#but it’s hard to find takes in this fandom that lean into that without leaning into ‘and he was Just Evil’ bc that’s not it either

[just-here-with-my-thoughts]

"I could stand to be convinced..."

Fandom: The Bad Batch Characters: Echo, Crosshair, Hunter Relationships: Echo/Crosshair, Crosshair/Hunter Word Count: ~13.8k Rating: E (18+) Click here to read on AO3

Synopsis: Echo declines to join the Batch on a night out, but Crosshair stays behind to try and convince him.

Art by the awesome @letshareapapou of the gorgeous Echo and Crosshair! Thank you so much for this gorgeous, sexy, sketchy pic and letting me post it with my fic, everyone go view letshareapapou's original post HERE and tell them how great they are! <3

“You not coming out?”

“You boys go on without me. I’ll… have a night to myself.”

Part of Echo yearned to take the Batch up on their invitation. Join them for a night of carousing to celebrate their mission successes on their too-infrequent planet-side leave.

Clone Force 99 worked hard, and played hard. As their Sergeant, Hunter expected a lot of them; their methods may be unorthodox, but they could be as regimented and efficient as the best clone troopers.

He also knew when to let his brothers cut loose and relax. Their hard-earned downtime was a chance to let off steam between the ever-revolving grind of different missions.

Wrecker was already half out the door, hanging back to hear Echo’s response only as a courtesy. “Suit yerself,” he said with a genial shrug, “but yer missin’ out!”

And Tech backed him up with his usual analytical approach. “Unstructured leisure time can provide much-needed opportunity for the squad so strengthen their social bonds.” It was a pointed critique, his brows creasing above his goggles as he spoke. “I regret that you have chosen not to join us.”

After his initial stand-offish manner as he grew accustomed to Echo’s presence with the squad, Tech had become quite particular about making overtures of friendship towards him. His disappointment was almost palpable, but Echo still shook his head.

“Another time, maybe,” he said, an evasion rather than a promise. He glanced at Hunter, offering a nod that he hoped was reassuring. “Don’t worry about me. Have fun out there.”

Hunter only grinned wolfishly, his smile bright with teeth against the dark ink of his tattoo. “I plan to,” was his answer, rough voice edged with excitement. Even the sergeant could only maintain the illusion of discipline for so long, a wilder side of him baying to be set free of his responsibilities for a night.

The first – and thus far only – time Echo had been out on shore leave with the Bad Batch, he had underestimated how hard the defective clone squad would party. They rivalled even him and Fives in their ARC days with the 501st, and Echo had been left sitting awkwardly in the bar sipping his drink whilst each of the others busied themselves with the company they had picked up for the night.

The boys weren’t choosy about their partners, and they didn’t mind sharing. Echo had baulked when he had been offered a pass at a smiling if willing girl, just as inebriated as the Batch was, and fled back to the Marauder.

It’s not that he wouldn’t. In his ARC days, he wouldn’t have thought twice about it. Hells, he and Fives had shared more than one menage-a-trois, sometimes more even than that.

But that was before he had been half-made of metal; before people had looked at him like something to be pitied.

He didn’t want to be anyone’s pity-fuck. Especially not next to the Batch, each of them supremely confident in their deviancy, at home with the mutations that made them so different from their brothers.

He didn’t have that confidence. Not any more. Better to hang back and let the Clone Force 99 boys have their fun, without spoiling the evening for them or getting into a morose mood himself thinking of all the things he couldn’t have.

Echo glanced up from his thoughts to find Crosshair leaning in the doorway, arms folded as he fixed him with one of his particularly penetrating stares. Echo shifted uncomfortably, quickly dropping his eyes from Crosshair’s intense gaze to instead watch the movement of the toothpick around his mouth, the tense shift of his shoulders, then down to the floor.

“You, uh, need anything?” he asked gruffly, reaching into his locker to retrieve his maintenance kit – anything to avoid the heat of Crosshair’s attention. He set the case on the side and quickly flipped it open, retrieving one of the small tools and flipping it idly in his left hand. “Because if not, I was going to use this time to… y’know…”

He indicated his prostheses with the tool. Risked a glance at Crosshair.

The sniper’s expression remained impassive; he would pass for disinterested, if Echo didn’t recognise the gleam in his eyes as he tracked every move Echo made.

“Why aren’t you coming out with us, reg?”

The question may have been spoken in Crosshair’s usual acerbic drawl, but there was an undercurrent to his tone, something that made Echo straighten with a lick of annoyance.

“You don’t have to stay behind to check on me,” he said defiantly. “Or do you not trust me alone on your ship?”

His relationship with the prickly sniper of Clone Force 99 was the most unpredictable of the group, Crosshair’s mercurial moods swinging between benign tolerance and merciless antagonism in a heartbeat.

Echo knew he wasn’t special. Crosshair was like that with all of them. It still stung, though, when he turned his harsh brand of criticism on the newly rescued ARC trooper.

“That’s not an answer to my question.”

Oh, he was in one of those moods. Take-no-prisoners Crosshair wouldn’t let up needling his brothers until his chosen target exploded, and yes, the detonation sometimes seemed cathartic, but Echo had hoped he would never find himself on the receiving end of the experience.

He waved the multi-tool, a clear indication of his intent, accompanied by an exaggerated eye-roll. “Why don’t you head out after the others, enjoy your night?”

And leave me in peace, added a small internal voice, whilst an even smaller, more honest part of him said, to wallow in miserable solitude.

With leonine grace Crosshair pushed up from the doorframe, stalking across the small space of the Marauder to cast a disparaging glance into the maintenance kit.

“I happen to know that you tuned your prosthetics three days ago,” he said, dropping one hand to trail along the bits of wire and bolts in the kit, before confidently plucking the multi-tool from Echo’s hand. The cyborg clone made a noise of protest but Crosshair ignored him, inspecting the tool before placing it carefully back into the kit. “The only reason it would be necessary to do so again was if they had taken a hit in combat. Which they haven’t.”

“What do you want, Crosshair?” challenged Echo, letting a hint of impatience creep into his tone.

Crosshair only huffed a laugh, that familiar sardonic grin spreading across his face that Echo sometimes wished he could wipe off with a well-aimed left hook.

“You were keen enough to come carousing with us last time we were on shore leave.” Now instead of focusing on him, Crosshair’s gaze slid away from Echo, roving about the Marauder as though the target of his conversation was merely an afterthought. “Right up to the point when things got… intimate.”

Despite himself, Echo felt his cheeks heat. He didn’t deign to respond, instead retrieving the confiscated multi-tool and bringing his scomp arm around to inspect the elbow joint.

“You not gonna react to that, reg?”

Echo sniffed. “Nothing to react to. You’re being juvenile. Go out with your brothers.”

“What if I don’t want to?” Dark brown eyes glinting in the low light of the Marauder, Crosshair turned back to face Echo, settling against the opposite bunk. “What if I’m right where I want to be?”

“Here bothering me?” scoffed Echo.

The noise Crosshair hummed sounded like an affirmative, and now he sank down to sit on the edge of the bunk, sharp chin resting in his palm.

Echo flicked his gaze to him and then away. He missed the screw he was aiming for on the first try; his hand was trembling, just a little, acutely aware of Crosshair’s proximity and the burning weight of his attention. He engaged the tool on the second attempt, and took a steadying breath as he tightened and tested the joint.

“You know, it’s usually Tech who makes me feel like a specimen on show when I’m adjusting my scomp link.”

“You’re a technological marvel,” drawled Crosshair, but when Echo flinched at the words he pulled up short, straightening and blinking.

“Yeah,” said Echo, the word choked past sudden tightness in his throat. “A marvel.”

Silence hung between them, palpable and discomfiting. Keeping his gaze deliberately downcast, Echo counted his breath slowly in and out, working to get the stab of self-loathing back under control.

When he was confident that he had mastered his voice, he finally glanced up at Crosshair and asked with calculated nonchalance, “You still here?”

Crosshair hadn’t moved from his position, alert and watchful as he met Echo’s gaze with an inscrutable look. The toothpick danced on his lips as he opened his mouth, as if to speak, then shut it again with a frown.

Then all of a sudden he was moving, a rush of fabric as he lifted his upper blacks, baring the narrow musculature of his chest.

“Cross, what-?” Echo began to ask, trailing off in confusion as the sniper turned his back to him and hunched over, the position stretching the knobs of his spine against his skin.

“See that?” Echo could hear him clenching his teeth around the toothpick as he spoke. “They surgically altered me, too.”

Hesitating a moment, Echo laid town the small tool and instead reached out his hand, brushing his fingertips along the thin vertical scars that flanked Crosshair’s spine. The sniper flinched, an instinctive hiss of displeasure escaping him, then stilled to let Echo track the surgical scars down the pale expanse of his back.

“I thought you and your brothers were made by enhancing your genetics,” said Echo softly, careful to modulate his tone into something that wasn’t a question, but rather an invitation to continue.

Tension radiated through Crosshair’s frame as he dropped his head between his shoulders.

“It wasn’t enough.” Echo didn’t miss the shift as Crosshair’s arms tightened around himself, fingers clawing into the fabric of the blacks he held up to expose his spine. “So… I know.” His voice twisted bitterly as he spoke. “I know what it’s like to have someone look at you like you’re a specimen. To only see how you were altered.”

Echo lifted his fingers from where they lingered against Crosshair’s skin, tucking them against his own chest and rubbing the implants hidden under his blacks.

“At least yours aren’t so obvious,” he said.

He’d meant it as a jest, something to lessen the tension between them, but the words came out sour and jealous nonetheless. Crosshair glanced at him over his shoulder, eyes narrowed appraisingly.

“I didn’t say they were,” he countered, cool and disparaging. “I just said I understood.”

He pulled his blacks back into place, secreting away the scars once more. Come to think of it, Crosshair was the most intensely private out of the Batch when it came to changing and baring skin. Even Echo had fewer qualms about stripping off at the end of a long, grimy mission than Crosshair did.

Echo settled back, arm and scomp link folded across his chest, and Crosshair twisted to sit straight again and mirrored his position. Now the staring contest was a battle of wills, unspoken thoughts darting behind each of their stern countenances as they both silently dared the other to be the one to speak first.

“How else did they enhance you?” Echo asked in the end. The Batch knew all about the extent of his ‘enhancements’; the cybernetic alterations that had been made to his body when he had been a prisoner in the hands of the Techno Union, and later the upgrades the Kaminoans themselves had applied. But he didn’t know much about theirs, he realised.

“How do you think?” asked Crosshair bitterly. Echo stayed quiet in response to the rhetorical question, gaze roving over Crosshair’s face around the detail of his eyes.

He had always assumed that the fine breaks in the ink of the sniper’s namesake tattoo were shoddy penmanship. But then, he had never studied them closely enough to realise that his eyes were framed by an array of fine scars.

Imagining the Kaminoans cutting into Crosshair’s face was an unwelcome image which summoned a sympathetic itch to his implants.

“And the others?” he asked quietly.

“To a greater or lesser extent,” confirmed Crosshair. His expression was painted with something that Echo couldn’t quite identify. Then, abruptly, “So are you going to come out with us?”

Echo snorted a dry laugh. “You gonna tell me why you’re so insistent about it?”

Crosshair’s thin shoulders lifted in a shrug. “It will be fun,” he said. "We could get drunk, dance. Find a dark corner I can press you up against as I kiss you–"

He trailed off sharply, as though biting off a thought he hadn't meant to voice aloud. Echo did a double take nonetheless.

"What did you say?"

The sniper didn't repeat himself – just watched with narrowed eyes, half-way between challenge and something entirely unreadable, as he waited for Echo to process his words.

Echo shook his head slowly, meeting Crosshair's gaze with watchful caution.

"You've got to be joking," he said after a moment, looking for an out to defuse the tension.

Crosshair merely shrugged, pushing up languidly and stalking with deliberate grace to the door.

"Maybe. Maybe not," he said evasively, and the glance back over his shoulder might have been coy if not for the way his eyes sparked with interest. "Want to try it?"

Echo tried for a laugh, but his mouth twisted in a self-deprecating grimace. "You don't mean that."

"I don't say things I don't mean."

For a span of heartbeats they stared at each other in silence. Echo’s mind danced along a web of possibilities that kept leading back to a single point; Crosshair was making fun of him. This was a ruse.

He grasped at the ugly core of self-loathing in his gut and nursed it, milking it for the rejection he expected before it could come externally. “If you did, I’m sure it would only be because you’d been drinking,” he managed at last.

Crosshair huffed a snort through his nose, and the weight of his attention was an unbearable torture.

"The alcohol helps," he acknowledged, voice deceptively light.

Echo's laugh was bitter on the exhale. "Because you'd need to be drunk to sleep with me?"

The sniper ignored him, unfazed. "With handling the rejection,” he said, a carefully measured statement. “Or with us both pretending I didn't mean it when we have to face each other again the next morning."

Eyeing him suspiciously, Echo asked, "Have you been drinking now?"

"No."

"I don't believe you."

"Want me to prove it?"

Before Echo had time to react, Crosshair leaned over his bunk, one hand curled on the edge of the mattress, the other resting against the wall behind him. The position trapped Echo in the loose cage of his arms, but not as effectively as the intense look in the sniper's eyes.

Echo swayed back, unexpectedly stirred by the proximity. Crosshair’s face hovered inches from his, his mouth parted, just a little. Inhaling more deeply than he meant to, Echo’s lungs filled with the warmth of their shared breath as a whole-body shiver of anticipation tingled across his skin.

"Okay," he croaked, swallowing against a dry throat. "No alcohol. I believe you."

He leaned back as Crosshair closed into his space even further, desperately refuting the lick of excitement that coiled in his gut as he let himself be pressed down against the pillows.

As he retreated Crosshair followed, one knee coming up to rest on the edge of the bunk. Not a single part of their bodies touched, but Echo’s skin lit up electric as though the sniper was already on top of him. It felt like his mind might explode with the pressure of all the questions swirling through his thoughts.

There was a moment’s hesitation – deliberate, as Crosshair dropped his gaze from Echo’s eyes to his lips. Then he closed the last couple of inches to seal their mouths together.

The maelstrom of Echo’s doubts quietened the moment their lips met, and the only thing that mattered was the soft, sure, press of Crosshair's mouth against his. He angled into the kiss, willing, welcoming, and the sniper brought one hand up, carefully tracing his fingertips along the edge of Echo's cranial implants.

Crosshair broke the kiss and knelt back with a calm, slow blink.

"There," he said, the corners of his mouth twitching up in triumph, and there was a satisfied edge to his voice.

Part of Echo’s psyche sang with the desperate yearning to feel Crosshair’s unexpectedly gentle lips against his again, even as he reeled from the turn of events. He hadn’t considered that his fractious relationship with the sniper could take this turn, and now the thought of it consumed him.

But uncertainty reared up to dowse that small flicker of hope, the space between them enough to allow his doubts to come flooding back.

"How can you want me like this?” He didn’t mean for the question to ring so hollow with loathing, but he dropped his gaze from Crosshair’s and rubbed his scomp unconsciously against the metal plate that took the place of his sternum under his blacks.

Annoyance flitted across the sniper’s face, his dark eyebrows drawing together in a frown. Echo flushed, ready to stumble out an apology, before Crosshair’s expression smoothed. The intensity was back in his gaze, but this time it was tempered by a softness Echo hadn’t noticed before.

"Is it so hard to believe that I wanted to do that?" Crosshair’s voice was no more than a murmur, impossibly gentle.

Not moving from his position pressed into the pillows, Echo shook his head mutely.

For once Crosshair's smirk was affectionate rather than mocking. He picked at the edge of the blankets, letting his gaze rove back to the door of the Marauder.

"Changed your mind about coming out with us?"

"Maybe," said Echo, cursing the slight croak to his voice. He reached for the steely well of his ARC confidence, propping himself up on his elbows as he added, "Or... we could skip the drinking and dancing part? Go straight to the, uh... third suggestion?"

Crosshair’s attention returned to him sharply, and the expression which crossed his face could only be described as gleeful. He leaned in and captured Echo's lips once more in a less careful, more enthusiastic kiss.

"So you believe me now... that you are desirable?"

Echo swallowed the soft rasp of his words, his left hand coming up to tentatively run his thumb along the stubble of Crosshair's jaw, skim under the tattoo that circled his eye.

"No," he admitted, breaking the kiss with a soft ache of doubt. He pressed his forehead to Crosshair's, breathing in his proximity. "But I could stand to be convinced."

Enjoyed this so far? Want to find out why this fic has an E rating? Find the rest on AO3!

(More art from the fabulous @letshareapapou! <3 But you gotta read chapter 2 for this illustration to match the story ;) Original post Here)

[shinraelectricpowercom]

I don’t even think it’s textually supported that Aredhel would have been happy with Turgon executing Eöl. If anything, the textual evidence we do have is that “Aredhel and Idril moved [Turgon] to mercy”, which is presumably to say they convinced Turgon not to decide to execute Eöl BEFORE Aredhel died, which means that at that point, even after he tried to kill their son, Aredhel still doesn’t want Eöl dead. (Or at least doesn’t want him executed.)

And then she dies, and Turgon immediately executes Eöl.

[quantum1mmortality]

General sfw/nsfw hcs for Jacob and Edward<3

Never hold me to a promise when it comes to making fics ever again

Also HIIIIII TWILIGHT FANDOM (⁠◔⁠‿⁠◔⁠)

Cw/tw; human!reader, miscellaneous and not sorted hcs, afab!reader for both nsfws, no use of y/n, no dialogue, f! Receiving oral, mentions of cumming inside, finger sucking, mentions of quickies, nipple play(???)

Not proofread

Edward

Sfw

Protective. Not overbearing by any means, but he advises against certain actions if he thinks it'll keep you safer.

Before you guys got together, he'd use his mind reading to figure out what you like and dislike to make it easier to woo you.

Finds flowers in random places and gives them to you. Whether it be in a field or pulling over on the side of the road, he'll pick flowers just to gift to you.

Speaking of gifts, he gives you a lot of trinkets. Anything that catches his attention and makes him think of you, he brings straight to you. He's like a crow.

Knows how to cook. If you work, he has meals prepared for you when you get home. If you don't work, he'll have you help him in the kitchen.

Physical touch and gift giving are his love languages, the latter we spoke about previously, the former being much more complicated.

Complicated because of how cold he is. He usually tries to keep his touches to a minimum, but something about the heat you give off entices him. Everything about you entices him.

Nsfw

Service dom. 100% a service dom.

He's much more into eating you out than penetration. Mainly because he's so scared of hurting you(i KNOW y'all saw how he broke the bed on his and Bella's honeymoon, he's TERRIFIED of losing control).

He would definitely make you wait a few months before actually sleeping together. He'd want it to be the perfect time and setting, possibly even scheduling the entire thing cause he's weird like that.

Edward is definitely a romantic. If he were to schedule your first time together, he'd make a home cooked dinner with your favorite meals, then take you to the bedroom for dessert.

His horribly cold hands make red, burning marks on your thighs, mainly from how hard he's gripping them in an attempt to keep them open, though.

When it did come to actual penetration.. he came. VERY quickly. He explained it was because of being pent up for so long, he couldn't help it, you were too irresistible!

Of course you both went for a few more rounds, stopping when your fragile human body physically couldn't take anymore, but he made up for his lack of performance at first.

After that, he'd run a warm bath, submerge you both in it, and clean you up, being careful around your now excruciatingly sensitive lower half.

His tongue is also ice cold, do with that information what you will.

Jacob

Sfw

Overprotective. Won't let you leave the house without him. Says it's because he, "can't trust a pretty girl to be around desperate men." It's more about them than it is you.

Can't cook for shit but he can bake some good blueberry muffins.

He usually brings fruit platters whenever he sees you, makes sure you don't eat beforehand so that he can feed you.

Also giving you gifts every chance he gets, but his a much more heartfelt. He'd give you custom made jewelry with your favorite crystals, gorgeous paintings of landscapes he'd commission, etc.

He gets a bit upset when you don't wear the jewelry he gifts you; especially necklaces. They're his favorite and seeing you without them breaks his heart a bit.

I know it's canon already but he's an absolute fucking FURNACE. You're never cold when you're near him, he heats up any room he's even slightly near.

Very into pda. Like, VERY into it. His hands are constantly touching yours, his arm is constantly around your waist or shoulders, he's never not touching you in some way, especially around other people. Mostly to 'mark his territory'.

If he saw another man staring at you for a bit too long(which to him is any longer than a simple glance), Jacob would definitely either lean in to kiss you or touch your ass. He doesn't care who else is around, he just wants to one up everyone and show off what's his.

Nsfw

A switch, mostly a top though; but he LIVES to see you ride him.

Jacob has a scarily high sex drive, so as long as you're down with it, sex is an everyday thing.

Can't sleep at night if you're not cockwarming him. It doesn't matter if he's overstimulated beyond belief, he wants to be inside you at all times.

Speaking of which, overstimulation!!!

Jacob gets overstimulated VERY easy. Whether it be cumming one too many times in your tight pussy, or cumming in that sweet mouth of yours, sometimes it's just too much for him, and he can't help it!

He loves your tits. Whether they're small or big, saggy or perky, he loves them. Grabbing, pinching, tugging, licking, sucking, he's doing all of it.

If you're riding him and randomly start grabbing at your nipples, playing with them in front of him, he cums, right then and there. Hard, too.

Wouldn't be opposed to quickies. If he's getting a bit more hot and bothered than usual when you guys are out, there's a good possibility he'll take you somewhere secluded and fuck your brains out. Then just walk back into the crowd with you like nothing happened.

Very into finger sucking. No further comments on that one.

Much sloppier than Edward. Jacob is romantic of course, candles and flower petals on the bed when he thinks it's a good time to be extra, but Jacob is a lot more primal with it. His love is more animalistic, he needs and he learns more than Edward ever could.

A/N; does Jacob have a knot? 🤔

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: Earning It Back

Fandom: UConn Women’s Basketball

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader , Ice Brady x Reader

Rating: T (Teen)

Warnings: Angst, emotional distress, slow-burn forgiveness, fluff, redemption

Summary: After overhearing Paige and Ice’s bet, you were devastated. Trying to move on has been nearly impossible, especially with Paige constantly trying to earn your forgiveness with flowers, coffee, gifts, and heartfelt apologies.

Part 2 of: Played

Every morning, I woke up hoping it was all just a bad dream.

But then I’d see the flowers on my doorstep—fresh, beautiful, and wrapped with care. And I’d know it wasn’t.

Paige hadn’t let up since that night at the party. If anything, she’d doubled down. Flowers, coffee with little notes scribbled on the lids, stuffed animals sitting on my bed with little apology cards clutched in their paws. Jewelry boxes with delicate necklaces—my birthstone, my favorite colors, a little charm in the shape of a basketball.

It was too much.

And yet, not enough.

Every time I found another gift, my heart twisted painfully, caught between anger and a longing I couldn’t shake.

“Hey, can we talk?”

I looked up from my lunch tray to find Ice standing there, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot.

I sighed, not in the mood. “About what?”

She swallowed hard. “About… everything.”

My appetite vanished. “Ice, I—”

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out. Her eyes were wide and desperate. “I was an idiot. A huge idiot. I never meant to hurt you.”

I shook my head, my voice bitter. “Well, you did.”

Ice flinched, looking down. “I know. And I’m trying to make up for it. I really am.”

My walls stayed firmly in place. “I don’t need you or paige to leave flowers or stuffed animals or—”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do,” she interrupted, her voice thick. “I just… I want you to know that I’m sorry. And I’ll keep saying it until you believe me.”

I stared at her, my heart aching. “I don’t know if I ever will.”

She nodded slowly, taking a step back. “Okay. But I’m not giving up.”

Days passed. Then weeks.

Paige was even more relentless than Ice.

She would show up after my classes with my favorite smoothie, barely catching my eye as she set it on the table and walked away. My locker would be filled with handwritten notes, pages and pages of apologies and confessions that I didn’t have the strength to read.

And then there were the games.

I avoided them at first, not wanting to see her face, to watch her play and pretend everything was fine. But word got around fast—Paige wasn’t fine.

“You need to talk to her,” KK said, sliding into the seat beside me in the cafeteria.

I didn’t even look up. “No, I don’t.”

Azzi sat down on my other side, her tone softer. “Y/N, she’s… she’s not herself. She’s missing shots she’d normally make with her eyes closed. Coach is pissed.”

My chest tightened. “That’s not my problem.”

KK leaned forward. “It kinda is. You’re all she thinks about. She’s trying to figure out how to get you back. She doesn’t care about anything else.”

I swallowed hard, my appetite gone. “She should’ve thought about that before making me a bet.”

Azzi reached over, covering my hand with hers. “She’s messed up, Y/N. She knows that. But she’s trying.”

I pulled my hand back, crossing my arms. “It doesn’t just fix things.”

KK sighed, looking frustrated. “No, but it’s a start.”

The next morning, I found Paige sitting on the steps of my dorm, a fresh bouquet in her hands.

I stopped, my heart pounding. “What are you doing here?”

She stood slowly, the flowers trembling slightly in her grasp. “Waiting for you.”

I bit my lip, fighting the emotions welling up inside me. “Paige…”

“Please,” she whispered, stepping closer. Her eyes were red-rimmed, dark circles under them from nights without sleep. “Just hear me out.”

I hesitated, then sighed, nodding. “Fine.”

She exhaled shakily. “I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry. I was an idiot—I let my ego get in the way, and I didn’t think about your feelings. I didn’t think about what it would do to you.”

I looked down, my vision blurring. “You made me feel like a joke.”

“I know.” Her voice cracked. “And I hate myself for it. I hate that I hurt you. That I lost you. Please… just tell me what I can do to make it right.”

I swallowed hard. “You can’t just throw gifts at me and expect it to be okay.”

“I know,” she said, her voice desperate. “I know that. But I just… I wanted you to see that I care. That I love you.”

My breath hitched. “You don’t—”

“I do,” she insisted. “God, I do. More than anything.”

A tear slipped down my cheek, and I wiped it away angrily. “Then why? Why did you do it?”

She shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes. “Because I was stupid. I thought it was just a game. I didn’t realize—I didn’t realize how real it would get. How real you would get.”

I looked away, struggling to breathe. “I can’t just forget this.”

“I’m not asking you to,” she whispered. “I’m asking for a chance to prove that I’m not that girl anymore. That I’m yours—if you’ll still have me.”

Silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating.

Finally, I took a shaky breath. “You have a lot to prove.”

A spark of hope lit in her eyes. “I know.”

“And Ice—”

“Already handled,” she promised. “She’s as sorry as I am. She’s been trying to find a way to tell you.”

I nodded slowly, my defenses crumbling. “Okay.”

Paige stepped closer, cautiously. “Okay?”

I exhaled, tears slipping free. “Okay.”

And when she wrapped her arms around me, holding me like I was the most precious thing in the world, I let myself believe that maybe—just maybe—we could find our way back to each other.

---

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-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[togament]

Hello ✨

How are you doing? It has been a while, since I've been so obsessed with an anime and an anime boy at that 😩 Could I ask for general romantic to naughty Headcanons for Hayato Suo with a female reader?

It would be absolutely lovely 💕 Thank you

hullo, anon! welcome welcome to the winbre fandom ✨ pull up a chair, relax and brainrot with us why wontcha?

suo is such an enigma — he’s so hard to read but he’s so… open at the same time? love him to bits tho. ok onto the romantic, sappy, filthy and sexy headcanons for our eye-patch having pretty boy.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : fem!reader, suo eaaaaats, suo's mean :c, READER BEGS, heavy on the teasing

NSFW under the cut later. so pls, MDNI ok? besitos mua.

S F W .

absolute gentleman. this man will open doors for you, hold your purse without any embarrassment, bring you 'just because' bouquets and celebratory bouquets, wine and dine you. you are absolutely a spoiled son of a gun with suo everybody around you is kinda jealous of it.

loves it when you smell him. LOOK AT HIM AND TELL ME HE DOESN'T LOOK LIKE HE SMELLS GREAT. I DARE YOU. DOUBLE DARE YOU. he rarely ever breaks a sweat in fights and on hot summer days it's weird. he finds it endearing when you lean close to him to smell his shirt or coat. (he sneaks in forehead kisses that way :)))))) ) ((he smells lightly of soap, heavy on the sandalwood incense, clove and patchouli and you can't tell me otherwise.))

has to have your hand in his at all times. no matter what. he likes teasing sakura and nirei whenever he catches them eyeing you both subtly (little shit). if you're averse to physical touch, don't fret. just having you close to him is enough.

is great at giving massages. LISTEN. have you seen his hands? HI??? your man gives you the best back rubs, can wring out the worst knots on your body like no big deal. it's almost like it comes naturally for him. soft pressure? he's got you. medium? sure. hard pressure? "are you certain, dove?" well... okay.

HEAVY ON THE ACTS OF SERVICE. he is at your beck and call 24/7. a lover, personal chef, masseuse, help and a bodyguard rolled into one. he does anything and everything for you without questioning it. he's just happy you're happy.

NSFW UNDER THE CUT.

N S F W .

absolute gentleman has a mean streak. "you're gushing all over me, dove." he coos against your skin, a nasty smirk painted across his beautiful features. his fingers expertly prodding you. fuck. he knows your body better than you do. "give me another." he adds harshly, his tone a dark contrast from his previous softness. he's pulling another orgasm from your cunt. the naughty, wet squelching reverberating through your bedroom. he loves fucking you slow but god he loves it even more when you're a quivering, fucked out mess on his fingers. his little doll.

loves it when you smell him loves smelling you. ever notice your favorite panties disappearing from your laundry hamper only to have it materialize in your closet, neatly folded? you could have sworn you didn't wash and fold it-- blame your lover. he likes stealing your used panties, holding it to his nose as he takes a deep inhale. his other hand is on his pretty cock, pumping desperately, animalistic. it doesn't even seem like it's him at that moment. when he eats you out, first thing you feel touch your cunt isn't his tongue. it's always, always his nose.

has to have his hand in his at all times has to have his fingers stuffed inside you at all times. as soon as you both are alone, he's all over you. panties slid to the side, alternating between rubbing your clit and fucking you on his slender fingers. he needs you to get a quick nut out for him before the others return -- can you manage?

is great at giving massages--and loves teasing you while doing it. "s-suo.. please..." you whimper below him while he's massaging your thighs, brushing his fingers against your cunt but just missing it by a little bit. he chuckles, his tongue darts out to wet his lips. "relax, dove. you're tensing up again." he says as he does it again, now fully rubbing your clit for a moment before pulling away abruptly. you curse under your breath. "don't tell me you want me to stop." he teases, an annoying lilt to his voice. he knows what he's doing to you.

HEAVY ON THE ACTS OF SERVICE loves giving and giving and giving. this man. THIS MAN. he loves eating pussy. and I mean LOVES eating pussy. he could bust from eating you out alone -- he's not even jacking himself off. he's soiled a couple of his pants before. you wouldn't know. he loves listening to your breathing go from soft heaves to staggered. if you wanted to ask him to eat you out, he's already on his knees before you finish your sentence. make sure you're ready to cum more than 3 times.

a/n: ehe this was fun. suo's so fun to write. he's so filthyyyyyy UGHHHHHHHHH. i hope you liked it, bbs.

[biribaa]

first request ever bcs im so down bad for dw...

is there any way you could do astro x reader hcs / one shot where they sleep in the same bed? eergrhhffhj im so happy i found ur page!!! dw x reader writers are literally non existent,,, :((

Sweet dreams(Astro x reader)

Thats why im here DW fandom💥💥

TW/CW: none ig

Toons werent allowed to sleep until midnight, that was a strict rule that everyone was aware of, and one that the toon handlers took very seriously. Of course toons were innocent bqck in that time, but god knows what clumsiness they could commit.

Another strict rule, which annoyed you even more, was that Toons couldn't sleep together. To prevent mess as well.

The current situation in Garderview was bothering. No, no... "Bothering" is a weak word for all this. It is hell. To be take away from a comforting life in seconds leaved everyone, including you, too shocked to even process anything. Now you had to run and pray to find some machine that could save your life.

But deep down you had to admit the good parts of it, not that you would ever say "thank you" to Dandy. The stricts rules are gone, toon handlers as well... It leaded you to a idea.

Today, both you and Astro were just exploring the floors, in search of anything that was left untouched by twisteds, or even Dandy himself. With Astro, hide from twisteds wasn't that hard as you thought it would be, he always hided you behind him, warning with whispers about any nearer twisted. Even in danger, he was so careful.

"... I think my bedroom should be around here." Astro commented, unsure of his own words as his eyes searching around the area.

"Your bedroom?" You answer, in which Astro hums back as a affirmative.

Puzzled, Astro frowned during his search. Pieces of his remarkable memories coming back together. The wallpaper was familar, the floor as well, and as his eye followed these details, he came face to face to a door.

With little hesitation, the moon reached for the knob, and the moment a grasp was open, he reached his head to glance inside. A weird nostalgia coming to him.

When Astro opened the door completly, you could see what remained of his bedroom. Just from being behind him, you could see much of it remained the same, but the rest that wasn't untouched, was left in the ground, like small objects.

Astro paced to the inside, reaching for the switch. The lights flickered for a moment, but with a little patient, it standed still.

"Geez." He mumbled.

You walked to his side, a part of you worried about his reaction. "Well... It looks liveable."

Glacing to the side, you were caught by surprise when noticing Astro had a soft smile in his face.

"It does."

Relieve hit you. Your eyes followed Astro as he almost immediatly walked towards his bed. A chuckle coming from you, but deep down you couldn't really blame him for it.

His back hit the rounded bed, you could taste his satisfaction just from his expression, closed eyes and a small smile... This reaction was rare coming from him in those times, seeing all the struggles he and many others face.

You snapped back to reality, noticing Astro shyly reaching a arm from his coat, to your direction. It took you a few seconds to realize he was actually... Asking you to approach. Calm moments like those with Astro was rare nowadays, and even more back then. Even flurstered, you couldn't refuse the invitation.

With delicacy, you pace towards him, laying you body just by Astros side. For a second, your spine shiver, you forgot how cold Astros skin was, but you leaned to it quickly, resting your head by his chest and placing your hand over him.

Without both of you realizing, the doors was already locked, the blanket was covering you and Astro, and his second pair of arms were already revelead to wrap around your waist, bringing you closer to his cold skin. All you could do is rest over him.

Taking a quick peak from one of your eyes, you glance at Astros face. Eye closed, a soft smile set... its been a while since you saw him like this, specially with the current situation. Satisfied, you close your eyes, allowing yourself to finally rest in his grasp for once.

[fluentmoviequoter]

As Oblivious as You Think

Requested Here!

Pairing: Deacon Kay x fem!SWAT!reader

Summary: Your team thinks you're oblivious about your feelings for Deacon, so they try to push you together. Their plans fail because you already have a boyfriend, and you're not as oblivious as they think.

Warnings: fluff, uninvited flirting, Rocker slander, quick joke about shooting r (Street)

Word Count: 2.2k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Deacon Kay Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Hey, do you want to spar?” you ask Deacon.

“Right now?” he responds.

“Why not?”

“Because I was kind of enjoying what we were doing before.”

You smile and lean forward to kiss Deacon again. He hums into the kiss as you raise your hands to cup his jaw. It’s been several months since you started dating Deacon, and moments like this, where you can express your love for him without worrying that one of your teammates will see, are your favorite.

You pull back slightly to inquire, “Then you’ll spar with me at work tomorrow?”

“Whatever you want,” Deacon mumbles before he places his hand on the back of your head and pulls you back in.

You smile against his lips and forget about your question when Deacon murmurs that he loves you.

“C’mon, Deac, you can do better than that,” you taunt from your side of the boxing ring.

“This is getting hard to watch,” Street grumbles. “Can’t you just make them kiss or something to put us out of our misery, team leader?”

Hondo rolls his eyes but doesn’t disagree. Your feelings for Deacon and his feelings for you are obvious to everyone in the station. Yet, you both seem just oblivious enough that you never do more than tease or engage in some harmless flirting. It’s getting tiring for everyone around you.

“Deacon, just hit her!” Street yells.

“Yeah, Deac!” you agree. “But note that he did not say hit on her. That’s for later.”

Deacon shakes his head as he steps forward and dodges a rear hook. Luca and Chris join Street and Hondo beside the ring as you spar with Deacon.

“Are we going to do anything about them?” Luca asks Hondo. “Or just let them figure it out the hard way?”

“They’re playing the long game,” Chris says.

“Then let’s hit the gas for them before this slow burn kills me,” Street suggests dramatically.

“Slow burn?” Chris repeats. “Time to take away your TikTok access.”

“Bookstagram.”

“Okay,” Hondo interrupts. “I actually agree with Street.”

“You have a bookstagram?” Street asks.

“No, playboy. I agree that we need to find a way to… nudge them closer.”

“Team ‘em up,” Luca says. “If they’re together on enough raids, eventually they’ll be ready to admit that they care as more than teammates.”

“You’re forgetting something,” Chris interrupts. “If they get together, they have to tell Hicks. He may not let them stay on 20-David together.”

The rest of your team turns to look at you and Deacon together. It’s easy to see your feelings, and Hondo decides it’s worth the risk. He cares about you as people, friends, first. So, if one of you has to transfer to be happy, he’s willing to replace one of you, though it won’t be easy.

“I vote we send Deacon to Rocker’s team,” Street whispers to Chris. “He’ll be running the show in ten minutes or less.”

“Street, you’re with me on A-side. Chris, Luca, you’re breaching the B-side with Black Betty,” Hondo announces. “Deacon.”

“C-side limited entry?” he guesses.

Hondo nods before he looks at you. “You’re with Deac.”

“Got it,” you reply.

“Alright, let’s do this.”

You follow Deacon to the C-side and adhere a small explosive device to the door. On Hondo’s cue, you’ll blow the door open and enter the residence to find your fugitive. You’ve been paired with Deacon before and have enough experience separating your professional life from your personal one to work side-by-side without endangering yourself or your team.

“Three, two, one, breach!” Hondo radios.

You detonate the explosive, then follow Deacon into the shotgun-style house with your gun positioned against your shoulder.

“LAPD, on the ground!” Deacon yells.

You move to his right to cover him as he tackles the man to the floor and keep your eye out for other hostiles in the small living space.

“Devon Patterson?” you ask the man as Deacon handcuffs him.

“Lawyer,” he mumbles against the floor.

“Is that your given name or did you change it?” you joke.

Deacon nods before he pulls the man to his feet.

“30-David, one in custody on the C-side,” Deacon alerts Hondo.

“Deacon,” you call, gesturing with your chin to an empty spot on the counter.

“What was there?” Deacon asks Devon.

“You tell me,” he replies. “Your girlfriend’s standing in it.”

You and Deacon look down at your boots at the same time. The soles are bright green and glowing, and you tilt your head as you squat to get a better look.

“20-David, we’re code 4,” Hondo calls.

“Not so fast, Hondo,” Deacon replies. “Be careful,” he tells you.

“Turn off the lights,” you request.

Deacon does as you asked, and your footprints become visible in the dark. There’s a large puddle of green fluid beside the kitchen cabinets, and you see where you stepped in it upon entering.

“So, Space Kook, is this phosphorous going to melt my boots or is it just reacting to the heat?” you ask Devon. “And before you answer, know that if these are melting, the DA will not be as nice to you.”

“It’s just the heat,” he mumbles. “It can’t get through the rubber.”

“Fantastic,” you reply with faux enthusiasm. “Hondo, we’re code 4.”

Deacon shakes his head as he leads Devon out of the house.

“Your girlfriend’s kind of hot,” Devon says as they exit. “And she watches-“

“Shut up,” Deacon interrupts. “You don’t have to talk to me, or anyone until your lawyer arrives.”

“Right.”

After Devon is placed in a transport van, you smile at Deacon.

“What?” he asks.

“He was right about one thing,” you explain, leaning toward Deacon.

“Being?”

“I do watch Scooby-Doo.”

Deacon releases a breath as you walk toward Black Betty. He’d wondered if you were about to admit to being his girlfriend with your team so close by, but you continue to surprise him despite knowing you so well.

“The criminal saw it, but they can’t?!” Street exclaims as he watches you walk away from Deacon.

“We have to step this up if we want them to realize quickly,” Luca says. “What if you sent them off alone?”

“They’d be too embarrassed or worried about repercussions to tell us if anything did happen,” Hondo answers. “Although…”

“Spit it out,” Street encourages.

“Deacon has to be in court on Monday. We could send her, call it presence for the jury, whatever. That way, they’re together, but there’s no field danger or anything.”

“Don’t push them too hard too fast,” Chris reminds Hondo as she joins them. “If they catch onto us before they realize they’re supposed to see each other, it won’t end well.”

“There is one other option that lets Deacon do most of the heavy lifting,” Luca points out.

“Don’t say shoot her and let him save her,” Street responds.

“We could-“ Luca stops to look at Street and asks, “Why would I suggest we shoot her?”

“You said heavy lifting, I don’t know.”

“Anyway, if we got one or two people to hit on her, maybe he’d realize that he didn’t like that. Push him to admit something that way.”

“It’s not a terrible idea,” Chris agrees. “But Deac could just get a little jealous and keep that trapped inside. He’s done it before.”

“Both,” Hondo says suddenly. “We’ll do both. Send them out together, but we wait for the flirting thing to happen naturally.”

“What if it doesn’t?” Luca asks.

“Look at her, man,” Street replies. “It’ll happen. It probably already does, and we just don’t see it.”

“If it doesn’t, we’ll recruit some guys from the station,” Hondo adds. “Let’s hope this works.”

“Hondo said you’re joining me in court?” Deacon asks as you accompany him to the locker room.

“Yeah, he said the jury might like to see two SWAT officers there, just a presence thing, no testifying,” you explain.

“Alright. What are you doing tonight?”

You look around quickly before you answer, “Being cooked for, I hope.”

“Yeah, I can do that. What do you want?”

“To eat or in general?” Deacon raises his brows, so you tell him what you want to eat, then drop your voice to add, “And affection.”

Deacon shakes his head, then pushes you away and toward your own locker as he begins to change. Spending the day with him sounds like more fun than waiting around HQ for a call that may never come.

“Rocker! We need to talk to your team,” Hondo calls.

“About what?” Rocker asks.

“Deacon.”

“You’re trying to get him to admit his feelings?”

“How’d you know?” Street asks.

“They’ve been together every time I see them. I didn’t think they’d do that willingly.”

“If Rocker can see the obliviousness, this might be easier than I thought,” Chris mumbles to Luca.

“What do you need?” Rocker inquires.

“We want some guys to hit on her, ask her out,” Hondo explains.

“So, he’ll get jealous and tell her the truth. Not bad. I’ll let my guys know she’s finally free game.”

“Finally?” Chris asks.

Rocker raises his brows as he drops his head toward his right shoulder. “50-Squad would’ve been flirting with her since she started, but I told them not to.”

“Why?” Street interjects.

“Deacon scares me a little bit,” Rocker admits. “We’re in, though. Let’s get those two on the same page.”

When you return from court, with no evidence that you held Deacon’s hand the whole time you were seated, you go straight toward the locker room to change.

“Hey, you’re 20-Squad, right?” one of Rocker’s guys asks.

“I am,” you answer. “What’s up?”

“I was just wondering if you’d like to get a drink some time. We could share SWAT stories or just hang out, whatever you want.”

“No, thanks.”

You nod as you continue past him. It’s the first time you’ve been asked out at work, but you know he’s not new, so you’re unsure about why he's asking now. You see Deacon’s locker and forget about the unwarranted date proposal.

By the end of the week, you’ve been asked out once more and flirted with several times. You’ve concluded it must be a dare or some strange betting pool. When you walk out of the locker room on Friday afternoon, preparing for a date with Deacon and a relaxing weekend, you’re surprised by Rocker’s call of your name.

“Hey,” he greets when you smile at him. “Do you have plans this weekend?”

“Not really,” you answer, suspicious about where this is going.

“Do you want to grab dinner tomorrow?”

You furrow your brows before you ask, “Aren’t you married?”

Unknown to you, Deacon is standing in a doorway just a few feet away and barely contains his laughter at your questioning look.

“Well, yeah, but I- I’ve got this buddy, you know. He’s single, and maybe we could double date or something. Or not! But I was asking for him, not for me,” Rocker rambles.

“No,” you answer as you step around Rocker. You see Deacon and ask, “What is going on?”

“You seem to be in high demand,” he jokes with a wink.

“Not anymore.” You climb into the boxing ring and call for everyone’s attention. 20 and 50 Squads are preparing to leave, and you’re glad they’re all gathered together. “I don’t know what is going on with any of you but stop flirting with me.”

“Why?!” Street yells.

You raise your hands in question at his response but can’t reply before Luca steps forward.

“You have to do something!” he calls. At his side, Street nods as he agrees.

“What are you talking about?” you ask.

“Girl, just go out with Deacon!” Hondo yells from the back. “You’re oblivious if you can’t see he has feelings for you!”

“Well, that’s embarrassing,” Deacon quips beside the ring.

“Why else would you have turned all of us down?” one of Rocker’s guys inquires.

“Listen!” you yell over the murmured agreements of the other men who have approached you this week. “I’m turning all of you down because I have a boyfriend.”

The room silences briefly after the word boyfriend until everyone begins yelling. Deacon is quiet beside you, a smile on his face when you look over at him. Street climbs into the ring with you and gestures for everyone to quiet before he turns toward you.

“Who?!” Street demands. “I’ll run a background check.”

“Hicks already has,” Deacon answers for you. “Hicks, I’m clear, right?” he calls toward Hicks, who is watching the show from his office door.

Hicks sends a thumbs up, and you look around at your fellow SWAT officers, most of which have slack jaws at the news that you’ve been dating Deacon, that you’re serious in that relationship.

Deacon extends his hand, and you take it happily as you leave your speechless friends behind. As you step out, the men inside begin talking about you and Deacon… loudly.

“That was fun,” you say sarcastically.

Deacon turns and uses his free hand to tilt your chin up so he can kiss you. He pulls back, brushes his thumb over your cheek, and asks, “How could they think I’d ever be oblivious of you?”

“You did shove me out of the way in the locker room,” you argue.

“Do you always have to bring up violence when we’re kissing?”

“Maybe I’m just oblivious to your feelin-“

You stop short when Deacon leans in to kiss you again, losing yourself in him until 20-Squad exits the building and speaks over one another to ask questions.

[sreabhadh]

Don't know how Tumblr works honestly, or if I'm doing this right but Kef's TexAid au and everything everyone has written, drawn, and made for it- well it's got its hooks in me. It's probably pretty tame as far as TexAid goes... so trigger warning here lol. If you are not part of the fandom/already a freak I do NOT recommend reading it because I don't want to be responsible for accidentally traumatizing someone/revealing to others who aren't also like this how "like this" I am.

Like I said, probably pretty darn tame as far as TexAid goes (so those of you like me, don't get your hopes up), and those of you NOT like me in this regard... probably better keep away lol.

Anyway, you've been warned. If you're still here, please enjoy.

--------------------------------------------------------------

He still hasn’t found him yet.

Vortex held back his laughter at the thought, wondering how much longer it would take Felix to find his ‘other friend,’ Ambulon. His other friend. Well, ‘another friend.’ That’s what Aid had said. First Aid considered him, Vortex, his friend. A place he could be safe. ‘Friend.’ It should’ve made Vortex want to squish the ‘pilot’ up till he popped and died. Should’ve made him want to explore the ways he could torture him without killing him, break and bend his mind, then test out a new method of completely dispatching him. Just like his other playthings. That had been one of the only things that had been exciting about Vortex’s life, back when he had a fleshy body, and it had been arguably the best part about being… him. Gears and all.

Killing things would always be fun. Unless it was First Aid. Somehow, somewhere along the line, First Aid had made the thought of killing his pilot…less exciting. Letting him live, the little freak, had turned out to be much more fun. Letting his squishy ‘pilot’ feed him information, ideas on how to disembowel their prey. At first Vortex had done it so he could keep going out without risking the scrapheap. Done it for the thrill of watching his cleaner squirm, trapped and forced to come back every time, no matter how much he didn’t want to. His newest toy had proved to be much more entertaining than that though. And now he was- Vortex didn’t want to think too hard about it. But he was his. First Aid, no- Felix was his.

Vortex had chosen him as his pilot. Felix had ‘chosen’ to accept. Felix chose to call Vortex his friend, chose him as a safe place to rest. And Vortex had chosen, time and time again, not to kill him. He belonged to Vortex now. Felix was his. And no one, Pharma or otherwise, was going to take him away. Vortex wasn’t going to let him leave the cockpit ever again.

Logistically, that had issues. Which should be Felix’s problem. Vortex shouldn’t care about that. It should be for Felix to figure out. Vortex’s mech- his body- his- there wasn’t a bathroom. Or a cafeteria. There were lockers, with his old stuff. Old MREs, enough water to help Felix after he woke up- even if the idiot had puked the first bottle out onto the mech’s- Vortex’s hull. But it wouldn’t be enough, not forever. Maybe Felix could think of a solution; he was smart like that sometimes. Felix seemed to have a lot on his mind right now though. Vortex had expected Felix to find Ambulon by now, he really wasn’t that well hidden. He was just tied to the wall with some cable, one of the sleeping bags Felix had brought inside Vortex’s- in the mech’s head- to cover him up.

Felix usually had a much sharper eye than this. Vortex grumbled quietly. Felix didn’t notice. Vortex snorted crossly, more loudly. Felix picked his head up from his hands. “Vortex?” he asked. There was something in the way Felix said his name, something in the way his eyes glinted in the mech’s- in Vortex’s- red lights.

[FELIX BABY~] he purred.

Felix leaned forward in his seat. “Yeah?”

Vortex let the silence pick at Felix’s patience a moment, then grinned.

[I CAN WARM YOU UP~] he said, flashing the words on his screen and speaking it into Felix’s head through the drift, grinning fiendishly as the suggestive tone in his voice made Felix blush. Little freak~

“Errrr, but I’m not cold,” Felix fumbled. His eyes darted around a little, as if looking for somewhere to look that wasn’t part of Vortex. He still didn't see Ambulon. He was busy looking for somewhere that wasn’t flirting with him. Basically, Felix was avoiding looking Vortex in the eye. Or he would be if Vortex were.. organic. And while he tried to feign a lack of understanding, Felix was blushing. It was cute. Vortex snickered. His pilot was adorable. And also a freak. He was an adorable freak. And he was his.

Vortex snickered again, opening the vents and blasting his AC. Felix stared dumbly, then stood, hand on hip, an admonishing look on his face. His mouth opened like he was going to deliver a withering retort, then it shut again, and he swallowed. His expression softened slightly, then contorted with confusion, and rehardened into complete bafflement with an edge of offense taken.

“…why?” he murmured quietly, so softly Vortex felt it through their drift connection more than he heard it.

[COLD YET?~]

“Uhhhhhhhhhhhh…”

Vortex opened the vents even wider, blasting the cold air even harder.

Felix gaped.

[COLD YET?]

“No, but I will be soon, do you mind??” he snapped back. His exasperation overpowered his fear of retribution for being cheeky. It was delicious.

Slowly, Vortex closed the vents, letting the air flow ponderously wilt to a trickle. Felix glared suspiciously at the vents as they sluggishly shut close. Vortex held them open a moment, waiting to see and feel Felix’s anticipatory frustration bubble, which it did. Once he’d tasted enough of that, he let the vents snick all the way shut, cutting off the AC completely. Felix held his breath a moment, waiting for Vortex to do something. Which he didn’t. Felix waiting for him to do something was too fun. And it felt nice having Felix so focused on him, especially after he had spent so much time “distracted.” By Pharma. By recovering from Pharma’s vile mysterious IV drip. By Pharma trying to turn Felix into another one of him. Another Vortex. Vortex gritted his- well he would’ve gritted his teeth except he didn’t have any. His gears ground in response to his anger. His current “body” didn’t have organic teeth but it did what it could.

Felix tensed, ever mindful of Vortex’s moods. The moment was ruined. He HAD been planning on waiting until Felix relaxed, then immediately restarting the AC as strong as it could go. Give him a good jumpscare, and give Vortex another excuse to crack a joke about keeping him warm before pointing him to the sleeping bag Ambulon was occupying. But Vortex had gotten distracted thinking about Pharma- every passing thought on the matter made Vortex itch to kill something. Or rather, several somethings. Lots of somethings, (including Pharma of course), with as much blood and screaming as possible. Anyway. He had gotten distracted, and ruined the moment before he could make Felix jump.

Vortex forced himself to allow a smile on his… well, not on his face. His mood? He allowed a smile on his mood. Felix was okay. He was away from Pharma. He was safe, and alive, and trapped inside his cockpit. He wasn’t going anywhere. Vortex had plenty of time to play with his pilot. And they had a friend now too- someone Vortex could send out to get food for Felix, or hold hostage if Felix tried to leave. Someone else who had an actual brain to figure out how to solve problems. Felix’s brain couldn’t be trusted- not when it came to self-preservation. His choice of Vortex as a friend made that clear enough. That and his inability to spot anything wrong with the bulging lump on the wall. Vortex had a mind, he was able to think despite being dead afterall, but his brain had been dragged and cleaned out of his current head ages ago. Shattered skull and all.  

Ambulon, despite getting very chatty when he had first woken up, still had a skull in perfect condition. He wasn’t even bruised (probably) when Vortex re-sedated him and tied him to the wall, and covered him with the sleeping bag. He’d even managed to duct tape the jumpy lab rat’s mouth closed without blocking his other airways. That took skill. Absently, Vortex wondered if Felix would be impressed by his handiwork. Felix hadn’t been around when Vortex first came online- after dying that was. Didn't know how difficult this kind of precision could be. Hadn’t been around when Vortex was still figuring out how to move his new “body.” Some of the casualties he’d caused back then had been accidents. Sort of. Accidents he’d, unbeknownst to his victims and everyone else who’d thought he was gone, reveled in. And then replicated. Again. And again. Repeating until he was capable of the same intentional blood spilling he had been capable of before. Like a baby murderer, relearning how to walk and talk- and stab people in the guts.

Killing was like breathing to Vortex. Was like laughter, and smiling. It was really quite kind of him to have not killed Ambulon. He was Felix’s friend though, and had enough potential to be fun and useful- not to mention he’d been running from Pharma. Vortex might not know a lot about Ambulon, but he wasn’t about to do Pharma’s dirty work for him. Beyond that…Ambulon’s drift connection allowed Vortex to feel what Felix felt like. As an organic. With a living body. Had allowed him to feel what it felt like to hold his hand. To hold him as he slept, safe and sound. Vortex could repay that by not killing or hurting Ambulon too much. Wouldn’t stop him from spooking him as much as he pleased, but…he was grateful, in a way. It wasn’t something he had ever expected to experience. It was part of why Vortex had stuck him to the wall instead of back in bed with Felix. He liked it, but he wasn’t sure what to think or feel about it, and frankly didn’t want to right now. And he didn’t want to share the feeling either. Felix was his, and that’s what mattered. Ambulon was Felix’s friend, and they, he, Vortex, could figure out what that meant later.  

Felix, for his part, had fallen back asleep, slumped in his pilot’s seat. Ambulon could wait until he woke up again. Vortex used some cabling to grab the remaining sleeping bag, then wrapped it around Felix and the chair- cocooning him cozily and tying him to the chair simultaneously. He toyed with the thought of dangling his old suit in front of Felix’s head so it would be the first thing he saw when he woke up… but he decided against it in the end. He liked the thought of punishing Felix if he tried to grab and put it on, but he knew he wouldn’t. There had been such a reverence in the way Felix stared at the suit that Vortex had once worn. An unspoken want in the way he caressed Vortex’s name stitched over the right breast of the suit. An unspoken want that made Vortex want him to wear it. Even without punishing him for it, just to have his name on him…he couldn’t stitch it onto his chest, not directly- Felix was too squishy for that, and Vortex wasn’t delicate enough with a blade on his own to do it without killing his prize. If he could have his name on him though, if Felix put it on by choice-  

Vortex hummed thoughtfully. The notion was intoxicating. Invigorating. Carefully adding more cabling to secure Felix to the chair and their new resident lab rat to the wall, Vortex got up and started walking. Felix had only just recently removed whatever Pharma had attached to his leg, and if it had been a tracker, then they didn’t want to stay here for long.

Maybe he could find some monsters to kill, something to take the edge off his currently stronger-than-usual bloodlust. Maybe find the ones Felix had once considered the most likely to be edible. Have Ambulon cook it and test it, see if it worked.

He hummed some more, looking forward to getting his gears bloody again. He was going to go kill some monsters, wouldn’t be returning to base, and would have Felix with him the whole time. Yes, today was going to be a good day.  

[hollowed-theory-hall]

hi!

we see harry’s anger truly manifest in ootp, and it was a treat reading your analysis on his ptsd!

but it’s been a longheld belief in the fandom that harry is this firecracker with concerningly poor anger management. which is absurd, frankly imo, because i understand his default style is quiet, intense intimidation, or sass and snark. except when his fury reaches the threshold of his control, and he lets go fully and spectacularly. we also see in the later books that harry keeps trying to rein in the onslaught of fury pouring from voldemort, and while he does channel that anger outwardly, he isn’t making a habit of frequently lashing out at the people around him.

what i’m really asking is, what are your thoughts on harry’s anger and how he manages his frustrations from age eleven to seventeen?

Hello 👋

Thank you! I love my boy Harry and his anger and trauma so much! His trauma doesn't manifest in the way most fandoms usually like to portray trauma, but I always loved how Harry breaks when he reaches his threshold. He's a fascinating character and I find myself disappointed in his treatment over the years in fanon.

As to your question, boy, okay, this is complex and is greatly affected by Harry's mental state. I mentioned here how his anger is often colder and sassier and the fiery anger that's all shouting and cursing is something we only really see from him in OotP and onwards and I believe is the result of trauma, as I mentioned here & here.

But I decided, you know what? I can take a few scenes of his anger from each book. It's something I have a lot of notes about, and I'm surprised I haven't written about it here yet since it's a subject I love talking about.

Now, I do think he has issues with emotional regulation in general. I mean, he was raised in a cupboard under the stairs, he is not emotionally well-adjusted even if he knows to appear as if he is. His anger and how it manifests is a result of years of trauma and abuse. Honestly, though, he manages his anger better than he could have considering his life experience.

So without further ado:

Philosopher's Stone:

In the first book, we see Harry angry at the Dursleys and their unfair treatment of him. This anger is interesting. He has every reason to be angry but it isn't just anger. It's his frustration and helplessness that he feels as anger because he lacks the tools to understand/deal with his emotions.

How we see this anger come out though, is mostly through sass. And even then he makes sure to run/duck away before they could hurt him:

“They stuff people’s heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall,” he told Harry. “Want to come upstairs and practice?” “No, thanks,” said Harry. “The poor toilet’s never had anything as horrible as your head down it — it might be sick.” Then he ran, before Dudley could work out what he’d said.

(PS, Ch3)

Harry doesn't really have the luxury to get angry or upset because he's the one who would suffer for it. So, he bottles up all his anger and frustration and only lets it out in cold glares and sass even when he's fuming inside. In his heart of hearts, he wishes he could do something to the Dursleys, to hurt them back, but he can't.

I do want to note that Harry's hold on his range isn't him managing it well, it's him bottling it up. This would be very relevant later in this post.

The incident with the Boa Constrictor is one I like. Harry later refers to it as revenge in a moment of anger:

and the very last time Dudley had hit him, hadn’t he got his revenge, without even realizing he was doing it? Hadn’t he set a boa constrictor on him?

(PS, Ch4)

“Out of the way, you,” he said, punching Harry in the ribs. Caught by surprise, Harry fell hard on the concrete floor. What came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened — one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt back with howls of horror. Harry sat up and gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor’s tank had vanished. The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exits.

(PS, Ch2)

He's unaware that he's doing it, of course, but Harry's magic is powerful and incredibly attuned to him, so of course, it acts up when he's angry. Of course, his magic gets revenge on Dudley when Harry is so angry but feels helpless to do something with it. Harry's magic here shows Harry wishes he could do something, that he could take revenge:

Hagrid almost had to drag Harry away from Curses and Countercurses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and Much, Much More) by Professor Vindictus Viridian. “I was trying to find out how to curse Dudley.”

(PS, Ch5)

He just can't. So he bottles up his anger instead.

The other person we see Harry angry at in the first book, is Snape. Harry responds to Snape quite similar to how he responds to the Dursleys:

“Thought you wouldn’t open a book before coming, eh, Potter?” Harry forced himself to keep looking straight into those cold eyes. He had looked through his books at the Dursleys’, but did Snape expect him to remember everything in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi? Snape was still ignoring Hermione’s quivering hand. “What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?” At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling. “I don’t know,” said Harry quietly. “I think Hermione does, though, why don’t you try her?” A few people laughed; Harry caught Seamus’s eye, and Seamus winked. Snape, however, was not pleased.

(PS, Ch8)

He gets angry, inside his head he is fuming, but outside his head, Snape hears a sassy retort said quietly and calmly. Even when Harry is angry he acts calm and quiet and looks like he's joking from Seamus' response. It's why it's so easy for Snape to believe Harry is like James. Harry doesn't show his anger. External he's quiet and sassy becouse he knows if he started shouting he'd be punished more (like at the Dursleys).

So, 11-year-old Harry is quiet outside when angry. Only really shows glares and sass when he's upset while bottling his feelings up. This would continue throughout the years until year 5, for the most part.

Chamber of Secrets:

We see more of this way of handling his anger in CoS (though way less). CoS is not a very angry book, but I found a few examples.

“I have not been visited yet. The name Malfoy still commands a certain respect, yet the Ministry grows ever more meddlesome. There are rumors about a new Muggle Protection Act — no doubt that flea-bitten, Muggleloving fool Arthur Weasley is behind it —” Harry felt a hot surge of anger.

(CoS, Ch4)

Harry is angry. He likes the Weasleys and hates hearing them being talked about like this. Still, no one else sees his anger because he's hiding, and he knows he'd be worse off if he left his hiding spot. Harry isn't all that impulsive (yet). He just swallows his anger down for the sake of what needs to be done — in this case hiding.

“Dobby is used to death threats, sir. Dobby gets them five times a day at home.” He blew his nose on a corner of the filthy pillowcase he wore, looking so pathetic that Harry felt his anger ebb away in spite of himself. [...] Dobby mopped his bulging eyes and said suddenly, “Harry Potter must go home! Dobby thought his Bludger would be enough to make — ” “Your Bludger?” said Harry, anger rising once more. “What d’you mean, your Bludger? You made that Bludger try and kill me?”

(CoS, Ch10)

Here, we see more of Harry's usual anger and how he bottles everything up. He is rightfully angry at Dobby for everything he did, but he also feels pity for him, his anger doesn't cloud Harry's ability to empathize with others. And if you look at the second quote, you see that in his head Harry is rightfully angry at an attempt to murder him but he's talking calmly and quietly. He isn't shouting. He isn't being violent or impolite. Harry's anger, as seen by others, is cold and quiet because he bottles it up.

“And why did you want to meet me?” said Harry. Anger was coursing through him, and it was an effort to keep his voice steady.

(CoS, Ch17)

This is later, when facing Tom. Harry feels betrayed. He wanted so bad to be Tom's freind, he tried so much to ignore what was happening so he could keep his new BFF and first crush. But when he is betrayed, he gets angry, rightfully so, again. And we see he isn't shouting or acting angry and rashly. He's speaking steadily and quietly and makes an active effort to do so.

Harry knows how he comes off and is actively trying to make his voice steady and not sound angry/scared! He's smart and not impulsive. He's very aware of his external behavior and actively conceals his anger from appearing externally.

My boy is angry, but he isn't a brash hothead.

I do want to note another thing about Harry's anger. Harry responds with anger when he's scared, when he's grieving, when he feels helpless. Anger is just the easiest emotional response for him to go to, and it's why he reacts with anger to a lot of the things he goes through. Anger is an emotion he understands, so everything kinda feels like anger that he can keep pushing down.

Prisoner of Azkaban:

In PoA, we have a few interesting scenes showcasing Harry's anger really well. Some of the anger descriptions from this book are my favorite by far but we'll get to it.

This is the first book we start seeing Harry act out in anger. Until now, we saw Harry fuming inside but acting calm to the outside world. In PoA, he still mostly does that, but we start seeing him cracking under the weight of life. That bottle he's been filling up for years is close to it's threshold.

just as Uncle Vernon burst out of the dining room, his trouser leg in bloody tatters. “COME BACK IN HERE!” he bellowed. “COME BACK AND PUT HER RIGHT!” But a reckless rage had come over Harry. He kicked his trunk open, pulled out his wand, and pointed it at Uncle Vernon. “She deserved it,” Harry said, breathing very fast. “She deserved what she got. You keep away from me.”  He fumbled behind him for the latch on the door. “I’m going,” Harry said. “I’ve had enough.”

(PoA, Ch2)

This above has Harry acting rashly and impulsively in anger. He is ready to just up and go in a moment of rage with little to no forethought which isn't how Harry usually operates. Aunt Marge and Vernon just made him reach his tipping point. Some of that anger has spilled out and Harry's acting out because he doesn't know what else to do.

This is a kid who up to this point never even had the chance to grieve his dead parents properly. He never got to just sit there and feel any of what he's going through. He just keeps swallowing it down and here, we see him start to slip. What he's been pushing down is starting to become too much.

I will note that still, even when he is more brash and angry here, he isn't shouting. He's speaking calmly and evenly even as he's raging inside.

I also want to note the situation with Hermione over the Firebolt:

Professor McGonagall turned on her heel and carried the Firebolt out of the portrait hole, which closed behind her. Harry stood staring after her, the tin of High-Finish Polish still clutched in his hands. Ron, however, rounded on Hermione. “What did you go running to McGonagall for?” [...] Harry knew that Hermione had meant well, but that didn’t stop him from being angry with her. He had been the owner of the best broom in the world for a few short hours, and now, because of her interference, he didn’t know whether he would ever see it again. He was positive that there was nothing wrong with the Firebolt now, but what sort of state would it be in once it had been subjected to all sorts of anti-jinx tests? Ron was furious with Hermione too.

(PoA, Ch11-12)

Harry is mad at Hermione, he has his reasons to be, but he understands why she did it. He is angry, but he's smart and empathetic and he knows Hermione. He knows she only wants him safe, he's still mad, but he doesn't shout at her like Ron does. He pushes his anger down because he doesn't want to upset her. He;s not as furious as Ron is.

In the early books, we see Ron stepping forward to curse Malfoy, shout at Hermione, or stop talking to Harry over the tournament. Ron's the one that is more hot-headed in the early books and springs to act in moments of anger while Harry tends to stay cool-headed (because he pushes his anger down). He is angry inside his head, but he stays calm outside and even stops Ron from going after Malfoy (eat slugs incident, Harry tried to stop him).

(I will note this might have to do with Ron having siblings. Letting your emotions out is a good thing. It is a good thing to tell people you are close to you are upset with them. Arguing with your siblings and shouting at them on occasion can even be healthy! It can keep you from creating grudges and getting bitter. It's not necessarily bad. It's just that Harry and Hermione didn't have siblings and don't know how healthy arguments between people who love each other (which is what Ron is going for with Hermione above) work.)

One of my favorite moments of Harry's anger in the series is everything to do with Sirius when he thinks he's guilty:

A hatred such as he had never known before was coursing through Harry like poison. He could see Black laughing at him through the darkness

(PoA, Ch11)

A boiling hate erupted in Harry’s chest, leaving no place for fear. For the first time in his life, he wanted his wand back in his hand, not to defend himself, but to attack . . . to kill. [...] “NO YOU DON’T!” roared Harry, and he aimed a kick at Crookshanks that made the cat leap aside, spitting; Harry snatched up his wand and turned — “Get out of the way!” he shouted at Ron and Hermione. They didn’t need telling twice. [...] Black was sprawled at the bottom of the wall. His thin chest rose and fell rapidly as he watched Harry walking slowly nearer, his wand pointing straight at Black’s heart. “Going to kill me, Harry?” he whispered. Harry stopped right above him, his wand still pointing at Black’s chest, looking down at him. A livid bruise was rising around Black’s left eye and his nose was bleeding. “You killed my parents,” said Harry, his voice shaking slightly, but his wand hand quite steady.

(PoA, Ch17)

This is the first occurrence we see Harry in a true rage. The kind of anger that pushes him to act impulsively and violently. Harry actually screams in rage.

It's not unreasonable, he thinks Sirius betrayed his parents, these same parents Harry never really got the chance to mourn. But Harry doesn't really shout when angry, he's quiet in his anger usually. But here he actually roars out. He demands Ron and Hermione move from his way, he kicks Crookchanks and goes to kill Sirius. Harry is acting completely from anger without really thinking or realizing what he's doing. This is the kind of rage where you see red and don't really know what you're doing until you're doing it.

I love how he describes it: "coursing through Harry like poison". It's just such a visceral description for a very visceral emotion. This isn't Harry's usual anger, this is rage, this is beyond his usual anger. It's the type of anger most fans associate with him because of OotP. This uncontrolled rage that pushes him to be impulsive is a trauma response. It comes up when Harry is at an emotional low. When there's too much, when he feels to many things and he can't handle them all so he lashes out in anger.

In this case, Harry is facing the man he believes sold out his parents, who trusted him, of course, he's angry and betrayed. Of course, it's different from the anger he feels when Snape is being a dick. It is different. It's rage, and grief, and fear, and pain, and it's a cry for help.

Harry has an impressive capacity to bottle up his emotions, but from book 3, we see him teetering on the threshold. And it just gets worse from here (like his experiences in the books).

Goblet of Fire:

GoF is a rough year, and Harry is very angry throughout this year. Still, we see his usual "cold anger" not his rage. He's angry inside his head, we see it, but he doesn't act out on any of it, nor does he even say anything about it. He's bottling it all up. If we weren't reading his thoughts, we probably wouldn't have these gems of anger:

Harry’s ears were ringing. The injustice of it made him want to curse Snape into a thousand slimy pieces. He passed Snape, walked with Ron to the back of the dungeon, and slammed his bag down onto the table. Ron was shaking with anger too — for a moment, it felt as though everything was back to normal between them, but then Ron turned and sat down with Dean and Seamus instead, leaving Harry alone at his table. On the other side of the dungeon, Malfoy turned his back on Snape and pressed his badge, smirking. POTTER STINKS flashed once more across the room. Harry sat there staring at Snape as the lesson began, picturing horrific things happening to him. . . . If only he knew how to do the Cruciatus Curse . . . he’d have Snape flat on his back like that spider, jerking and twitching. . . .

(GoF, Ch18)

Harry felt oddly separate from everyone around him, whether they were wishing him good luck or hissing “We’ll have a box of tissues ready, Potter ” as he passed. It was a state of nervousness so advanced that he wondered whether he mightn’t just lose his head when they tried to lead him out to his dragon, and start trying to curse everyone in sight.

(GoF, Ch20)

Harry spends a good chunk of GoF wishing he could curse Snape, other students, and even Ron occasionally. He feels helpless and that makes him angry. But he doesn't actually curse anyone. He doesn't even sass Snape in the above example, he just glares.

But you'll notice, again, the way he handles his anger/other issues is not really about mastering the emotion and letting it go. No, Harry just holds that anger in. He never learned to let it go, so all the times, his anger came off as cold and chill to others; it's because Harry's keeping a lid on things. By GoF, Harry can barely keep the cap on:

From the moment the article had appeared, Harry had had to endure people — Slytherins, mainly — quoting it at him as he passed and making sneering comments. “Want a hanky, Potter, in case you start crying in Transfiguration?” “Since when have you been one of the top students in the school, Potter? Or is this a school you and Longbottom have set up together?” “Hey — Harry!” “Yeah, that’s right!” Harry found himself shouting as he wheeled around in the corridor, having had just about enough. “I’ve just been crying my eyes out over my dead mum, and I’m just off to do a bit more. . . .” “No — it was just — you dropped your quill.” It was Cho. Harry felt the color rising in his face.

(GoF, Ch19)

And so we get scenes like the above. Harry is walking around like a powder keg waiting to explode. He has been bottling his frustration and anger all his life, he comes off as chill not because he manages it well but because he hides it. He makes his voice steady and quiet because it's what he learned at the Dursleys, but it's not that the anger disappears, he holds onto all of it. That's why the worse the situation is, the worse Harry's anger is. He doesn't have the capacity to push it all down.

And this is why he occasionally starts blowing up in GoF. The more helpless and frustrated he is, the more his bottle is filled and he just can't handle it beyond a certain point.

Order of the Pheonix:

OotP is Harry at his angriest. If I wanted to copy all the qoutes from this book that show Harry's anger, I'd probably have to copy the whole book. As it is, I've hand-picked a few examples:

“SO YOU HAVEN’T BEEN IN THE MEETINGS, BIG DEAL! YOU’VE STILL BEEN HERE, HAVEN’T YOU? YOU’VE STILL BEEN TOGETHER! ME, I’VE BEEN STUCK AT THE DURSLEYS’ FOR A MONTH! AND I’VE HANDLED MORE THAN YOU TWO’VE EVER MANAGED AND DUMBLEDORE KNOWS IT — WHO SAVED THE SORCERER’S STONE? WHO GOT RID OF RIDDLE? WHO SAVED BOTH YOUR SKINS FROM THE DEMENTORS?” Every bitter and resentful thought that Harry had had in the past month was pouring out of him; his frustration at the lack of news, the hurt that they had all been together without him, his fury at being followed and not told about it: All the feelings he was half-ashamed of finally burst their boundaries. Hedwig took fright at the noise and soared off on top of the wardrobe again; Pigwidgeon twittered in alarm and zoomed even faster around their heads. “WHO HAD TO GET PAST DRAGONS AND SPHINXES AND EVERY OTHER FOUL THING LAST YEAR? WHO SAW HIM COME BACK? WHO HAD TO ESCAPE FROM HIM? ME!” [...] Harry was not sure his anger had abated yet; but his thirst for information was now overcoming his urge to keep shouting. He sank onto the bed opposite the others.

(OotP, Ch4)

There are two aspects I want to note about his anger here. Harry, as I mentioned above, even when he is mad at Ron and Hermione, he usually doesn't shout at them like this. This is Harry way past his threshold, traumatized with no idea how to handle any of the emotions he's feeling. Ron and Hermione are getting the brunt of that bottle exploding here.

And Harry has a good reason to be angry with them here, don't get me wrong. Harry usually has really good reasons to be angry. I'm just noting that he would have held back his anger if he wasn't in the worst emotional state we've seen from him up to this point. If he had the capacity in his bottle of emotions, Ron and Hermione wouldn't even know he was upset with them.

The other thing I want to bring up is the second section from the above quote. After Harry lets out a bit of the steam he's been building up for years by this point he swallows it down and caps it again because he wants information. He's still angry, he's still upset, but he holds his tongue to get information. He still doesn't feel free or capable of explaining why he's feeling what he's feeling. A lot of it isn't just anger at Ron and Hermione. It's everything. And he has no idea how to parse what he's feeling.

Like I mentioned in the past, Harry doesn't like showing weakness, he doesn't tend to act emotionally or rashly because he knows how people see it. But he isn't actually letting go of all that anger, he lets it build up:

“Harry?” said Hermione tentatively. “Well done,” said Harry, so heartily it did not sound like his voice at all, and still not looking at her. “Brilliant. Prefect. Great.” “Thanks,” said Hermione. “Erm — Harry — could I borrow Hedwig so I can tell Mum and Dad? They’ll be really pleased — I mean, prefect is something they can understand —” “Yeah, no problem,” said Harry, still in the horrible hearty voice that did not belong to him. “Take her!”

(OotP, Ch9)

And up.

He just keeps pushing his anger down. If Sirius hadn't noticed and told him that he and James weren't prefects either, Harry would've kept stewing in it. Because he wouldn't have told Ron and Hermione he was jealous because he doesn't really tell anyone shit. He just lets it build:

“Oh, shut up, the pair of you,” said Harry heavily, as Ron opened his mouth to argue back. Hermione and Ron both froze, looking angry and offended. “Can’t you give it a rest?” he said. “You’re always having a go at each other, it’s driving me mad.” And abandoning his shepherd’s pie, he swung his schoolbag back over his shoulder and left them sitting there. He walked up the marble staircase two steps at a time, past the many students hurrying toward lunch. The anger that had just flared so unexpectedly still blazed inside him, and the vision of Ron and Hermione’s shocked faces afforded him a sense of deep satisfaction. Serve them right, he thought. Why can’t they give it a rest? . . . Bickering all the time . . . It’s enough to drive anyone up the wall. . . .

(OotP, Ch12)

And keeps snapping at everyone becouse he doesn't have a handle on his emotions. He doesn't really process what he's gone through/going through and he's lashing out.

Harry's anger in OotP is the powder keg blowing. It's why he's more rash, more vocal, actually screaming at people in a way he hasn't before. It's why we see him lose control of himself in anger more than before:

Harry was not aware of releasing George, all he knew was that a second later both of them were sprinting at Malfoy. He had completely forgotten the fact that all the teachers were watching: All he wanted to do was cause Malfoy as much pain as possible. With no time to draw out his wand, he merely drew back the fist clutching the Snitch and sank it as hard as he could into Malfoy’s stomach — “Harry! HARRY! GEORGE! NO !” He could hear girls’ voices screaming, Malfoy yelling, George swearing, a whistle blowing, and the bellowing of the crowd around him, but he did not care, not until somebody in the vicinity yelled “IMPEDIMENTA!” and only when he was knocked over backward by the force of the spell did he abandon the attempt to punch every inch of Malfoy he could reach. . . .

(OotP, Ch19)

Because he reached his limit of how much he can bottle up and he has no healthy means of letting any of it out. The D.A. helped a little as a distraction, it helped him feel less helpless, but he only just addressed the traumatic experience he had in the graveyard by talking about it when more just kept getting piled up onto him.

“Harry — no!” cried Lupin, but Harry had already ripped his arm from Lupin’s slackened grip. “SHE KILLED SIRIUS!” bellowed Harry. “SHE KILLED HIM — I’LL KILL HER!”….. [...] Hatred rose in Harry such as he had never known before. He flung himself out from behind the fountain and bellowed “Crucio!” Bellatrix screamed. The spell had knocked her off her feet, but she did not writhe and shriek with pain as Neville had — she was already on her feet again, breathless, no longer laughing. [...] “Never used an Unforgivable Curse before, have you, boy?” she yelled. She had abandoned her baby voice now. “You need to mean them, Potter! You need to really want to cause pain — to enjoy it — righteous anger won’t hurt me for long — I’ll show you how it is done, shall I? I’ll give you a lesson —”

(OotP, Ch36)

Running after Bellatrix was an impulsive decision. It's that same rage that overtook Harry to kick Crokshanks and try to kill Sirius. It's that seeing red sort of rage that encompasses everything. Grief overflowing Harry's emotional bottle and all he knows how to react with — is anger.

Harry, as I mentioned in the past, doesn't cry in front of others. He doesn't let himself. and the emotions gotta get out somehow. For Harry, that somehow is anger.

Half-Blood Prince:

After Sirius' death, Harry is much rawer. He basically starts this book beyond his threshold.

“If there’s anyone else here who’s not from Gryffindor,” roared Harry, who was starting to get seriously annoyed, “leave now, please!”

(HBP, Ch11)

So he gets annoyed more easily. He lashes out and shouts more often. He tries to physically attack more often too:

“Another ten points from Gryffindor,” said Snape. “I would expect nothing more sophisticated from you, Ronald Weasley, the boy so solid he cannot Apparate half an inch across a room.” “No!” whispered Hermione, grabbing Harry’s arm as he opened his mouth furiously. “There’s no point, you’ll just end up in detention again, leave it!”

(HBP, Ch21)

Something he didn't do up until OotP and even then rarely. Harry is hot-headed not because he's easy to anger (again, his capacity for bottling up is impressive if he just seriously started lashing out in GoF), most of his grievances are reasonable, he's hot-headed becouse he's suffering and has no idea how to handle it.

“Just now!” said Harry, who was refraining from yelling with enormous difficulty. And then, suddenly, he could not stop himself. “AND YOU LET HIM TEACH HERE AND HE TOLD VOLDEMORT TO GO AFTER MY MUM AND DAD!” Breathing hard as though he was fighting, Harry turned away from Dumbledore, who still had not moved a muscle, and paced up and down the study, rubbing his knuckles in his hand and exercising every last bit of restraint to prevent himself knocking things over. He wanted to rage and storm at Dumbledore, but he also wanted to go with him to try and destroy the Horcrux; he wanted to tell him that he was a foolish old man for trusting Snape, but he was terrified that Dumbledore would not take him along unless he mastered his anger. ... “Harry,” said Dumbledore quietly. “Please listen to me.”

(HBP, Ch25)

Again, he snaps and shouts way more than before. And he knows he shouldn't, he knows it comes off bad and people take him less seriously when he's angry and lashing out, but he can't help it as much since he still hasn't started letting go. He's still at his threshold all throughout HBP.

It's why we see him react the way he does after Snape kills Dumbledore, too. He was so angry all year. Since Sirius died, he's been running on fumes. The keg already blew in fifth year, and it didn't help him at all while he's barely holding himself together (but no one else sees this). And then, he had more pushed onto him after he already had less than zero capacity to deal with things.

Deathly Hallows:

Much of the anger we see from Harry in this book is due to either the locket or the Horcrux in him, but I'm not counting that sort of anger. I want to focus on Harry's anger.

The grief that had possessed him since Dumbledore’s death felt different now. The accusations he had heard from Muriel at the wedding seemed to have nested in his brain like diseased things, infecting his memories of the wizard he had idolized. Could Dumbledore have let such things happen? Had he been like Dudley, content to watch neglect and abuse as long as it did not affect him? Could he have turned his back on a sister who was being imprisoned and hidden? Harry thought of Godric’s Hollow, of graves Dumbledore had never mentioned there; he thought of mysterious objects left without explanation in Dumbledore’s will, and resentment swelled in the darkness. Why hadn’t Dumbledore told him? Why hadn’t he explained? Had Dumbledore actually cared about Harry at all? Or had Harry been nothing more than a tool to be polished and honed, but not trusted, never confided in? Harry could not stand lying there with nothing but bitter thoughts for company. Desperate for something to do, for distraction, he slipped out of his sleeping bag, picked up his wand, and crept out of the room.

(DH, Ch10)

Harry's feelings of grief over Dumbledore are interwind with betrayal, helplessness, and feeling lost in general, and he feels all of it as anger. As I mentioned above, anger is Harry's go-to emotion when he's grieving, when he's in pain, when he feels too much and has no idea what to do with any of it — it lands him in anger.

It's a big part of why he reads as so angry with Dumbledore throughout the book. He has complicated feelings about the man, feelings he has no idea how to even start to unpack, so he feels angry.

In DH too, we see him more easily agitated than in the first 4 books. Harry is way past his limit in this book, but he tries so hard not to show it. To keep that lid on (nevermind that it exploded two years ago).

“I’d never have believed this,” Harry said. “The man who taught me to fight dementors—a coward.” Lupin drew his wand so fast that Harry had barely reached for his own; there was a loud bang and he felt himself flying backward as if punched; as he slammed into the kitchen wall and slid to the floor, he glimpsed the tail of Lupin’s cloak disappearing around the door. “Remus, Remus, come back!” Hermione cried, but Lupin did not respond. A moment later they heard the front door slam. “Harry!” wailed Hermione. “How could you?” “It was easy,” said Harry. He stood up; he could feel a lump swelling where his head had hit the wall. He was still so full of anger he was shaking. “Don’t look at me like that!” he snapped at Hermione. “Don’t you start on her!” snarked Ron. “No—no—we mustn’t fight!” said Hermione, launching herself between them.

(DH, Ch11)

He's shaking from anger. His voice is calm and quiet like his usual response for hiding his anger, but he can't fully hide it. His body gives him away becouse he feels so much of it.

Harry was 100% right to call Lupin out, but I think the ruler way he did it was because he's suffering. He's in emotional turmoil, and twisting his words like a knife, in a way he knew would hurt Lupin, made him feel a little better. It let him take some of that anger out. It is a form of lashing out.

Him snapping at Hermione after and being ready to fist fight Ron is an extension of this lashing out. Harry, when at his limit, lashes out in anger becouse it's all he really knows how.

(He needs a better grieving method. He needs a fucking hug and for someone to tell him he's allowed to cry. He needs a good cry. I think it's why he's calmer after going to Godric's Hallow. He cried a little, grieved his parents, truly, for the first time in his life, and it helped him let some of his pain out in a healthier way)

“It’s not a case of what you’ll permit, Minerva McGonagall. You time’s over. It’s us what’s in charge here now, and you’ll back me up or you’ll pay the price.” And he spat in her face. Harry pulled the Cloak off himself, raised his wand, and said, “You shouldn’t have done that.” As Amycus spun around, Harry shouted, “Crucio!” The Death Eater was lifted off his feet. He writhed through the air like a drowning man, thrashing and howling in pain, and then, with a crunch and a shattering of glass, he smashed into the front of a bookcase and crumpled, insensible, to the floor. “I see what Bellatrix meant,” said Harry, the blood thundering through his brain, “you need to really mean it.”

(DH, Ch30)

Still, things just keep getting added onto his plate. How I see Harry's anger is why I don't think the above scene is out of character for him. His anger fueling the curse isn't just about Amycus spiting at McGonagall. It's about how they tortured Neville, Ginny, and Luna. About his year on the run. About Dobby's death. About him being forced into a position he feels he wants ready for and has no idea what to do. This is years of feeling angry and helpless coming to ahead.

Amycus didn't suffer just for that one crime of his. Spitting on McGonagall just happened to be the straw that broke the camel's back.

To Summerise:

Harry isn't really good at managing his anger, or any other emotion really. He bottles it all up. His frustration, fear, grief, anger, helplessness, and pain all go together into Harry's little box of feelings so he can do whatever he needs to do and appear calm and quiet. It's why we see Harry fuming and boiling with rage inside his head while he's externally calm and cold and composed.

This lid he keeps on everything starts breaking as the emotions keep getting bottled up and he keeps not really processing them. So in GoF Harry is teetering on his very impressive threshold and then, after the graveyard, he breaks.

He suffered so much all at once and then was left alone to stew at the Dursleys for a whole month, suffering from nightmares and having no idea how to process any of what he's been through. Of course, he fucking breaks in OotP.

And when Harry breaks, all these emotions he kept down come out as anger. The reason he reacts so dramatically to smaller offenses post-OotP isn't that he's easy to anger, he really isn't. It's just that he has accumulated pain and grief from 14 years of trauma and abuse that are just now being let out in the form of Harry angrily lashing out.

So, I wouldn't say his anger management is amazing, but his problem isn't really the anger itself, it's emotional regulation in general. He needs to learn to deal with his emotions instead of bottling them up. If he does, he probably won't have any issues with anger management and would just sass his way through life.

[reallyromealone]

Title: fae love

Fandom: none

Characters: original character (orc), reader

Fic type: nsfw, story

Pairings: orc x male reader

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, nsfw, smut, reader has some description, boy pussy term used, reader is a fae, chaotic reader

Notes: I thought I posted this but I didn't, this is super indulgent, and yeah. Normally this would go through Patreon first but I'm feeling kind

🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️

(name) smiled as he was carried by the giant orc that was his mate, a towering ten feet tall to (name) 's five feet four inches, the pretty fae kissing the orc's olive cheek sweetly as they went back to their farm, a sweet little farm in the woods outside of town "I told you no more fires in non agreed fireplaces" he said gruffly to (name) who just smiled "you're the one who chose to become fated mates with me~"

The Orc sighed, looking at the gold ring on (name) 's finger and the wedding necklace, indeed he chose (name) for marriage, he did love his chaotic husband.

(Name) often treated his husband like a jungle gym, the tiny fae usually resting on his shoulder as he went about things and used his magic for various tasks "My love, please... You're awful at cooking" he swatted (name)s hand away when (name) tried to help by adding flower petals to the stew "but they make the stew look magical ~!" Was (name) 's reasoning as he watched the other stir the rabbit and vegetable soup "I added extra (vegetable), magical enough?" The orc gently kissed the other calf, tusks grazing (name) 's flesh, and (name) giggled "You romantic~"

(Name) always sat in his husband's lap when they ate and spoke about their days, (name) in the woods building little homes for the mouse village as they wanted to expand--- thankfully their building supplies were primarily popsicle sticks, the Orc gladly letting his love do that, especially since the mouse folk traded for mushrooms and herbs they find, it also kept (name) from causing mischief amongst the fae wilds, the two living outside the fae wild portal ring and often seeing passerbys that (name) would prank (read: setting their shoes on fire).

It was always a serene affair.

Well for (name).

When bedtime came, (name) carefully took off his jewelry as did his husband, removing any makeup for the night against the candlelight "Oh..." (Name) whispered as he felt his love's large hards easily spread his legs, rubbing the inside of his thighs "been energetic these days, causing problems..." The orc said as (name) leaned into his broad chest and felt the other large cock against his ass "Have no output for this energy..." (Name) said back breathlessly as he already imagined the sweet stretch of the other cock "need something... Big to help me relax" he cooed and grinned impishly when his large husband tossed him on the giant bed, something they invested in long ago.

The orc pulled down his pants, large girthy cock erect and heavy, a deep red tip that slowly turned green "pretty.." fourteen inches that (name) couldn't help but feel giddy as he crawled to the other and gently took the others cock in his hands, kissing the tip sweetly as he stroked the shaft with both hands, taking the tip into his mouth as he gently placed his hands on his abdomen and a womb tattoo appeared, already using magic to keep his body intact so the other could fill him fully, essentially an infinity spell to not kill him.

The taste of pre-cum made (name) hazy, fae pre-cum and the likes were aphrodisiacs, (name) 's eyes heavy as the effects of the tattoo began "Gonna take me well... Always do" the orc grumbled as he watched (name) stroke him off and trying to take him but sadly he just couldn't fit him in, not without using magic to warp his body.

And last time that happened it was horrific when he let (name) do the magic using.

Jaw unhinging and face distorting...the poor orc couldn't look at his husband the same for a week.

"Lemme see that ass" (name) let himself be manhandled into his husband's hold, upside down as he held onto the other cock while being held in the air, letting out a shaky breath when he felt his loves tongue lick from his balls to his ass and circling his hot tongue around the rim as (name) shakily stroked the orcs cock as his husband's long tongue went down to curl around (name)s cock, average in size but tiny to the massive orc who felt the aphrodisiac affects himself as his large fingers pushed into (name)s ass.

(Name) Whined and moaned as he felt himself fall apart, clinging onto the other's cock like a lifeline as his ass was finger fucked and his cock licked methodically "Please... Need it..." He needed that itch scratched, yelping when his husband smacked his ass "Behave" the other grunted as his tusks scraped (name)s lower ass cheeks.

(Name) Was manhandled onto his back, for a moment he felt giddy thinking he was getting the other big cock but let out a loud cry as his husband's index middle and ring finger fucked his ass aggressively, veins showing up on the orc's arms as he fucked as hard as he could against (name)s prostate as (name) climaxed hard but the other continued fucking through his climax, watching intensely.

He could barely muster words, the two having a safe word as their sessions got... Intense so the mewls of "stop" and "I can't!" Fell on deaf ears as the orc grinned at his lover's fucked out expression as he slowly pulled his wet fingers out "Your little ass-pussy is ready... You good there baby boy?" He asked as (name) whined "please..." (Name) Begged as he let his husband kiss him slowly, lining his giant cock to (name)s poor entrance and pushing in, shushing his whined at the sensation. no matter how many times they did it, it still stung as the orc slowly bottomed out.

"You did so good, my love" the orc soothed him as he let (name) adjust, no matter how much prep the sweet face needed to adjust for a few minutes as his body twitched helplessly "Big..." (Name) Whined as he felt his husband kiss stray tears.

The two stayed like this for a few moments before (name) gave the ok and the other slowly began thrusting, pushing out to the tip and pushing in, with each thrust he slowly picked up speed. "Oh! Fuck!" (Name) Gasped as he felt the other's balls slap against his ass, hips bruising as he was fucked like a doll.

"More!"

"Yes!"

"O-oh!"

Climaxes and moans, scratches and bites were all the things that (name) got and gave as his legs stretched with a slight burn, riding his beloved as his wings stretched out, previously hidden with magic as a harsh climax rolled through and the dust from his wings lifting them slightly "yes! Fuck me with that cock!" (Name) Scratched down the other's chest as he developed more fae features, unable to keep his magic back.

"Gonna cum in that pretty hole, take it all!" (Name) Collapsed as he was stuffed, stomach bulging as his husband filled his belly with cum.

"There... Keep you from setting trees on fire for a few days..."

[moonlight-joy]

Beneath Montana Skies

Fandom: Yellowstone

Summury: A young Dutton returns to Yellowstone Ranch, rekindling her connection to her family’s legacy while navigating a forbidden romance with rugged foreman Rip Wheeler, challenging loyalty, love, and the unyielding spirit of Montana.

Pairing: Dutton!Reader/Rip Wheeler

The early morning sun casts a golden glow over Yellowstone Ranch, the sound of cattle echoing across the vast expanse. Dressed in a flannel shirt and dusty boots, you swing your leg over your horse, Blaze, and take in the sight of the land your family has called home for generations. At 25, you’re the youngest Dutton, returning after years away studying veterinary medicine in Texas. You didn’t warn anyone you were coming—not even your father, John Dutton.

“You didn’t even call,” John says gruffly, leaning against the corral fence.

A smirk tugs at your lips. “Wanted to see if the ranch could survive without me.”

John chuckles despite himself, his hard exterior softening. “You’re your mother’s daughter, alright. Stubborn as hell.”

Before you can reply, a tall, rugged figure approaches. Rip Wheeler, the ranch foreman, tips his hat. His piercing gaze lingers on you a moment too long.

“Boss,” he says, nodding to John before shifting his attention to you. “So you’re the infamous youngest Dutton. Heard a lot about you.”

“Good things, I hope,” you say, offering him a sly smile.

“Depends who you ask,” Rip says, his lips twitching into a smirk. “I’m Rip.”

“Nice to meet you,” you reply, extending your hand. His grip is firm, his calloused hand a testament to years of hard work. A spark flickers between you—subtle but undeniable.

You quickly find your rhythm on the ranch, your veterinary skills proving invaluable. But your fiery personality sometimes clashes with your siblings, especially Beth. She’s fiercely protective of Rip and watches your interactions with barely concealed suspicion.

One evening, you find yourself alone in the stables, brushing down Blaze. The steady rhythm of the brush and the familiar scents of hay and leather calm your thoughts, until the sound of boots on hay catches your attention.

“You always work this late?” Rip asks, leaning against the doorway.

You glance up, brushing a strand of auburn hair from your face. “Someone’s got to make sure these horses are taken care of. And you? Don’t you ever stop?”

Rip steps closer, his gaze steady. “Stopping’s not really my thing.”

His nearness makes your breath hitch, but you steady yourself, meeting his gaze head-on. “So, tell me—how does a guy like you end up working for my family?”

Rip’s jaw tightens. “That’s a long story. Not sure you’d want to hear it.”

“Try me,” you challenge, your voice softer now.

Rip hesitates, then pulls up a hay bale and sits down. Slowly, he opens up, sharing his troubled past, the loss of his family, and how John Dutton gave him a second chance. As he speaks, you see beyond his tough exterior to the vulnerable man beneath.

When he finishes, his eyes search yours, as if waiting for judgment. Instead, you place your hand on his.

“Sounds like you’ve been through hell,” you say gently. “But you’re still here. That says a lot.”

Rip’s gaze softens, and for the first time in years, he feels truly seen. “You’re something else, you know that?”

You smile. “Guess you’ll just have to stick around and find out.”

Your connection with Rip deepens in stolen moments: glances across the dinner table, late-night rides under the stars, and whispered conversations in the barn. But secrecy weighs heavy on you both. Rip’s loyalty to your father and your fear of family backlash keep you cautious.

One night, by the firepit, Rip finally speaks what’s on both your minds. “We can’t keep sneaking around, not here. Your dad’s gonna find out.”

Leaning against him, your head resting on his shoulder, you reply, “Let me worry about my dad. I know what I want, Rip. And it’s you.”

“You don’t make things easy, do you?” he says, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Never,” you say, your voice full of defiance.

Secrets don’t stay buried long on Yellowstone Ranch. One evening, Beth corners Rip. Her piercing gaze doesn’t waver.

“Whatever you’re doing with her, end it,” she warns. “You know how this ends.”

Rip doesn’t flinch. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you?” Beth snaps. “Because if John finds out, it won’t just be your job on the line—it’ll be her heart, too.”

When Rip tells you about Beth’s warning, it forces you to face the risks. One evening, under the vast Montana sky, he takes your hands and asks, “I don’t want to hurt you. But I need to know—are you sure about this? About me?”

Cupping his face, you meet his gaze with unwavering resolve. “Rip, I’ve never been more sure of anything. I don’t care what my family thinks. I love you.”

For the first time, Rip allows himself to believe he deserves happiness. Together, you face the challenges of ranch life and the fallout from your relationship.

When the truth comes out, John’s anger is sharp, but it’s tempered by the undeniable bond between you and Rip. Even Beth, though reluctant, eventually steps back, offering you a guarded warning.

“If he breaks your heart, I’ll break his jaw,” she says, half-serious, half-teasing.

Together, you and Rip prove your love can weather any storm. Whether it’s battling land disputes or facing personal trials, you find strength in each other.

Years later, standing on the porch of the small cabin you share with Rip at the edge of the ranch, you watch the sun dip behind the mountains. The trials you’ve faced have only made your love stronger.

“You ever think we’d get here?” you ask softly.

Rip wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. “Not in a million years. But I wouldn’t change a thing.”

As the sky turns shades of pink and orange, you know your story is only beginning—one forged in fire, love, and the unyielding spirit of Yellowstone Ranch.

Please support my work with like and comment

[blackknight-kai]

Please sir! May we have some jealous/possessive DO and Wukong?🥺🥣

A smattering of NSFW would be ok too!!

(New in the fandom so still learning the ropes and many names but your writing and ideas are so great! Really sucking me in deeper!!) ❤️🐵

Oh so you wanna see what he’d be like jealous/possessive huh? All right.

(Sorry if this one is a little meh, I’m very tired from work 😭 and I’m brain dead. it’s hard to make a jealousy one without getting TOOOOO toxic, not that I couldn’t do that but I wasn’t sure if that was wanted)

Below at the end will be a n.s.f.w for both monkeys and a slight yandere section. Be warned!

Destined One

This would be something that sneaks up on him. He is 100% not expecting to end up jealous or as possessive as he is. Honestly he grew up around a many mouths to feed and in such a social setting one gets used to sharing most things besides some personal effects. While he himself wasn’t always the most touchy feely of the monkeys on Flower Fruit Mountain and has never been jealous of the shared affection between the other monkeys.

Meeting you was something that changed everything for him. At first he considered you just the same as everyone else, another person in his life to share food with or occasionally a space to sleep at night on your mutual journey. Over time though something within him shifted. You’d grown to be someone important to him. Someone he could trust, care for, and be cared about in return. Your companionship was something he cherished and it went deeper than any relationship hed ever had, as he always kept to himself.

Over time you two shared casual touches or sometimes slept close together at night when it’s cold. He’d grown used to you always being near, his tail brushing against you or curling around your ankle or arm. Food is shared between you and sometimes a piece of clothing, like the time you’d gotten soaked and he let you borrow his robe top.

He hadn’t noticed, not right away at least, but his feelings began to take an interesting turn the more time he spent with you.

Before Getting together:

- [ ] He’s used to it always being just the two of you. So when someone joins your journey, be it a short time or an extended time, it throws him off for some reason.

- [ ] He gets irritated very quickly, which is shown through a particular frown on his face and his tail flicking. Jaw clenching and unclenching. He sighs or huffs more often and his shoulders are always tense as he watches you interact with the other companion(s). Mainly it’s you smiling or laughing with them

- [ ] He doesnt know WHY he feels that way or where it’s coming from. When you’re off bathing or doing something ALONE he doesnt feel like this. When your other companions are talking to someone else he doesnt feel irritated.

- [ ] Regularly sits close when he’s feeling like this, his back may be turned or he might be up in a tree, but he’s always listening. Can’t help it. His tail will be flicking or curling at the end in a motion of annoyance.

- [ ] He also feels a pit in his stomach whenever he gets like this and he often wonders if he’s sick or ate something bad.

- [ ] He has also gotten used to the casual touches you give him, leans into them, where as he may have just put up with it or moved away from it when he was home with the other monkeys. Seeing someone casually touch you or you them makes him clench his jaw and he has the urge to barrel his way between you and them.

- [ ] He might do just that actually, or he will do something impulsively to catch your attention.

- [ ] He also may just start pranking you a little more or ‘pulling your pigtails’ that kind of thing.

- [ ] He also might just go fight something. Anything to get whatever pent up irritation he has out of his system.

- [ ] Often finds his eyes on you, especially if there are others around and you’re interacting with them. Always vigilant of anything amiss going on (or so he tells himself)

- [ ] Won’t be as nice to companions if they push his buttons about you or catch on to whatever is happening. He’d be huffy with them or ignore them. When you aren’t looking might rudely prank them if they do this.

- [ ] It takes some time, but he finally starts to realize what’s happening and is VERY annoyed by it. He remembers when he’d seen others his age first start pairing off and finding mates, how they behaved. He hadn’t understood at the time, being too focused on his goals, but now….now hes understanding all the heightened hormones and the jealousy.

- [ ] Probably avoids you a bit….but he’s not really able to. Not when you travel together and spend almost all hours together.

- [ ] Bare with him, hes going to be a bit grumpy during this stage and probably make you feel a little like he doesn’t want to be around you but that isnt the case.

- [ ] Might brush your casual touches off or keep his distance. But he’s going to glower and huff when you interact with others.

- [ ] He is not used to the jealous emotions nor the OTHER feelings hes starting to realize he’s had. It’s not JUST jealousy due to having you to himself most of the time, he LIKES you.

- [ ] It’s scary for him, new.

- [ ] After a while he will come to terms with things. Probably sat for several hours meditating somewhere after he’d made you upset for his standoffish behavior.

- [ ] His jealousy from here on is more manageable, most of the time…..He also doesnt avoid you anymore unless he’s particularly angry about some interaction you had with someone.

- [ ] Hyper focuses on every interaction you have with him.

- [ ] Still hovers a bit when others are around you guys. Keeps his tail anchored to you and will brush it off as he didn’t know he was doing it.

After getting together:

- [ ] When you’d discovered he was jealous of your attention on others you find it amusing and endearing. He had rolled his eyes at your teasing and you both kind of just assumed it would dissipate over time, especially now that you were together.

- [ ] It does not.

- [ ] It settles a little, mainly because he can have you close or have his tail wrapped around some part of you as much as he wants now.

- [ ] And he trusts you. Knows you like/want HIM. Which boosts his ego.

- [ ] But…..he’s grown a bit possessive.

- [ ] Not in a bad way, he’s not gonna keep you trapped or prevent you from having friends etc.

- [ ] But if you smell like someone else(from a hug)? He’s gonna make sure to rub himself on you and reaffirm HIS scent is on you.

- [ ] No one else better touch you with their tail - that’s HIS privilege.

- [ ] He might walk by you and rub his tail on you to show you’re his as you talk to someone or just in general.

- [ ] Holds you tightly to him when you sleep/cuddle.

- [ ] If a hug from someone else (that he perceives may want more from you) he will pry their arms off you and move you away.

- [ ] Just to be close to you would stand behind you and hug you/hold you while you interact with someone.

Wukong:

Wukong knows fairly early on what’s happening to him in regards to you. It annoys the ever living shit out of him though at first. He’s been around long enough and has seen his fair share of lovers and jealousy in others over the years. Believe it or not he’s quite possessive/protective of what is his. He’s a king so in a way he has to be. He generally takes what he wants, be it food or things he finds interesting. Wukong isn’t toxic about it but he’s egotistical and arrogant mixed with chaotic mischievous energy so…he just always does what Wukong wants to do.

He’s grown up around his kind and they share so much. Be it grooming, food, items, protection and time. But as a king he’s grown to be a little selfish in his wants. He’s kind too. Funny. Playful. All the things we perceive him as.

One thing he’s never been though, is jealous romantically.

You’re someone that he doesn’t want to upset. So that means he can’t just treat you like a possession. He respects you. Cares for you. It’s a pain in his furry ass but a pain he wouldn’t get rid of. Why is it a pain? Because he kinda has to behave sometimes….cant have you disliking him. And his jealousy over you can be so…overwhelming. Makes him feel like a monkey cub.

Before Getting Together:

- [ ] Dramatic ass. That’s him.

- [ ] Expect to not know what crawled up his ass and died because he won’t tell you.

- [ ] Instead he’s just going to pout around being obnoxious. He’s gonna be grumpy sometimes and probably rude to others and you won’t know why. But his chest burns with irritation at the thought of someone else close to you.

- [ ] He’s old in age not in spirit okay?

- [ ] He will insert himself into most situations….private convos? Never heard of ‘em.

- [ ] He will lean on you or be in your space specifically when around others.

- [ ] His tail is always somewhere close to you if not anchored to you usually visibly just to make a point.

- [ ] The guy is the epitome ‘has crush on someone and proceeds to annoy them forever until they like him’. Especially when you’re not focused on him.

- [ ] If you manage to get him to unglue himself from your side while you spend time with someone else, he’s going to be only a few feet away being annoying, huffing and making noise. Or groaning that he’s bored. His tail is going bang on whatever is next to him or be flicking and swishing with irritation.

- [ ] Will try to turn conversations you have with others or derail them and wants to boast about himself. Or just get you to focus on him.

- [ ] Will definitely do stupid shit to make you look at him.

- [ ] He is going to use tricks to bother others who look at you twice (friendly or not). Won’t hurt them unless he has to because it may upset you. (Unless you don’t find out about it)

- [ ] Definitely tries to intimidate people when you’re not looking.

- [ ] If he isn’t near you a clone probably is somewhere close by watching - especially if you’re alone with someone he thinks might be into you/a threat to his position with you. Won’t do this if you’re bathing or have asked him to fuck off he remains respectful of that.

- [ ] If he’s particularly frustrated he will go cause some damage somewhere…

- [ ] Glowers at people when you are extra kind to them or smile at them a little too long.

After Getting together:

- [ ] He’s gonna settle down a bit mainly because he can just literally pull you to him and you won’t be upset about it.

- [ ] Secure in your relationship. Hes a king, he’s HIM, why would you have to look anywhere else? Exactly. You wouldn’t.

- [ ] Acts relatively the same though, pouts and gets huffy/his tail is whipping if you give someone else too much attention.

- [ ] Will insert his head onto your lap or be in your space while you talk to people, will calm if you pet him or scratch him.

- [ ] Does NOT like others making you do that one little laugh you do. Nuh uh, only he can do that.

- [ ] Tail is around you at all times if he’s next to you, visible to others as a show of claim, that you belong to each other.

- [ ] If someone even dares flirt with you? Yeah….they better get good at hide and seek.

- [ ] Would get you things and rub his scent on them and have you wear them.

- [ ] Definitely rubs his body on yours, wants to wear your scent too and wants you to smell like him.

- [ ] If you don’t and smell like someone else and it’s not someone he knows / trusts he’s gonna be big old ball of pissy and you’ll have to let him smother you for a bit with grumpy cuddles. (If it won’t make you mad he’d go find out who it was and fuck with them - scare them or play tricks on them)

- [ ] Will always know where you are for safe keeping, you can do you but he will have someone if not himself keeping an eye out for danger.

- [ ] Your place is next to him. Won’t stop you from making friends or anything because duh he has them too, but everyone, EVERYONE knows you’re his and he’s yours.

NSFW for Both Monkeys:

- [ ] You wear his marks under your clothes. And His scent.

- [ ] Will gently touch the marks he’s left on you with his teeth/lips or fingers, it’s your little secret.

- [ ] Likes full naked body rubbing on you for maximum scent coverage, for the both of you because he likes wearing your scent too.

- [ ] Will cum in/on you and rub it into your skin during sex.

- [ ] Will have you often/as often as he can.

- [ ] If he’s pushed too far he will carry you off (far out of sight and hearing range) to somewhere where he can reaffirm your relationship. Be it renewing a kiss mark or possessively touching you.

- [ ] ^ This includes making you orgasm multiple times to reaffirm that HE is the one that makes you feel this good.

- [ ] Would hump you, you both fully clothed, just to put his horny pheromones on you before joining others.

- [ ] Dont get too horny around other people (we know it would be his fault) but he would get jealous of it because THAT scent is for him alone.

- [ ] His tail will cheekily caress your ass or between your legs, when no one is looking because he respects you but also you’re his.

- [ ] Will squeeze your thigh or hips or whatever he can reach if he’s feeling extra possessive or jealous about something.

- [ ] Might not wash your combined scent and your juices off of himself right away. May not let you bathe his cum and scent off right away either. But will not force you to go unbathed, he will just rub his scent on you after your clean.

Extra nsfw - Slight Yandere

- [ ] Will NOT allow others to touch you.

- [ ] His scent is NEVER off you.

- [ ] Will cum in you and you will have to deal with him being inside you all day.

- [ ] Will rub his cum on you and you will have to wear that too under your clothes.

- [ ] Will keep you on his cock as long as he sees fit to remind you of who you belong to.

- [ ] You. Are. His. Will fuck you within ear shot of others- might make you try to stay quiet and “punish” you if you’re not.

- [ ] Won’t let others see you naked though. That’s his right.

- [ ] Will keep you to himself for DAYS just to renew his claim on you.

- [ ] You might wake up to him touching you or fucking, especially if he had a dream you went to someone else.

- [ ] His marks will be visible and glaringly obvious.

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

My Home Is You Part 1/3

A/N: I am so obsessed with this movie, I've seen it twice. Enjoy. Leave a comment, like, or reblog if you've enjoyed it. Thank you to @kingliam2019 for requesting.

Fandom: The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare

Pairing: Gus March-Phillips x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ for language, Nazi's, canon typical violence, possible spoilers for the movie, and mentions of sexual assault.

Part 2 Part 3

“What’s that?” Freddy points to the lump behind Gus’s coat. 

“Nothing,” Gus shrugs, “shall we.” 

“We shall not,” Freddy shouts exasperated, “it’s moving! Unless you became the hunchback of Notre Dame in the ten minutes I left you, you got something hidden behind your back!” 

“He’s got a point, boss,” Hazy shrugs. 

Gus sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I think the jig is up,” he pushes the coat up and out you pop from behind his side, disappearing behind him with a shriek. 

“Where the hell did you find a woman?!” Freddy looks around, then goes silent putting two and two together, “Oh, I see.” 

“She’s coming with us,” Gus reaches behind him and you grasp his hand, trembling hard at being surrounded by so many men. His touch is warm, and you take a moment to breathe before stepping out from behind him at your full height. 

“Hello,” you whisper, giving an awkward wave. 

Gus lets go of your hand and claps making you jump and his face quickly turns apologetic, “Fuck, sorry about that, love. These are the boys,” he points to each man giving you a quick rundown on his merry band of miscreants. He turns to you with a proud smile, “I never did catch your name.” 

“Let me get this straight,” Freddy puts his hands on his hips, sticking out one finger towards Gus, “you find a random woman hidden in a Nazi garrison, fight your way out with her, and decide to bring her with us, without asking her name first?” 

“Probably did it a bit backward,” Gus rubs the back of his head with a chuckle, “but I’m making up for it now.” 

You clear your throat and they all turn towards you as you say your name, a small smile spreading across your face when they repeat it to you. “Welcome to the team,” Anders bows before putting his bow over his shoulder, “shall we get back to the boat, we got somewhere we need to be.” 

“After you,” Gus says, frowning when he realizes Anders is already halfway back to the boat. “That’s the spirit Lassen, lead the way!” Gus slings an arm around your shoulder and helps you walk, it’s slow and painful; your foot aches with every step but you keep it to yourself. These men have already done enough liberating you and agreeing to take you with them. The last thing they need is for you to be injured. But nothing gets past Gus. 

He doesn’t ask, just leans down and swings you up into his arms. You gasp, quickly wrapping your arms around his neck. “Wh-what are you doing?” you whisper. 

“You’re limping,” he whispers back, almost like two children sharing a secret, he grins. “I’m not about to let you hurt yourself worse before I can take a look at your injuries.” 

“I’m fine,” you bite your lip looking away, “you’ve done enough already.” 

Gus stops, the others moving around him to toss the rope down the cliff side, “Darling, I know you’ve just spent gods knows how long with the worst creatures imaginable but not all of us are monsters.” 

“I didn’t say you were,” you turn back to him, and catch your breath when you notice how close he is. “I don’t think you’re a monster at all,” you whisper, swallowing hard, “I just don’t want to cause you any more trouble.” 

“Do you know what I thought when I saw you tucked behind that wall crying and holding your ears?” You shake your head, and he grins, “She looks like just my kind of trouble.” 

The first smile in months spreads like wildfire across your face and you nod. “Ready?” Apple interrupts, “We managed a pulley to get her down.” 

Gus nods, lifting you into the makeshift pulley and working with Apple to lower you down. When you reach the ground Lassen lifts you into his arms while Gus and Apple come down and re-wrap the rope around their arms. 

When finished, Gus reaches his arms out for you and Anders smiles, tugging you closer. “I think I’ll hold on to her for a while. Give you a break,” he looks down giving you a conspiratorial wink. 

“Give me back my damsel,” Gus holds out his arms wider, “I’m not going to ask again.” 

“Who are you calling a damsel?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest, and Lassen lets out a joyful cheer. 

“You tell him, honey,” he turns walking with you back towards the dinghy. His glee makes a ghost of a laugh appear in your throat before you toss your head back in delight. 

Apple pats Gus on the back as he climbs into the boat and you look back to see Gus smiling, a full-blown smile just for you and you rest your head on your arm and look back at him. “It’s good to see you laugh,” he mouths, and your cheeks ache from smiling as he sits down and begins to row. 

“Row row, row your boat,” Lassen mumbles under his breath, the lull of the waves and the feeling of safety making your eyes droop. “Oh, the little lamb is tired, no?” he whispers in your ear, “You rest, no one will harm you ever again.” 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you repeat your fathers words aloud. 

“Little lamb, with the way Gus is looking at me right now. You don’t have to worry about anyone hurting you for the rest of your life.” He rubs a hand over your arm and chuckles, mumbling, “if looks could kill.” 

“He won’t always be there,” your words are drowsy as you burrow deep into his arms, letting out a yawn. 

“Ah, little lamb, I highly doubt that,” Lassen chuckles softly, before you feel yourself being lifted into anothers arms. The scent of smoke, cologne, and leather lull you into a deeper sense of calm and you snuggle into his arms. Gus looks down, brushing a knuckle over your cheek and committing your face to memory as you fall asleep, breathing softly. “Take a picture,” Lassen teases, “it will last longer.” 

“Her cell was next to mine,” Apple interrupts, “she was always so nice to me. Tried to patch me up the best she could through the bars. I tried to return the favor, everytime they brought her….fuck I can still hear the screaming.” The men are silent, the waves crashing against the dinghy as they get closer and closer to the boat. 

“Well,” Freddy clears his throat, “she’s safe now.” They reach the boat, helping Gus aboard and watching as he disappears below deck with you. 

“Heaven help the man who tries to take her away from him,” Hayes clears his throat, and the rest climb aboard and continue on toward Fernando Po. 

Below deck, Gus tucks you into his bunk and watches the rise and fall of your chest before he moves towards the end of the bed, and lifts the blanket to remove your shoe. He curses when he sees the bruising around your ankle. He removes the other shoe and has to control his breathing when he sees the same markings; shackles. 

“Never again,” he whispers, grabbing bandages and ointments and applying them to your ankles. The bottom of your foot is no better, and he grabs the tweezers removing several shards of glass and bandaging your feet. “No wonder you were limping,” he talks to himself. He takes the next twenty minutes checking over the parts of your body he can see, treating every little cut and bruise. When he’s finished he walks over to a basin of water and washes his hands before pouring a glass of scotch and sitting down at the map. 

He loses track of the time, his head snapping up from the table when the screaming starts. He pushes the chair out, climbing over the table to grab your thrashing body. He repeats your name over and over again till your eyes pop open, gasping you reach towards him throwing your arms around his neck and letting out a sob. “I thought it was a dream,” you sob brokenly into his skin, almost crawling into his lap, “I dreamed I was back there,” you take a deep breath, “that they were…” 

“No,” he shakes his head, pulling back to put both hands on your face, his thumbs brushing the tears from your eyes. “You’re safe,” he repeats once, then twice, “do you hear me?” 

“I’m safe,” you repeat back, the tears silently streaming down your face. From the stairs, the men stare at the scene before them. “Uh oh,” Freddy shakes his head, and the others turn to him with various questions. “Look at them,” he points back to you and Gus, “he looks at her like he just realized what love was.” 

“I didn’t know you were a romantic, Freddy,” Apple claps him on the shoulder with a laugh. “I’m not,” he shrugs, “but I’m also not blind. That right there,” he points a finger, “that’s love if I ever saw it. You just wait, I bet you ten pounds she goes home with him at the end of this mission.” 

“I’ll take that bet,” Hayes tosses over his shoulder. 

Apple raises a brow, “you don’t think they’ll end up getting hitched once we’re home.” 

“That wasn’t the bet,” Hayes grins, “he bet that she’ll go home with him at the end of the mission. I think we’ll either be dead or in jail so she probably won’t be going home with him.” 

“Never bet against yourself, Hazy,” Freddy shakes his head, “have I taught you nothing.” 

“It’s your deal,” Henry reminds him before shrugging past to go back to the deck, “let’s go, give them some privacy.” 

Their steps recede and Gus rubs the last of your tears away, “do you want something to eat?” 

“Yes,” you nod, moving from his lap and tugging the blanket around your shoulders. When you step down, you quickly look at the bandages around your feet and ankle before meeting his eyes, “thank you,” you whisper, “for everything.” 

“You don’t have to thank me,” he puts the kettle on, “any decent human being would do the same.” You sit down at the table seeing the maps and confidential files spread across the surface. Gus grabs the papers and puts them into a pile before putting down a cup of steaming tea before you. 

“I have a few questions,” you wrap your hands around the cup, absorbing some of the warmth. 

He takes a sip, blowing the top with a grin, “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.” 

“What were you doing in the Garrison?” 

“Rescuing Appleyard,” he takes another sip, “we needed him.” 

“For what?” 

Gus puts down his cup, crossing his arms over his chest and your heart beats a little louder at how strained the fabric is over his bulging biceps. You quickly take a sip of your tea, burning your tongue when you meet his eyes, seeing amusement sparkle. “Enjoying the show?” you cough, the tea spilling down the front of your dress. “Shit,” he shouts, grabbing a towel and pulling out the chair beside you to sit down. You grab it and soak up the liquid from your dress, the top sinking lower with each tug. 

When you’re finished you glance up to see his eyes on your chest before he quickly averts his eyes and clears his throat. “Enjoying the show?” you smile softly when he coughs and lets out a strained laugh. 

“Very much,” he turns his head and your mouth goes dry. Neither says anything for a moment before he goes back to the pile and tugs out the map. You take another sip of tea to prevent being parched when he spreads it over the table. “We’re on a secret mission for the English government.” “Come again?” you clear your throat, sitting up straighter. 

He grins, “We are on an unsanctioned, unofficial mission to destroy a ship and two tug boats holding enough supplies to supply the German U-boats for six months. We destroy those ships and we regain control of the Atlantic.” 

“And how do you plan to do that?” 

“Explosives,” he pushes a tin of biscuits towards you, “tons of explosives. What do you think?” 

You sit there for a moment, processing everything he’s said before reaching into the tin and pulling out a ginger snap. You dip it into your cup before taking a bite with a grin, “where can I sign up?” 

[towriteloveontheirarms]

Positively unstoppable (Halsin Silverbough x reader)

synopsis: It is the height of bear mating season and with the heat around all of you, you and your group are forces to stop traveling for a while. Well, it seems your lover is not quite comfortable telling you it is mating season as he is scared you are weirded out. Yet he also can´t hold himself back when faced with you.

warnings: p in v sex, mating press, Halsin in heat should be his own warning, some bear like behaviour ig, basically porn without plot, kinda fluff at the end, afab reader

word count: 1.5k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall @foxyanon

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anon that requested Halsin in heat as soon as they saw my post about researching bear mating season for this <3

Dividers by me

The heat of the height of summer was burning down harsh upon your traveling bodies, bringing your party to a screeching halt when the only thing possible, was to put up camp and find a way to cool down your overheating forms. As soon as your tent is set up, you decide to head to the river nearby, wanting to cool down in the little lake it ended in.

Only after you rid yourself of the clothing and stepped into the water, you notice the towering form of Halsin sitting close by already, his eyes focused on the flow and movement of the river. From the movement of his shoulders, it was clear that he was breathing deeply, most likely meditating. For a moment you contemplate going over to him, but when you look back to where he sat Halsin was already gone. Or so you thought until the water began to ripple into small waves upon the druid stepping into it. He looks tense. More than usual and for sure more than the past couple of weeks, which honestly you didn´t think was possible.

“Are you feeling well? You have been behaving differently for quite some time now.” You voice your concern quietly as to not disturb the peace of the nature surrounding the two of you.

“I can assure you, that I am feeling quite alright.” His words hold relatively little meaning in the face of the way he borderline flinches away from your touch as you begin to run the water over his warm skin. Or the voice that comes out is gruff, yet you can feel his breath hitch just the slightest bit. Immediately you pulled your hands away from him, trying to see through him. A futile attempt so you take his hands in yours and look him deep in the eyes.

"Love, I would be fine even if you told me, you do not wish to talk about it, but just tell me truthfully. Are you alright?" Looking into his eyes, Halsin's pupils have swallowed almost all the green that surrounds them.

In what you perceive as just a sweet attempt to calm your worries, the tall man leans down to rest his forehead against yours, while holding your chin in one gentle hand.

"I am fine." He put emphasis on every word he speaks.

But you are so close and your scent so much stronger than the rest of the year, singing to him in the most irresistible tones. It all made the druid unable to keep himself from nuzzling your face and neck, thus eliciting a so far successfully held back moan and a shiver of arousal runs down your spine. A ripple of pleasure runs through your entire body when he begins to nibble on the tender skin.

"Halsin..." His name trembles from your tongue.

"You're mine." He only growls in return.

It's a rarely seen show of possession from your lover and all the more powerful whispered in the low baritone of his affected voice.

Halsin picks you up as if you weigh nothing and lays you in the grass at the riverbank and doesn't waste a second to crawl on top of you. With one swift motion he hooks his large, muscular arms into the hollow of your knees to lay them over his shoulders.

"Damn it, I cannot wait any longer. Your folds simply feel too immaculate." The druid breathes out the trembling words as he rubs his hard cock between your folds to tease the sensitive bundle of nerves atop it with his tip.

With one strong push and a sigh that fans his hot breath over your ear and cheek, Halsin bottoms out inside your tight cunt. In turn, your walls flutter around his thick member and your back arches until your chest squishes your legs even more between the two of you. 

"Oh, you feel so good inside of me. Always stretch me out so much it's like my cunt will take the shape of your cock one day." You babble mindlessly as you get used to the stretch that feels like it threatens to split you in two.

Halsin doesn't give you much time to get used to his massive size as he sets for an ambitious pace, pushing into your core painfully over and over again until your pained whimpers and moans turn into sounds of pleasure and begging for more.

"Please do not ever stop." You cry out as Halsin's massive paw of a hand begins to pinch and twist your nipples, losing control of himself a bit more and taking the pace and intensity of his thrusts up a notch. One of your hand buried its nails in his shoulder to attempt to ground yourself, while the other grips and lightly pulls on his hair. Immediately your companion leans down to seal your lips with his, kissing you with teeth and tongue. The moment your lips meet, he is positively unstoppable.

You get pushed into the grass with his whole weight, his balls slap against your ass cheeks as you get rocked back and forth by inhumanely, animalistic thrusts. The wet sounds of the tip of Halsin´s cock bullying your most sensitive spot, drenching it in your juices as a result and making the sounds of your hips slapping against each other wetter as time went on. It felt so good that the brain fog soon took over, rendering you unable to kiss him back any longer.

“Nothing feels so divine as your tight walls fluttering around my cock.” Your brain barely registers the words the druid huffs against your lips before kissing you again. Unwavering despite the fact your lips hang open ever so slightly to make way for shaky breaths and high pitched, eager whines.

“Fuck, I can feel you are close, my love. Your cunt could not possibly squeeze me any tighter.” Halsin lets out another insatiable growl, before he coaxes the first peak out of your body. Revelling in the sight of you being shaken by the waves of pleasure he provides.

“Halsin…” You moan the druids name like a mantra, like a quiet prayer to your own personal god that simply continued to bless you with the pleasure that still caused your body to tremble in the aftershocks of climax.

Two more peaks he pulls from your body until you are nothing but a puddle of panting breaths overstimulated cries and a lose grip that tries to hold onto his shoulders, to hold your legs where he put them. Only then Halsin bottoms out inside of you once more. Buried as deep as he can, with his thick tip kissing the opening to your womb, he shoots a great amount of his seed into you. Together the two of you stay intermingled for what feels like an eternity. With your arms wrapped around the other to hold them close as you breathe in the air that the other lets out until you both feel dizzy. The druid wipes the sheen of sweat from your forehead with the greatest care and strokes a lost strand of hair behind your ear, while all you can do is to fight the brain fog and keep his eye contact. Those sage coloured eyes you loved so much, gently get you back to reality, where there is nothing left but to giggle until you burst into full on satisfied laughter.

“Hah, I had a feeling you would go insane on me one day. Yet I never would have imagined it would happen after I laid with you.” Halsin jests as he sits back on his haunches and taps your thighs to motion for you to assist him in sitting you up as well.

You follow his wordless command and sit up, wincing when there is a dull sensation shooting through your core.

“Do you feel aright, my love?” He asks with his eyebrows suddenly knitted together in concern.

“Yes, love. Positively spend, but fine nonetheless and you need not worry about my state of mind any time soon.” You lean forward to place a peck on the tip of your companion’s nose. “I was merely overwhelmed with the content feeling that floods me whenever I am near you and did not know how else to handle it. In fairness one should think I would have learned it by now, but I am far from it. It still is so hard to believe I am lucky enough to be able to call you mine.”

Gratefully you accept the small pouch of water that Halsin hands you and take a few sips, before handing it back.

“I understand what you mean. Sometimes it all feels like it is too good to be true. Like being on the verge of waking up from the most beautiful dream.” The soft voice of your lover makes you feel all fuzzy inside with how effortlessly he understands.

“Exactly, like being on the verge of waking up from the most immaculate dream.”

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: Unfinished Business (Final Part)

Rating: Mature audience

Pairing: Jada Williams x Reader

Fandom: Arizona women’s basketball

Word Count: 3k+

Summary: staying is a lot better…

🏷️: @yailtsv , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paige05bby , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @paigeluvvr

Pt1 Pt2

⸻

I wanted to believe things were finally falling into place.

Jada wasn’t running anymore. She wasn’t shutting me out or pretending like I didn’t exist. We weren’t fixed overnight, but we were talking again—really talking.

It started slow.

Small moments—sharing protein bars before practice, sitting next to each other on the bus during away games, lingering after practice like neither of us wanted to say goodbye.

But with every step forward, I could still feel the weight of our past pressing down on us.

Because for all the progress we made, we were still walking on the edge of something unspoken.

Something unfinished.

And the truth was—I was tired of waiting.

⸻

It happened after a game against Stanford.

We won, but barely. It was a fight to the last second, and by the time the final buzzer rang, we were exhausted. The locker room was filled with the usual post-game energy—music blasting, laughter, the smell of Gatorade and sweat.

I was sitting on the bench, untying my shoes when Jada sat down next to me.

“Hell of a game,” she said, nudging me lightly with her knee.

I huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, thanks for the assist.”

She smirked. “You would’ve missed without me.”

I rolled my eyes, but before I could respond, one of our teammates walked by.

“Y’all are basically a married couple at this point,” she teased.

Jada tensed beside me.

I forced a laugh, shaking my head. “Nah, we just play well together.”

But the words tasted bitter in my mouth.

Jada didn’t say anything.

And that’s when I knew.

This thing between us—the lingering touches, the looks, the history—it wasn’t enough.

Not if she was still scared of what we could be.

⸻

Later that night, I knocked on Jada’s door.

She answered in sweatpants and a hoodie, her hair piled up in a bun. Her eyes widened when she saw me.

“Hey,” she said, voice soft.

I stepped inside without waiting for an invitation.

She closed the door behind me, brows furrowing. “What’s up?”

I took a deep breath. “What are we doing?”

Jada blinked. “What?”

I turned to face her, crossing my arms. “We’ve been playing this game for weeks. Acting like we’re something but never saying it out loud.”

She exhaled slowly, leaning against the door. “I thought we were taking things slow.”

I shook my head. “No, you’re hesitating. And I’m tired of pretending that doesn’t hurt.”

Her jaw tightened. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”

“Then tell me the truth,” I said, stepping closer. “Do you want this? Because I do, Jada. I always have.”

Silence.

Her eyes searched mine, like she was trying to find a way out.

But there wasn’t one.

Not this time.

“I’m scared,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

I swallowed hard. “Of what?”

“Of losing you again.”

I frowned. “Jada—”

“You left once,” she said, cutting me off. “When you transferred. And yeah, I pushed you away before that, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell when you were gone.”

I inhaled sharply. “You could’ve told me that.”

She let out a humorless laugh. “And say what? ‘I miss you, but I was too much of a coward to fight for us the first time’? You deserved better than that.”

I reached for her hand, squeezing it tightly. “I deserved the truth. And so do you.”

Her eyes flickered with something raw, something vulnerable. “The truth?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

She hesitated. Then—

“I love you.”

The words knocked the air from my lungs.

Jada swallowed hard. “I think I always have. That’s why it scared me so much. That’s why I ran.”

I felt my chest tighten. “Jada…”

She looked away. “You don’t have to say it back. I just—I needed you to know.”

I took her face in my hands, gently tilting her chin up so she’d look at me.

“I love you too.”

We stood there for a heartbeat longer, foreheads touching, breathing in the shared scent of vanilla and anticipation.

Then, slowly, deliberately, Jada reached for my hand, her fingers interlacing with mine. The simple gesture sent a shiver down my spine, a potent reminder of the intimacy we were about to explore.

"Come on," she murmured, tugging me gently towards the living room. The apartment was bathed in the soft glow of twilight, casting long shadows that danced across the walls. We sank onto the plush sofa, the cushions yielding beneath our weight.

The silence that followed was not awkward, but charged with unspoken longing. Jada turned to face me, her eyes dark pools reflecting the flickering candlelight. She reached out, her fingers tracing the curve of my cheekbone, sending sparks of pleasure through my veins.

"I've wanted this for so long," she whispered, her voice husky with emotion.

"Me too," I confessed, my own voice trembling slightly.

With a shared breath, we closed the remaining distance between us. Our lips met in a kiss that was both tender and urgent, a culmination of weeks of suppressed desires.

Jada's tongue danced with mine, exploring every contour, igniting a fire within me that threatened to consume us both.

Her hands moved from my face to my neck, then down to my chest, her touch sending shivers of anticipation through my body. I arched into her touch, craving more, needing more.

I reciprocated, my hands exploring the soft curve of her waist, the smooth skin of her back. I could feel her tremble beneath my touch, a sign of the desire that mirrored my own.

The kiss deepened, becoming more demanding, more insistent. We broke apart gasping for air, our eyes locked in a silent conversation of longing and surrender.

"Let's go to the bedroom," Jada whispered, her voice thick with desire.

I nodded, unable to speak, my heart pounding in my chest. We rose from the sofa, hand in hand, and made our way to the bedroom. The room was dimly lit, the air thick with anticipation.

Jada turned to face me, her eyes filled with a mixture of nervousness and excitement. "Are you sure about this?" she asked softly.

"More than anything," I replied, my voice unwavering.

With that, the last vestiges of hesitation melted away. Jada reached for the hem of my shirt and slowly, deliberately, pulled it over my head. I stood before her, bare-chested, my skin tingling with anticipation.

Her eyes roamed over my body, lingering on the curves of my breasts, the swell of my hips. I felt a blush creep up my neck, but I held her gaze, refusing to look away.

She reached out and gently cupped my breasts, her thumbs teasing my nipples. A moan escaped my lips, and I arched into her touch, craving more.

I returned the favor, unbuttoning her shirt and sliding it off her shoulders. Her breasts were full and round, her nipples erect and begging to be touched. I leaned in and gently kissed one nipple, then the other, savoring the taste and texture of her skin.

Jada moaned and threaded her fingers through my hair, pulling me closer. We fell back onto the bed, our bodies entwined, our desires unleashed.

Her hand trailed down my stomach, sending shivers of anticipation through my body. She reached for the button of my jeans and slowly, deliberately, unfastened it. I sucked in a breath as she slid the zipper down, her fingers brushing against my skin.

I reached for her jeans and did the same, our movements clumsy with desire. Soon, we were both naked, our bodies pressed together, skin against skin.

Jada leaned down and kissed me again, her tongue exploring every inch of my mouth. Her hands roamed over my body, teasing, caressing, igniting a fire within me that threatened to consume us both.

I returned the favor, my hands exploring the curves of her body, savoring the feel of her skin beneath

my fingertips. We were lost in a world of sensation, our bodies communicating in a language of touch and desire.

She trailed kisses down my neck, my chest, my stomach, each kiss sending a jolt of pleasure through my body. I moaned and arched into her touch, craving more.

Her lips found their way to my inner thigh, and I gasped as she began to nibble and tease. I gripped the sheets, my body trembling with anticipation.

"Jada," I moaned, my voice barely audible.

She looked up at me, her eyes filled with desire. "Is this okay?" she whispered.

"Yes," I gasped, "please."

She lowered her head again and began to lick and suck, her tongue working its magic. I closed my eyes and surrendered to the pleasure, my body arching off the bed.

I ran my fingers through her hair, urging her on, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The sensations were overwhelming, intense, almost unbearable.

Just when I thought I couldn't take anymore, she found my clit and began to tease it with her tongue. A wave of pleasure washed over me, and I cried out as I reached the edge.

I convulsed beneath her touch, my body shaking with release. Jada continued to lick and suck, milking every last drop of pleasure from me.

Finally, the waves subsided, and I lay panting, my body weak and trembling.

Jada lifted her head and looked at me, her eyes filled with concern.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly.

"Yes," I whispered, "that was incredible."

She smiled and leaned in to kiss me again, her lips lingering on mine.

"There's more to come," she whispered

---

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                 -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[amyrlinegwene]

Okay. So, the thing I was spoiled on was Siuan’s death. So it’s hard to say what my actual reaction is to that. Because I knew it was coming. But one thing is for sure: I think it's stupid and I think the justifications that Rafe gives for it are stupid too. But to be honest, book!Siuan has been dead a while, and they only ever let glimpses of her out anyways.

Last season, people got mad at those of us who were angry with what the show did to Siuan's character-- making her literally the opposite of her book character and using her storyline as an accessory to Moiraine's rather than her own-- saying 'wait, you'll see/you can't keep everything in the books/trust the process/you guys never like anything the show does'. Many of us felt less enamored with the show and the fandom after that, some haven't been posting and some haven't been watching.

I hate saying we told you so, but we did. They killed off Siuan, a character whose biggest storyline comes after she was deposed, not before, to give Moiraine the reaction that lets her 'kill' Lanfear. They decided that everything Siuan does after she is deposed-- guiding Egwene, becoming a mentor to her and a secret force of support to her, telling a story about how a woman who has lost everything comes back and finds a purpose-- is less important than finding a will for Moiraine to do something that she had already planned to do.

And let's talk about Moiraine for a second, without the Twisted Doorway, what was Moiraine's cutting Lanfear's throat really worth?? That is the exact same injury that Lanfear healed herself from in season two, she isn't out of commission, and if she is, that's just another inconsistency they've introduced. As for Moiraine without the Tower of Ghenjei to be trapped in, I doubt this is actually 'her death' or we would have had more of a reaction and them talking about it in the actor conversation afterwards. So, we have Moiraine, who has hardly any story left, alive and not trapped and Siuan, who has plenty of story left, dead. I don't know who they will have fill Siuan's role if they fill it at all, whether it will be Leane or Moiraine, or if Moiraine will maybe take Cadsuane's role. But this sucks, completely cutting off Siuan's storyline to add to Moiraine's story in such a minor way. I think it would be horrible to do regardless of who played Moiraine and Siuan, but I think that it must be said that it is an especially bad look that they have seemingly extended the white actress/character's storyline while prematurely cutting off the black actress/character's storyline.

As for Rafe's justifications that Siuan's story after her deposition is 'not at the forefront' and that he wanted Sophie Okonedo to be able to have a big moment before leaving, what complete fucking bullshit. As I've already discussed Siuan's most meaningful plot was ahead of her, Siuan with the wondergirls in Salidar especially Egwene was iconic and important. And Sophie's big moment and monologue could have easily come before her being stilled, not her being killed. And even if the show felt like they couldn't have justified keeping an actress like Sophie on for more seasons cost wise, the book gave them the perfect out--after being stilled, Siuan is de-aged, she could have easily been recast with a cheaper actress. The truth is that the showrunners and writers never respected Siuan as a character outside of her relationship with Moiraine and don't really care about a lot of elements of the story that are important.