#free this man from politics i say as i refuse to free him from politics

[camelliagwerm]

ARTHUR TREVELYAN AND THE LAST EIGHT YEARS

When the Exalted Council disbanded, the former Inquisitor returned to his home city state of Ostwick, supposedly for a quiet retirement and recovery. In truth, he was left to pick up the fractured remains of House Trevelyan. A great deal of his House, with their ties to the Chantry and the Templar Order, had perished during the Mage-Templar war and at the Divine Conclave, leaving no clear heir. With special dispensation from Divine Victoria, a fellow mage, he was granted one last title — one that, rather ironically, would have been his birthright had his magic not manfiested at the age of six: Bann Trevelyan.

INQUISITOR'S OUTFIT RETEXTURES

[sotc]

as fun as it is to talk about the sillay crow family dynamics, i'm soo interested in what this means for the crow familia going forward in a darker lens.

im mostly speaking from the perspective of a rook de riva who romanced lucanis btw <3

illario brought the axe down on his own head after failing to take first talon. he's imprisoned except to play house whenever caterina wants to see him around for family dinners before tensions inevitably shove him back into the cage he's been left to like some house pet lmfao. it's actually kinda fucked up and as a certified sicko i love it. especially considering the casualness in which lucanis describes all of this. crows gotta be a little unhinged<3

But!!! while lucanis was right that illario's reputation is ruined forever as a traitor crow beaten to his knees before every house that doesn't exactly free house dellamorte either. Talon houses will want their pound of flesh of illario for nearly trying to put antiva under venatori control. and yet lucanis refused. house dellamorte showed mercy. they are breaking the rules, making exceptions. this is not how the crows operate and there should--WILL be retaliations for it. illario left this house bleeding in his attempt to claim first talon and their blood is in the water now with house dellamorte having a sole heir who blatantly exposed a weakness and seemingly has no lineage to take after him.

and nevermind that we know murmurs amongst the crows will linger about a first talon being an abomination. i know lucanis kind of handwaves it off as at the coffee date like 'there could be worst first talons' but baby boy, you have avoidance and denial issues this WILL become worse of a problem the longer it goes on. <3

more under the cut bc i didn't realize this was getting so long lol

but in comes fifth talon viago de riva. a bastard to the king of antiva who wants to strengthen the crown. a man who has been ruthlessly exacting and meticulous to get where he is now. and the scariest part is that he has ambition, always has, and knows he has more power than the king himself to make plays if he needs to. this makes for a dangerous (and sexy) combination. in comes his protege rook. casting silly family dynamics aside, viago knows this union between house dellamorte and de riva is extremely beneficial for both houses but also very dangerous. even he knows his ties to teia show a weakness in him that other crows may seek to exploit. and while i do think he may be sincere about wanting rook to find their happiness with lucanis as he has with teia - i truly think he will not shy from showing the importance of a 'political alliance/union' especially with first talon house dellamorte struggling from the blow after all is said and done.

and of course, by extension to de riva, house cantori and the beautiful lovely miss teia, will be extending her support to strengthen their houses but also herself from any opposition. as much as i love that she's kind of the heart that brings this fucked up lil familia together, i know she is just as cunning and clever to recognize what this alliance does for her too.

and caterina.. well, without going into a whole thought piece on her, she has built her (and her grandson's reputation) entirely to instill fear in others, even command enough respect to know she's the one running things while lucanis is just a stand-in as first talon. but what happens when caterina is gone? another dellamorte dead just like all the others. all lucanis has left is himself and his traitor brother. how does he handle illario? how does he fair being a leader to the crows when he didn't want any of this in the first place and no longer has caterina to guide him? how does he wish to pursue carrying the dellamorte legacy (if at all)? does he seek a protege of his own to take on after him? i can't remember who says it (viago or lucanis) but there's a line about how saving thedas will make their houses immortal (hot and very sexy) but also how far can that reputation protect house dellamorte, really?

i don't really have a point to all of this, this is all just stuff im simply chewing on and letting out into the ether because the ripple effect of repercussions with what illario did and what lucanis now has to deal with fascinates me SO MUCH.

[dcxdpdabbles]

If you’re willing, I would love more of the cinnamon rolls, Son. Maybe Dan mentioning Vlad or Danny talking about Ellie with Dan?

"You want to take Dan for a weekend?" Phantom asks, confused. He twists in his chair to stare at her with a surprisingly challenging frown.

"That's correct," Diana confirmed firmly. She settles into a commander's stance, legs spread slightly to shoulder length, arms tucked behind her back, closed fists touching, and her long hand falling gracefully in an elegant braid. She had chosen to wear her more traditional armor, showcasing her achievements in battle and on the strategy board.

She also adored how the battling helmet made her seem more intimidating. "I believe the young ghost could learn from a strict mentor. I promise to bring him back well-disciplined."

Phantom's mouth opens slightly in surprise. His glow dims and brightens as he considers her request, seemingly struggling with adequately disciplining his child.

Diana remains quiet, allowing the hero to think. Although she was a bit of a rebellious youth, always wanting to join in on the warrior's training and talking about leaving the island long before Steve, Diana prides herself on being well-behaved due to her intense training from a young age.

As the princess of her people, she also had training in politics and etiquette. Indeed, with a sturdy hand and guiding light, Dan would not fall into the darkness the gods foretold.

"Okay, would the weekend of the ninth work? Dan and I have plans for this weekend and the next one already," Phantom says, a bit apologetic.

Diana smiles. "That would be acceptable."

She strides out of the monitor room with a sense of accomplishment. From her observations of young (?) Dan, the ghost, didn't seem overly emotional or prone to violent reactions. If anything, he seemed like a general who had lost his army in life.

She hopes that by giving him a new training method and installing a soldier mannerism into him, Dan will find a new army or goal to strive for. This also gave her the chance to finally train someone completely new. Diana had always been the youngest citizen on her island, and although she had read about children before leaving for Man's World, she never saw one be born or raised.

Is this what an older sister felt when a new warrior took up the blade under their mentorship? No wonder her elder sisters had been so eager to train her when given the chance.

Two weekends later, Dan stumbled into the Watch Tower, covered head to toe in mud. He dragged himself to where Phantom was sitting, not bothering with flying or walking. The ghost hero watched his son's approach with barely concealed concern.

"Dan?"

"That was horrible. Amazonians are crazy. I haven't had such a teacher since the day Dani tried to teach me how to text." Dan mutters into the ground by his father's feet. One large hand reaches out to grip Phantom's ankle. "I want to go home now please."

Wonder Woman lingers by the doorframe, for once not looking certain. "I apologize for my enthusiasm, Dan. I was not prepared for the gods to intervene in our training."

"It's okay. I had fun. I got to punch Zeus in the face." Dan mutters back, releasing his father to make a fist and shake it in the air. He refused to raise his face from where it was planted on the title flooring. "He had it coming."

"You punch Zeus?" Phantom asks scandalously. A few of the Justice League heroes are suddenly, rather violently, reminded that gods were real and that Phantom was, in a sense, considered one. Was his child attacking another god considered the same as a prince attacking a neighboring king?

"Yes, and I would do it again." Dan growls.

"Why? Why would you do that?" Phantom groans, hiding his face in his hands.

"Free Ganymede!" Dan shouts, suddenly leaping to his feet and chanting. "Free Ganymede! Free Ganymede! Free Ganymede!"

Phantom stares. "Who's Ganymede?"

Dan scowls. "Agh! This is why I can never introduce you to my friends. You're so lame!"

"I am not!" Phantom protested, "I'm sorry I don't know about your cause, whatever it is, and-"

"He is not a cause. He's my friend!" Dan shouted just as the head of what looked like a teenager peaked out behind Wonder Woman. The watching crowd was all amazed by his beauty, with long golden locks and soft features, even if the boy stared at the two ghosts with slightly anxious energy.

"Dan, I have no idea what you are - oh, Hello." Phantom cuts himself off, finally noticing the teenager. "Who is this?"

The stranger flinches before emerging from behind Wonder Woman and bowing low before Phantom. He tugs at his robes in the same fluid motion, allowing the white fabric to slip dangerously low on his hips.

Phantom blushes. "Hello, King Phantom, I am Ganymede. Prince Dan won me in a fight with King Zeus. I have been the wine pour for the gods for eons and can provide the same service to you and your kin. And if you require a lover, I am forever available to"

"No," Dan cuts in. His voice is low and dangerous, which makes everyone in the room tense. "No one will ever touch you like that again unless you desire it."

Phantom's red face instantly pales, and he stares in horror at the human not moving from his kneeling position. Those with super hearing can hear Ganymede's heart rate pick up in fear and see the cold sweat gathering at his temple despite his face remaining passive.

"Oh no. You're in one of the Greek stories....with Zeus? Every time that guy notices anyone, terrible things happen, and you're....we're about the same age...how dare he. How dare he!" Phantom whispers before his glow turns bright with outrage. "That monster!"

"I know!" Dan shouts. "We should kill him!"

"Wait, you can't just—" Whatever Wonder Woman was going to say is ignored by the glowing ghosts, who quickly help Ganymede to his feet and portal away.

The room is stunned as Diana places a shaking hand over her mouth. "I have caused a war between the gods....."

"So is this the end of the world stuff that time god was talking about," Barry asks, raising a hand. He flinches at the glare Diana sends him and lowers his hand. "Right, sorry, not the time or place-"

"We're going to war!?! " a new voice shouts as a little girl—no older than twelve—rips a portal in the middle of the room with a battle cry. They all stare at her glowing figure in even more stunned silence.

She looks around, taking in every gaping hero with a set of the same eyes as Phantom, and it's not hard to see the family resemblance between them. If anything, she looks like a younger female version of the hero.

"Have any of you seen Phantom? He sends me a text about storming Mt.olympus to kick Zeus's ass for harming one of the royal family's friends?" She asks, waving her phone as if it was a typical Tuesday.

Diana opens and closes her mouth before straightening up and gripping her blade. "I am one of the blades of Goddess Athena. Should she command it, I shall lay down my life to-"

"Yeah, no, I've been told many times not to cause trouble for the Justice League." The girl says, waving her hand. "Likely won't even be a fight. Danny will shout at Zeus since they each have to control certain parts of the universe as much as it grants their egos. But we're keeping Ganymede. No way will Dan let the god take him back, and you bet Dan can take that old geezer in a fight."

"Oh, " Barry breathes, staring at the glowing girl in wonder. You're Phantom's, aren't you?"

She beams. "Sure, am."

"Well-"

Her phone dings, and the little girl glances at the screen before squealing. "I have to go. Phantom said Zeus agreed to an honor battle. I can't wait to see him kick the geezer's ass! Bye!"

She vanishes before anyone can say "wait," and the run plunges into silence. Wonder Woman stands there looking dazed, and that's about the time Batman pulls out his laptop to add notes to his file on Phantom.

It's one thing to know the ghost is powerful. It's another to find out he's on equal footing with the Greek god Zeus. If his children could one day be as strong as him, they really need to make sure Dan doesn't go evil.

And maybe his daughter, too. Just in case.

[peachesofteal]

Can we please please please get some more Simon x single mother au? Possibly him helping in the garden/ keeping emmaline out of trouble while Mom works in the garden

Light on - single mom/neighbor fic Simon Riley/female reader 18+ mdni / mild sexual content

“Ow! fuck!”

Your hand jerks, drawing back to your mouth with a hiss. 

“What is it?” He forces himself still, staring daggers at where the tip of your finger has started to leak blood, a thick drop dripping down the side before you bring it to your mouth, lush lips wrapping around your injury. “Are you alright?” His tone is tightly controlled, even keeled, nonchalant, but on the inside, worry gnaws away at his stomach, chewing through the organ until it’s spilling free and running rampant through his body. 

“There’s a piece of glass in here.” In the garden bed? “Some of the other tenants, hang around up here at night. They usually leave bottles or cans behind.” The worry turns to anger, a simple plan slowly taking shape in his mind, a strategy to find the rooftop partiers, and ensure they never leave glass in your garden again. 

Emmaline cries, nose and brows wrinkled in irritation, and you turn to coo at her, finger still half in your mouth. 

“It’s okay, little pea. Just give me a second.” She continues to fuss, and you sigh, wilting like one of your own little flowers, left too long in the sun without water. You blink, and it’s like you’ve shed your sunlit skin for an exhausted shell. Oh, sweetheart. I know it’s hard, but you don’t have to do it on your own anymore. 

I’m here now. 

“Can I?” He asks softly, warming at how your face lights with relief. 

“Yes, please.” You point to the bottle that’s tucked in the side of the backpack, and he unbuckles her from the bouncer that you lugged up the four flights of stairs earlier, even though he had texted you an hour before and politely suggested you wait for him to be finished his phone call, so he could help you. 

You went up anyway, much to his displeasure. Displeasure, that he had to swallow, permanently. 

You’re not his. Not yet. He can’t be disappointed by resistance or refusal when you don’t even know all the ways he can be there for you yet. He knows you’ll learn. You’re a smart girl. His smart girl. 

Emmaline lays nestled in the crook of his elbow, slightly elevated on her back, and he pops the cap of the bottle easily, rubbing his index finger against her cheek to trigger the reflex that will open her mouth. When it does, he keeps it at the right angle to ensure the formula doesn’t flow too fast into her belly. 

“You’ve done this before.” You murmur, reaching into the backpack for a band aid. You’re studying him, tracing over his face, his hands that are nearly the size of your baby, and he can feel the scrutiny, the curious intensity of your gaze. 

“Had a nephew. I was around a lot, when he was this age.” He had a brother too. And a mother. A sister-in-law. A family. 

Emmaline gurgles around the nipple, and he slips it free, sitting her mostly upright, giving her a gentle pat on the back amid her protestations, little grunts that he’s sure she means as ‘feed me’ and ‘more’. He waits for you to ask him the dreaded questions, the focus on the word had, the inevitable conversation about loss and family and pain, guilt and grief that can make a man feel like he’s been buried alive. 

You don’t.

Instead, you simply say, 

“Emmaline had a dad once, too.” 

It’s nearly 2100 when you knock on his door later, baby monitor in one hand, two amber colored bottles in another. 

“Hey. You busy?” His heart does a double tap inside his chest. Bad timing, the worst. Your sweet mouth is slightly open, hopeful, teeth parted just barely to reveal a flash of tongue, and his jaw clenches against the wild need that catapults through his veins to his cock. What do you taste like? What do you feel like? You motion to the monitor. “Just went down. Figure I have about an hour before I pass out myself and could use some adult time.” Shit. The duffel bag next to the door practically speaks for him, irritatingly reminding him he has a plane to catch in less than two hours. 

“I can’t, I’m about to head out.” Your brow furrows, confusion churning into understanding within a moment, disappointment flickering across your expression before it smooths out. 

“Right. Okay.” 

“I want to.” He hurries the words. “But I travel… for work and I have to be on a flight in a few hours.” You’re already half turning away, slinking off to your apartment, giving him a soft agreement as you go. 

“Sure, yeah.” 

“Wait, sweetheart,” You startle at the pet name, eyes going wide at the inferred affection. “when I get back, let’s… have a drink.” You nod, and he smiles a real smile, barely tugging his lips upward, probably hardly visible to you. The kind of smile he’s been wearing around you these past two weeks, the kind of smile he tries to give Emmaline when she stares at him. 

“Alright, sounds good then.” Your key finds your lock, and he steps out into the hallway, trapping your gaze with his own. 

“You girls be good.” He says, a parting instruction, and a bashful, bewildered smile of your own curves across your mouth. 

“We will.”

[telanadasvhenan]

thinking more about the psychological aspect of solavellan, and before I start, I'd like to stress that this is NOT CRITICAL of it, I actually think it's what makes part of the dynamic interesting. My word isn't the be all and end all, however, this is just my musings on the topic :] Also, REALLY long post! so, more under the read more lol

From Lavellan's point of view, I would personally struggle to see her trusting another lover or close one again for a long time, if ever again. I don't really think people ever talk about the real impact of the things she goes through, or what solas put her through, and the hurt as a result of it. The relationship is never defined between the two of them, it's always spoken about in vague undetermined words from their companions and poetic elvish between the two of them. Are they lovers? companions? partners? it's really up to the player. Leliana says that "you were close", Sera says Lavellan is "in it." Vhenan means home, heart, it's not a word said lightly imo and he tells you he loves her by their second kiss. It's never an official thing, so how secure can Lavellan truly feel?

This could go both ways when it comes to the break up. Crestwood, as a scene, is so interesting to me because the first portion seems like a man brought to his knees by weakness for the woman he loves. The two of them never cease to touch, fingers entwined, shoulders brushing, skin to skin. It's so reminiscent of how Lavellan matches his Hallelujah cadence. They're two parts of a song singing together. It's a gorgeous scene and it's understandable how so many are angry at how it ends because the whiplash between how it starts and what it leaves you with is severe. Imagine this from lavellan's shoes.

You're desperately in love with someone at odds with your people, who is wonderful and enticing and smart. Loving solas feels like loving the whole world, like being free and connected with the stars. But you don't know what this is. And, if you thought you did, how far can you presume? Is Lavellan always on edge, scared to love him deeper and richer than he loves her? or is she in a false sense of security, assuming his affection is forever hers. So when he not only breaks away your faith and trust in your history, plus potentially the vallaslin, she is clearly deeply upset. This isn't a minor fact that simply can be swept aside. The vallaslin is important. And Solas, even with the best intentions, has hurt her. He knows it and there's a reason why he apologises (bc he wimped out on the real truth). How much more does he know about her people that he has refused to tell her or kept from her by omission? Can you imagine the embarrassment, the utter humiliation of that secret? how many memories of them together where she replays his distaste for her people in her mind, knowing that he has access to knowledge that could change her perception of her past? Its ALOT. and thats even before the breakup.

Solas is not kind about the break up. It's rushed (impulsive to me) and doesn't do their connection justice. His composure cracks in places and it's very unlike him. It absolutely blindsides the player, so imagine being in Lavellan's place, AFTER THE VALLASLIN? personally, I wouldn't have been able to function. I half suspect that a sad, calm Lavellan is also in shock or disassociation. Because how else do you cope? The lack of communication between them alone is enough to raise my eyebrows. He promises answers. He confides that she saw through his mask and doesn't tell her what was real, and what was fake. He has given her a kernel truth whilst keeping her in the dark. Everything he told her could be a false, imaginary polite mask or it could be the truth. Where does it end? Where does he begin? Where does she stand?

I don't know if everyone has experienced what it's like to be ghosted or for a friend to simply disappear one day, but it changes you. I say this as someone who has both been avoidant as well as anxious, but you never recover. Someone disappearing like that makes you doubt any reassurance that people won't just evaporate from your life. So when Solas just disappears, the game's single conversation with Leliana feels a little lacking to me. I understand that they can't really dedicate a lot to it, I get that, so I'd like to fill it in. At first, it's search parties. Solas wouldn't just leave her like that. He promised her answers. He started another mural just before they left for corypheus. He didn't intend to just leave, surely.

Days, weeks and months pass. The question is worse than the truth. Is he dead? Did he use them? Was he being truthful when he spoke to her in those ruins, or another polite mask he could hide behind? Is it better if he's dead or better than he didn't deem her worthy enough to even say goodbye? We, as the players, obviously know this isn't true, but she doesn't know that. Does your lavellan assume the worst and be overcome with grief that her one love, her heart, her home, was nothing more than a lie of omission? or is there anger there at his betrayal of her trust once more? I seriously doubt it was easy to forget or dismiss. That kind of disappearance ruins your trust with people. Something. Anything would have been enough.

Again, this is all my opinion on how these emotions would play out and DEFINITELY NOT canon nor do they have to be! But I seriously struggle to see how Lavellan could even come to heal from these wounds within even a two year time skip. By the time of trespasser, almost everyone has left her side. She's almost entirely alone again, save Cullen and Josie (and leliana if she's not divine). And thats okay: they all have rich lives to return to. But that must just reaffirm to her that no one will stay. She is alone. How does she trust again?

And then there is Fen'harel. Lavellan's reaction to fen'harel has always lacked the fear I kind of hoped would be there? I mean this isn't just a minor deity, this IS THE antagonist of her entire faith. I'm assuming that she's lost hope in the gods, even though it's confirmed to her that they're real, but that message has been a part of her since childhood. So learning that he is the dreadwolf, again not from him, but from the fragments of his past must cut her deeply.

Her love was never who he said he was, she knows this, but who is the real man? She's never known him in a context where he can truly show her. Her love is fragmented between each identity he holds. Her trust that he is who he said he is fragments with it. The knowledge that not only has he been watching the inquisition, her, for years without a single hint that he lives or is okay must destroy her. Could you imagine how insignificant you must feel to him? And he essentially affirms to her that yes, in the greater scheme of things, his love and hers are inconsequential. They cannot matter to him because he cannot strive from his path. His indulgence was a mistake. And it's undeniably cruel. I love solas and I cannot argue that he was kind to Lavellan because he wasn't. To me, there is no way to see his actions as kind. Understandable, absolutely and definitely without malicious intent.

Lavellan learns that he loved her just as deeply, if not more. He loved her with all his heart and it did not matter. She changed him and it has only brought him more pain. He loves her too much to even allow her near him, to even give himself that weakness. They are apart from each other in an endless distance, only the two of them in the world. No one else.

Obviously, each Lavellan is different, and I've made a lot of assumptions, but I think it's worth considering. How do you love someone again after all of that? How much can you rebuild your faith after what you have learnt. Lavellan has loved a "god" (I know he's not a god, but for all intents and purposes, he has the power of a god and wears an evanuris crown.) and in turn, a god has loved her. And he left her with one last embrace that will leave its mark on her forever, then he leaves once more. Lavellan is alone.

Each love after is met with suspicion, distrust and comparison. Lavellan is entirely changed. How many pieces of her can be taken away until she is no longer herself? Each person wears a new mask she cannot determine. Where do they begin? Where can she find herself?

How lonely it must be to love someone like Solas and be at the other side of an endless distance.

[shegatsby]

Love Thy Enemy

Summary; Y/N Atreides had always been a stranger to the entire galaxy, her bed wasn’t her bed, her home wasn’t her home due to the fact that she was sent to accompany and be sisters with Irulan. She had limited access to her actual family and over the years they grew distant. She thought she would be like Reverend Mother, alone, yet powerful, and soon she would realize that there was no need of being alone when a wild creature had his eyes on her for a long time.

A/N; HI!!! Its been a long time since I wrote a series but i cannot resist Feyd. English isn''t my first language so go easy on me. There will be smut in the future chapters. TAG LIST IS OPEN!!!!!! (Reader has a lover and Feyd's going to find out lol 😉😉😉)

Warnings; None. Female Bene Gesserit Reader x Feyd-Rautha, enemies to lovers! reader is reffered to as she/her.

Words; 1.520K

Chapter 2

Chapter One – ‘’Meeting in flesh and blood’’

‘’Right behind you!’’ Irulan screamed as she was riding her horse to match Y/N’s. Y/N was a skilled rider, the wind in her long hair, she laughed at Irulan’s attempt of winning the race and focused on the finish line. Planet Kaitian which was the second Capital of the Corrino Empire had so many opportunities for Padishah Emperor Shaddam’s daughter Irulan and his beloved Y/N. The planet had forests, lakes and rivers so Y/N didn’t miss much of her home planet Caladan, she sometimes tossed and turned in her bed thinking of her family members but she was taken to Kaitain years ago. Irulan and Y/N were the same age and when Shaddam couldn’t have more children he asked Duke Leto Atreides to bring his first born daughter to be sisters with Irulan. Leto tried to find so many ways to refuse Padishah Emperor yet he was the ultimate power in the entire galaxy and Leto had no choice but to give his daughter Y/N. She was one years old when the arrangements were made. She could see her family at political events or celebrations, she had been in Caladan few times yet she felt stranger to the planet and she felt stranger to Kaitain as well. She has always wondered if, by any chance one day she would feel the sensation of ‘’being at home’’ nowhere and no one was her home. Maybe this was her fate.

When she finished the race her horse calmed down, Irulan followed behind. ‘’I swear you’re cheating and I am going to find out.’’ She was joking of course, Irulan and Y/N had a close relationship yet Y/N never forgot that she was a princess and there for needed to be treated more cautiously than the other lords and ladies of the galaxy. Together they hopped off of their horses, ‘’Walk with me.’’ Irulan’s  voice was soft yet direct. Her short blonde hair got messy, hem of her white long dress covered in mud, she was carefree when she was with Y/N.

Y/N had the color of her house Atreides. Green. Her green dress felt so light, they were walking on the grass for few minutes in silence., Y/N knew that Irulan wanted to say something.

Palace’s gardens were evergreen, gardeners achieved perfection. Gardens smelled of flowers at any time of the year. Irulan stopped in her tracks, they turned to soak in the scenery before their eyes, the entire planet was under their feet. Servants’ chatters could be heard, no matter what they were never alone. ‘’Soon my father will throw a ball for me.’’ She looked distant, Padishah Emperor Shaddam never had parties without a solid reason, it must be political. Before Y/N could ask Irulan explained simply, ‘’I will meet the man I have to marry.’’ Y/N knew one day that she had to marry someone in order to protect the power they had over the galaxy but she never thought the date would come this quick. Y/N had already a lover, only Irulan knew because he was from a lower house. She had a childish hope that one day she would marry him.

Irulan laughed in sarcasm, ‘’How I wish to be you, sister!’’ it was obvious that Irulan dreaded the situation.

There were no arrangements for Y/N and she was free for a long time or so she thought.

‘’I trust in Emperor’s decision. He won’t wed you to someone unworthy.’’ She tried to encourage her dear friend but Irulan stood there like a stone. ‘’Let’s head back.’’ Y/N said. A hollow silence followed them to the dining hall. Emperor couldn’t attend because he was dealing with preparations of the ball. The white marble fire place was lit and orange colors danced in the room, the dining hall was adorned with lavish furniture and a long wooden table. The wood came from Giedi Prime, it was called Pilingitam.

 Irulan seemed troubled, ‘’What’s on your mind sister?’’ Y/N asked. She was concerned for her, if she knew that she had to be concerned for herself…

She watched Irulan’s palm slithering on the Pilingitam table,’’ Majority of the houses will be at the ball,’’ she looked up to meet Y/N’s curious eyes, ‘’The Harkonnens will be too.’’ Y/N’s blood ran cold, she remembered the times where Emperor used to take them to Giedi Prime for political reasons. They had to sit and watch the games in the black and white arena. Gladiators killing each other…

She remembered a boy with pure blue eyes and full lips, ‘’I will fight there too when I’m old enogh.’’ He was sitting next to Y/N in his black outfit. He closed the tiny gap between him and Y/N, and he spoke quietly, ‘’Will you come and watch me?’’ he was speaking as if killing was a normal act. His knee touching Y/N’s, she remembered distinctly that the boy interlaced his little finger with hers. They were ten and yet Y/N could see Baron Vladimir’s influence on his poor nephew.

Y/N didn’t need to go back in her memories to detest the Harkonnens. Their families were in and out of war for centuries. Thankfully for a long time peace was kept. ‘’I will manage.’’ She insured Irulan with a genuine smile yet it wasn’t enough. Y/N brushed it off, after dinner she had mental training anyways.

Until the day of the ball she corresponded with her lover, Pyramus

He was a tall man with dark curls and jet black eyes. His beard always tickled her face.

She spent her days training and accompanying Irulan. Irulan grew restless as the they approached.

One by one the ships started to arrive, one could look up to the busy blue sky and see. Y/N’s family arrived early to see her and spend time with her. Lady Jessica, her mother, immediately questioned her about Y/N’s Bene Gesserit training, Duke Leto was happy to see her daughter once again. Paul, her one year younger brother gave her a tight hug.

They were united once more, she escorted them to their quarters in the palace and retrieved to get ready for the event. She wore a green dress with emeralds on her chest and waist, her maid braided her hair in Atreides style. She also wore an emerald tiara. Paul Atreides knocked on her door to escort her to the ball room, he looked sharp in his dark green suit. ‘’You seem nervous.’’ He questioned, -Y/N knew that her mother was teaching Bene Gesserit ways to her brother,- yes she was nervous because she was going to be reunited with her lover. ‘’Too many people.’’ She responded. Servants were running with food and wine on the corridors, music could be heard from a distance. Members of houses were having conversations about spice, politics, etc.

The doors of the room were open, inside was lit by the yellow warm lights coming from glowglobes, guests laughing and drinking. Tallest member was Baron Vladimir due to hanging in the air, eating like a mad man but she ignored him.

Her eyes searching for her lover, so blind to an outsider who got her under his radar.

Paul and Y/N walked to the table of their house, ‘’You look lovely my girl.’’ Duke Leto kissed her daughter’s forehead, it didn’t go unnoticed by a certain someone. He was a snake, silently slithering close to his prey.

Padishah Emperor Shaddam and his daughter Princess Irulan were announced and slowly entered the room, everyone bowed. They took their seats and Emperor greeted everyone, thanked them for coming to his feast and he also announced that he would choose the life partner of his daughter among his unmarried male guests. Duke Leto found himself watching his daughter with sad eyes, he wondered if he could see her wedding one day. Would she be happy and fortunate like him? Only time would tell but he prayed quietly.

It was time to dance, couples held each others’ hands and marched to the dance floor, Paul excused himself and went to ask the princess to dance with him. Leto happily asked Jessica to dance with him, Y/N wished that they were officially married but to keep his position as a powerful bachelor, other houses worked for him hoping that one day Duke Leto would marry one of their daughters. It was a well played game of chess on Atreides’s part. Y/N watched Irulan and Paul talking silently and dancing.

Soon Pyramus came with a huge smile. He kissed her hand and winked at her, ‘’My beautiful lady, would you be so kind and accompany me on the dance floor?’’ she tried so hard not to grin, ‘’Of course my lord.’’ He was in his house’s color, yellow. Hand in hand they mingled among the other couples, ‘’I’ve missed you.’’ He whispered. ‘’Not here.’’ She used the voice on him and his mouth closed in a second. Only their eyes talked.

They heard a rough cough and turned to face the intruder, Y/N had no idea that she would meet him in flesh and blood, ‘’Feyd…’’

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Impatience

Time Written- 5:57 a.m

Jason Todd/fem!reader smut (yes, the helmet comes off)

His modulated rasps vertebrates along your back, fully plated muscles pressed firmly along against backbone, becoming the hard wall compared the soft mattress you were trapped against.

“How’s it feel, pretty girl? Feel good, huh? Fuuuck, thought of this pretty little pussy since the second I left. Just can’t help myself.”

Euphoric drops refused to stop trailing down your cheeks, blinding your vision from the silk pillow that caught most of your tears.

Six years ago, the idea of him using you as such erratic, heavily erotic stress relief would’ve made you wince with a furious blush.

You were enclosed in, too closed in to slip a hand down in between your sweaty body and the warm mattress to give your clit additional stimulation. Not that you particularly needed it.

His broad hips ground against your plush ass perfectly, heavy balls slapping against your sobbing cunt. The head of his dick perfectly brushing against your cervix nearly nonstop, drawing endless noises from your mouth, ranging from short yelps to loud, drawn out cries.

Red Hood; with a cock so good he knew just how to use it without even trying.

You didn’t go out to dinner the night before and have a man ogle at your choice of black slip dress, with thin silver chains for sleeves.

You didn’t stroll alongside Jason at a downtown Gotham park on a warm summer evening, catching attention via the faint sheen of sweat along your neck, decorating your faint show of cleavage from your tank top.

You most definitely didn’t rouse this man off the edge by your simple choice of sleepwear, a loose white shirt and a cherry, seductive red lace panty.

As if you didn’t purposely wear that for his viewing pleasure.

It wasn’t Jason being jealous, so to say. To put it politely, it was Jason being overbearing.

Chest nearly melted against your back, burly muscles keeping you trapped against soft cushion, his words contracting the brutality of his relentless pace.

“Please, baby,” he grunts, his modulated voice shooting firefly kisses along your skin. “Please, lemme use this pussy. Been a hard night.”

This could’ve happened after he dragged his heavy boots into a hot shower, but no. While he could’ve washed the night’s worth of sweat and grime off his body, yours was the only priority on his mind. All this beast of a man had done was pull grab you by your hips and adjust your body flat, yank himself free from his constrictive pants before stuffing his fat, aching cock between your thighs. His balls full and heavy after hours of aggravated patrol.

The grunt that rumbled through his modulated speaker forced a tingle of fresh slick to seep from your lips as he fucked your thighs, dampening that sexy underwear in seconds. A short chuckle followed after from feeling it, quickly filled out by another groan as he made do with hooking his finger through one of the lace flowers decorated along your ass, anchoring the hole large enough to fully rip the not so affordable fabric.

His gloved hands gripped hold of the back of your shirt collar, yanking the fabric apart in seconds, exposing your bare skin to the cool bedroom air. Scratchy, gloved hands rubbed along your over sensitive nipples before trailing downwards, quickly leaving muted fingerprints along your hips.

Four years of knowing him, one year of missing him, followed by another year of dating him, you knew very well by now that Jason wasn’t as patient as he presented and enforced himself to be.

No, especially not with you.

“Christ, that’s my good little girl, taking this dick like a champ.”

Devilish grunts against your freshly shampooed hair, his musk fully invading your senses as he straddles the back of your hips, bracing his dirty boots along your bedsheets as he fucks you like an expensive whore.

He drew climax after climax from you so very easily, catching your quivering cries in the palm of his gloved hand. Stale gunpowder filled your nose, his meaty forearm playing a rest to keep your head and neck supported.

You weren’t sure when exactly his helmet came off, never registering the dull thud of it carelessly tossed onto the pillow beside yours. Pale, milky eyes glared into yours, reminding you of the persona who’s hands crushed necks and broke bones, now using you as a pretty little cockslut he’d dote on for the rest of the morning after he’s positive you’re fully bred till sunrise.

He halts his persistent thrusting after your body settled into overstimulation, removing his palm to give you a chance to breathe. He didn’t completely stop, using his knees for leverage to grind his pelvis against you, the tip of his aching, perfectly angled cock brushing against all your sensitive spots perfectly.

His lightly stubbled cheek brushed against yours, his wet tongue licking the sickening saltiness of your sweat and tears, gutturally grunting from the lustful ambrosia your body provided him.

He makes a show of biting the tip of his gloved, middle finger out of the corner of your teary eye, spitting his glove off to the side before caressing your side, dipping his fingers underneath your stomach.

Just the slightest brush of his index finger against your long neglected clit made you buck your ass back against his hips, making Jason smirk at your involuntary, full bodied whimper.

“Think you got another one in ya, sweetheart?”

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

It wasn’t over, it still isn’t over. (Bandit cowboy! Miguel O’Hara x Fem! Reader) Part 2

Wake up babe, new cowboy Miguel fic just dropped! This part was heavily inspired by the notebook. Period pieces are not my strong suit so apologizes if it’s not good. Not proofread, enjoy!

(Y/N)-Your name.

Cursing, mentions/usage of alcohol, attempted robbery/theft, mentions of guns, Miguel jokes about manhandling you but nothing actually happens, mentions of sexual acts, but nothing happens.

Word Count: 2.3k

Part 1

Masterlist

—

Five years.

Five years since you had last seen the cowboy who had stolen your heart.

You had graduated college and moved out of your parents home, moving a few towns over, nowhere near a big city like you lived in during your youth in the East but a lot larger than the one you had lived during the whole Miguel incident. You lived in a nice home, gotten a job as a teacher for the younger kids in town and… you were recently engaged.

Your fiancé was a nice man, sweet, understanding, kind, easy on the eyes, you liked him a lot, the only problem is, you didn’t love him. You should feel bad about getting married to a wealthy man who you didn’t even see as more than of a friend, but at the same time, your mother thought it would be best to marry you off to her friend’s son that just so happened to be inheriting his father’s liquor business when he settled down. It was a marriage of convenience if anything, at least he was polite with you despite neither you or him having any romantic feelings, if anything it made the whole thing a bit easier for you. Growing content with the fact that this would turn into your future children’s definition of love.

Five years to grow from a silly lovestruck teenager into a young woman with responsibilities and a bright future ahead of her, and you still thought about him. You can't help but frantically Miguel’s name under the obituary section of the town’s paper, unknowingly breathing a sigh of relief when his name wouldn’t appear. Although it was foolish, and despite no longer living in the same small town as your parents, you couldn’t help but feel a bit bitter at the fact he hasn’t found you yet. Was he even attempting to look for you? With a reputation like his, you’re certain you weren’t the first girl he’s charmed to get under his sheets… or in your case, jail cell. So, eventually, you stopped hoping, if he hadn’t found you during the last five years, he surely wasn’t looking. Why should you?

—

“Darling.” Your fiancé, Austin, called out for you before rounding the corner that connected the living room into the kitchen. You hummed in response as you kept your eyes on the stack of papers you were currently grading for your students, a pen in your dominant hand as your free one tapped a mindless tone to help keep you concentrated. “Put the papers down and take a break will you? You’ve got all week to grade those tests.” You let out a huff and a whine as you put the pen down, he was right. Your eyes keep unfocusing and your wrist was being to grow sore, making your fiancé tsk. “I don’t understand why you don’t just quit, I make enough to support us both.”

“I should,shouldn't I…” You contimplacted with a weary chuckle, and although your tone was joking, you were seriously considering it. You adored your students with all your heart, you really did. But the school was putting so much pressure on you because they refused to hire another teacher to help lessen your workload. So you and two other teachers were juggling a handful of 300 seven year olds, it was a lot… to say the least. You picked yourself up from your seat to stretch your body out, before turning to Austin. “Now was that all you came to tell me?” You asked in a playful tone.

“No, actually… I came to ask for a favor.” He admitted, smoothing out the wrinkles in his shirt. “Ya know I’ve got that… liquor convention event out of town this weekend, right?” You nodded in confirmation, “well, I was wondering if you could do me the favor of just checking in on my office while I’m gone. I’ve heard a lot about break ins and whatnot during these times, just drop by for a few minutes for the 4 days that I’ll be gone.”

You tapped the nonsensical rhythm again as you thought about it, it wasn’t too much of an ask, you’d just drop by for a few minutes a day, you shrugged. “Sure. What’s the worst that could happen?”

—

Saturday afternoon, your first day off and your third alone. Grateful for the ability to sleep in and being about to eat a well rounded breakfast. After doing your usual morning routine, and having changed into one of your simpler dresses to go out and run some errands for the day.

Gone out to get groceries, send out a letter to your parents, went to the tailors to drop off some Austin’s shirts to be hemmed since you didn’t feel like sitting down all to do it yourself, even finished grading the last of the test all before noon ended. After tidying up your work from its usual spot from the kitchen table, you made yourself a quick lunch and went to read a few chapters of your book on the couch. Only to end up falling asleep, and once you woke up, you glanced at the clock-shit.

“It’s half past five?! I was supposed to go to his office an hour ago!” You yelled to no one but yourself as you quickly got up from your spot on the couch, fixing your hair quickly as you threw on your coat, and made your way back out the door.

—

“I told ya boys this heist would be easy… if we leave by dusk we could hit up that train that passes by el dorado tomorrow evening…” Miguel chuckled as he tossed his now full bag of valuables to his brother, who then passed it over Peter would load it to one of their horses that they had waiting for them around the back of the building.

After that night he had escaped, it took him about a month to find his partners in crime, following their trail through stolen newspapers from random porches and the knowledge of how their usual trail was, luckily they had kept his horse safe and well taken care of too.

“One more bag then we’re as good as gone.” Miguel said with a smirk, making Gabriel Let out a laugh and a clap. Right when Miguel was going to prep the last bag, the faint noise of rushing made all three men stop in their tracks. Before he sent his younger brother a glare and he hissed in a low tone through his teeth. “Pinche cabrón- I thought you said this place would be empty all weekend.” (Fucking dumbass)

“I thought it would!” He whispered-shouted back, before they heard the door creak open.

“Fuck-okay… um, go check if it’s the sheriff.” He quietly ordered Gabriel, before turning to Peter, “Get the horses ready incase we needa’ book It.” With a nob both males did as told, as Miguel quickly went to pack the last bag.

When his younger brother entered the front room, he swore he heard him mutter the words “hello pretty lady” before the muffle sound of rustling and some high-pitched yelping, but never was a shot fired, so clearly it couldn’t have been someone to play an immediate threat. Just as he was finishing tying up the bag, Gabriel came back into the room, but not alone.

“Look at what I found, it must be his little wife.” He said almost mockingly as he hazardly pulled you into the room and pushed you into the room in front of Miguel’s feet, but with your face being tilted down as you caught yourself from falling face first onto the wooden floor.

“Careful!” You yelled as you try to collect yourself, once you get yourself to look up at the bandit you were dropped in front of, your scowl immediately turned into once of disbelief, and it seems his expression matched yours.

You both seem to have froze up in time as you both did nothing but stare at each other, Gabriel just crossed his arms and raised a brow, Peter came jogging in to inform his friends the horses are ready when he saw the odd scene, opting to keep his mouth shut.

Finally, you came back to life as you blinked, as if expecting his to disappear right before your very eyes again, and when he didn’t, you finally whispered a faint. “…Miguel?”

“…(Y/N)…” You nodded your head, despite it not being a question, and he cleared his throat, not breaking eye contact with you as he spoke his next orders to Peter and Gabriel. “Unload all that shit and put it back.”

—

He had told Gabriel and Peter to go on to do the train heist without him, and that he'd meet up with them afterwards. Saying he had “unattended business to take care of”. So now here he was, in your kitchen, only being lightened up by a few candles as darkness overtook the sky. Both of you sharing drunken giggles over dinner. Miguel’s black cowboy hat that was certainly too big for you sitting on top of your head as you sip on your beer.

“That hat looks adorable on you.” Miguel chuckled, making you shake your head with a giggle, your free hand going to rest on top of the hat to help keep it stabilized.

“It’s so big!” You countered as you take the hat off and went to hand it back to Miguel, who grabs it and sets it back on his head.

“You know you shouldn’t be wearing just anyone’s hat. Ya know what they say about wearing a man’s cowboy hat.” He joked as he put down his now empty bottle, chuckling when he saw your face contour in confusion.

“What do they say?” You asked curiously, making Miguel’s smirk widen.

“Wear the hat…” he tapped the brim on the hat for emphasis, “Ride the cowboy.” He finished, making you gasp dramatically.

“Miguel! That’s inappropriate!” You pretended to be offended, but you couldn’t help but crack a smile near the end of you reprimanding him.

“Oh please, you act like you haven’t before, why not again? Unless you want me to come over then and manhandle you.” He was only joking of course, he may have been a thief and a murderer but he’d never hurt a woman, especially not you. You let out a faux gasp, playing along as your right hand goes to your chest for emphasis.

“You wouldn’t dare. I’m a married woman.” You said in a softer tone, going to sip your bottle to finish it off. You haven’t really told him you were going to be getting married soon, even though he knew you were in a relationship, he didn’t quite know how serious it was.

“Not yet.” He replied almost immediately, shaking his head as his playful tone dropped to a more serious yet still gentle tone. The soft smile stays on his lips but it didn’t meet his eyes anymore when you raised your hand to show off the silver band that decorates your ring finger, the diamond shining even only in the candlelight. It took you a moment too long to realize this.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked, the start of a giggle comes out with your words but they quickly die down in your throat as the once playful atmosphere starts to turn more serious.Miguel just shakes his head as a hand goes to rub at his chin.

“Nothing nothing… just didn’t think you’d ever get married… thought what we had was something real.” He admitted, eyes casted downwards as he goes to fidget with a bent half beer bottle cap. You let out a scoff, offended by his words.

“Don’t try and think I just forgot about you the moment my father dragged me out of that door,” your brows furrowed and your arms crossed on the wooden table as you started to chastise him, “I was stuck on you for five years Miguel. Five. Years.” You emphasized the two words with taps on the table. “Don’t get me wrong, Austin is a great guy, but it was my parents' idea for me to marry him. They thought it was a good way to get me to stop thinking about you-“ You shouldn’t be admitting that outloud but the buzz made your mind hazy.

“Do you love him?” He interrupted you, eyes burning into yours, those same intense eyes you had dreamed about as you slept, you had to look away.

“It’s not that simple Miguel-“

“But it is.” He insisted, standing up from his seat, the chair screeching as it tried not to topple over. “You either love him or you don’t.”

“I’m not doing this with you Miguel.” You shook your head as you stood as well, going to clean up the mess you two had made, trying to erase any evidence you two were there.

“Too bad, I’m not just gonna drop this and let you disappear from my life, I’m not losing you again.” He declared, you weren’t going to justify his admission with a response, but as you go to pick up a few empty bottles, they slip from your hands, cracking into hundreds of small shreds as Miguel’s hands turn you around to face him. A shocked gasp begins to leave your lips before it is quickly swallowed up by his. You know you should push him off, but you couldn’t help but melt underneath his touch.

Miguel O’Hara was a criminal, a thief of many things and no matter how much you try to stop him, he’ll always find a way to steal your heart all over again.

—

Taglist: @famouscattale @strawberryjuice9 @loser-alert @maomaimao @franceseca-the-1st @xevita @marshhbs @inlovewithpandora @vera4luv @mcmiracles @eddieslooneymoonie @to-the-endoftheline

[stopthatfool]

Consistently shocked by the idea that people think Bradley Rooster Bradshaw is chill and laid back. He’s actually shockingly unchill. He is the opposite of chill. He did not inherent any of his parents chillness. He’s a loser who’s too invested in everything.

Like ya hi I’m Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw and I cut off my remaining family, surrogate father, and support system for 15 years cuz he pulled my naval academy papers because he didn’t want me to die like my biological father and because my mother wanted me to be free of the navy’s confinements and to exist outside of a system that physically uses me for their own power and political gains— gains I will never experience and feel for myself. A system that sees me as no more than a number, a soldier, something easily replaceable, as a body to be sacrificed in a war that i did not start nor will i finish.

“Bradley's chill.” No he’s not. He’s a beast. He’s a 30 something year old man whose entire purpose revolves around holding a grudge and proving his surrogate father wrong. This beast who literally said this to his surrogate father— "No wife. No kids. Nobody to mourn when you burn in." Beastly. Ghastly thing to say. 15 years and he still hates the guy who's been there for him since day one. He’s a guy who refuses to even begin to understand where Mav was coming from or to even think of what his mother wanted. He’s evil. And I love him.

Hi I’m Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw and when someone brings up a well known, easily accessible fact that my father and surrogate father used to fly together I will try to cause physical harm against them and my friends will have to physically hold me back. I’m Bradley Bradshaw and I was willing to put my entire career on the line (the one in which I put my family aside for) so I can attack and beat this guy up.

I love his big ol’ Bambi eyes… he’s evil and fucked up and he’s not chill. Yes he wears jorts and tropical shirts, but that just means he’s gay and a fucking liar. Just cuz he looks like some surfer dude does not mean that he’s actually laid back like one. He’s lying to himself— trying to convince himself he is something that he is not and never will be. He is unchill. He’s lame. He has undiagnosed anxiety and it physically expresses itself through anger and loserly-ness. He cares so much to the point of self sabotage. He will always be unchill, no matter how much he tries to change that fact.

Y’all ever want to cradle a grown man in your arms? (graphic design is my passion)

[tragicdruid]

Lost Love (2)

Pairings: Wanderer x Reader

Contains: Fluff, lots of yearning, platonic relationship, post-Archon quest

Word Count: 600+

Summary: After erasing himself from Irminsul, Wanderer thinks it will fix all of his problems. Instead, he finds himself with regrets.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

"You know I love you. Is it too hard to love me back?"

Those words continued to haunt him every time he sees you walking through Sumeru City's marketplace. That smile, those eyes --- he hates how much he misses them; how much he misses you. There's a tug in his chest whenever you look his way, but he refuses to meet your gaze. Maybe it's shame. Maybe he's just a coward. Neither of which he'd ever admit to.

Despite this, his heart continues to yearn for you. But it's too late, he decided. You have no memory of him. He is nothing to you, and you seem so at peace that he doesn't have the heart to break it.

It's the afternoon when he happens to come across you buying some baked treats for lunch. There's a lightness to your movement that comes from abandoning the Fatui and living a free life. Without his influence, he wonders what Irminsul has replaced your motives with to leave you alone here in the city. Wanderer stands at a nearby stall, casting you a subtle glance as he watches your hands smoothly take two wrapped pieces of bread. Pretty hands he wishes he could hold one last time.

"Just two will do, thanks. Well, actually, can I also get..."

Your voice is mostly the same, but there's a peace to it that he doesn't recognize. You sound happier without him; less stressed. Content. It's a pleasant sound that makes his chest clench. Would you have sounded this lovely had you not approached him back when he was Scaramouche? It's something he doesn't want to think about.

Wanderer snaps out of his thoughts as you thank the baker once more, turning away with a smile with a bag of baked goods in hand. Despite his noble intentions, he is not a noble man. Neither is he selfish, but he can be so so greedy.

As you begin to walk down the path towards another stall, he intercepts you. Your shoulders bump lightly, enough to catch your attention.

"Ah, excuse me," you exclaim apologetically, a polite small smile on your lips.

It's not enough. He wants to see that affectionate smile you once gave him. The one that makes your eyes twinkle.

"Be more careful," he responds coolly, tipping his hat slightly forward to avoid your gaze.

But he simply can't help himself. He turns his head upward once more and catches your raised brow, eyes curious as you take in his expression. Your eyes were always beautiful up close, especially when lit up by the sun.

"You bumped into me," you reply, tone both accusatory and amused. "But I'll let it slide though since you're cute."

Wanderer feels a familiar heat in his cheeks. It's something so childish to be flattered by, but it's only because it's coming from you. He can only scoff in turn, glancing to the side as he tries to focus on anything other than you...but his eyes finds their way back as they lock onto that smile. It's full of mirth and sweet amusement. He's the only one you should be smiling like that for.

"Trying to use flattery to divert blame? How childish," he chuckles, crossing his arms nonchalantly.

A huff of a laugh leaves you as you roll your eyes. "It's not flattery if it's the truth." You look him up and down with interest and curiosity. It's clear that he's not from the city; though neither are you.

"Do you want to have lunch?" You offer with a small smirk. "We can argue semantics over some treats."

You hold up your paper bag, giving it a light shake.

He knows that he should say no and let you go on your merry way, but the chance to be this close to you is too tempting to pass up.

"I don't have anything better to do. Why not?" His voice is cool and collected, but he feels anything other than that. Had he a heart, it would be pounding in his chest.

Maybe this time, he could do things right.

[dandeyrain]

there's something really frustrating that happens in the fandom when discussing anya, particularly when discussing her personality. in-game, she's portrayed as neurotic and sort of helpless, but also ultimately kind and forgiving, and fandom very much takes that as the unfiltered and unedited truth of her — to the point that people get angry or call it OOC when fanart or fic has anya being violent or even just kind of mean to either her rapist or her rapist's best friend who's covering for him (or, at absolute best, willfully ignoring straightforward evidence that his violent bestie has been violent to the only woman on the crew). anya is mean to curly in some art and the fandom crows "she's not like that! she's sweet and nice and powerless! she isn't gonna take agency! she loves everyone and gives everyone grace! you're mischaracterizing her!!"

but like. how are you characterizing her? we only ever see anya through two men's eyes, and one of those men is her rapist, and the other is the rapist's bestie, and neither of these men take anya seriously at least in some major ways, so how they view anya should absolutely be called into question. but even if we take their views of anya as 100% real and correct representations of how she acts on the tulpar, like...she is the only woman on a ship full of men that includes, again, HER RAPIST AND HER RAPIST'S BFF. she outright says that she knows curly won't help her when it matters — "i knew you wouldn't give me the gun to defend myself" — and even of the two men remaining, one is a kid and one is also wildly rude and dismissive to her (though i think in actuality swansea means it less). she is trapped here, aware that at least one member of the crew is capable of horrible violence towards her and that another member of the crew refuses to take that threat seriously. anya has every reason in the world to make sure that the men see her as dependent on them and polite and forgiving and incapable of anger, because if they see her as a threat they will hurt her.

it's wild to see the fandom correctly identify that anya is fawning with jimmy, pretending to like him more than she does, in order to keep herself safe — and then refuse to consider that she might be putting on a front for curly as well. everything we see about anya from curly has to be 100% real, because curly's a Good Man and Anya Trusts Him. it's impossible that she might be hiding anger or hurt from him. but i would argue that it's JUST as possible that anya is putting on a front of a nonthreatening sweet endlessly empathetic trusting nice girl and hiding other feelings. women are ALWAYS pretending to be nonthreatening and sweet and endlessly empathetic and trusting to the men who hurt them to avoid further harm.

let's look at what she actually does — she doesn't just let but outright ASKS jimmy to give curly his painkillers, knowing that jimmy will hurt him very similarly to how jimmy hurt her. is that kind? does that not suggest that she feels, if not outright anger at curly, at least a willingness to abdicate her responsibility as the nurse to care for him and put him in harm's way for her own sake? she kills herself by downing the last of curly's pain meds, freeing herself at the expense of curly's continued agony — if she truly wanted to help him, couldn't she have taken him with her and saved them both from jimmy? i think you can absolutely read these actions as benign, but it's also a valid reading to say "maybe these actions are indicative of anger or capacity for cruelty that she simply doesn't verbally express for whatever reason (like keeping men from hurting her)."

like, if you want to read her as 100% angelic and kind and sweet and incapable of anger or violence towards jimmy/curly/the rest of the crew, that's fine! my personal read is that it's a little of column a, a little of column b. but it's also worth considering that anya has every reason to put up a false front to these men. it's worth considering that we see anya through the eyes of men who don't take her seriously. and it's worth remembering that for a lot of women, it's a hell of a lot safer to let the men around you believe you're sweet and fragile and helpless than it is to let them know you hope they rot.

[duckwithablog]

Okay! So um, can I request a headcanon for SWK, Macaque and Nezha with a s/o who often loves to suprise them by giving Eskimo kisses or just straight up kiss their noses all of the time. Sometimes they even forget they are in public places while doing so too!

Reader is a she/her

/romantic

I hope this isn't too much! This is kind of my first time requesting, =.=

Don't worry! This is a pretty simple request, you did good!

I'm pretty sure the term 'eskimo kisses' are sort of offensive? Not dissing you, ofc, I doubt you had any bad intentions! So I'll just refer to calling it 'nose kisses' for this request :]]

Nose Kisses! (Wukong, Macaque and Nezha)

Sun Wukong

Bro loves your kisses so much

He is obsessed, you dont understand-

He thinks it's because of his monkey genes, but whenever you give him a kiss on the nose he just gets instant heart eyes

Automatically goes "aww" whenever you kiss him on the nose

You sometimes get him caught off guard with the kisses, but he recovers fast

Always pulls you in for a quick cuddle whenever you kiss his nose, or at least a quick hug

Most times, Wukong just (gently) grabs your face and then pulls you in so he can kiss you on the nose too

Other times he just full on gives you a smooch on the lips

VERY insistent on kissing you back, it's like his own personal code or something

DO NOT try to run away after giving him a kiss on the nose, HE WILL chase after you!

Will pepper your face in kisses if you ever tried

Overall, he is so happy whenever you kiss him on the nose. Or kiss him anywhere, really

Mans is touch starved, what did we expect-

Macaque

Won't admit it, but he secretly just waits for you to kiss him on the nose

Literally will set up an entire scene where there's an obvious opportunity for you to do it

He lays on the couch, pretending to be asleep? He's waiting for you to come up and give him a kiss

He somehow gets into a fight that got his face (particularly his nose) hurt? Says that you have to kiss him better for the pain to go away

Putting his face super close to yours whenever you're cuddling? Damn, his nose is looking pretty kissable don't you think-

He thinks he's being slick when he's doing this

He is not slick at all, you figured it out a long time ago

Why can't you just ask for kisses like a normal person bro, damn

Macaque is like, on the other side of the spectrum as Wukong

He obviously enjoys your kisses, but also... Doesn't want to show how much he loves it??

At least, not visibly. His wagging tail always gives him away though

He shows how much he appreciates your kiss by giving you a surprise nose kiss! He's a bastard like that

This guy is also really touch starved, he just has a harder time trying to show how much he loves it

Nezha

Is somehow always caught off guard whenever you kiss him on the nose

You'd think he'd get used to it over time, but nah. He's always somehow a bit surprised whenever you give him a nose kiss

Incredibly flustered when you first give him nose kisses. Especially when in front of other people

Not that he doesn't mind! He just isn't used to such affection

After you kiss his nose, he'd politely ask if he can kiss you back

He's a gentleman like that

Please don't bring up the blush on his face, he will refuse to acknowledge it

Nezha feels like he has to pay you back somehow with all the kisses you give him

Like, it's an entire urge he gets whenever you kiss him that he has to do something for you

(feel free to abuse this fact to get free stuff from him lmao)

Instead of kissing you on the nose, he'd just kiss you on the forehead or cheek

Sometimes, he'd kiss your hand like some sort of prince

Overall, not as touch starved as the other two, but definitely treasures your kisses.... Even if he does get jumpscared by them

[coveredinsweetpea]

Do you think Eddie lets his girlfriend hold his dick while he pees? 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

👀 I'm only like 100% sure he does?? I wanted this to be shorter but um I got carried away?? So like 1.4k smut ahead, of the first time you ask Eddie to let you do this and a little bit of how it goes!! 18+ pls OBVI!!

"... oh yeah, mhm, I heard about that…" Eddie hummed along to his neighbors rant about whatever affair they spotted during their daily cigarette break by the window. He lied though, he hadn't heard about it before, and didn't care one bit, but it was the most polite way he could come up with in order to extract himself from the conversation as soon as he could - nod along and wait for an opportunity to mention he left something on the stove. 

"... and he had no shame about it, that little rascal …" the neighbor went on. You weren't listening either, but when you squeezed Eddie's ring and pinky finger into your hand and he showed absolutely no signs of taking the hint, you knew it was time to take matters into your own hands. 

Nodding along to the rest of the story, you leaned in to grab the groceries bag from Eddie's free hand, hoping the commotion would help speed up the conversation. And it did. 

"Ah, you're probably busy" the neighbor said, hands clasped in front of his chest as he prepared to resume his walk, "I'll let you two do your thing, but if you want, I'd love to have you over for a coffee some time"

"Absolutely" Eddie bowed, a huge smile on his face, his enthusiasm most likely rooted in the chance to finally bolt inside. "Maybe during the weekend"

"Sure, of course, let me know. You know how retirement is…"

"Thank you for inviting us" you smiled too and then waved at the man as he said his goodbye and turned to leave. 

Eddie barely managed to mumble a poor and hurried "Bye" before forcing the door open. "Fuck!" he cried, throwing his jacket on the floor, the keys on the counter and then rushed further into the trailer. 

"Eddie, wait!" you dropped the bags and sprinted after him, barely managing to grab a handful of his shirt as he stepped inside the bathroom, "Eddie, I-"

"Just a second, sweetheart!" he cringed, peeling your hand off his shirt. He kissed your knuckles though and sent you an apologetic smile before disappearing behind the bathroom door. 

With a deep frown and a disheartened pout, you stomped your way to where you had dropped the bags earlier, fished out one of the chocolate bars, and plopped down on the couch. 

Despite furiously munching at it, you weren't even halfway done with the desert by the time Eddie walked out of the bathroom. 

"Ah, fuck!" he stretched, walking over to you, "Sorry about that, I thought I was gonna piss myself for a second there. What did you wanna tell me, love?"

"Nothing" you spat and sank your teeth into the chocolate.

"Sweetheart?" his tone softened, "Is everything alright?"

"Yes"

"Can you look at me?"

"No"

He knew what this was - didn't know what it was about, but knew you well enough to be able to tell you got upset over something trivial. Whenever it was something serious, so were you, starting a conversation with him and being mature and reasonable about it. However, the less serious the matter was, the more dramatic you got. So he knew there was space to tease you. "Puppy, come on, look at me, my angel" Eddie parted your legs and kneeled between them on the floor. He grabbed your hips in his hands and leaned down to get himself in your field of view. "Sweetheart?"

"You don't love me anymore" you huffed and raised your chin. You faced the kitchen, still frowning, and refused to look at him. 

"Why would you say that, baby?" Eddie pushed himself up to sit beside you. When you still refused to engage, he grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him. "Tell me what made you upset, you know I make everything better."

"You slammed the door in my face" you exaggerated, knowing damn well he didn't even fully close the door. He always did though, and you were fully aware the only reason he didn't properly shut it was because you had been still standing there. But you were upset, and that was good enough of a reason to push his buttons. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to" he played along, "Forgive me, sweetheart, I'll make it up to you. But right now, please tell me what you wanted to say earlier"

"I don't want to anymore"

"Please? If you tell me, I promise I'll do absolutely anything you want"

You raised an eyebrow. "Anything?"

"Anything!" Eddie energetically shook his head. "I promise"

"Will you let me hold your dick while you pee?"

For a second, all he was able to do was blink. "Hold my what?" he did a double take. 

"Your dick, Eddie. Please" you pouted, completely unbothered by the absolute shock on his face. 

It took him a second to gather himself, "And then you'll tell me?"

"This is it. This is what I wanted to ask you but you ran and then locked yourself in the bathroom" 

Realization hit him like a rock and as soon as the thought settled and the information got processed, he visibly relaxed. He swung one arm around your shoulders and leaned for a kiss. "I'm sorry, baby" he spoke against your lips, "Of course you can do that. I promise, I'll let you know next time I have to go"

"Really? You don't think it's weird?"

"No, it's definitely weird" he shook his head, "But when has that ever stopped us before?"

"Ok, thank you" you giggled, suddenly nervous enough to make you hide your face into his shoulder, but not nervous enough to remain there for long, as another idea popped up in your head. 

Curiously, Eddie watched you stand and hurry to the kitchen, only to burst into laughter when you returned to him with a bottle of beer in your hand. "To speed up the process" you said.

-

"How long until you're done with that?" Eddie popped up in the reflection of your mirror, peeking over your shoulder at the makeup you just put on. 

"I think I'm done?" you frowned and turned to face him, "Why?"

"We didn't take into consideration the fact that I drank today at lunch. I can't drive us to the movies, so we'd better get going if we want to make it there on time"

"Ok, right. Yeah, I'm done here anyway, let's go" You didn't pay too much attention, just walked past him and into the hallway, making a beeline for your shoes. "What?" you questioned when Eddie grabbed your boot from your hand and then dragged you back deeper into the trailer.

"Promised you'd help me piss" 

"Oh!" you exclaimed, "Yes, yes, yes! Please, let me, let me!"

"Of course, princess," Eddie laughed, guiding you into the bathroom. He undid the belt himself and hooked his thumbs around the waistband of his jeans and then pulled them down his thighs, along with his underwear. 

You looked at his cock and then up at him, "Do I just grab and aim?"

"Basically" Eddie chuckled and then wrapped an arm around your shoulders when he saw you hesitate. "Don't be nervous, you literally touched my dick thousands of times before"

"Yeah, but what if I miss?"

"I don't think you will, but if you do, I'll clean it up, don't worry" 

"Ok…" you mumbled but still hesitated. 

"Y/n, I don't wanna pressure you or anything. I don't know what's wrong with me right now, but there's a sliiiiiight possibility that I'm gonna get real hard, real soon if you keep staring at my dick with that look on your face, so-"

"Oh, no, yeah!! Sorry!" you giggled and went straight for it. As gently as you could, probably the most carefully you had ever been with his dick, you grabbed it into your hand, angled it however your brain figured appropriate and then looked at Eddie, "Is this ok?"

"Perfect, fuck. Ok" he hissed and then let himself go. 

You didn't know what exactly you were expecting, but excitement took over your body when you saw the stream coming out of his tip, a huge dumb smile on your face as you refused to look away. 

Nervous all of a sudden, Eddie raised your hand a little so the stream would hit the toilet bowl and not the water - the sound was making his cheeks burn, why was he like this? Why was he hot all of a sudden?

"Can I spell my name?"

"Technically yeah-" Eddie laughed in disbelief, "But next time? I'm almost done right now"

"Can you do it?" 

"Sure"

"Can I watch?" 

"You're insane" he shook his head, amused - and in awe, kissing your temple as the last droplets of piss left his tip. "But of course you can"

[ananxiousgenz]

pssst. pssssssst. hey guys. look at what i got y'all (IT'S MORE JARTHUR COWBOY AU)

this one comes with several pieces of info you need to know first:

@percymawce-arts and I are writing this fic together!!! we have entered into writers matrimony for this fic and we are super excited about it!! I wrote the bare bones of the scene you're about to read and he added almost all of the flavor and spice (while i was laying on my bed in the family guy dead pose bc of how good he made it). make sure to go show percy some love for this too!!

this scene takes place after one where john and arthur chase after larson, but arthur refuses to shoot him, and john is more than a little pissed off about it.

and some trigger warnings: this scene contains some fighting (both verbal and physical), child abuse, religious trauma, homophobia, and some suggestive themes

and finally, i will tag @ellamenop and @izel-reblogs bc i have a feeling you will both enjoy this :)

“What,” John snarled, slamming the cabin door shut behind him, “the fuck. What was that?!”

“None of your business,” Arthur replied, ever so prim and fucking proper. He kept his back to John, maybe to hide his face, so John couldn’t read him. Maybe because he was too much of a coward to meet John’s eyes after that stunt. John didn’t care what the reason was. It was only pissing him off more.

“No. Fuck that. It's all my business.”

“I didn't fire a gun. How is that making you upset?”

“You had him right in front of you,” John rumbled, his voice as low and dangerous as thunder on the horizon. Arthur shivered. “And you let him go. You had the opportunity to kill him. To end this, all of this. And you let it slip through your fucking fingers.”

“Maybe I didn't want to kill him.”

“What the fuck does that matter? He's too goddamn dangerous to be left alive!”

“It's not that simple, John-”

“The hell it is! I’m sorry you feel conflicted or whatever it is that’s going on in that head of yours, but this isn’t about you! All you had to do was fire the fucking gun. He was right in front of you, and you didn't shoot!”

“No, I didn't!”

“Why?!”

“You want to know why?” Arthur shouted, whipping around to face John, at last. “Because I can't kill another person! Even someone as awful as Larson! I’m not like you! This isn’t easy for me, alright?!”

As soon as the words had left his mouth, Arthur’s face fell. John could see the regret wash over his face like a cloud over the burning sun, but it only lasted a moment before he was collecting himself. Putting on that same mask of polite-until-you-fuck-with-me he always wore around suspects and targets. John had never had that face turned on him before. He hated it.

“So that’s what this is about,” John murmured, his tone dark. “You think it’s easy… You think I’m a monster, and you’d rather let Larson go free than be like me.”

“No, John, that’s not-”

 “Who do you think made me that way?” John snapped. Arthur’s mouth closed so fast John heard his teeth click. “It was him, Arthur. It was Larson. And thanks to you, he’s going to go and do it to another lonely, scared Native kid with nowhere else to go!” John chuckled humorlessly. “Christ, Arthur, If that’s what you thought of me, why didn’t you just say it at the start?”

Arthur threw up his hands in frustration. “That’s not what I think of you, John. Jesus, am I not allowed to have a minor moral crisis over shooting a man?!”

“He’s not just a man! He’s a gangster! A robber! A killer! You told me so yourself!”

“So are you, John.”

“Yeah, and you shot me for it,” John reminded him. 

Arthur growled and slammed his fist down on the mantle of the fireplace beside them, hard enough that John could feel the vibration travel through the floor. “Jesus fucking Christ, John, I wanted to let the law deal with him! Is that so hard to understand?!”

John took a step in Arthur’s direction. “Oh yeah? The same law that ripped me away from my family and home? The same law that turned me into a monster? Too little and too much for everyone all at the same time? The same law that drove human beings off of their lands and into reservations? That killed thousands of people like me?”

“The criminal law would have placed Larson in jail. Like he deserved.”

John scoffed and crossed his arms. “You think the law cares that he deserves it, Arthur? The law is punishment for those who don’t deserve it and ignorance for those who do. There’s no justice in it.”

“What, so that means it’s your job to deal it out?”

“Yes!” John yelled. “If it means he can’t hurt anyone any longer, then yes. And vigilante justice works a hell of a lot faster than the court system will ever manage!”

“I thought you were trying to be a better man, John.”

“I was trying to be like you,” John said venomously. “My mistake.”

That was the final straw. Arthur took a step forward without warning and swung his fist as hard as he could. It made contact with John’s ribs (he could feel them shift beneath Arthur’s fist), and John made a soft oof sound as the wind was knocked out of his lungs and he was knocked into the fireplace mantle, the corner of it digging into his shoulder. 

The fight that followed was chaotic and messy in a way John had never experienced before, and when he tried to think back to it, it would only be preserved in blurry snapshots, like someone moving in the middle of a photograph. Arthur grabbed John’s braid and pulled. John clawed a deep gouge into his arm. He drew blood. Arthur twisted John’s arm. John cracked Arthur’s rib. Arthur knocked John’s legs out from under him, causing them both to go sprawling onto the floor. Arthur punched. John slapped. Arthur bit. John pinned. And then paused. And then…

In the midst of the fighting, John had ended up on top of Arthur, straddling his waist while pinning both wrists with one hand and grabbing a fistfull of Arthur’s shirt with the other. Both of them had frozen, the only movement the rapid rise and fall of their chests. Their noses were nearly touching, and John could feel Arthur’s breath fanning across his lips, staring into those dark, dark eyes. They weren’t so dark, John realized as he looked into them. They were brown, lovely and warm, with scattered flecks of gold and green nestled deep inside. Hidden gems, wide and wild with adrenaline, flicking back and forth across John’s face without any point of focus.

John’s eyes flicked over the rest of Arthur’s face. Freckles smattered across his nose and cheekbones. Loose strands of auburn hair falling messily across his forehead. The crooked corners of his nose from being broken one too many times. Smile lines beside his tired eyes. Lips like flower petals, soft and pale. Slightly parted and inhaling, exhaling. At some point, John realized he had let go of Arthur’s shirt and was cradling Arthur’s face oh-so gently as he examined it, dragging his thumb lightly over his cheekbone, caressing it. Down the bridge of his nose to his lips, his perfect lips. Arthur remained as still as stone, barely even breathing as he stared blindly back at John.

Somewhere behind the haze of the moment, John wondered subconsciously what would happen if he kissed Arthur. Because, the truth, he realized, was that deep down, in the pit of his stomach, he wanted. He wanted Arthur, in a way he had never wanted anyone else before. He wanted to be close to him, close like this. Closer than this. To be around him always, to hold him, to kiss him. 

What would happen if he took what he wanted instead of what he was told, for once?

He hesitated when he heard Arthur’s breath hitch.But then, when no resistance came, he leaned his head down ever so slightly (there was barely any bridge to gap, by that point), and then he was kissing Arthur. And it was like the world had been set ablaze.

As he pressed his lips against Arthur’s, every nerve in John’s body was alive. It felt like a jolt from a live wire, like a burst of fireworks that would light up the sky on the Fourth of July, like the sparking tang of gunpowder before the shot rang out. It felt like energy, pure and bright and hot and lighting him up from the inside. He felt Arthur’s body respond in kind, arching up to create a line of contact that started at their hands and continued all the way down to their tangled legs, making John shiver. He tasted like whiskey, sweet and sharp beneath the campfire smoke and aftershave, and John marveled at how such a strange and sinful combination could taste like it had just come down from heaven.

He kissed harder, chasing the taste. He nipped at Arthur’s lip hard enough to draw blood, adding a coppery tang to the kiss and eliciting a small moan from the back of Arthur’s throat. It only made John want more. He kissed him again, and again, and again, Arthur’s lips and tongue moving against his with a practiced skill that made John dizzy. He kissed him until his lips were swollen and his head was swimming with nothing but Arthur, Arthur, Arthur. He only pulled away when his chest was burning and there was no choice but to come up for air.

Arthur’s face was flushed, his eyes wide and twinkling. “Oh God.” His voice was hoarse. “Oh, Jesus fucking Christ, John.”

And an unbidden memory surfaced in John’s mind. 

He was back in boarding school, sitting for a mandatory midnight mass in the chapel, his posture ramrod straight. The priests had always been so particular about those masses. There was to be no slouching or fidgeting, and God alone could help you if you dozed off. John had been kneeing in one of the pews, focusing all of his attention on keeping his posture perfect and his eyes open and remaining somewhat alert. 

In the midst of silent prayer, one of the priests, a Father McKenna, had thrown open the doors to the chapel, and dragged another boy up before the altar by his ear. 

The boy had tears streaming down his disheveled face and his nose was red from crying, but the thing that struck John the most about him were his eyes. He just looked so… tired. Not the kind of tired that John was fighting, the kind where a seductive sleep was lingering at the corners of his vision, waiting for him to blink or close his eyes in “prayer” for a second too long. This boy looked like the kind of tired that shot through his bones and grew like rot and rust with every passing day, the kind that only shuffling off this mortal coil a bit too soon could cure.

Father McKenna said the boy had been caught ‘with’ another, with a fury in his eyes that made John wonder in the back of his mind if he had been possessed by the devil. He’d been too young to know what it meant to be ‘with’ another boy at the time, but he knew it must be evil. Father McKenna threw him down in front of the altar, and the boy- John vaguely recognized him to be a child named Alexander- just knelt with his head bowed, like he had accepted his fate before Fate came to dole it out.

Father McKenna was not pleased by this. He smacked the back of Alexander’s head. Hard. He didn’t respond. He picked up a hymnal and smacked him harder still. And still, nothing. 

The priest was trembling with barely concealed fury now, and there was a steady pit of dread opening up in John’s stomach as he began to eye the doors, the windows. Any potential escape from the devil and the punishment that awaited him.

But there was no escape, there never was. So John sat, quietly, and watched as Father McKenna began to beat Alexander.

It was horrible, but somehow John couldn’t tear his eyes away, not even as Alexander’s screams tore through his ears and began to echo off the vaulted ceilings, pleas to stop and promises to never do it again ringing in John’s mind. Not even as the boy’s blood began to stain Father McKenna’s hands and drip onto the marble stairs, as vivid and crimson as sacramental wine. Not even as two of the altar boys had to drag Alexander’s barely conscious, barely breathing body down the aisle and out to the hospital wing.

John was trembling by the end of it. He felt like he was going to throw up. He dreamed of that moment for weeks afterward, never able to sleep without witnessing another religious sacrifice, another crucifixion, another martyr behind his eyelids.

Suddenly back in the present– but not really, never fully out of the past– John scrambled back off of Arthur and pressed his back against a wall, wide-eyed and sweating in sudden, sickening fear. In another life he might have missed the feeling of Arthur beneath him, his waist between his thighs, his lips against his. But nothing could permeate that fear. Nothing would ever be bigger than the fear.

“Wha– John?” Arthur asked. There was fear in his eyes too, but it was different. It wasn’t fear of hell or Father McKenna or whatever had become of Alexander. It was fear for John. It was concern. John closed his eyes against it. “John, what’s wrong? What–,” “Shut up.”

“What?”

“Just, be quiet!” John snapped. “Please, please, just–,” his voice broke. He squeezed the bridge of his nose between his fingers, trying to stave off an oncoming headache. 

“Okay…” Arthur said, quietly. Gently, so cruelly gentle. John could feel the beginnings of tears burning behind his eyes. He squeezed them shut tighter. “Okay.”

“This…” John started. He didn’t want to say it. He knew there would be no coming back from it. No more fireworks, no more whiskey on flower petal lips. Never again would he be so close to Arthur Lester if he said it. But that was the point wasn’t it? Make distance.

Take what he was told, never what he wanted.

“This was a mistake,” John said, firmly. A lie, of course. Inside, his very soul was shaking. The strings of his heart were trembling in a tragic vibrato, a song with no recipient. But he’d always been good at lying. He stood, tossing his braid over his shoulder and brushing the dust of his shirt (his wrinkled shirt, stained with a speck of Arthur’s blood). “It never happened.” He didn’t look at Arthur, because he was a coward. He was everything Arthur thought he was, so he didn’t look him in the eye when he said:

“If you ever so much as mention this, to anyone, I won’t hesitate, Arthur.”

He opened the door to the cabin, ready to step outside, leaving everything he’d never known he’d wanted behind. 

“I’m not you.”

[sagesolsticewrites]

No ones written for Curtis yet !! (Masters of the air) if you wanted and didn’t have any ideas, what about they meet at a pub - he’s loud she’s quiet but he charms his way in ? Something sweet to take away episode threes pain

Thank you so much for requesting, I’ve been having so much fun with these Masters of the Air requests! Our boy Curt deserves some love, too! 🥺 And… what Episode Three? I have no memory of Episode Three, all that happened in Ep 3 was our boys had a big mission and then they all 👀👀👀 made it home safe 😇

(Reminder that requests are open! Feel free to check out some of my favorite prompt lists in my pinned post 😊)

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

To the Rescue

You thank the bartender with a smile before turning towards your usual spot along the wall, martini safely clutched in your hands. The pub was positively crawling with soldiers— which was exactly the reason your friends had dragged you out of the apartment tonight.

“You need to get out more!” They insisted as they wrestled your hair into something slightly more stylish, Dot digging through her wardrobe for something suitable for you to wear.

“There’ll be plenty of very handsome soldiers there,” she had said, producing the soft blue dress you had subsequently been forced into, “It’ll be good for you to meet someone!”

You settle against the wall, resisting the urge to yank out the pins digging into your scalp, instead taking a sip of your martini as you scan the crowd.

Your friends had seemingly already chosen their targets for tonight— you spot Ruthie chatting to a blonde Brit over by the bar, and Dot had already managed to drag some poor soldier onto the dance floor with her and her two left feet.

Despite what your friends thought, you were perfectly happy being a wallflower. You enjoyed people watching— just as entertaining as normal conversation without the stress of having to contribute, you had once joked.

The theory was proven as you scanned over the crowd, picking up snippets of conversation, stories, jokes… usually coming from a particularly boisterous soldier speaking loud enough to be heard throughout the whole bar with a distinctive accent— New York or somewhere thereabouts, you guessed.

“Hey there, honey.”

Every part of you cringes inwardly at the voice interrupting your thoughts. British, you note immediately, with that hint of bravado that signaled he didn’t much care for your parts of the conversation— he was just looking to show off for his friends.

You couldn’t very well ignore him, though, and you try to hide your exasperation as best you can.

“Can I help you?”

“Well, I couldn’t help but notice that you seemed a bit lonely over here, figured you could use some company. Maybe a drink, maybe a dance…” the Brit grins, and you take notice of the pins decorating both his and his friends’ jackets— RAF boys. Ugh.

“I’m perfectly fine, thank you,” you assure them with the politest smile you can muster.

“Aw, come on,” one of his buddies speaks up, “Just one dance?”

At the clear refusal of that request, the other man that was with them chimes in.

“Or how about I buy you a drink? Seems like you could use a fresh one,” he says, nodding towards the martini glass in your hand— the one that was still nearly full.

“Thank you, but I’m alright, really…”

You attempt to edge away from them, mind racing for a way to politely let them down so they’d leave you alone.

Just then, a thick New York drawl breaks through the unsuccessful attempts at flirting, a welcome relief from the unfamiliar English accents.

“There you are, sweetheart,” the soldier says loudly, leading you away from the RAF boys, “Been lookin’ for you everywhere!”

One arm slung over your shoulder, he leans down to whisper in your ear “Trust me, okay?”

Speaking loudly enough to be heard by the other soldiers, he began leading you to a secluded booth in the corner, “I got us a table over here…”

As you slide into the booth, he turns to the RAF boys with a fierce warning glare and a subtle cracking of his knuckles, unseen by you.

The Brits scramble to find other targets, and the soldier — you still haven’t gotten his name — returns his attention to you.

“I’m sorry, I hope I didn’t overstep,” he says, “You just, uh… seemed like you weren’t havin’ too good of a time over there.”

“No, it’s fine,” you assure him softly, shaking your head, “Thank you, um…”

He seems to realize what you’re waiting for, and sweeps into a bow as he introduces himself.

“Lieutenant Curtis Biddick, at your service,” he says, a cheeky grin lighting up his face. “But everyone calls me Curt,” he adds, straightening up.

There’s a moment of awkward silence as you smile and nod in acknowledgement, and then realize that you have absolutely no idea what to say now.

“…Well,” the soldier— Curt— says, once it becomes clear you’re not going to say anything, “I’ll leave you be, but if those guys bother you again just gimme a holler, yeah? I’ll sort ‘em out.”

“Wait!” You say as he turns to go, the loudest you’ve spoken all evening.

You pray the flush in your cheeks isn’t too visible in the dim light of the pub as he turns back and you say hesitantly, “You can… stay, if you like.”

You gesture to the empty space of the booth, but add hurriedly, “Or if you don’t want to— I’m sure you’d rather—”

“I’d like that very much,” he says with a smile, cutting off your nervous rambling.

He slides into the booth across from you rather than next to you, to your surprise, giving you enough space to feel comfortable.

“So, are you ever gonna tell me your name, or am I just gonna keep calling you sweetheart all night?” He asks, adding a wink to make sure you know he’s teasing.

You tell him, just barely loud enough to be heard over the band, and he grins, testing out the pronunciation. “Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

Like with most compliments, you’re not sure how to respond until—

“I don’t normally look like this,” you find yourself saying and oh of all the times you had to actually start talking, why did it have to be now? “I mean— my friends decided to doll me up for tonight, but I’m not normally—” You trail off as your mouth finally takes the hint to stop talking now and silently pray for the ground to swallow you.

“Hey, I should ask them for some tips,” is all Curt says, though, and you find yourself fighting off a smile as he rambles on about “wanting to find something for myself, it feels like everyone’s doin’ the same thing these days…”

The way he sighs forlornly, staring out at the sea of uniforms identical to his, is what breaks you, and the two of you collapse into peals of laughter.

You hear your name being called, and turn to see Ruthie — apparently having abandoned the blonde Brit— flagging you down, until she realizes you have company.

“Oh— sorry!” She says, before gesturing to where your other friend seems to have gotten a bit too deep in her cups, “I’m gonna take Dot home. You take your time, though!” She adds, nodding towards Curt encouragingly in her usual unsubtle manner.

You wave her off and tell her to be safe, blushing furiously at the expression on Curt’s face— he looks entirely too amused by Ruthie’s reaction.

“She gonna be okay?” He asks first, though, nodding towards where Ruthie’s leading Dot out the door.

As you assure him your friends will be perfectly fine, he nods, seeming to consider you for a moment.

“You don’t get out much, do you?”

You nearly choke mid-sip of your martini, surprised at his bluntness.

“What gave it away?” You manage to quip once you’ve recovered, waving off his concern.

“Your friend there,” he nods to the door, “I’ve seen my fair share of girls excited that their friend snagged a soldier, but… never that excited.” He concludes with a laugh.

“I guess I’ve always found all this,” you gesture to the room around you: the dancing, the laughter and occasional shouts from the soldiers, the music, “a bit much? I’ve never really been one for parties or bars or… any kind of socializing, really. Ruthie and Dot were plenty eager to get me out of the apartment for once, though.”

“Well I, for one,” Curt says with a crooked grin, “am very glad they did.”

You meet his gaze for a moment before smiling down at your lap, “So am I.”

The two of you continue talking through the night— Curt dominates the conversation, but in a way that you don’t mind; he fills what would normally be an awkward silence for you with jokes and stories, all the while leaving enough space for you to chime in when you feel like it.

The pub empties as the night goes on, and before too long it’s only the two of you and a handful of other people remaining.

You glance at your watch, wincing as you realize how late it’s gotten.

Curt takes note, already moving to stand as if he had meant to be heading back at this hour and asking with a smile:

“Can I walk you home?”

The easy conversation continues on the short walk to your building, and you find yourself on the front walk with Curt, dreading the moment he walks away.

“Wait— I—” you interrupt as he opens his mouth to bid you goodnight, digging in your small clutch for any scrap of paper you can find.

Producing a torn piece of what apparently used to be a grocery list and a small pen, you scribble down your address, holding it out to him.

“Write to me?”

A bright grin transforms his face as he tucks it away in his breast pocket, next to his heart, “I’d love to.”

The two of you simply… stand there in the moonlight, grinning at each other.

Your gaze scans over him, taking in the hat sitting at a jaunty angle on his head, his slightly crooked tie, the equally crooked grin of this boy who took you under his wing for the night.

Summoning all your courage, you rock up onto your toes to press a quick kiss on his cheek.

As your turn to sprint into your building, though, something stops you.

Or more specifically, someone.

Curt reaches out and grabs your hand, pulling you back towards him. You’re the closest you’ve been to him all night, barely a breath in between the two of you.

He scans your face, gaze dipping down to your lips then back up, searching for permission.

At your almost imperceptible nod, he dips down and captures your lips in a surprisingly gentle kiss.

Warmth blooms in your chest, spreading through you down to your toes in the brief eternity his lips are on yours.

He pulls away, remaining close enough that your noses brush as his thumb caresses your cheek.

“Sweetheart, when I get back to base,” he begins softly, “I am writing you the cheesiest, corniest love letter you’ve ever seen.”

His laughter is infectious, and you hope your giggles hide the flush on your face at the mention of love.

“I look forward to it,” you simply say, barely able to speak around the grin on your face.

With one last gentle kiss planted on your cheek, he bids you goodnight, and you float into your apartment, waiting impatiently for a love letter from Curtis Biddick.

[writingoddess1125]

Jealous Much

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x FemReader

SPICY ❤️‍🔥 GOOD SPICY SAUSAGE

⚠️ Warnings: ⚠️ Hard Sex, Not really but just in case Domcon, Unprotected sex. Fingering fem receiving.

Please support me on Ko-Fi ☕️

It had all started out so innocently...

Being the head doctor at such a large Base you were stationed at ment you delt with many people- A revolving door of bodies coming in to be treated by your skilled hands, but it seemed that people often got the wrong idea when it came to you and your job.

That and you were a pretty cute.

The evening had started out well, You were about to finish your shift and call it a evening to get started on the pile of paperwork on your desk, Their wasnt a lot on staff tonight anyway and most teams out on missions- As you prepared to start your pager went off and you groaned, looking directly at the device on your hip and went to your treatment room next door to your office. Seeing in the large room was non other TF 141, the group often darkening your door with their antics.

"Ah my Best Customers I see- What can I help you with?" You say cheerfully, always prideful in your bedside manner.

"He got blown off the back of the truck-" Soap said calmly gesturing to Gaz who looked- well like he'd been blown off a truck and into sand-

"Oh, Well let's get you cleaned up and checked out" You say softly, helping him from the vest and shirt to check the damage. Fortunately most of the injuries were superficial and the vest look the brunt of the hits.

Gaz stared at you starry eyed, watching how you patched him up and moved with grace around him- That and the slightly tighter scrubs didn't hurt his imagination. He'd had his eye on you for a while, every since he had seen you weeks prior.

"Thank you (Y/L/N)- You know I got to ask what kind of food do you like?" He asked, his lips turning up in a smile. Your hands freezing for a moment as you raised a man.

"Pardon?"

"Food. I'd like to know what you like, a Thank you dinner if you will" He said, The team surprised by the Balls of Kyle to openly and infront of them all ask you out.

"I'm flattered but no- I don't go out like that" You say innocently, Kyle deflating as you finished patching him up.

"What about a few drinks at the pub-"

"Gaz-" Ghost all but hissed, snapping the poor man back to reality with a pout. You chuckle at this and pat the poor man's shoulder, thanking him for the offer but refusing non the less.

Dismissing yourself politely to go and get started on the paperwork.

"Damn You did't have a chance Kyle- I've heard stories that her legs are welded shut. People trying to get at her for years" Soap said with a sad sigh to his clearly love struck friend, however in their conversation they didn't see Ghost eyes practically glowing in silent rage as he watched them leave.

In your office you sighed, feeling quite embarrassed by Gaz so upfrontly asking you out to dinner. It was sweet but you knew it would only cause trouble- the sound of your office door locking snapped you from your mind, looking up in a panic you stop the large figure standing in your office. Ghost.

"Simon? What are you-" He waved off your words as he walked over to your desk, Warmth blooming on your face as he grabbed you a bit roughly from your seat and forced you across the desk.

"S-Si I'm still at work you cant-" You were cut off as he pressed his fingers harshly against your clothed core, rubbing circles over the thin blue fabric.

"I know- How many times have they looked at you like that?" He growled, you could practically hear the jealousy rolling from his tongue as he spoke. You whimper as you feel his free hand slide down you scrubs and panties in one motion.

"Thought about you bent over this very desk"

His fingers slid into you easily began to move slowly, almost teasingly inside you to stretch you out. "Not knowing youre mine, aren't you?" Simon asked, his voice low and on edge.

"Yes Sir~"

You replied, barely able to breathe from the intensity of his touch. "Good girl" He said, pulling his fingers out and smacking your ass hard enough that it stung.

Standing close behind you, rubbing his cock against your now sore ass. You felt him push into you, Inch by inch slowly and wjth care as if he wanted you to feel every bit kf it, Bottoming out quickly with a huff. Slowly he began to move slow at first, but each thrust getting harder than the last.

"Oh fuck-!" You whimper out legs shaking as you have to bite back a loud cry of bliss. The soilder thrusts faster and harder into your aching cunt, his fingers digging into your bare hips, his breath coming in short pants.

"That's it, Good Girl" He growls out.

He pulls his hand away from your red hip and grips the back of your neck, holding you still whilst he pounds into you. You feel the muscles in your legs begin to tremble as your orgasm builds and the grip from Simon damn near makes your head fuzzy. You could feel the heat building inside you, and knew you were so close to cumming so quickly. But Simon didn't stop. He pushed himself deeper into you, harder and faster as he felt you walls flutter around him.

He began to hiss, grunting your name in your ear as his hips desperately shuttered against yours, the sound of skin slapping filling the room along with your wimpering desperate sweet moans.

You mindlessly blabbering out his name as like prayers, his hand quickly flying from your neck and covered your lips to keep you quiet, smirking at feeking you tighten by the action.

"That's it~"

He grunted against your ear, rolling his hips in just the perfect way that he knew you liked, feeling your legs shake as you screamed out against his hand in bliss, cumming all over his cock. The man only able to give a few weakened thrust into you as his own hips shook.

Feeling Simon bury himself deeply into you- Deeper then you'd ever felt before as he moaned in your ear and came, Warmth filling you as you whimpered against his gloved hand. Simon panted hard above you, pulling his hand away finally from your face he carefully pulled out of you, You giving a soft whine as he did so.

You laid there, panting hard as the crashes of your orgasm made your legs weak as you leaned over the desk for dear life, the cool wood like heaven on your scorched skin.

You felt gentle kisses up your neck as Simon pulled your panties back up and smoothed your scrubs back down like he hadnt disturbed it at all.

"You with me Love?" He said softly in your ear- you humming and nodding as Simon helped you back to your feet and set you so you were seated on the desk, you trying to keep the wave of cum from spilling from you.

"You know, you can just have me change my last name. I'm sure people wouldn't dare flirt with Mrs. Riley" You point out with a smirk, Simon giving you a half cooked glare as he fixed himself back in his pants and grabbed for his mask which he had tossed off mid action.

"Could be dangerous if people found out my wife was on base- Or they could station you elsewhere" He said, Walking over and running his large hand over your thickened thighs.

"It's dangerous either way, Besides someone is bound to find out.. Or I get sent back home if you end up knocking me up-" You point out, especially since Simon had cum inside you and knew damn well you weren't on the pill. He smirked at this and kissed you gently on the lips, a twinkle of mischief in his eye-

"Now that would be a sight~" He purred out, planting kisses on your neck as you giggled at his antics.

"Now that would be something worth takin' a risk on~" He whispered in your ear as you were picked up, getting a surprised yelp from you as he laid the both of you down on the floor of the office.

"You serious about this?~" You say Grinning up at your husband as you were laid on your medical coat on the floor. Simon nodding as he began to pull off your shirt.

"Deadly~" He purred out before the sounds of you and him giggling echoed through the office- Clothes now being tossed off fully for the next round.

Just outside your locked office door stood a horrified Soap, he had gotten there in the middle of the action holding Gaz Vest which had been forgotten and he had a few questions for you, Shocked at hearing the apparent good doctor was getting her back blown out in her own office-

However after hearing what he's just heard and the fear of discovering LT Ghost wife and hearing the unmistakable voice of his LT.. this was a fear he didnt know he needed to have. He slowly began to step away from the door as silently as possible-

He had to warn Gaz of whatever storm was coming his way for hitting on the LT wife and He really didn't want to be there for the making of baby Riley-