before speaking.  “Your nephew is a good and honorable man, Signor Montague.”  He flinched at the informal title...one small victory.  “Despite his upbringing, he grew into a kind and gentle soul...seeking to love and be loved above all else.  He would far sooner offer his hand to help someone up than raise it to harm even an enemy.  He is the best man I know...despite you.”  The man, staring at her dumbfounded, opened his mouth to speak, but Rosaline silenced him with a glare.  “I will never hope to understand how you could have deprived a hurting boy affection, security...love.  I cannot fathom how you justified to yourself abusing him day after day.  I am sure I will never know the true extent of what you did to him...and yet.”  An affectionate smile curled her lips.  “And yet, he would not see you dead.  Your nephew requested that the Prince stay your execution...that he allow you to live out your days in this prison.  In spite of all the grief you brought to him, he refuses to see the last of his blood killed.  Make no mistake, though, Damiano.”  She stepped closer to his cell, all pretense of nicety gone in an instant.  “So long as there is breath in my body, I will do whatever it takes to ensure he does not suffer another moment by your doing.  You failed in every attempt to break him; instead, he became the Lord your House truly deserves...he became the man I imagine his father would have raised him to be.”  Her proud smirk left Damiano withering before her.  “I suppose that means you have failed in every way...even the murder of your brother could not hinder his influence on his rightful heir.  And where his blood failed him day after day, I will honor your nephew with the love and devotion he so desperately deserves.  He will have the family you tried to take from him, and he will lead House Montague to a greatness that you could never have hoped to achieve.  Goodbye, Singor.  You shall not see either of us again.  May God have mercy on your soul.”

Before Damiano could gather his wits to form a reply, Rosaline turned and left the dungeon without a second glance.  She knew there was a chance that Benvolio would be displeased with her visit to his uncle, but she could not bring herself to care; if anyone deserved a champion, it was him, and Rosaline would fill that role for the rest of her life.  Every word she’d spoken was true, though he would never speak most of them on his own behalf.  

Oya I got my first request and it's an interesting one! 👀👀👀

But yeah it's alright~!

I'm so sorry for the wait! This took longer to write than what I thought, and was quite busy T_T

Apologies if the characters are OOC!

Leona x Fem! Reader x Malleus

Today was an awfully quiet Saturday in Night Raven College. A yawned escaped from the dorm leader of Savanaclaw's mouth. He was on his way back to his dorm from the botanical garden. Passing the courtyard, his eyes gaze on two people under a tree and his ears twitched upon hearing a phrase he wasn't pleased to hear.

"I did felt like I've met you once upon a dream before, Child of Man."

Curiousity bloomed inside of him as he hid behind another tree near them. His tail flicked of anticipation waiting for his long time secret crush's answer.

"Once upon a dream?" [Reader] repeated with a confused tone, to which Malleus nodded with a gentle smile.

"We were in a forest having a picnic like the one time we ever had." He reminded, making [Reader]'s eyes gleam and widened.

"Really? That's adorable!"

Malleus laughed lightly at her reaction, before clearing his throat.

"So, would you be interested to be my partner, Child of man?" He popped the question.

The lion behind the tree couldn't take it anymore, he let out a quiet yet ferocious growl under his breath and immediately left the area. Leona didn't want to be questioned why so he sneakily made his way out of the courtyard and decided to use another route to get to the hall of mirrors.

A couple of weeks passby ever since that day, [Reader] did took notice that Leona was avoiding her every time she tried talking to him. It's been happening too many times that she's quite fed up with it.

She was pacing around the hall of mirrors thinking if she should confront Leona about it. Surely if they were good friends he'd tell her what's wrong, but at the same time [Reader] knows that he isn't that type of person or beastman.

[Reader] took a deep breath, made her choice and jumped into the Savanaclaw dorm mirror. Once she arrived at the dorm, she was greeted by none other than the members.

"Well well lookie here, a lost trespasser." Savanaclaw Resident A crossed his arms, a smirk was written across his face.

"We weren't expecting any visitors, so whatcha doing here?" Savanaclaw Resident B asked, but his tone didn't sound welcoming at all.

"I'm just-"

"Oi, leave the herbivore alone." A deep familiar voice cut [Reader] off.

"Leona!" Both residence said together in surprised.

"Just let her be. Now scram." Leona bared his fangs with a low growl, with that the two Savanaclaw members ran away from him. Leona heaved a heavy and lazy sigh before shoving his hands into his pockets and began to walk away.

"L-Leona! Wait!" [Reader] extended her hand catching up to him.

"What?" He grumbled picking up the pace.

"S-Slow down! I just want to talk!" [Reader] pleaded picking up her pace as well. She managed to get a grab on his arm to which Leona swatted away as gently as possible.

"Why are you avoiding me?!"

That caused a pause of silence between the two individuals, Leona turned back towards her with a cold stare.

"I'm not." He simply answered.

"You've been acting off for the past couple of days.. Is there something wrong?"

"Tch, nothing's wrong."

Her lips curved into frown, taking the answer as a lie.

"Leona.."

"I told you herbivore, I'm fine." He grumbled placing a hand on his forehead. "I'm just in a hurry, I need to go."

[Reader] took the idea as he had a dorm meeting and he wasn't in the mood for it. She took a deep breath cracking a weak smile.

"A-alright.. I won't bother you." She said turning from his back walking away from him.

Leona watched her before turning his head away. Gritting teeth, he stormed out of the area to go back to his room. Was the choice he made right? He avoided her for more than just one reason. Upset, but to her? No, [Reader]'s supposed to be allowed to make her own choice on who she loves. At Malleus? Slightly from stealing his crush away.

At himself? Yes, he does secretly wished that he confessed beforehand when he got the opportunity to.

──✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰.:｡✧.｡:｡.｡✱ ───

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠!

It becomes a game, after a while. Like pin the tail on the donkey, except it’s Make The Winter Soldier Smile. More fun, and also significantly more dangerous.

“I’m gonna win,” Clint boasts. “He likes me.”

This actually might be true, Sam thinks, but he doesn’t say that. Clint doesn’t need anyone else to boost his ego.

“You all need to leave him alone,” Steve says. “Stop betting on this.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re losing,” Clint points out, and Sam hides his own smile as Steve splutters his way through excuses. “Anyway. I’m gonna win. I have a foolproof plan. Just you wait.”

But it’s Sam, surprisingly, who ends up alone with Bucky next. It’s not even on a mission---it’s on the roof of the tower, at three in the morning.

“The hell are you doing up here?” Sam asks as he lands. He keeps the wings open---there’s something messed up with the folding mechanism, he thinks. He needs to look at it.

Bucky eyes him for a second, and Sam half expects a “fuck off.” But then Bucky sighs and shifts, holding out his hands. There’s something white curled up in them, something white and soft and---

“Is that a cat?”

“Her name is Alpine,” Bucky says softly. “I---I bring her up here sometimes. When I can’t sleep. It helps. To sit with her. Look at the city.” The words tumble out of him, and he almost sounds afraid, like he think Sam is going to yell at him.

“Cool,” Sam says, deciding not to ask any more questions about it. Bucky will tell him if he wants. “Mind if I sit with you for a bit? Need to do some wing maintenance anyway. Don’t wanna lug these inside if they won’t fold.”

Alpine hisses at him when he steps closer, and he stops, eyeing her. He’s not a cat person, but he’s usually fairly decent with animals.

“I think she thinks you’re a bird,” Bucky says, sounding amused, and then he smiles. Small, and a little unsure, but it’s there. “A giant, terrifying bird.”

Sam stares at him. “Am I in an alternate universe, or did you just crack a smile for me?”

“For her,” Bucky says, petting the white fur. “But you can count it, if you want. Win the betting pool.”

Sam grins. “You know about that, huh?”

“Yep.”

“Sorry.”

Bucky shrugs. “Don’t be. I think it’s funny.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, and he smiles again. It changes his whole face, makes the lines smooth out, takes some of the stress and tension away.

Sam likes it so much.

Bucky’s expecting three things, after this mission—a warm bed, a decent dinner, and a long, long sleep.

So when he stumbles into his room after almost thirty-six hours of high-adrenaline, heart-pounding mission excitement, he doesn’t really know what to do about the very naked, very asleep Clint Barton in his bed.

“Hey,” he finally says, throwing a pillow. “Barton.”

It hits him in the head, and Barton snaps awake in an instant. It’s adorable, really, the way his hair is sleep-tousled, eyes still bleary from dreams. He blinks a few times, then pats around on the nightstand, fitting a hearing aid into his right ear. “Bucket,” he says, voice rough and low. “Wha’s happenin’?”

“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”

“S’my bed,” Barton says.

“No, Barton. It’s mine.” He gestures around. “This is my floor.”

“Huh?” He props himself up a little, scrubbing a hand over his eyes. Bucky watches, mildly amused despite his exhaustion. He can almost see the moment things click, the second that Barton puts together where he is.

"Fuck,” Barton says, and rolls over, making himself sit up. It’s clumsy and uncoordinated, and Bucky half wants to go over and tuck him back into bed, pull the covers over him and soothe him back to sleep. He doesn’t really care that Barton’s here—if he wasn’t so tired, a bigger part of him would be absolutely thrilled—and he honestly wouldn’t mind sleeping next to someone after a mission like that—

“Stay,” he says before he can really think about it.

Barton blinks, then reaches up and adjusts his hearing aid. “Huh?”

“Stay,” Bucky says again, a sense of certainty trickling through him. He goes to his dresser and pulls out a pair of sweatpants, tossing them in Barton’s direction. “Put these on and stay here. Sleep. It’s okay.”

Barton lets the sweatpants hit him in the face, which is also adorable. He fumbles with them a few seconds, his processing almost a visible thing, and then nods. “Okay. Right.”

They’re comically short on him—fucking height difference, why is Bucky always the short one these days?—but they fit, and as soon as they’re on, Bucky strips off his own tac gear and slides into the other side of the bed. There’s a valley of distance between them, an ocean of blanket, a chasm he’s not sure he’s allowed to cross—

Barton rolls over, flopping on top of him. “Warm,” he says, in a tone that means he’s not going anywhere for a while. Bucky would argue, but he doesn’t want to. He just adjusts him to something more comfortable, then reaches up to brush the hair from his face.

“Sleep,” he murmurs, soft as anything.