#the others can use their 'white privileges' (or as some of you put it their restrictive contract)

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

shameless

minors. dni.

your roommate, biker!JASON TODD, still hasn’t taken his helmet off.

readers can expect: a helmet wearing jason todd x fem!reader in an undefined relationship. reader in a dress and makeup. use of nicknames like “baby” and “sunshine.” implied consent but not explicitly stated. thigh riding and some dirty talk. minor, minor amounts of fingering.

he’d just gotten home from a ride, the same time you’d gotten back from shopping. you always did the same thing after, so he’d settled himself into a chair to give you and your new clothes an audience. but the mirrored panel he’s watching you through doesn’t give you the same privilege.

you can’t see his eyes, can’t tell if he likes the clothes or not.

he’s been silent the whole time, too. if you didn’t know him better, you’d worry he was mad at you. but you know him well. sometimes you think better than he knows himself. jason just doesn’t talk if he feels like he doesn't need to..or if he’s extremely distracted.

he’s leaning back in the chair, his arms crossed. the motion is making his forearms bulge. the fabric of his flannel straining, already rolled up to his elbows.

your brain is light and fluttery at the idea of his arms holding you close. his hips meeting yours with each thrust. his helmet on.

you’re itching for him to touch you. itching.

you twirl in the new black dress you got, hoping to catch a reaction of some sort.

he tightens his grip on his bicep. shifts in his seat, spreading his legs wider. the fabric around his crotch is definitely more taut than it was when you started.

but he says nothing.

you practically gulp, turning around to go put on the last thing you got.

you come back out in a new red dress. the ruching up the sides pulls the fabric tight against your skin. it ends mid thigh, but you might’ve hiked it up a little higher. might’ve reapplied your lipstick before coming back out. tousled your hair a little bit. who’s to say?

you come a little closer this time, spinning again. you stop, propping a hand onto your hip.

“what do you think?” you turn to the side.

his head tilts. he says nothing.

“okay, well, this was the last thing.” you turn, starting down the hallway.

jason mumbles, the words lost into his helmet. you stop in your tracks. spin back around.

“hm?” you step closer. “did you say something?”

the bulge in jason’s pants is too obvious to ignore now. he shakes his head, beckoning to you, patting his leg.

you have to hold yourself back from practically running to him.

you sit yourself down on a thigh, his hand immediately finding the curve of your ass. electricity runs up your spine. his other hand settles on your upper thigh, slowly inching closer to the junction of your legs. warmth unfurls in your belly at the sensation of the leather of his glove on your bare skin. you lean in, throwing your arms around his neck.

still nothing.

you’re looking at yourself in the mirror covering his eyes. it irks you. you want to see his eyes, the dark slashes of his eyebrows. the corner of your mouth rises as you bring your face in, and plant a lipsticked kiss on the plastic of his visor. jason pinches your waist. his cock twitches behind the thick fabric of his pants. he’s grateful he has his helmet on. it’s hiding his rapidly reddening cheeks.

he recovers, flipping up his tagged visor. just to make a show of rolling his eyes at you. his grip on your thigh tightens as you study the sliver of his face he’s letting you see. a tuft of hair covers his forehead, his telltale white streak cutting through the darker hair, into his right eyebrow.

he looks at you through half-lidded, deep blue eyes, his eyebrows furrowed.

you smile at him, batting your lashes. the itch grows stronger.

he rolls his eyes, again.

“feelin’ feisty today, huh, sunshine?”

you nod, humming in agreement. jason tightens his arms around you, bringing you closer. his eyes narrow, the look in them making the heartbeat between your thighs pound harder. you squeeze your legs together. jason glances down, then scoffs, shaking his head.

“you’re shameless.” he decides.

you nod again, blushing a little as you concede.

he adjusts you, grabbing at the fabric around your hips, pulling it up until it’s bunched around your waist. he pauses when he sees the lace of your underwear covering your sex, his own heart pounding in his ears. he fights the urge to clear his throat, a nervous tic he has that you’d pick up on immediately. he can’t fuck this up. he’s been desperate to touch you since the last time you let him, done nothing but think about the pretty little sounds you’d made. he’s gotta play this just right.

“were these really necessary?” he hooks a finger on the waistband, raising his eyebrow. a giggle bubbles out of your throat as you stand up.

“..my underwear? yeah, i’d say they might be.” it’s your turn to roll your eyes, and you do, before pulling off them off.

jason grabs them from you, wrapping the lacy fabric around his wrist like a bracelet. at your shocked face, he shrugs.

“just for safekeeping, sunshine. i’d say don’t get your panties inna twist about it, but ‘s a little late for that.”

he looks up at you in his helmet, and even though the lower half of his face is covered, you can practically see the cocky smile he’s wearing. you set yourself back onto his leg, straddling his thick thigh. the rough fabric of his riding pants meets the smooth skin of your inner thigh, a wet spot already forming.

“well? show me how bad you want it.” he settles back.

you brace your hands on his shoulders while he folds his own gloved hands on his stomach.

you move your hips, starting a delicious rhythm. the friction makes you moan, feels so good you don’t even realize you’re making a sound. you rock yourself back and forth, back and forth. the movement jostling your tits.

jason’s eyes flicker down, his eyebrows raising. a low groan emanates from his throat. the sound takes you to another level. he reaches up, pulling the front of your dress down. his eyes flare in response, breaking his tense posture to reach up with a gloved hand and palm one.

the worn in leather on the delicate skin of your chest feels like heaven. he pinches a nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. the combined stimulation drives you to move your hips faster, gripping your fingers into the sturdy angles of his shoulders.

your hands on him has his cock aching, no doubt leaking pre all over the front of his underwear. he can’t believe what you’re able to do to him without even trying.

“that’s right, baby.” he takes in how your face changes, pleasure so acute it’s unmistakable on your features.

“use me, just like that.”

you pick up the pace just a little, your toes curling as his eyebrows raise and he nods his encouragement. his big hands sink into the flesh of your tits, kneading them as you move.

“that’s right, you’re so close, keep going—”

it builds up, and up, and up, the waves cresting as your thighs clench around his, your back arches, you throw your head back. jason is humming is approval deep in his throat. he swipes your clit a few times with his leather-clad thumb, drawing out your orgasm, making your thighs tremble.

“needed that bad, huh?”

your face grows hot, and you flip his visor down.

he pushes it up again, rolling his eyes at you as the corners of them crinkle with what you can guess is a smile. jason caresses your thigh with his hand as you slump into his chest. your breathing matches his, and he brushes your hair out of your face.

“i like this dress.”

[giantkillerjack]

Uh-oh! You are like, SOOO awkward!!

You're so awkward that it is occasionally mildly uncomfortable for people!

You're so awkward that sometimes people are confused by you and then there are awkward silences!

You're so awkward ...... that ultimately no one is harmed!!

Oh damn!!! What a vile crime you have committed! What an unforgivable thing it is to make a fellow human briefly confused!

Why, if *I* were ever briefly confused and kind of uncomfortable as a result, I'd be devastated.... by the absolute net zero change in my happiness and health! - From which I might never recover!! Yes indeed! No punishment can ever be enough for you!!

So you better absolutely hate yourself for it.

Better be SO MEAN to yourself about every single missed social cue so you don't forget your horrible crime! Meaner than you'd ever dream of being to someone else for the same thing! This is YOUR responsibility!

You need to show the world that you KNOW you are bad by punishing yourself constantly! After all, think of all the people who BENEFIT from you punishing yourself! - No, really! Think about it! Think about who benefits from your pain.

Think of alllllll the definitely-good people that your definitely-necessary self-torment definitely helps! I mean, you can't just cut off their definitely-life-sustaining supply of your suffering, right?? Sure, everyone else has a breaking point, but you're probably the only person in human history who doesn't, right? Best not to question it probably. Sure, it's a symptom that billions of people with trauma have had, but who knows? You could be a one-in-seven-billion exception. Anything's possible!

Instead, better just accept that idea that bullies carry like guns in holsters - the idea that people who have trouble with social cues deserve to suffer. Better carry on the burden they placed on you until you drop. Aid the cause of the callous by enforcing shame and suffering upon yourself extra hard; try your best to do their work for them. They're very busy.

Better not recognize that you need patience and kindness to heal from your trauma. Better not find out that it was trauma rather than personal weakness filling your head with self-hating thoughts. Better not find out it wasn't your fault.

Better not find out that awkwardness is not inherently harmful or unkind, and, in fact, the people who act like it is *are the ones enacting harm and being cruel.*

Better not get righteously angry when you realize just how much unnecessary damage this has done to you. After all, if you get mad, you might realize you deserve better. You might even feel brave enough to DEMAND better! You might build boundaries that keep you safe! You might make other people think they deserve to feel safe too! And we obviously can't be having that, so...

Better not show yourself even a little kindness a little bit at a time.

Better not make a habit out of it after all that practice.

Better not get confident.

Especially if you can't first wipe out every trace of awkward. (And you probably never will. Because people who experience absolute social certainty at all times tend to be insufferable assholes that enforce the status quo. And you just don't have the stock portfolio for that.)

Better not be confident and awkward because then you might confuse and delight people

- you might accidentally end up making other people feel less shame for their social difficulties

- you might make isolated, traumatized, and shy people feel like they deserve to be included in social situations

- you might even make them feel they can be themselves around you

- you might start loving the effect you have on a room

- you might enjoy conversations more

- you might forgive yourself and bounce back from shame more easily and frequently

- you might come to enjoy some of those moments of harmless confusion you cause because NOBODY expects the Confident Awkward, and that can genuinely be an advantage in social situations

- you might stop apologizing so much.

- you might find that socializing is like a video game: it requires practice but also a safe space for it to be fun and positive.

Or if you can't become assertive and confident, better not remain awkward and shy and quiet, and then love and forgive yourself anyway!

Why, it would be carnage!!

In either scenario, you run the risk of finding out that it's not your fault that safe spaces full of kind people can be really hard to find, create, and nurture. You could end up building a skillset that helps you do those things if you're not careful!

If you start giving yourself even the tiniest amount of grace at a time, you will find that you've accessed a gateway drug with extreme long-term side effects:

- You might realize that it was never your fault that it took so long to like yourself.

- You might realize that you were always worth talking to, even when you didn't like yourself and communication felt impossibly difficult.

- You might realize that you'll still be worth talking to even if communication becomes harder as you age and/or experience disability.

- You might come to know that you deserve to be heard even on bad days when words come slow and blurry.

You might discover that you were always deserving of kindness, first and foremost from yourself.

So. As you can see, it's FAR too much of a risk to start granting your awkward self free pardons for your many heinous and harmless crimes. Better to just leave it there.

[bijoumikhawal]

"Biden is the best choice and he's actually really empathetic and reasonable but also you can't wait for a candidate that won't do genocide and war crimes because to become a presidential candidate you have to be willing to do that" see what you fundamentally don't understand is I'm not waiting for a candidate that won't do war crimes, because I know that. I cannot morally stomach this system, it's a joke to claim its democratic, and AMERICA DELENDA EST. this country is a plague on this Earth

[useramrood]

People can just say right away that they don't want to call out their drivers, instead of dragging Lewis in it and saying, he can speak up about certain matters due to his contract and the others don't.....

[hyperlexichypatia]

The thing about "lack of third spaces in the U.S." that doesn't get mentioned enough is that it's not just "Capitalists and corporations bought up the commons, privatized public resources, and made people pay to access them."

That's a big part of it. But it's not the only part.

The other part is that middle-class people -- particularly middle-class white, abled people -- willingly forked over money to set up private spaces rather than share public spaces with people of color, disabled people, neurodivergent people, poor people, religious minorities, and other "undesirable" people.

When you look at any article or picture from some point in the 20th century about third spaces that are less common now, consider that depending on exactly where and when in the 20th century U.S. this was, people of color might have been banned from that space by either law or threat of violence or both (or, at minimum, made to feel unwelcome). Physically disabled people probably could not access those spaces (or were institutionalized or kept at home). Visibly non-passing neurodivergent people probably could not access those spaces, because they were institutionalized or kept at home. Two women kissing, a man in a dress, any type of visibly queer or gender nonconforming person would not have been tolerated in that space.

And my point is, these things are not unrelated. The decline of third spaces is not unrelated to civil rights gains.

I'm not saying "Stop talking about the good things of the mid-20th century, don't you know that era also had racism and sexism and ableism and queerphobia?"

I'm saying they're not unrelated -- it's not "This time period was better in some ways, like more third spaces, but worse in some ways, like more racism and ableism." It's "Those good things, those third spaces, those labor unions, those safe neighborhoods, that sense of community, relied upon the systemic exclusion of a dehumanized underclass, and as soon as any civil rights pressure was put on that systemic exclusion, the sense of community crumbled."

The pattern is clear and recurring: Privileged people build a public space for "the community", marginalized people start using it (sometimes after a court case or two), the public place gets a reputation for being "full of" marginalized people, privileged people build a private space they can exclude people from, privileged people abandon the public space, the public space gets neglected and deprioritized because "nobody (who matters) uses it anymore," the public place goes to shit from neglect and possibly closes, the private space gets expensive, privileged people lament the loss of the public space.

Privileged people killed public pools rather than share them with Black people. Mortally wounded public schools rather than share them with people of color and religious minorities. Are trying to kill public libraries rather than share them with queer people and unhoused people and neurodivergent people. Can't revive public transportation for fear of sitting next to poor people. It's white flight all the way down.

The whole "Social democracy is the left wing of fascism" claim is tankie ridiculousness, but like most tankie ridiculousness, there's an underlying grain of truth. In this case, the underlying grain of truth is that widespread support for public services is a much easier sell when people don't think they'll have to share resources or public space with people they consider inferior. It's not a coincidence that some of the countries that provide the highest quality of life for their abled citizens are some of the worst to noncitizens and disabled people.

And it's not like Weird Queer Left-Leaning Types have a great track record of sharing public space with people different from yourselves, either. Y'all can't be normal about someone wearing a yarmulke at Pride. Y'all can't be normal about adults playing board games with kids. There's no way you'd be okay with unsupervised, uncontrolled, unmedicated-by-choice schizophrenic people hanging out and talking to themselves. You cannot handle public third spaces.

Yes, blame corporations and advertisers for privatizing public spaces, but also blame the social prejudice that willingly forks over money to avoid sharing public space with Those People.

[cam1lla]

People who hate Taylor Swift operate under this mentality that she was just handed all of her success and accolades out of nowhere and it really shows when they prop up some newer bouncier Cool Girl and say “she should be handed everything Taylor has out of nowhere” and then get angry that she isn’t handed everything Taylor has out of nowhere and act surprised when newer bouncier Cool Girl a) doesn’t succeed because she doesn’t put in a sliver of the immense effort into her work that Taylor does and b) buckles under the pressure.

Taylor Swift works harder than anyone else in the industry. She is always working even on her off days, not out of a soulless grind, but out of passion for her art. This is all the result of a 16 year old burning her own CDs and sitting on the floor of the Big Machine office calling radio stations for hours, performing in parking lots and school auditoriums, learning several instruments, writing her own songs, but also writing music for other singers to use while she waited to break out. There was no TikTok for her to go viral on. She had to clock in and go to work every day.

I think that’s why it bothers me that there is an idea among Taylor antis that she is uniquely privileged compared to singers who are just as white, and just as cis, and just as privileged as she is. They don’t factor in that she, in all of her millennial eldest daughter earnestness, is putting in the fucking work, always. She’s not waiting for it to be given to her. She’s always finding a new sound, if it doesn’t work, she tries something else. She never does the exact same thing twice. She never pigeonholes herself. She studies the greats, not just their music but their business practices. She’s a voracious reader and takes what she can out of the material she reads and applies it. She goes through her entire Eras tour set on the treadmill so she has the stamina to perform that beast of a show night after night. This is not a chore to her, she knew what she was signing up for when she entered the realm of mainstream pop, and even though there were rocky moments, she never let it get in the way of her work. This is why she is still here. This is why her star power has not faded.

This is why she is still reigning supreme over all the other pop girls, whether you like it or not. Push your Cool Girls to work harder, or deal with Taylor staying on top.

[multi-kpop-fanfics]

more than I can resist

pairing: Seungcheol x fem!reader x Wonwoo

genre: smut, fluff, poly!au - minors dni.

warnings: threesome, anal sex, oral sex (f and m rec), fingering, dirty talk, praise kink, use of petnames (princess, sunshine, pretty boy), sub!reader, switch!wonwoo, switch!cheol, multiple orgasms, cum swallowing, unprotected sex (pls stay safe), manhandling, hair pulling, aftercare

word count: ~3.8k

summary: you love starting your day with your boyfriend and a freshly brewed cup of coffee. but your other boyfriend has a different idea of a perfect morning.

Disclaimer: Both Seungcheol and Wonwoo are depicted as bisexual in the fic, which is used only for the purposes of fanfiction and it is not an assumption of the members' sexual orientation in real life. If you're not comfortable with these themes, then this fic isn't for you.

Author's note: happy holidays beloveds, here's some woncheol filth - big thank you to @gyuwoncheol for betareading (and yelling at me hehe) and to @wooahaeproductions for helping me out with the title!

tagging @onlymingyus @smileysuh @horanghater @shuadotcom @wongyuseokie

©multi-kpop-fanfics, 2023. No reposting allowed. No translations without permission allowed.

Raindrops clatter on the window, a moody gray color engulfing the bedroom. You swear it makes you want to fall back asleep, but the warmth surrounding and the faint smell of coffee being brewed keep your eyes wide open.

You raise your torso from the bed and notice that your boyfriend is missing - now you know why the smell of coffee lingers in the air.

You push the comforter to the side before stepping on the carpeted floor, but a strong arm tugging at your wrist stops you - the wrist of your other boyfriend.

“Don’t leave yet, I wanna cuddle for a little longer.” Seungcheol pouts, voice still dipped in sleepiness.

“But Wonwoo is already up and making coffee. I don’t want to drink it cold, Cheollie.”

“But cuddles!” The blond man pouts again.

“Sorry, Cheollie, coffee is calling.” You smile softly and get up from the bed, wearing your fuzzy slippers to go to the kitchen.

Seungcheol plops down on the bed, puffing his lips in annoyance. It’s baffling how you’re willing to leave the warmth and coziness of his arms just for a cup of coffee with Wonwoo. Or maybe he’s being dramatic about it.

You, on the other hand, are absolutely delighted to be greeted with Wonwoo’s broad back, clad in a plain white t-shirt. You tiptoe your way behind him and wrap your arms around your waist to back hug him.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” He rubs the back of your hand lovingly.

“Good morning, Wonu.” You hum and pat his abdomen. “How did you sleep?”

“Pretty well. Although I wish I didn't have to spend most of the night away from you. Not to mention the amount of times Seungcheol tried to pull you away.” He comments with a small sigh.

“Oh come on, you know he’s clingy in his sleep.” 

“Y/N, clingy is Seungcheol’s middle name.” Wonwoo chuckles as he pours the dark brown liquid in the three matching cups.

“I think that’s one of the many reasons why you love him.” You tease him with a sing-song voice.

“I cannot refute that, I’m afraid.” He passes you the cup with the sun carvings on. “Enjoy the coffee, darling.”

“Thank you baby.” You take a sip and moan in satisfaction when the coffee hits your taste buds. “Perfect as always.”

“And the only thing I’m perfect at-”

“Bullshit!”

“In the kitchen, I mean.”

“Oh. Then yeah, you’re right.” You grin evilly and he swats your arm playfully.

“If you get to be a meanie first thing in the morning, then maybe I should cut down on your coffee privileges.” Wonwoo tilts his head sideways, a cat-like smirk on his face.

“Now who’s the meanie?” You put your coffee down on the counter and rest your fists on your waist.

“Honestly? He’s still sleeping in the bedroom.” Wonwoo deadpans and you snort, trying to suppress your laughter.

“You would have to bear with his pouting for the rest of the month if he heard you say that.”

“And he would get even more annoyed because I know when to not give attention to him.” He gives you a smug answer.

“Is it me or do you have a thing for arguing with Cheol?”

“I do. And frankly, I like him a bit better when he gets frustrated.” 

“Because he looks hot when he’s angry?”

“Exactly.” Wonwoo licks the corners of his lips. “Makes the ordeal a bit nastier, you know?”

“It’s always the quiet ones, I swear.” You roll your eyes and walk away from the kitchen.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“To the bathroom. I want to wash my face and do my morning routine. My eyes still feel a bit droopy.” You rub your face with your palms.

“Then stop rubbing your face, you idiot.” He laughs and you wave your hands in defeat, making your way to the bathroom.

Wonwoo is left alone in the kitchen once more and he goes back to enjoying his coffee, back turned against the rest of the living room.

He’s unaware of Seungcheol walking into the kitchen with his signature pout on, the latter feeling sulky from the lack of attention.

But as soon as he notices his boyfriend’s shoulders stretching out the fabric of his tee, the devil on Seungcheol’s shoulder is awakened and ready to take action.

The blond man presses his body on Wonwoo’s back and runs his hands over his sides, making the younger man shiver.

“Shit - you startled me, Cheol!” Wonwoo curses out loud, the half empty coffee cup nearly dropping from his hands.

“You’re one big scaredy cat, aren’t you.” Seungcheol giggles.

“Good morning to you too, I guess.”

“Where’s Y/N?”

“She’s in the bathroom to freshen up a bit.”

“So much for wanting to drink coffee with you.” 

“At least she escaped your clutches.” Wonwoo laughs.

“Gotta live up to my middle name, right?” Seungcheol presses himself a bit harder on Wonwoo, his morning wood trying to make its presence known.

“So you were awake this whole time, huh?” 

“Yeah, but the bed was too warm to not enjoy it.”

“But you got up either way. Can’t live without being the center of our attention, Cheollie?” Wonwoo teases him with the nickname, knowing how much it riles him up.

“You must be in a pretty good mood to be cracking shitty jokes now, Wonu.” Seungcheol’s hand descends towards Wonwoo’s crotch, rubbing him over his sweats. 

“And you must be really thirsty for attention to be pulling tricks like these.” He grips the older man’s wrist, low hiss echoing in the kitchen.

Seungcheol smirks at his reaction and doesn’t stop moving his hand up and down, biting his bottom lip when Wonwoo grips the counter a bit tighter.

“Losing your composure already? I thought you were stronger than that.”

“Shut up.”

“Ah ah, pretty boys like you shouldn’t say bad words.” 

A shiver runs down Wonwoo’s spine when he hears the pet name, hips bucking into Seungcheol’s hand.

“Seems like you’re the one who needs attention, Wonu.” The blond man chuckles in his ear.

“Oh my God, just stop talking and keep touching me, please.”

Seungcheol takes his hand away and turns Wonwoo around, pinning him to the counter. He might not be taller, but he’s definitely stronger and he will always find a way to use his strength to his advantage.

“Whoever did your hair last night deserves an award.”

"T-Thanks. Wish I was here with the two of you, not at some boring business dinner." 

"It's okay, Wonu. You've worked hard and it's reward time, pretty boy." 

Seungcheol drops down on his knees and unties the string of Wonwoo's sweats, pulling them down with his boxers. His cock springs free, already hard and leaking precum.

"Were you dining with your colleagues with such a boner? I almost feel sorry for you." He rubs his fingertip over the shaft and around the bulbous head.

Wonwoo turns his head away, cheeks flushed and biting the back of his hand to drown any noise that threatens to spill.

"Gosh, you're so hot when you're shy." Seungcheol breathes out and wraps his puffy lips around the tip, giving it light sucks before deepthroating Wonwoo's cock in one go.

If there’s one thing Seungcheol is good at, it’s oral sex - no matter who’s on the receiving end in your relationship, he will leave you with jelly legs.

“C-Cheol, slow down a little.” Wonwoo immediately puts his hands in his boyfriend’s hair, nearly fisting the blond strands. Seungcheol pulls away his lips with a loud, almost vulgar ‘pop’. He 

“I can go slow. But no promises on how long I’ll be able to keep it that way, pretty boy.” He chuckles before spitting on his fingers and moving them behind Wonwoo.

“Y-You don’t have to d-do this.” 

“One of us is gonna get fucked in the ass very soon and it won’t be me.” Seungcheol kisses the tip of Wonwoo’s cock and carefully slides one finger past his rim, 

“You almost sound d-disappointed.” The younger man shudders and clenches around the thick digit.

“Me? Not at all, pretty boy. But you must be disappointed, since you’re so obsessed with my ass.”

“Not my fault you’re so t-thick everywhere, fuck.”

“Aww, are you jealous, Wonu?” Seungcheol grins against Wonwoo’s cock, adding a second finger in his hole. “You shouldn’t be, though - Your body is really hot, in its own way.”

“T-Tell me more.” Wonwoo moans and grips the blond hair.

“Where should I even begin from? Your strong, broad shoulders? Your pretty collarbones?” Seungcheol showers him with compliments, his free hand coursing over Wonwoo’s body, reaching to his waist and gripping it tight. “Or your slutty little waist?” 

Wonwoo loses his patience and thrusts his cock in the older man’s mouth, both hands glued on his head to keep it in place and fuck it relentlessly. His round glasses are already fogged up and sliding down the bridge of his nose. The two fingers haven’t stopped toying with his hole, his sensitivity skyrocketing.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna cum, God, I’m so close!” Wonwoo throws his head back, mouth wide open and tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

Seungcheol hums affirmatively and hollows his cheeks around the shaft, the tip being pushed all the way down his throat. Wonwoo’s orgasm is strong enough to make him lose his balance, but the strong arm around his waist holds him up. The man on his knees swallows every single drop of semen, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down rhythmically. A few seconds later, he detaches his mouth and fingers, breathing heavily. His half-lidded eyes staring at Wonwoo with heavy lust.

“Ahem.”

Your voice interrupts the two men and Wonwoo tries to pull up his sweats hastily.

“Don’t bother. You won’t need them anyways.” You shake your head in dismissal.

“Hey princess.” Seungcheol gets up and licks his fingers clean with a smug smile on his face.

“You seem awfully awake for someone who wanted cuddles just a few minutes ago.” You cross your arms in front of your chest.

“And you seem awfully jittery, princess. What’s wrong, hm?”

“Cheol, stop teasing her.” Wonwoo huffs.

“It’s okay, Wonu. I was heading to the bedroom anyway.” You shrug and leave the kitchen, making a turn for the bedroom. The two men peek their heads and see you throw your (Wonwoo’s) t-shirt right on the doorstep and Wonwoo pushes Seungcheol out of the way, running back to the bedroom, the older man’s laugh echoing behind him.

A grin creeps on your lips when Wonwoo’s arms wrap around your midriff and his lips attach themselves to the juncture between your shoulder and your neck.

“You seem to be pretty riled up.” You murmur and push your ass on his crotch.

“Cheol’s fault.” He murmurs back and turns you around, pushing you softly on the bed to climb on top of you. “But you’re not innocent either, sunshine.”

“I know. That’s why we’re here now, right?” You toy with the hem of his shirt.

“Yeah. And I cannot wait to fuck you, sunshine.” He grazes his teeth over your pulse point, hands groping your underwear - clad body.

“Not so fast, pretty boy.” Seungcheol leans against the door frame. “I call the shots here.”

“Can you not ruin the moment for once? I missed her last night and I wanna have my time with her.” 

“You will.” H He walks behind Wonwoo and threads his hand in his hair, pulling it back harshly as he presses his lips on the shell of his ear. “As long as you do as I say, that is.”

“Cheol-” You open your mouth to speak. 

“Princess. Behave.” He looks at you with a raised eyebrow and you pipe down, waiting for his orders. Seungcheol hums in approval and lets go of Wonwoo’s hair, who lets out a loud hiss.

“Lay on your back, pretty boy. Need you to put that mouth of yours into good use.” He orders while undressing himself till complete nakedness.

“And why should I do that?” Wonwoo scoffs in an attempt to challenge Seungcheol.

“You said you wanted to have your time with Y/N, didn’t you? You’re gonna let her sit on your face and she’s gonna use her pretty mouth for something else.”

“Damn it.” The younger man curses and strips down as well, following Seungcheol’s orders. He lies down on the bed and Seungcheol pats your thigh for you to get naked and climb over Wonwoo’s face.

“Hey sunshine.”

“Hey Wonu.” You giggle while peering your eyes down to him, his lips peppering kisses on your inner thighs.

“Eyes on me, princess.” Your other boyfriend yanks your hair back, forcing your gaze on him. “Hands down on the mattress.” 

You do as he says and you’re now on the same level as Seungcheol’s cock, the thick shaft mere centimeters away from you. You open your mouth to stretch your tongue and lick the tip, but Wonwoo wraps his arms around your thighs and pulls you down on his face to eat you out. You cry out when his tongue slides across your slit, flattening it over your clit and turning it pointy when it reaches your entrance. 

“What’s wrong, princess? Does the pretty boy’s mouth feel good?” Seungcheol caresses your cheek and you nod affirmatively.

“Can’t have you all fucked out already.” He taps his cock on your cheek and you desperately chase his shaft with your mouth. He puts you out of your misery by sliding his cock down your throat, making you gag with his size. You're glad you've trained yourself (with the help of your boyfriends) to suppress your gag reflex when one of them is fucking your mouth. 

You let Seungcheol take control of your head and use it like a fucktoy to satisfy the raging erection, all while Wonwoo eats your pussy like it's the last meal he will ever enjoy on this futile planet. His hands roam your body, fingertips gliding over your hips, waist and gripping your breasts.

Your eyes flutter dangerously, hands fisting the sheets underneath you, as you let yourself enjoy what you're being provided by the loves of your life.

"Mmm, always so good at sucking dick, princess.” Seungcheol juts his hips in your mouth, loving the weight of his cock on your tongue.

You want to bob your head on your own on his cock, but the hand in your hair stops you from doing so. Instead, you ride out your frustrations on Wonwoo’s face, who doesn’t seem to mind you using him for your own pleasure.

“Pretty boy is doing a good job, isn’t he, princess?” Seungcheol slides out his cock and taps it over your cheeks, leaving wet trails of spit on your face.

“His mouth is so fucking good, Daddy.” You moan in response.

“Is that so? Is he taking care of your needy pussy?”

“Yes, he’s so good!” You dig your nails in the bed.

“He can be even better with his dick, princess. Hop off.” 

You whine in protest, but one raised brow from the blond man is enough to make you follow his orders, your other boyfriend grunting in annoyance.

“Lay on your back, princess. And pull your legs up to your chest.”

“Do you ever want to just go with the flow?” Wonwoo sits up and throws a nasty glare towards Seungcheol, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“No.” The older man says curtly and grabs Wonwoo by the arms, turning him around to face you and he pushes him on top of you.

“Fuck! Sorry, sunshine.” Wonwoo puts his hands on each side of your head to not crush you with his weight. “I guess someone is impatient.”

“Yeah, I am.” Seungcheol slaps his ass and kneads the flesh with his hands. “But I’m sure our dear princess is impatient as well and she would love to be stuffed full with your cock. Isn’t that right, princess?”

You nod fervently and you buck your hips directly on Wonwoo’s crotch and he moans, gripping his shaft with one hand to guide it to your entrance. A blissful sigh escapes his lips when he slides inside your pussy, enjoying your tight warmth.

“Good, stay still, pretty boy.” Seungcheol bites his bottom lip as he reaches for the lube in the drawer of the nightstand and he opens the cap to spritz a generous amount over his fingers. He carefully spreads it over his boyfriend’s ass, sliding two fingers to check whether he’s loose enough to take something bigger.

Wonwoo shudders on top of you and slowly moves his hips to start fucking you, but Seungcheol grips his waist to stabilise him.

“I said. Stay still.” He aligns the tip of his cock with the hole and pushes in with careful motions, until he’s completely sheathed in. 

“Fuck, oh fuck.” Wonwoo digs his nails in the mattress, trying his best to accommodate the stretch.

“Wonu, are you okay?” You pet the back of his hair.

“Y-Yeah, more than okay.” 

A fluid thrust from behind makes him groan again and jerks his entire body forward, resulting in a strong thrust in your cunt. You let out a gasp in response and your eyes notice the mischievous glint in Seungcheol’s eyes. He sends you a wink before he starts rutting his hips faster.

The force he exerts in fucking Wonwoo results in you getting fucked with the same pace. Both you and Wonwoo let out obscene noises in unison, your hands flying to his back.

“Your cock feels so damn good, Wonu.” You dig your nails in his back.

“God, I can’t even f-focus on what feels better right now.” He moans back and ducks his head in the crook of your neck.

“Stop being shy, pretty boy.” Seungcheol pulls Wonwoo’s hair and lifts his head to let you take a better look of his expression.

You clench around Wonwoo’s cock when your eyes fall on his flushed face and messed up hair, sweat beads forming on his forehead and eyebrows.

“How does he look, princess?”

“Fucking beautiful, Cheollie.” You whine and Wonwoo bucks his hips harder in you, pushing your body closer to the foot of the bed. 

“Pretty boy loves being praised.” Seungcheol’s thrusts take a rougher turn and snaps his pelvis almost mercilessly.

“Yes, yes I do, fuck. Harder!” The younger man begs in an embarrassing way.

“God, you sound so pretty when you beg.” You whisper loud enough to be heard in the room and smash your lips on his, your hands now moving to cup his jaw. Your tongue mingles with Wonwoo’s, sucking it passionately until you feel him whine in your mouth repeatedly. A sudden wave of sticky warmth floods your walls and you realize that your boyfriend just came inside you without a warning. 

“Mffh- ah, fuck, I’m sorry, sunshine…” He pants heavily, cock still twitching inside you as he grinds slowly. 

“Don’t worry, Wonu.” You stroke his cheek while he desperately tries to make you cum. “Can you please make me cum?”

“Shit, anything for you, sunshine.” He slides his hand between your bodies to search for your clit and rub it in rapid circles.

“How did I get so damn lucky with the two of you?” Seungcheol peers down on you as he pets Wonwoo’s hair a bit softer this time, the contrast between his hand and his hips staying sharp.

“C-Cheol, p-please.” 

“Hang in there, pretty boy, almost there.”

Seungcheol’s hand glides over Wonwoo’s spine until it grips on the other side of his waist and keeps him steady to deliver a few more thrusts. He throws his head back in bliss as the climax hits him, his heavy cock unloading globs of cum inside.

“Fucking perfect ass, so damn tight.”

Wonwoo’s head dips in your neck again as he lets out a loud sob and cums inside you again, but his hand doesn’t falter on your clit and you scream when your own orgasm crashes on you, hands struggling to find something sturdy to hold onto.

Your body decides to fall limp on the bed with Wonwoo right on top of you, who is still breathing heavily due to his consecutive orgasms.

Seungcheol slowly retracts his cock and lays on top of the two of you, catching his own breath.

“I can’t fucking move.” Wonwoo grunts.

“Me neither.” You agree in a split second.

“Did so well for me, darlings.” Seungcheol pats your thigh while pressing a kiss on Wonwoo’s shoulder.

“Thank you Cheollie. Could you two please get off me now? You’re literally crushing me.” You complain to your boyfriends.

“Sorry, princess.” He laughs and sits back on the bed, allowing Wonwoo to roll on his back.

“Thank you. Can someone carry me to the bathroom now? My legs are ruined.” 

“Abusing your princess rights, aren’t you?” The older man quirks his brow.

“Are you gonna refuse?”

“Never.” He picks you up in bridal style and carries you towards the bathroom, your giggles echoing in the corridor.

About ten minutes later, you’re happily soaking in the tub, filled with warm water and a lavender scented bath bomb, all while Seungcheol walks back to the bedroom to check up on Wonwoo.

“Do you need help?”

“Nah, I’ll be okay. Just…give me a few minutes.”

“Fucked you real good, huh?”

“Not as bad as the sheets, but I digress.”

“The sheets aren’t as tight as you or Y/N, but I digress.” The blond man smirks.

“I swear to God, I’ll get back at you for this.” Wonwoo groans, trying to stretch out his legs so he’ll be able to walk all the way to the bathroom.

“Hm, really? And how are you going to do it, huh? By trying to tie me up?” Seungcheol taunts him with a cocked eyebrow.

“That’s not a bad idea actually, given how squirmy you get when your ass gets pounded from behind.” Wonwoo licks his bottom lip.

“Are you that obsessed with my ass, Wonu?”

“More like obsessed with the mental image of railing you like a bitch in heat.” 

Seungcheol lets out a dirty laugh, shaking his head as he heads out of the room. 

“I’d like to see you try, pretty boy. That ass can handle more than you can think of.” He punctuates his words by landing a slap on his ass and sending a wink to his boyfriend.

Wonwoo plops back on the bed and looks up at the ceiling, a grin plastered on his face.

He can’t wait for that day to come.

[edenfenixblogs]

Let’s put some numbers to Jewish fear right now.

In news that I’m sure will thrill all antisemites, it would take startlingly little effort to foment widespread violence against us and cause another genocide of the Jewish people.

I have had many fellow Jews express to me how overwhelming it is to see the rising antisemitism. I have seen many Jews express fear at being drowned out of public, online, and IRL spaces due to dangerously violent vitriol.

I have also seen people who claim to advocate for Palestine—especially western leftists—openly mock Jews who express this fear.

Finally, I and my fellow Jews have often expressed that, while we wholeheartedly support Palestinian freedom and self determination, it is exhausting to have to say so repeatedly, especially when we are trying to advocate for ourselves. This is not due to any latent or widespread hatred of Muslims, Arabs, or Palestinians. It is because we are an extremely maligned and marginalized minority that is fighting to be heard against strong, hostile forces that at best wish we’d shut up and at worst want us eradicated from the planet.

There is a disconnect about how much harm people can do to Jews by spreading antisemitism and refusing to dismantle their own internalized antisemitism—and everyone has internalized antisemitism. It is one of the oldest forms of prejudice in the world and is found in almost every single culture. It is as, if not more, pervasive than white privilege. Yes. You read that right. And if asked to elaborate, I will provide numbers on that to the best of my ability. For the purposes of this post, however, I want to focus on the global distribution of religious groups only.

Specifically, this disconnect is between Jews who are fully aware and feel the affects of this damage and goyim who simply do not comprehend our marginalization.

To help, let’s put some numbers to this. In this post, I’ll be using the Pew Research Center’s survey and findings on the Global Religious Landscape. This is the most recent data from a reputable source that I could find which surveyed every world religion at the same time. While the Jewish population has grown slightly in the intervening years, so have most (if not all) other religious populations around the globe. I wanted to use figures measured at the same time to avoid bias for or against any religious group.

For the purposes of this post, I will not be discussing folk religions or other religions. This is not because they are not important. This is because they are not a monolith and individual folk religions and other religions may have even fewer adherents per religion than Judaism. I am currently only focusing on religions and religious groups who have more adherents than Judaism.

In descending order of adherents, there number of people in the world belonging to these groups:

2,200,000,000 (2.2 Billion) Christians

1,600,000,000 (1.6 Billion) Muslims

1,100,000,000 (1.1 Billion) Religiously unaffiliated people

1,000,000,000 (1 Billion) Hindus

500,000,000 (500 Million) Buddhists

14,000,000 (14 Million) Jews

Reduced to the simplest fractions there are:

1100 Christians for every 7 Jews

800 Muslims for every 7 Jews

550 Religiously unaffiliated people for every 7 Jews

500 Hindus for every 7 Jews

250 Buddhists for every 7 Jews

Combined, there are 6,400,000,000 non-Jewish people in religions or religious groups (including religiously unaffiliated people).

This means that for every 7 Jews there are 3200 people in religious groups who outnumber us.

Jews are 0.2 % of the global population.

When we tell you that hate is dangerous, it is because…

It would only take 0.21% of 6.4 Billion people to hate us in order to completely overwhelm and outnumber every single Jewish person on the planet. In other words, only 67.2 out of every 3200 people.

And given how violent and aggressive people have become toward us in recent weeks, that doesn’t seem far off.

No, most Christians, Muslims, Atheists/Agnostics, Hindus, and Buddhists do NOT hate Jews.

But if even 0.21% of them do hate us, Jews are at a legitimate and terrifying risk of ethnic cleansing and genocide.

It is not possible for Jews alone to fight this rising tide of hate. There simply aren’t enough of us. And many of us are too scared to tell you the truth: if you don’t vocally and repeatedly stand up for Jews (and not just the ones you agree with) you will be complicit in the genocide that follows. Police your own communities.

Nobody acting in good faith is asking you to abandon Palestinians or their fight for self determination and equality in their homeland. All we are asking is for you to learn about antisemitism, deconstruct it in yourself, and loudly condemn it when it occurs in front of you. We are asking you to comfort us and not run away when we are scared or even angry at you. Because a lot of us are angry with you, because we are extremely scared right now and many of you are not helping us. Many of you are actively and carelessly spreading dogwhistles that further the global rise in hatred against us.

You can support Palestine AND avoid Islamophobia WITHOUT making antisemitism worse. But you can’t stop antisemitism by staying silent in the face of it. And if you don’t speak up, you will get us killed. Silence, in this case, is quite literally violence.

Many of us have armed guards posted at our synagogues and schools and community centers because of this. I certainly had times where my synagogue and school had to have armed security for our safety.

The only reason more of us haven’t died already is because we have millennia of experience in confronting this kind of hatred and guarding against it.

But in pure numbers, if you don’t speak up for us now, we don’t have a chance at survival without support.

So, what can you do, specifically?:

* Make a stand or public statement about condemning antisemitism without mentioning another group. Acknowledge Jewish fear, pain, and current danger without contextualizing it in someone else’s. It could literally be something as simple as “Antisemitism is bad. There’s never a reason for it. I won’t tolerate it in presence in real life or online.” If you cannot bring yourself to publicly make this statement, you should have a serious look at yourself to understand why you can’t.

* Learn about the six universal features of antisemitism and the many, various dog whistles affecting the global Jewish community

* Do not welcome people who espouse rhetoric that includes any features from the above bullet point in your community unless you are able to educate them and eliminate that behavior.

* Check in on your Jewish friends, regularly and repeatedly. Do not wait for them to reach out to you. They are scared of you. Even if you don’t have the emotional space to have conversations about antisemitism. Just send a message once in a while, unprompted, “Jfyi, antisemitism still sucks. I support you.”

* Redirect conversations about which “side” is “right” to how to attain peace. Do this by saying that this line of argument is not conducive to peace, and link to a well-respected organization not widely accused of either antisemitism or Islamophobia that is devoted to achieving a peaceful resolution, increasing education, or providing humanitarian aid to relevant affected groups—including Jews, Israelis, Palestinians, Muslims, and Arabs. You can find over 160 such organizations at the Alliance for Middle East Peace https://www.allmep.org/

* Look to support experienced groups without widespread and verifiable claims of prejudice against either Jews or Muslims or Arabs or Palestinians. Many of these organizations can also be found at the AllMEP link above. Avoid groups on the shit list as well as unproductive and harmful movements.

* Do not default to western methods of political demonstration. Specifically, protests are not useful in attaining peace in western nations at this time. Israelis and Palestinians can and should protest to the best of their abilities in Israel and Palestine so as to pressure their own governments. However, protests in western nations have proven to be poorly regulated and to further the spread of bigoted rhetoric and violence against Jews, Muslims, Arabs, and Palestinians. Furthermore, there are nearly as many Palestinians in the world as there are Jews. It is extremely easy and common for the voices of bad actors and bigots on all sides to completely drown out Jewish and Palestinian voices and concerns at these events.

* Spend more time listening and learning than speaking and acting. Anyone who tells you this conflict is simple is someone who is lying to you. Take the time to learn the ways in which your actions and words can get people hurt before joining the fray.

* Stop demonizing Zionism as a concept, even if you disagree with it. Understand that it is a philosophy with many different movements that often conflict with each other. The Zionism practiced by Netanyahu and the Likud party is NOT representative of most Zionists or interpretations of Zionism. It is an extremist form of Zionism known as Revisionist Zionism.

* Don’t deny Jewish indigeneity to the levant. It doesn’t help Palestine and hurts Jews by erasing our physical and cultural history as well as erasing the Jews who remained in Israel even through widespread diaspora.

* KEEP THE HOLOCAUST OUT OF YOUR MOUTH

Things That Are Always OK

* Denouncing Antisemitism loudly and publicly

* Denouncing Islamophobia loudly and publicly

* Telling your Jewish and Muslim and Arab friends you support them and won't abandon them

* Elevating the work of respected, widely accepted people and organizations devoted to attaining peace for all, rather than just one group of people.

* Develop media literacy

* Understand what aspects of the current western leftist movements Jews are criticizing, rather than assuming our criticisms are motivated by hatred for Palestine or Palestinians.

* Expressing sorrow for civilian deaths regardless of religion or nationality.

* When you are not Jewish and you share a post about antisemitism from a Jewish person, please say you’re a goy. This isn’t because you’re not welcome to share. This is because it is indescribably comforting to know we aren’t just talking amongst ourselves and screaming into the void. Let us know you are supportive of us. It doesn’t mean that you or we hate Palestine or Palestinians or that we oppose their full and equal rights in our shared homeland.

[rheakira]

I've come to temporarily break my hiatus to bring up something deeply important. Because after a recent event, if I have to go another day without talking about it, I don't know what I'll do.

Fandoms have an enormous issue when it comes to bigotry and people feeling comfortable enough to be openly bigoted.

And I want to make it clear: everyone is capable of it. In fact, most people do it more often than they don't. But because this strange myth has been built up that if you aren't "blatantly saying slurs" or "killing others" it can't possibly be bigotry, we have done nothing but become dangerous behind closed doors.

If your friend has odd beef with a person of color in the fandom and holds them to standards they don't hold their white friends to, that is bigotry. If your friend feels some sort of way about the trans person in your friend group and tries to come up with reasons for why they specifically can't stay, that is also bigotry. If your group insists that a person with a personality disorder is making it up just for attention and uses that as a reason for why they can't be around them, that is bigotry as well.

I've never been upfront about it because... why do I, as a human being, need to be upfront about my identity when people randomly decide what I am? But I am in fact a person of color who is queer and disabled. Whenever I join a fandom group that is mostly white people, I am liked until this is discovered. And then I watch as people get brutal about things I do or say. Things that they don't do to other people in the group, and I also watch as they take my words and either twist them for convenience or ruin my reputation for it.

As a marginalized person, both in fandom and out, you are held to a unique standard that does not apply to other human beings around you. It makes doing what you love very difficult, because unfortunately as a marginalized person, people will always subconsciously side with the person trying to oppress or attack you. This has happened to me my entire life, from school to work spaces to even internet spaces claiming to be safe places.

People will say that they care about you and like you and even form a friendly bond with you, but the moment a person of privilege decides they do not like you very much, they can and will side with the other person even without proof of their issues with you. It's exhausting and ruins lives in places that should be fun and safe.

I am on my umpteenth experience with this exact cycle and I would be lying if I said it didn't make me feel like I couldn't live or breath in places I should be allowed to be involved in. It's a very real problem that refuses to end because no one has the courage to challenge it. I am speaking not only on my own experiences, but for the many other people of color or queers or disabled people who simply cannot join these so called "safe spaces" because of our identities conflicting with people who have been taught that we are lesser and not worth love or care.

If this is a problem you face, please know that I see you and I love you. It's hard to keep surviving in a world that wants to hurt you and leaves you abandoned and alone. I want you to know that the world is scary, but we all exist. You should be allowed to experience joy and fun without feeling like you're being suffocated and wanting to die.

You matter. The people around you that make you feel like you don't are nothing by comparison. You matter and I truly hope that we'll one day find each other and become the safe space that we deserve.

The marginalized people in your fandom are more important than your fictional characters and plotlines that you put above us. We're here and we're not leaving. Learn to live with us and protect us.

If we're truly your friends, you would care when your privileged "friends" want to remove us.

Additionally, please do not take this rant and make it only about white people who are part of these marginalized categories. This is a post about EVERYONE. Including the people of color around you. Do not remove us from this conversation. Care about ALL OF US if you support this at all. Thank you.

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Academia

Masterlist

Pairing: Aged up Damian Wayne x f reader

Tags: academic setting, rivals to lovers, friends with benefits, smut, fingering, edging, oral, p in v,

You guys have been in the same program for a year now. Being who he was and having the skills, family, and privilege he had, Damian was used to getting what he wanted. He could tell you wanted him too. There were the obvious signs like the pink blush under your glasses coloring your cheeks whenever he'd challenge a point you raised during your physics lecture. Then there were some hidden signs like the way your breathing would pick up whenever he made his presence known. To any clueless passerby wouldn't think twice of it, but for someone like him who'd trained in the art of detective work - you were practically panting.

Every day, you came into your lab dressed pristine like you were in some prep school. Today, you wore a white button-up tucked into a plaid skirt, dark leggings, and some leather shoes that looked like they belonged on a doll. Damian grinded his teeth, grasping at his bicep as he watched you make your way to your seat, ignoring something his friend, Felix, was saying about their previous night's escapades. So prim and proper. Always. He wanted to tear that skirt off you. He wanted to untie the bow, holding your hair in a ponytail. He'd let you keep your glasses, thinking they made you look so, so cute. He wanted to see how much cuter you would be disheveled and writhing under him.

"Are you boys coming to tonight's kegger?" A feminine voice spoke up, and his view of you was disrupted by a pair of women taking their seat at the table in front of Damian and Felix.

"Kappa is hosting!" One of the girls, Joanna excitedly spoke. "It's gonna be fun! Damian?"

"Hmm?" Damian raised a brow distractedly before remembering what was just said at him. "Oh, sure. I might need to leave early, but I'll drop by."

The second girl, Marcy, tisked, pursing her lips in mock dissappointnent. "You always leave the parties early! I swear to God you're like the only college freshmen I know who's bedtime is at 10 pm!"

Sure, he was fine with them thinking that. Most nights, Damian went off to patrol gotham with his brothers and father. Sometimes, he went to meet with his mother and granfather. But he still wanted the campus experience. He still made an effort to show up.

"Yeah, Wayne tech isn't going to run itself when Daddy retires." Felix jabs, leaning back and giving Damian a cocky sideways glance.

Damian turns to him, unbothers and winks. "You know it won't."

Joanna and Marcy both flush red in their cheeks. Damian presumes it has something to do with the reminder of his bloodline and power, which Felix just provided, in an attempt to put him down. From his peripheral vision he can see Felix's shoulders slump as the man realized he fumbled his goal. It's okay, tiger, there's always next time.

"Is y/n going?"

Marcy tilts her head. "Who?"

Damian nods towards you, sitting a couple rows below them and reviewing your notes. From where he sat, he could see your writing was organized but not neat at all. You were in the wrong major.

The girls follow his gaze to you and share a look.

"We didn't ask everyone yet." Marcy nudges Joanna, who goes down to talk to you.

Damian watches as you look up from your notes as Joanna talks to you, nodding along with what she's saying before politely smiling and shaking your head before turning back to your notes. Joanna nodded and walked back up to rejoin the group. She opened her mouth to speak, Damian was eager to hear the excuse you offered, but at that moment, your professor walked into the lecture hall.

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"Y/n,"

You turned away from your phone and towards the source of the masculine voice that's just spoken to you. A tall, broad shouldered freshmen who you came to know by now strutted out of your lecture hall, hand clutching the strap of his bag while the other was in his jean pocket.

Damian wayne had caught your eye fairly easily - as you're sure he did with everyone else. For starters, he was the only man in your engineering major who didn't come to class everyday in sweatpants.

You detested the inequality you saw each day, where girls put an effort to dress nice, no matter how they felt and guys just gave up. We were representing the future of our country, you once thought while cringing at your freshmen year gathering, if we cant even dress ourselves well, how are we supposed to inherit our responsibilities well.

Damian was a breath of fresh air. He typically wore some variation of neat button ups or golf tees tucked into his jeans, and the sleeves usually rolled up, emphasizing muscular, tattooed forearms The top button was typically undone, showcasing his necklace, the symbol of which you were unsuccessful in spotting, above a hard muscle chest. Sometimes, he wore his signature leather jacket, creating an image that had popped up more than once in your head before falling asleep. He also smelled like some sage.

Today, Damian went the casual route with a Gotham University hoodie and jeans falling into classic black Converse. He exceled at his rugged look. Facial features sharp as usual, with angular eyebrows that often give him a serious, brooding expression, like his father often held in conferences. Black hair swept slightly forward. His green eyes were always striking. They mesmerized you when you first met him, and they mesmerized you still.

"Damian, hi." You said, gathering your textbooks in your arms. "How are you?"

"I heard you're not coming to today's kegger at Kappa." He didn't answer your question.

"No, I can't tonight." Or any other night, until I graduate, you wanted to add.

"I haven't been seeing you much around lately," he raised a sharp brow.

You grasped your textbook against your chest, chuckling nervously. "Yeah, I went and got myself the idea of doing a double major. And now since we're sophomores, I have a whole year to catch up on. So I spend most of my free time studying."

"What's the other major?"

"Math. Statistics and probability." You said, then opened your mouth to tell him you'll see him around.

"How come?" He beat you to it. Students and faculty were making their way past you in the hall, and you made sure to get out of their way. Damian hadn't moved an inch.

"Uhm, it's kind of a long story."

In truth, interning at Wayne Tech for the summer has been eye-opening. You loved getting to work with the engineers developing weapons and defense systems, but you also found yourself constantly curious about the work the data analysts did. It didn't take long to realize you found their skills and knowledge in predicting contingencies to every possible outcome really cool and wanting some of it for yourself. The next week, you went to your academic advisor and asked how you could do a double major.

"Come to the party tonight." He ordered. "We'll have plenty of time."

"I..." you rushed to refuse but his gaze wasn't leaving room for argument.

"Come to the party. And tell me what possibly inspired you to take up maths and physics simultaneously." He took a step closer to you, crowding your space. You swallowed nervously, looking around to see if anyone was watching you. He gazed down at you.

You nodded, swallowing nervously, then something caught your eye. There was a bandage on his neck, just below his ear. "What happened to your neck?"

"I'll see you tonight." He brushed past you and kept walking to his next class.

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Damian dropped his gym bag in the trunk of his Camaro and slamed it shut before making his way up the busy street on frat row. It was still early in the night, but Kappa's party was already in full swing. People were out on the lawn, on the porch, and the muffled music from inside the house could be heard down the street.

Someone offered Damian a drink, which he politely waved off as his keen eyes searched the first floor for a particular person. It didn't take long, surely enough he zeroed in on you, standing with your drink awkwardly linking hands with a girl he remembered to be your roommate, Alice. You exchanged your sweater and skirt for a t-shirt over a maroon colord silk dress. You let your hairdown, styled in perfect curls, one side pinned up by a maroon pin. Ever the color coordinating type, Damian snorted.

"You came," he approached you slowly.

You offered him a timid smile. "To be honest, you intimidated me into thinking I had to."

He raised a brow, pursing his lips. "Good."

He then turned to your roommate, tilting his head towards you. "Mind if I take her for a moment?"

Beside you, Alice gave you both a knowing look. "Take her for longer than that." Before gently unlinking your hands and walking off somewhere.

Damian tilted his head towards the window behind you. "It's nice out, wanna go for a drive?"

You followed his gaze to a black, shiny Camaro parked out front, and you felt your face flush. Did you just get offered a ride in Damian Wayne's muscle car?

"Umm, I wasn't planning on staying long -" you began.

"Just long enough to tell me why you changed your major."

"I didn't change it, I'm doing an additional -"

"Tell me in the car," he says and takes you by the hand, leading you to some cheers and hollers from your classmates and fellow program students. Some are patting Damian on the back, others are catcalling the two of you for being the "fist fuck of the night". You're in disbelief that even in college, people behave like they're in high-school. Damian mostly ignores them. You avoid eye contact as much as you can.

When you two are seated and on the road, you're still as tense as always. You turned to look at him in the drivers seat. Always so at ease, with one hand on the wheel, the other resting between your seats, ringed fingers tracing a pattern on the skirt of your dress.

"Where are we going?" You ask.

He doesn't meet your eyes, watching the highway intently. "My place."

"Oh, umm." Your heart picks up and you feel a tingle between your legs and especially on that spot where his finger is fidgeting. "I'm - Damian I think you're really nice. Definitely attractive," you babble nervously.

"Thank you."

"And what's more is you're smart, and that ticks off a lot of boxes." You continue.

"Does it?"

"And from a well off family."

"Very much."

You go on, unable to stop yourself. "I mean, I'm so flattered. I could do so much worse."

"So much worse." He supplies.

"But I'm just in a state in my life where I'm not really looking for a relationship." You scratch behind your ear. "Which is true, I'm not just saying it to you, I said the same to another guy who asked me out last week."

"Who asked you out last week?"

You saw his hand tense around the wheel, and your eyes widened. "No one! It doesn't matter since I'm not really dating right now."

"Who said anything about dating?" He asked.

You blinked at him. "Huh?"

"Sweetheart," he turns to face you, the speedometer showing the speed excelerating as you two merge onto the highway. "I'm not interested in dating you either."

"Damian, watch the road, please." Your hand shoots to the handle bard as your breathing speeds up. "A- and then why are we going to yours?"

You turn away from the highway and back to face him only to see the smirk he's giving you. "What?"

"Why do you think?"

You turn away, unable to hold his heated gaze. "Well..."

"Y/n, I want you. And I know you want me. In order for us to move on happily with our lives, we need to get each other out of our systems. Capiche?"

Not expecting such blunt honesty, even though your should be used to it by now, whitnessing it in your joint lecture halls for three semesters now. Your gaze travels down to where his hand is now holding your thigh. Your skin is so warm there. "I... yes. Capiche, I mean."

He grins, turning back to the road. "Good."

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Damian's building was in the upper side of Gotham, where most of the upper class resided. His elevator led straight into the penthouse suite. You followed him into the big room, taking tentative steps and looking around. Like his wardrobe, his apartment was clean and crisp. Every item was organized or folded in its dedicated spot.

"You have a nice place."

"Nicer than the Gotham U dorm room?" He asked from the kitchen, making you snort, covering your mouth.

"You want something to drink?" He asked from the kitchen island.

"No thanks, I'm good." You shook your head.

"Perfect." It took him three strides to reach you. He cupped your face in his hands, lowering to kiss you.

Surprised by his dedication not to wasting time, you were too overwhelmed to resist as he walked you back into a wall, all while his lips never leaving yours. His kisses ranged from playful bites of your lips to long licks against your tongue as he tilted his head to fit you against each other like two puzzle pieces.

One of his hands left its place on your cheek to travel down to your shoulder, lowering the strap of your dress and reaching in to lift the t-shirt under it, exposing your maroon colored bralette. Your hands slowly brought themselves to his hair as he moved the cup of your bralette aside, circling your exposed nipple with his finger. You let's out a breathy moan against his lips, and he drew back to assess the "damage."

There you stood, leaning against the wall, panting. Your parted pink lips were shiny with saliva, and your pupils were wide, gazing up at him with a glazed look. The left strap of your dress hung off your shoulder, the left side of your shirt lifted, and your cute breast was exposed, pretty nipple raised in excitement.

Damian felt a surge of extasy gazing at your mouth. "I wanted to mess up that lipstick all day."

Your knees buckled, and you were afraid you were going to fall, only to look down in surprise to see his knee had wedged itself between your thighs. "Why did you stop?"

"I just wanted to see what else I could mess up about your perfect look." He said before his hand traveled to your panties under your dress. "Are you wearing a matching set?"

"Yes," you panted.

Damian raised his brows. "For who?"

"For- ah!" You moaned as his finger found your clit, rubbing slow circles on it. "For me."

He lowered himself onto his knees in front of you and lifted your dress, then you heard a tear and realized he'd just ripped off your panties. You gasped. "Damian! They're expensive!"

"Oh no!" He whined, mimicking you. "Feel free to charge me for your troubles."

"That's not funny - oh!" You tilted your head back as he licked circles around your clit. "I won't forget this." You struggled to say.

"I wasn't kidding." He wispered against your pussy, licking eagerly. "I'll buy you a new pair."

You whimpered, your fingers tightening around his hair as he ate your pussy. "Fine,"

You arched your back, feeling the familiar tremors of orgasm start in your core. "Oh!"

Suddenly, he pulled away before you could reach your climax.

You tanned, looking down at him. "I was close! Why did you stop?"

He gave you a shit-eating grin and shrugged, those green eyes shining with mischief. "I wanted to see your reaction."

You didn't understand him. "Well, umm could you... please..."

"Please...?"

"...Make me come?"

He shrugged again, as if to say 'well see' before spreading your legs and diving in to lick your pussy again.

He eged you three more times. Each time, he stopped just as you were about to climax. You let out a frustrated whine, pouting. "Damian!"

"Y/n!"

"Why are you doing this?"

He stood up to wisper in your ear. "Because you like it."

He lifted you up with ease and carried you to his bedroom, laying you down on his massive bed. Your mind was swimming on oversensitivity and overstimulation that you'd barely registered him taking off his clothes and positioning himself at your entrance. Only when he was on top of you again did you have time to take in his glorious physique. Muscles upon muscles from his arms to his shoulders to his back and his abdomen. When he finally entered you, all of the edging you'd experienced until then made you nearly come simply from the first penetration.

You moaned, arching as your hands grasped against the black silk bedsheets.

Damian groaned above you, causing your ears to vibrate with the erotic sound. You gazed down at you. "You look perfect. Just like this."

You bit your lip, whispering. "Wait, please give me a moment."

"No." He began thrusting slowly.

"Damian, its too much-"

"You can take it. You excel in everything." He let out a sound which was a mix between a moan and a chuckle. "My little perfectionist."

You arched your back, feeling him fill you up. "I'm close again!"

"I know." He smirked, grinding in and out of you. "I know. You're so good, baby. Come for me again."

His hips increased their speed against you. The both of you moaning with each movement. Your nails clawed on his back as you felt him hit your g spot.

"Please, don't stop!" You begged.

"I won't," he panted. "Kiss me," he ordered.

You lifted yourself to meet his lips as he sped up, his finger back on your clit, making you whimper into his mouth, the two of you reaching your orgasm.

That was the last thing you remembered before falling asleep.

[rockscanfly]

Random Charles Smith Headcanon's

Has probably contemplated suicide at more than one point (see “I’m here just to hurt and suffer myself. In this land I feel stuck.”)

Maybe a little vain. He cares for his clothing well, embellishes himself. 

Has auditory sensitivity. He gets very irritable with loud people.

Has never felt like he belonged, always feels cut off

Is comfortable with violence only against folk he sees as on his own level/like himself. Has little empathy for himself so has little empathy for them (hence smoking while Arthur beats a man for information, the efficient and quick kills of the bounty hunter, the poachers)

Has a STRONG sense of justice--that includes responsibility and culpability. People make choices and Charles holds them accountable for them. Sadie is a killer, so he treats her like any other ally. That German family didn’t make that choice, neither did the Wapiti. But he doesn’t have any pity for the gang.

Animals don't choose violence, hence the protectiveness over them and their dignity. 

Comes off as cold because he isn’t loud/not good at chat. He’s really just been alone most of his life. 

Okay with drinking, does NOT like drunkenness. Back to culpability. This can make him unforgiving and harsh at times.

Both he and Arthur are so used to people passing in and out of their lives that they’re afraid to hold on too tight. Then Arthur gets captured by Colm. Hosea talks to him, about Bessie and about Arthur’s dead family. 

“I’m not her,” Charles says. “Not either of them. I’m not asking you to leave your world behind, and I’m not going to wait for you in some house. We’re partners first. I’d lose the rest of it before I let you put me to the side.” 

He likes that Arthur is big enough to push him around, to hold him down and anchor him when he can feel himself getting lost. To toss him over a broad shoulder when they’re swimming around on a hunting trip and settle him down on soft pelts, to pin him and bite the lonely from his skin. 

Charles can kick Arthur’s ass and will do so on request

He’s kind and thoughtful. He’d be the one to make Arthur little presents and leave them around for him. Practical things, made special with the careful workmanship of beading/embroidery/etching. 

Can be impatient—autonomy is his norm so waiting on others both physically, mentally, and emotionally doesn’t come natural to him

Will cut slingload on people he feels don’t value him back—would not pine for Arthur or stick around if Arthur tries to protect himself by lashing out at Charles, even if he still has feelings. His father taught him that he has to protect himself because no one else will do it. Arthur. Well. Arthur’s the only person he’s trusted to have his back. Because Arthur proved it, several times over. There’s no one Charles would have used “do it for me” on other than Arthur Morgan. 

He fell into fighting again because he had begun opening his heart for the first time since he was a child, and then fate took Arthur too. Like Charles said—he was put on the earth to cause pain and to suffer himself. 

He tries to help folks, but he’s not good at talking and he can’t use his privilege to help like Arthur did. He’s everything the US government hates, even more than the Waipiti. They reach a point where his violence is no longer useful. And for a drowning, grieving, heart sick stretch of years violence is all Charles has left to him (hence going to Saint Denis, a city he hates, and fighting people for white folks' entertainment in a transparent suicide-by-cop bid for someone to end his suffering) And then Sadie gives him the option of closure and working beside John reminds him that he is a man, not a weapon, and Beecher’s Hope makes him believe he too can change. 

Charles has never tried to be anything but who he is. He and Arthur are similar in that way. What he realizes, what Arthur realized too late, is that he can change if he wants it. And that maybe he’s allowed his past pain and scars to run his life along a course he doesn’t actually have to follow. 

Brought to you by my on-going replay of RDR2 and my undying love and devotion to princess of my heart Charles Smith.

[skullvgirl]

attractive things they do | bllk

incl. isagi, bachira, gagamaru, kunigami, naruhaya, nagi, reo, barou, shidou, chigiri, raichi, niko, zantetsu, sae, rin, ego, ayru

warnings. fem reader, probably ooc, established relationship, suggestive

an's.

isagi likes laying his head between your lap, he says their soft like pillows and he likes squishing them like stressballs. ( which they kinda are if you ask him ) he especially loves to lay in your lap while you comb through his hair ; talking about whatever it is that you're talking about as your sexy soothing voice calms him to the brink of extinction sleep.

bachira says he would live under your skin if he could. and you wholeheartedly believe him. he's always touching you, he feels insane around you ( not that he already isnt ) and it makes him giddy. the thought of being able to be with you 25/8 365 days a year always next too him. ( he watches you while you sleep ) .

gagamaru puts all his weight on you when your cuddling. in the way it feels like a weighted blanket so that you dont have any sort of urge to leave him. he's quite direct with you if you attempt to leave however. its always 'yn, where are you going, ill get cold if you leave so stay please'.

kunigami kisses your knuckles without thought, all the time. he usually does it when the conversation is deep and unintentionally holds the longest eye contact with you—all while he's grazing his lips over your fingers as he listens to you speak.

naruhaya is a share-er, and despite having to share his whole life ( curtesy his many siblings ) he doesnt mind sharing with you some more. it's like second nature for him to break, split or divide whatever it is he has for you so that both you and him can have a piece.

nagi likes resting his head on the top of yours, no matter your height he'll bend himself over to snuggle the underside of his chin against your hair, his large arms wrapped perfectly around your neck, squishing your cheeks together in endless bliss.

reo sticks money between your bra. his favorite thing to do is push 100 dollar bills in between your cleavage ( mostly so he can feel you up ) and see how easily your arguing fades away. on a side note he probably does this in bed too but instead of your breasts its used as a gag too soften the exponentially loud moans you emit.

its might sound cliche but barou has a hand around your waist, all the time. its his outward show of affection to let everyone in the vicinity know he's yours and your his. his hands like resting on your hips ( and your hip dips ) out of habit now, and it honestly feels more weird too have his hands off your hips than on them.

shidou likes holding onto the loop your belt buckles, specifically the one right on your hip. he likes tugging at it and pulling you towards him—mostly when he wants a innocent kiss, other times when he's hot and bothered, and needs you as close to him as possible. sometimes he'll slide his two fingers back and forth between a loop and the next one, if you ask him about it hell say he's 'just practicing'.

chigiri has an obsession with your neck, especially when it's exposed. you say its sensive so he likes to tease you, lightly grazing his fingers over it or even kissing the most sensitive spots so that you squirm and giggle all the while he thinks about when he could snatch a chance and bite it.

raichi runs his tounge over his teeth, alot. letting the sparkley white shine with giddy thoughts and damn is it hot. he mostly does it when your telling him a story or when you're trying on clothes for him and the most he could manage without pouncing on you is a grin and tounge across his teeth.

niko is like your shadow. some could even say he has scary dog privileges ( i know, hear me out ) he's not terribly short ( 173 cm or 5'8 ) and the hair that covers his face can kind of give him a scary look, especially when his big green eyes death stare all the guys that try and hit on you. it runs them out trust me.

zantetsu despite being rather slow to understand somethings and hardly knows what he's talking about sometimes can defend you in a conversation like crazzzyyy, he knows you well and honestly sometimes just likes talking about you, even if someones not attacking you.

sae has the biggest softspot for you, but on the down low. he'll never admit and he's different about showing it but man. if you could hear his thoughts and you though him, you'd be blown away. at the store: i wonder if she'd like something like this..i remember she was twiking me about it one day... as he's speaking to you : wow i cannot stop looking at her eyes, i think thats a new mascara she's wearing. i should tell her it looks pretty on her. only he never does these things because he's emotional constipated and hasn't found a reason yet to fix it.

rin is clingy but like his brother, on the downlow. he actually 10x more emotionaly constipated than his older brother and his attachment to you is 10x worse. he's got the cutest way about asking though ; he'll hold onto your shirt like a little kid or even pout when you try to leave him. (#abandonmentissueswho?)

ego has petnames he only uses for you, hes the type of husband that is super evil too the boys but falls quickly under your pressuring gaze. he obviously isn't to fond of many things much less people but i can say for a fact he cares for you like he wouls himself ( which i guess if you really think about it, not all that much but you get my point —) .

ayru twirls your hair when you kiss, his own longer hair covering all the action while you two smooch like lovebirds in a tree. it's so thick and luscious that whenever you guys kiss, hardly anyone can see because its like a sheild in your face.

an's. this took a lifetime omgg, anyways more parts too the 100 SKULLHEADS special out soon, check my events masterlist too see whats next !

[dr-zeddy]

Miquella is a deeply tragic character and saying he's a villain just because he used someone, who was probably way worse than him to create an order lead by kindness, makes you come off as pretty short-sighted imo Miq was as much of a victim as Mohg. He had good intentions, he truly believed he could make the he could make the world a better place.

*exhales deeply* Are you the person, I think you are? nonetheless....

I'm going to shed my opinion on Miquella now because I seriously can not tell if this is bait or not from things we see and know in the base game and DLC and want to clarify my thoughts on him and why I believe rendering him as a victim is extremely problematic, also outside of the entire Mohg situation.

Is it so hard to internalize that the things Miquella did were actually highly morally questionable? I got to admit, he is a way more interesting character to me after the DLC because of the things he did (and I enjoy villains, so yeah.) I guess the »villain« term is as much accurate as some of you folks justify brainwashing to be ethical , when it is done with good intentions and keeps the peace, with which I personally do not agree with at all.

I don't see Miquella as tragic because honestly we have nothing to suggest that this guy suffered in any way before he decided to rip himself off of his personality. And that is the point, he decided to do that himself. No one forced him to this. Miquella had a choice, unlike Mohg. Yeah sure, you could argue that he suffered through his immense »empathy« but honestly, Miquella's empathy for the weak and shunned always came off as superficial. Why does he not care for the Albinaurics being tortured in Castle Sol, which is clearly allied with him? Where are the Misbegotten and other creatures in Elphael? Where are the Albinaurics? And the Omens? The Nomads?? Miquella claims to want to create a perfect world where everyone is equal but honestly except for words we hear, we do not see any fucking action or effort to truly include them in his world order.

And that's the thing, Miquella reeks for me at best of naivity and at worst of white saviour complex. He grew up as a fucking empyrean, he had a good relationship with at least one of his parents, he was a golden child. From the things we see and hear in the base game, and now the DLC, it feels like Miquella does not seem to grasp the complexity of the situation when it comes to subjugation. If that is due to his child-like thinking, infused by his curse or actually just his personality, is up for debate. Can you truly care for the subjugated as someone more privileged? Absolutely. But only if you truly educate yourself on the matter and actually listen to the needs of the excluded and shunned.

What does Miquella do instead? He rips everyone off of their autonomy to make decisions themselves if they refuse or challenge his beliefs. That is textbook tyranny. You can not save someone, who refuses to be saved by someone like you. Doing so anyway is extremely ignorant. In the end, Miquella actually puts his needs & beliefs before that of those he claims to desire to save. He is so convinced of his own agenda that he loses track of the moral dilemma, his approach to worldpeace poses. That is not tragic. These are the thoughts of a megalomaniac. If Miquella's selflessness was truly genuine there would be no need of compelling affection. However, he bewitches people. Over and over.

Of course, there are his efforts of curing Malenia still. But even that is, in the big sight of things, not really a selfless act because Malenia is a.) close family and b.) he gets and actual use out of Malenia's talent as a skilled swordswoman. I do not think Miquella bewitched her, I truly believe Malenia followed him by his own will and I also do believe he really did want to help her! However true kindness lays in how you treat those who can do nothing for you. Bewitching those who can do nothing for you and refuse to follow you, is not exactly a very pretty picture of his character.

And in comes Mohg to this occasion. The game is so fucking obvious about the fact that Mohg was the exploited one and I seriously do not understand why people still insist he isn't and exploited Miquella?? He is the only demigod we know for certain of, who was brainwashed. With Radahn and Malenia we do not know for sure but with Mohg we do. The fact that Mohg was bewitched implies that Miquella could not be sure that Mohg would have agreed to a deal and that would have been a way safer route than to bewitch him and his closest consult. I mean, Miquella almost DIED because he underestimated Ansbach's knowledge on how Mohg behaves. Why the fuck risk that if you could have just openly made a deal with Mohg, if he was as power hungry and crazy as the game implied?

In contrast to Miquella, Mohg is actually one of the most tragic characters in the game. This motherfucker was told his mere existence is a crime, grew up in the sewers locked away for years, he had no one except this one Outer God who seemed to care for him and showed him maternal love, something he was deprived off his entire life. Not getting into the speculation on how the cult operated before Miquella took over but it's very clear that he ruined Mohg's life. Mohg just wanted to get away from the toxicity he grew up with and created his own haven, from which he too thought, was the right thing to do. However he never forced anyone to join him. He never mind controlled people. People followed him by their own accounts.

The cult in itself is probably morally questionable too but we also have no idea how the Mohgwyn Dynasty worked before Miquella essentially took over. But by that standard, everyone is in the Lands Between is a twisted bastard with their different agendas ….

The point is that Ansbach is still right though when he says that »Mohg deserved better«. NO ONE who is genuinely interested in helping the shunned and subjugated, would chose one of the most excluded and tormented souls as their pawn. NOBODY deserves to be treated like this but the fact that Mohg is a product of extreme racism and social exclusion makes it so much worse and makes Miquella look so much more hypocritical. It suits the stuff we see in Castle Sol and the Haligtree … Miquella wants to be seen as the world's saviour so badly but seems to have no understanding on what suffering actually means. Because he never experienced it. His empathy is superficial and short sighted. The fact he is convinced he is doing everyone a favour in bewitching them, and does everything in his power to achieve his dream, makes him a truly terrifying villain. And that is something I like Miquella for. Is that really so hard to accept for people like you?

Sure, you can still live out the fantasy in your head that the mindcontrolling intermitted in Mohg to "grape" Miquella (even tho the game also never confirmed this????) if that pleases you, but for the love of God stop acting like it is a fact that Miquella was used by Mohg because he wasn't. I guess a lot of personal feelings from my side bubble up regarding this topic and I'm sorry of if I come off as passive aggressive but as a survivor of abuse as a minor by someone "popular", and nobody believed me, and Mohg being one of my comfort characters, that shit hits different. Just not a fan of turning victim-abuser dynamics upside down, sorry.

[photo1030]

Leather and Lace - Chapter 24: To Know the Winter Darkness

Summary: Arthur's irritation with the gang's situation begins to take its toll on your relationship.

*A/N: Some of this dialogue is not mine, but pulled from the game.

*This fantastic image comes from @arthurs-btch

*Special thank you to @appalachiancowboy99 for being my sounding board.

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter, but there are a handful of future chapters that were posted ahead of time

The cold air on your face stirs you from your restless slumber. A heavy silence lingers in the air, smothering you like a wet blanket as you lie sequestered away in the bunkhouse here in Colter. The only sound you can hear is the wind as it whistles through the gaps in the grimy, weather-beaten windows. The sides of the humble structure even shake a bit when a few particularly angry gusts of wind whip against the sides of the cabin. 

A groggy moan hisses out of your mouth as your eyes reluctantly crack open, immediately searching for the comfort of the fire in the corner. To your surprise, you are greeted by the beautiful sight of red and orange flames dancing vigorously along freshly replenished logs. Arthur must have gotten up and added more wood at some point. Your eyes slowly blink their way awake as a sleepy smile blossoms across your face, the first to do so in a long time. You roll over in search of him, but you are disappointed to find an empty half of the bed. Last night, Arthur had ridden out with Dutch in search of supplies or something, anything that may help the dire situation (that, or Dutch wanted to avoid the questioning looks of his people) and you were hoping to see him before you fell asleep. But no such luck.

While Arthur and Dutch were out looking for necessities, the rest of the gang made quick work to create a new camp here in the Grizzly Mountains. You had all worked well into the night setting up bedding, arranging supplies and sorting food, and still Arthur had not returned by the time you had drug yourself to your shared space to collapse upon your makeshift bed. Being a partner to a senior member of the gang comes with its privileges and having a room to yourself is one of them. Ms. Grimshaw put Arthur and you, Dutch and Molly, and Hosea together in one building and paired up the others accordingly. 

As the morning sun stretches its lazy fingers of light across the dusty floorboards, you bask in the peace and quiet of your and Arthur’s room. Casting your eyes about the space, it is simple and nothing luxurious by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s private. And you keep these stolen moments to yourself where you can to try to wrap your nerve-wracked brain around what’s happened since the catastrophic Blackwater job. You are still at a loss on how you all came to be here, how things could go so wrong, so fast. But what is most unsettling to you is that even those who are used to such turmoil are also distraught by it. 

But no time for such deep thoughts at the moment. Right now, the only thing you can focus on is Arthur. You want nothing more than to see him, to hear his raspy southern drawl and to put your arms around him and feel his embrace in return. It is like an addiction; you are restless and will not be able to calm yourself until you have what you need. And it is this desire that motivates you out from under the warm cocoon of blankets to get yourself dressed and groomed for the day.

It takes you about an hour to get yourself together before you open the door of the cabin, grimacing as you stumble outside, the biting cold smacking you in the face and the sun blinding you as it reflects off of the snow. Last night’s storm had settled by the early morning hours and draped everything in a thick blanket of white. Bracing yourself against the harsh wind, you rush over to the main building where the smoke plume of an internal fire floats into the brisk winter air. Your eyes dazedly watch it like a beacon as the white vapor dances and sways in a hypnotic motion, offering a sign of life in an otherwise desolate landscape. 

You push through the heavy door of the main cabin to find most of the gang already assembled, muttering and conversing in their own little social rings. Scanning over the faces, your eyes immediately seek out Arthur who is speaking with Dutch in the far corner. Relief washes over you like the floodwaters of a swollen river after a thunderstorm when you see that he is safe and sound. Just the sight of his handsome face sets you at ease as you head straight for him before you lose track of him once more.

Arthur notices you out of the corner of his eye, and when his gaze finds yours, a fragile smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. Noticing Arthur’s attention is now elsewhere, Dutch looks over his shoulder to see you heading their way. Thankfully, the man gives you a nod and a quick “G’Morning, Miss Y/L/N” before he excuses himself to leave you and Arthur to yourselves. 

Arthur takes in the heavenly sight of you as you glide over to him, leaning yourself into his body as your hands find a place along his ribs. The loving smile you offer him lets Arthur forget the problems facing the group even if just for a brief moment. He doesn’t say anything as he gazes into your adoring face. He looks beyond your ruby cheeks and worried eyes to see the love and devotion that is nestled there just for him. Arthur will often simply stare at you and smile to himself, appreciating everything about you and thanking God above for letting you into his life. For just this one fleeting, fragile moment, Arthur lets himself forget the trouble the gang is in, for you offer him that refuge, that safe haven. 

“Did you even come to bed last night?” Your voice floats to his ears with a playful chiding tone. 

“Sure did. But you were too busy snorin’ away,” he chuckles tapping your nose playfully. “I didn’t want to wake you.” 

“I wish you would’ve,” you pout. “I missed you.”

A sympathetic grin forms on his lips, those cobalt eyes sparking just right. “Thought I’d give you a moment’s peace while you can get it.”

But that thought is ironically short-lived.

“Miss Y/L/N, nice of you to join us.” Ms. Grimshaw’s harpy voice cuts into your brain from across the room. Your heart drops as you watch that spark of happiness on Arthur’s face transform into disappointment and annoyance. All he wanted was one goddamn moment with you. With a sigh, you reluctantly pull your gaze from Arthur to see the matron walking over to you. 

“Good morning, Ms. Grimshaw,” you sigh.

“While you were getting your beauty rest, I’ve been tending to things here.” Her arm waves behind her at the shivering group of sad souls. “We have a new arrival that you should probably look after.” She nods her head towards the corner and you follow her sight line to see the woman Arthur and Dutch had brought back last night. 

Your eyes settle on the fragile looking figure sitting wrapped in a blanket in front of the fire, staring blankly into the flames. 

“Oh my god”, you whisper under your breath as you quickly break away from Arthur’s presence to make your way over to her. 

Arthur sighs as he gives up your attention for another once more. But he marvels at how you float across the creaking wooden floorboards, hesitating before you slowly kneel down in front of the broken woman. His heart flutters a bit as he watches you introduce yourself to Mrs. Adler, placing your hand over hers in solidarity, a kind smile sitting upon your face to try to put her at ease. Arthur can’t make out what you are saying to her, but he gives silent thanks when her shoulders relax a bit and Mrs. Adler nods in acceptance of your help as the two of you disappear into another room, presumably for you to examine her for injuries. Your arm wraps around her, cradling her into your side as you walk. Pride swells in Arthur’s chest, knowing Mrs. Adler is in your good hands. 

Sometimes, if you’re lucky, someone comes into your life that changes everything. They raise the standards of living, make you laugh, make you see the world in a whole new light, helping you to notice things that you never did before. They make you feel like you again, that person who sometimes seems to get lost in the turmoil of life. From the moment he met you, the only thing Arthur has ever wanted in the universe is to be part of your world.

When Arthur fell in love with you, you became his weakness in a mind of unyielding hardness. When you fell in love with him, he became your strength at a time of unparalleled fragility. It is a powershift that Arthur still struggles with, trying to find his footing to understand it. You provide his foundation, his support, yet somehow leave him weightless and exposed at the same time. It was like magic the way you burst into his life, turning everything that he knew to be real upside down, making everything in life explode in beautiful, vivid color. 

—-----------------------------------------------------------

*This image comes from @rosesrdr2photos

By late afternoon, Abigail has become nervous, pacing frantically within the cabin and wringing her hands. John has yet to return to camp since before the snowstorm settled in and no one has seen him. 

Arthur lumbers into the cabin from outside, blowing his hot breath over the stiff joints in his hands, and heads over to the fire to get warm as he overhears the group talking about John. He keeps his head down and eyes diverted, though, wanting no part of whatever is brewing. 

“He’s strong and he’s smart,” encourages Tilly, trying to calm Abigail's frayed nerves. 

“Well, strong at least,” grumbles Abigail. But her head perks up when she notices Arthur has come in.

Arthur catches her out of the corner of his eye as she quickly approaches him where he stands at the fire, knowing full well what she’s about to ask. 

“Hello, Arthur. How are you?” she asks tentatively, looking at him with anxious eyes. 

He cocks an eyebrow at her, bracing himself for her yet unspoken question. “I’m fine, Abigail,” he says warily. “And you?”

“I…I need you to-”

Arthur rolls his eyes with an irritable sigh, his weight shifting uncomfortably from one hip to the other under her intense stare.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she rambles quickly, her hands still fidgeting. “I hate to ask, but…”

“It’s little John, gone and got himself into a scrape again.” The distemper is evident when the familiar scowl returns to Arthur’s face, his hands slowly clenching open and closed into fists, causing Abigail to recoil slightly, hesitant to plead her case. 

“He ain’t been seen in two days!” she cries, her tear-rimmed eyes looking imploringly up at Arthur.

“Your John will be fine. I mean, he may be dumb as rocks and dull as rusted iron, but that ain’t changing because he got caught in some snowstorm.”

“Arthur!” You shoot him a scolding look when you see how Abigail’s face wrinkles painfully at his answer. 

“At least go take a look,” pushes Hosea as he, too, joins the conversation. Always the level-headed one, he steps up to Abigail, quick to her defense. “Javier?”

The man looks to Hosea at the sound of his name being called, awaiting instructions. “Yes?”

“Will you ride out with Arthur and take a look for John? You’re the two best fit men we got. We’re all pretty worried.”

Javier nods and is quick to stand. He adjusts his coat, pulling his collar up to his cheeks. “I know if the situation were reversed, he’d look for me.” Resolution set upon his dark features, Javier grabs his gun and heads to the door, shooting Arthur a guilting look on his way out. 

With a lofty eye roll, an exasperated sigh puffs out of Arthur’s nose, his mouth set in a hard, angry line. And he slams out the door behind Javier before you can even say good luck. While you can understand his frustration, you know that Arthur is John’s best chance of survival if he is in any sort of trouble. And as time continues to crawl forward in this frigid wasteland, it is becoming more and more apparent that the situation is not looking good.

You quietly cross the room to Abigail, who hangs her head with worry. “Try not to fret about John, Abigail,” you say softly. “Arthur and Javier will find him. If anyone can, it’s them. You’ll see.” You rub your hand along her arm in comfort. But she can only offer you a weak smile in return. 

Outside, Javier and Arthur head out into the frigid, unforgiving white once again, this time in search of one of their own. As the winds kick up, they head further up the mountain, up where the air gets thinner and the snow deeper. 

As they trot along, Arthur takes this opportunity to privately ask Javier about Blackwater. He has to be careful not to sound like he’s questioning Dutch, but something just doesn’t sit right with Arthur, and the people who were there are acting cagey about it. But if Arthur is to intercept any problems heading their way, he needs to know what he’s up against. Like you had told him before, people in this gang tend to not worry too much about the swirling chaos they get themselves caught-up in as long as he’s the one taking the brunt of things. 

“So…you were there, Javier. What really happened on that boat?”

Javier shakes his head in disbelief. “We had the money and it seemed fine. And then suddenly, they were everywhere.”

“Bounty hunters?”

“No, Pinkertons. It was crazy. Raining bullets.” As the snow blows around them, Javier tells Arthur about how their group was swarmed, members were shot or lost, and that Dutch even killed a girl, an innocent bystander in the mayhem. 

“That ain’t like him, though,” murmurs Arthur as his eyes dart back and forth in shock. 

“I’m surprised we escaped at all. By the time you boys showed up on the other side of town, we were all just barely hanging on.”

Arthur digests all of this information, rolling it around in his mind. “Bad business alright.”

After an hour of trudging through the cold with no sign, they catch sight of tracks in the snow running along a deep crevice in the mountain. Encouraged by the first indication of activity, they follow along for several yards, but the two men eventually stumble upon a grizzly sight. They discover John’s horse lying on the frozen ground, its belly ripped apart. Upon closer inspection, they see tracks scattered all around in the bloody snow. 

Wolves. And quite a few of them, judging by the number of prints. It is a grim sight and Javier and Arthur share an uneasy glimpse between each other. 

Looking around, there is no sign of John. Everything around them is silent and ominous, with no indications of life. He could be anywhere. He could still be alive, but he could also be dead at this point. Arthur grabs his revolver from his side, aiming it straight up into the air and fires a single shot. He anxiously waits to see if John hears the discharge as it ricochets off of the rocky terrain, alerting him to their presence. Moments pass tensely and agonizingly slow, waiting for any response. 

And suddenly, they can hear hollering off in the distance. It’s John's voice. It’s faint, but he’s alive. Relief washes over both Javier and Arthur, as they try to figure out where he’s at. Sound bounces in every direction here and everything is coated in white, hiding any discernible landmarks. They have to be careful not to get lost, themselves. 

The men exchange calls, trying to follow John’s desperate, raspy voice, and walk down along the ridgeline until they get to a point that is too narrow and precarious for the horses. They dismount, leaving the animals behind, and proceed on foot in search of their brother. And thankfully, they spot him. 

John has himself sequestered onto a ledge, out of reach of the wolves that attacked and maimed him. He’s bloodied and shivering violently, barely conscious. Arthur and Javier make their way to the edge, careful not to slip and fall over the side. 

“Quite the scratch you got there,” Arthur teases as he looks down over John.

John gingerly tilts his head up, giving the men a good view of the deep and savage gashes across his face, cutting brutally into his eye. “Never thought I’d say this, but it’s good to see you, Arthur Morgan.” 

Arthur hops down to the ledge, crouching to eye level to take a moment to get a good look at John. “You don’t look so good.”

“I don’t feel so good, neither,” he replies dejectedly. 

A humorless chuckle huffs out of Arthur as he takes ahold of John’s arm, helping him to his feet. “C’mon. Let’s get you outta here.”

Javier reaches down, wrapping his cold yet nimble fingers under John’s arms to help pull him off the precarious ledge. It is quickly apparent that John is in no shape to walk, let alone climb down the mountain. Without a word, Arthur slings his brother across his strong shoulder and they begin to head back to the horses. They need to get John back to camp and straight to you as soon as possible for medical attention. He’s been out here in the elements for far too long and his injuries are profound. 

“I told Dutch you weren’t the right man for this job.” Arthur mocks as he adjusts John across his shoulder as if he’s hauling a deer carcass.

An exasperated sigh manages to escape John’s cut and bleeding lips. “I’m sure you did.”

The three men don’t make it very far before they spot a cluster of black and gray standing stark against the pristine white snow off in the distance.  Drawn by the noise and the scent of John’s blood on the wind, the wolves have returned to finish what they started. They sit perfectly still, silently eyeing up the men, ready to pounce at any moment. 

John lifts his head to look past Arthur at the impending threat before hanging back down despondently. They still have a bit of a walk to get back to the horses at this point and outrunning the pack is not an option. “Shit”, he mumbles and his whole body goes limp against Arthur’s broad back. John doesn’t have much fight left in him and what he does have, he needs to stay alive. 

Arthur slowly sets John down to his shaky feet, eyes never leaving the fierce pack of predators looming in the distance. “You head for the horses,” he tells Javier as he pulls his gun. “I’ll keep John’s friends off ya til you’re clear.”

Javier gives a sharp nod of understanding to Arthur as he slings John’s arm around his own shoulders and they begin to shuffle away towards their waiting mounts.

The moment Javier and John break off, the wolves lunge. The explosion of motion causes Arthur to immediately fire into the pack, taking down two of the large animals that head straight for Javier and John. Two more wolves go down in rapid fire shortly after that with painful howls echoing into the air, but it’s the last one that gets a little too close for comfort. The remaining animal comes barrelling towards Arthur, galloping at full speed, fangs bared and saliva oozing from its jowls. Arthur’s heartbeat thunders painfully in his ears as he takes aim once more, ignoring the slight tremble in his arms. The solitary wolf hurls itself at Arthur with a terrifying snarl, knocking him backwards into the snow. With a fierce yell of his own, Arthur’s gun rings true into the beast’s chest, dropping it dead atop his legs. 

As fast as a lightning strike, the vicious threat is over with, barely giving the three men time to comprehend whether or not they will all survive to make it back to camp.

Lying motionless and staring up into the icy blue sky with his eyes wide with adrenaline, Arthur tries to catch his breath as he lays in the snow, afraid to move lest the wolf still be alive. When the world stops spinning and settles back into reality, he draws the frigid air deep into his lungs, exhaling slowly out of his wind-chapped lips to steady his nerves before cautiously looking down, nudging the heap of fur with the tip of his gun. 

Arthur’s gaze drops to the sudden stinging sensation on his arm. A deep gash sits there from the wolf’s claws but it’s nothing that you can’t take care of. If he can just get his ass back to you in one piece, that is. If this is the extent of his injuries from this ordeal, he’ll make out pretty well. 

Shoving the carcass off himself with a pained grunt, Arthur rolls himself up and catches up to his companions just in time to help Javier get John situated on his horse behind him and the three of them head back down the mountain side. John slumps against his friend, silently thankful for the man’s body heat.

“Come on, John, you’ll be okay,” asserts Javier. “It’s just like a dog bite.”

“I knew a guy got bit by a dog...died an hour later,” mumbles John as he rests his forehead in between Javier’s shoulder blades.

“You ain’t gonna die,” huffs Arthur. “Not yet.” 

The horses begin to lumber their way back through the deep snow. Arthur and Javier push through the cold, trying to get back to Colter in one piece and not get lost in the tundra of the mountains. Javier is desperate to return John to Abigail and Arthur just wants to return back to you. And although they encounter more wolves along the way, fortunately this time it is not a full-on attack as before. Arthur makes quick work of the remaining pack, ensuring their safety for the remainder of the journey back to camp. 

Throughout the ride back, Javier is sure to keep talking to John, nervous as he feels his friend growing weaker by the minute, his body resting limply against him in the saddle. “You’re going to be okay, John,” Javier repeats again. “We have some shelter now.”

Despite his exhaustion, John’s mangled lips flash a grin. “Thanks for coming for me.”

“Sure. First the bullet in Blackwater, now this. You’ve had a hell of a time.” Javier nods in empathy for his good friend, thankful he’s found him alive as he’s lost enough companions in this baptism of fire. But from where he sits in his saddle behind them, Arthur carries an air of annoyance as he rides along in brooding silence on his horse. When will he be able to stop looking after ‘Little Johnny’?

“Arthur always says I’m lucky,” John manages a deflated chuckle out of his torn face as he looks behind him to catch Arthur’s eyes narrowed at him.

“Well, none of us are lucky right now,” Arthur retorts coldly. He shrugs his shoulders up around his chin when a particularly blustery gust of wind swirls through the air. “We’re going to need to come up with a better story for that scar.” 

If John weren’t half-dead, he’d spin on his brother in a heartbeat with fists raised. His teeth grit together despite the pain in his jaw. “So, freezing, bleeding, starving, damn near getting eaten to death ain’t good enough for you?!” John hurls what little energy he has left coursing through his fragile body in anger towards Arthur, his body shivering and trembling behind Javier. Why the hell does Arthur have to be on John’s ass all the time? 

“Come on, let's just keep pushing ahead”, complains Javier, becoming increasingly annoyed at the brothers’ bickering. Jesus, Arthur can be unrelenting sometimes. It’s too damn cold and miserable out, there’s no need to make it even more uncomfortable.

“See those buildings, John? That’s where we’re camped,” offers Javier in an attempt to lighten John’s spirits and distract him from Arthur’s ire. 

Thankfully, they ride the remainder of the way to camp in silence.

The three men ride into the middle of the dilapidated structures of the mining town, heading straight for the largest where the smoke floats out of the chimney. 

“Can we get some help here?” Arthur’s voice carries out over the snow as they pull the horses to a halt outside the building.

The rickety door is thrown open and Abigail comes running out with you close on her heels. A few others come assembling out as well.

“You’re alive!” The relief is apparent in her face as Abigail reaches up to lay her hands on John, confirming he has indeed come back to her. “Come on, let's get you warm.”

“Careful of his leg,” Arthur warns as John slides off the back of Javier’s horse and into Rev. Swanson’s supportive arms. As you get closer to him, your eyes quickly assess the man’s wounds, your skilled hands flitting about over his body. He’s an absolute mess. You’ll have your work cut out for you once again. But John is, in fact, alive and that is more than enough for you right now. 

You and Arthur catch each other’s gaze for a brief moment, a silent thankfulness that your beloved has returned to you as well, before you lead John inside for care. 

“Thank you, both,” Abigail says emphatically to Arthur and Javier, but her attention quickly turns to Jonn, angry for the days of worry she’s suffered. Like their whole relationship, the gamut of Abigail’s emotions runs from one pole to the other. “This is a new low, even for your standards,” she hisses into John’s ear. 

Hosea walks up next to Arthur as they watch John being half-carried inside. 

“Thank you, Arthur,” hums Hosea, knowing full well how irritable his eldest son is right now. Arthur has been moving non stop since the gang left the valley after Blackwater. He’s cold, tired, hungry and just disillusioned altogether. 

“You got any other lost maidens need saving?” Arthur retorts, his face devoid of any amusement.

“Not today,” Hosea chuckles, pulling a cigarette from his breast pocket.

Arthur lifts his head to look back at you, longing for your attentiveness, willing you to turn around once more to give him that smile of yours. But you’re already off with John. He watches as you help get John inside and the door shuts again, closing your image off from him. Like the sun setting behind the horizon, your warmth, your glow is eclipsed from his view.

With a slow exhale pushed through his nose, Arthur turns his attention back to Hosea.

 “You been talkin’ to Dutch about how we’re gonna get outta here?” 

“I was just discussing with Herr Strauss,” confirms Hosea, lighting his cigarette and drawing the smoke through his weathered lips. “When weather breaks, we’ll head east.”

Arthur’s face immediately scrunches in disgust. “East? Into all that civilization?”

“The west is where our problems are worse,” Hosea says pointedly. 

This is disappointing news. Arthur turns his angry eyes back towards the house where you just took John to get cleaned up. God, how he wants to march in there right now, grab you and head back to your room and forget about all this ugliness for just a bit. He just needs one goddamn moment alone with you to set his mind right again. But now you’re tied up with caring for that idiot. 

Deciding he’s had enough for one afternoon, Arthur trudges over to his bunkhouse, hoping that if he’s hidden out of sight, no one will ask any more favors. He sits inside the dreary, depressing cabin, stewing in frustration, his festering anger edging dangerously close to where his precious affections and love reside. He fears that he is beginning to lose that contentment in his heart that he has been working so hard to rebuild over these last few months. 

“We’ll be here freezing for weeks, waiting for the thaw to come,” he gripes as he pulls out his journal, flipping it open. “What a goddamn mess of things.”

*This images comes from @rosesrdr2photos

————————————

Over the next two days, Arthur becomes more irritable and distant, not just from the gang, but from you as well. The strain of losing Jenny and Davey and worrying over still-missing Sean and Mac weighs heavily upon his nerves. That, coupled with the constant need for warmth in the freezing cold and fending off the possibility of starvation is leaving you both frazzled. 

Dutch is leaning heavily on Arthur, even more so than before, if that is even possible. Sure, you and Arthur have had your arguments, but this is the first time he has been ugly to you. His aggravation is paramount yet he needs your presence to calm the hurricane of thoughts in his mind. 

But like Arthur, you are also being pulled in a multitude of directions. John’s injuries are severe and occupy much of your time, and there are plenty of other things to do to keep this gang going amongst the turmoil. Where Arthur is used to having your attention to himself, he now has to share you with the rest. And it is a feeling that does not sit well with him at all. 

The tension between the two of you pulls heavy on your heart. You’ve heard the gang speak of how much of an ass Arthur can be. Before you met, Arthur was known to be harsh and often difficult. Whether it was the nature of the jobs he was on or the nightmares of his past, or even his drinking, Arthur could be a son of a bitch to be around. And although you’ve seen him more than angry before, that aggression and ugliness has never been turned on you. Until now, as he is angry about everything. 

You try your best to be understanding and patient, but your own nerves are pushed to the limits, as well as his. You’ve never been in a situation such as this before and you so desperately want to turn into Arthur’s arms for him to shield you from it. But Arthur has the weight of the entire gang on his shoulders, leaving little time for comforting just you. 

You try to talk to him about it, but being faced with one more issue that he has to deal with, one more person asking something of him, ignites his fury. You’ve gotten yourselves caught up in yet another argument when his negativity rears its ugly head, testing the limits of your patience. He is being overextended by the gang’s needs and neglecting his own, as the gang must always come first. But it is leaving Arthur to be triggered by even the most minor annoyances, leaving him unbalanced and agitated. He has become focused on the continuing obstacles instead of the intended goal. 

What started as a simple statement about how your jaw aches from chattering teeth due to the cold sends Arthur into a storm of annoyance. 

“I’m sorry things can’t be all butterflies and flowers for you,” he bites back at you with a dismissive wave of his hand as you have elected to take your fight outside and away from prying eyes. 

“I never said it had to be,” you snap, trying not to raise your voice and provoke him even more as you can already see the tension in his shoulders, his face set hard as stone. “Things are hard enough right now, Arthur. You don’t need to be adding to it with your constant grumbling and complaining.”

Wrong response. 

“Come again?” His eyes shoot open, burning with anger.  “You best remember who you’re talkin’ to, woman.” Arthur’s voice settles into a low umber, making your chest tight and your heart race. 

Heat spreads through your belly as your spine straightens like an arrow and pulls your proud shoulders back to square up to his. You cross your arms over your chest, slowly inching closer to him. “Or else what?” 

Arthur would never hurt you. Ever. But he is still a man who believes in tradition. He loves your spirit, your fire. But you need to know your place. And he doesn’t appreciate your attitude in the slightest. But you won’t back down, either. 

Arthur’s jaw clenches tightly at your challenge, desperately trying to keep himself together. He’s used to getting his way when he’s angry, as that’s the very nature of his livelihood. And even though you have worked to tear down those walls that he’s barricaded himself within to see the loving and kind heart hidden there, he still has a bad temper and a mean streak that runs for miles. Arthur doesn’t need this fight right now. His hands slowly lift to settle onto his hips as he looms over you, but instead of being intimidated, you suddenly become distracted when you notice a flash of red. Your face immediately turns from sour to one of outright concern. 

“Arthur, are you alright? Your hand is bleeding.” It’s the wound from the wolf from when he brought John back. 

Arthur blinks at you, his face twisted up at the sudden turn in the conversation. “It’s fine, leave it.”

With an exasperated sigh, you try to grab his hand to look at it. “But if it isn't cleaned it could get infec-“

“I said leave it!” He barks at you, yanking his hand out of your grasp. 

The look of hurt and shock on your face instantly washes him in a wave of shame. Jesus, he can be a right ugly bastard sometimes. Afraid of saying anything else that will make this worse, Arthur abruptly turns, leaving you speechless in the snow as you watch him stalk away from you.

Several yards away, Dutch stands under the awning of the lean-to barn and observes the altercation between you and Arthur play out with a slightly amused grin on his face. When your conversation comes to an abrupt end, he slowly saunters over to you, following your gaze as you watch Arthur slam into your cabin. 

“Arthur has obligations, Miss Y/L/N. Responsibilities.” His expression carries a smugness that just rubs you the wrong way as he wraps his arm around your shoulders. “He doesn’t have time for romantic nonsense.”

It takes you a second to process what it is that Dutch has just said and you turn a disbelieving expression towards the man, stepping out from under his falsely comforting arm. “I’m not trying to be romantic, Dutch. I’m worried for him.” 

“He’s fine,” Dutch says dismissively. 

“Is he?”

Your question causes a dark eyebrow raised in your direction, his intense eyes piercing into you like a dagger. Dutch’s dark-haired crown tilts just so before he speaks, the suffocating pause most unsettling.

“You may whisper sweet words in his ear, lay next to him at night battin’ those eyes at him,” he sneers as his lips curl into a falsely sweet smile. “But you don’t know him the way I do, Y/N.”

Time stands still as the argument hangs in the air, right there on the tip of your tongue. And oh, how you’d like to give the man a piece of your mind right now. So many things race through your rattled mind as you stand there pinned under Dutch’s burning scrutiny. 

But you need to choose your battles carefully, and now is not the time. 

“You are right about that, Dutch.” You lift your chin in slight defiance. “I don’t know him the same way you do.”

You hold Dutch’s gaze for a moment, an unspoken challenge between you. You would never dream of coming between Arthur and his family. But if it means his safety, his well-being, you will sure as hell step-up to take his back. 

But the tension is promptly snapped when Mary-Beth’s voice calls to you from across the yard. “Y/N! I think it’s time to change John’s bandages.” She even waves her hand to get your attention, trying to break the spell that Dutch has you under. 

The sound of your friend’s voice breaks the precarious trance, causing you to blink and inhale sharply to collect yourself and settle the frustration bubbling deep within your stomach. Your feet remain cemented to the ground as you desperately try to resist the urge to shake the tingling out of your fingertips. 

“If you will excuse me, Mr Van der Linde, I need to tend to your other son.” 

———————

The hours of the day after your fight with Arthur tick by slowly as the night eventually drapes everything in its path in darkness. Exhausted, you exit the ramshackle building where you’ve spent a good part of the day looking after John. You’ve been painstakingly cleaning his wounds and sitting with him as he rests, keeping vigil over him and only leaving his side now that Ms. Grimshaw relieves you when she comes to sit with him overnight. His vital signs are fair, but it wouldn’t take much for him to take a turn for the worse. A bad fever could easily do him in. And after losing Jenny and Davey, you just don’t want to take any chances leaving John alone for any extended period of time. 

The evenings here in the Grizzly Mountains descend into a quiet like none other. No birds, no wildlife, no commotion of people. Tonight, even the howling winds have ceased. Were it not for the freezing cold temperature, it would be beautiful. 

Cold air gets drawn into your lungs with a bone-weary sigh, your breath a dancing wisp in front of you. Tucking your arms around yourself in an attempt to stay warm, you roll your eyes upward and the stars above catch your attention. It seems that there’s almost as many stars as there are snowflakes. The inky black vastness of the heavens that cradle the cosmic diamonds is a sharp contrast to the crystal white snow at your feet, illuminated by the moon’s full glow. The pinpricks of light are like a promise of life in the darkness, a sense of warmth springing from the cold that envelops the world. And it humbles you as you try to find your place within it.

With John taken care of and the evening chores settled, your mind relaxes as your hands rub together to create warmth, and begins to drift once again to the issues that you have been trying to avoid thinking about. 

Being chased up into these unforgiving mountains by Pinkertons, of all people, is bad enough. But that is not what is troubling to you the most right now. Your mind keeps replaying the arguments and discontent between you and Arthur since you left the valley after Blackwater. Instead of sweet whispers in each other’s ears and breathless sighs against soft skin, you two are hurling bitter, angry words at each other, causing a coldness that you are not used to.

Something feels…broken between you.

Standing out in the cold night, the tender moments that you’re used to sharing with your love seem so far away now. You think back to sitting by the fire, curled up against Arthur’s warm body, his brawny arms secured around you as his lips dance along your neck, making you shiver with anticipation. You recall the delicate conversations of dreams and tender emotions that were whispered as you stared into each other’s eyes after making love. It seems like a whole other life now. 

Where is the roguishly charming man that you fell so hard for and so deeply in love with? You have never had any illusions of what sort of man Arthur is. But you had so desperately hoped that you were past the distemperment that perpetually plagues his mind. And a horrifying idea begins to take root in your brain:  Maybe Arthur is having second thoughts about you and this whole relationship?

Suddenly, you become short of breath and your heart flutters within your chest like a panicked bird. Tears begin to prick the corners of your eyes at the very thought of possibly losing Arthur, of the thought that the life you had envisioned spending with him could be snuffed out. You bite down on trembling lips as they get pulled into your mouth in an attempt to keep from crying. 

Looking up at the silent stars once more, the only witnesses to your pain, you are starting to question if your relationship is even real. 

—--------------------

“You comin’ to bed?”

You tense up as Arthur stands behind you where you sit in front of the fire to warm yourself. You just heard him outside yelling about some damn thing or another a few moments ago before he came blustering inside fit to be tied. He looms behind you as anger radiates off of him, making you shift nervously next to Mary-Beth.  

“I think maybe I’ll stay here with the girls for a bit longer if you don’t mind,” you say meekly, pulling your shawl up over your shoulders even more as you avoid his eyes burning into you.  

Arthur pauses for a moment, lips pulled into a hard frown, his gloved fingers twitching at his sides while he has his internal fight with himself about what to do. He’s getting really sick and tired of this tension between you. And yet, he doesn’t know what to do about it. Old habits of self-damaging thinking and second-guessed opportunities continue to plague Arthur’s mind, constricting his sanity. The words he needs to say to get you to really hear him do not come. And his actions, of course, default to what he knows best:  anger. 

“Fine,” he huffs out finally as his hand waves dismissively in the air at you before letting it fall haplessly to his side. Arthur storms out of the cabin, kicking over a wooden storage barrel on his way out and letting the door slam loudly in its hinges behind him. Arthur’s exit creates an awkward silence like a vacuum in the room and the eyes of your fellow gang members cautiously shift to you.

“You sure that was a good idea, Y/N?” asks Mary Beth, giving you a skeptical look.

Your thumb and forefinger pull at the corners of your temples in an attempt to quell the pulsing in your head. “My nerves are shot as it is. If I go over to that cabin with him we’ll just get into another fight. And I don’t need that right now. He don’t need that right now.” 

The air settles into silence as the fire in the hearth pops and crackles, its heat comforting you as you slowly allow the tension to drain from your shoulders. You nod your head in assertion as the idea solidifies in your mind.

“As angry as he is with me, it’s best I leave him alone. There’s a time to vent and a time to brood. And Arthur needs time to brood right now. He’s got a lot on his plate. Then I’ll let him vent.” You give her a small smile. “We’ll be okay.” 

Mary-beth’s eyes sparkle with red and copper as the fire reflects back into her freckled face when she takes you in for a moment. “I think it’s amazing how you understand him, Y/N. Lord knows, Arthur’s a hard nut to crack,” she hums warmly. 

“I don’t know what it is, really.” Your eyes settle unfocused on the flames in front of you with a slow blink as you ponder your beloved outlaw. “He’s a pain in my ass, for sure. But I love him just the same. Wouldn’t have him any other way, to be honest. I know he can be a beast. But even the most untamed and savage of animals need to be loved.”

Mary-Beth’s breath catches in her chest, the hopeless romantic that she is, moved by your statement. For what better way is there to surmise, Arthur Morgan, fearsome outlaw of the Van Der Linde gang, than that?

Like the crocus pushing through the cold spring soil, Mary-Beth’s frigid cheeks blossom into a serene smile for you. “I suppose if you can’t explain why you love someone, then you must really love them.” 

You lean your shoulder into hers with a contented hum of agreement. It is a bit of a relief to you that someone outside of your relationship with Arthur can see the potential beauty there. 

After a few moments, you look about the room and your gaze falls upon the poor woman that Arthur and Dutch had found. You nod to Mary-Beth, affectionately patting her hand, before standing up to move over to sit next to Mrs. Adler, offering her another blanket to cover her legs. 

“How are you holding up, Mrs. Adler? You okay?”

The woman lifts her head at the sound of her name, tearing her eyes from the cup of hot coffee in her hands to look at you. “I guess,” she shrugs. “Then again, maybe not.” Her eyes go dark once more, lost in a world of uncertainty. She looks so weak and fragile sitting there wrapped up in a blanket, trying to hold onto some sort of semblance of herself.

“It takes a lot of courage to look past what you’ve been through. Believe me, I know.” You reach out to put your hand along her arm. “You can trust us, Mrs Adler. You can trust that we won’t put you through anything like that again. And we won’t let anything happen to you either.” 

“Thank you. You’ll have to be patient with me, I suppose.” While her voice is sweet enough, her vacant eyes carry a sort of detachment to them that makes your heart just ache for her. It’s the type of look that you know just one wrong word would send them pooling with tears once more. “I’m somewhere between losing my mind and finding my soul right now.” 

“Aren’t we all?” Your kind eyes glint at her with a playful mischief to them. “You’ll fit in just fine, Mrs Adler. No doubt.” 

Mrs. Adler gives you a lopsided grin, the slight tremor of her nervously bouncing leg ceasing as the knot in her abdomen finally begins to loosen its grip. 

“Is that your husband?” She lifts her chin towards the door that Arthur just pushed through, as she tries to discreetly change the subject. 

“No,” you sigh in confirmation, “we’re not married. But we are together.” 

“He seems…gruff.” Mrs. Adler teasingly gives a raised eyebrow with her simple statement, and your head tosses back with a genial cackle erupting out of your throat. 

“That’s one word for him.” A bright smile erupts across your face as you think of Arthur. “Arthur can be the devil, for sure. But he can also be as sweet as an angel. When he wants to be. And with people he likes. Which aren’t too many.” 

Mrs. Adler replies with a humorless chuckle of her own. “Ain’t that most men?” But sadly, the dark cloud returns to settle over her features once more. “Not my Jake, though. He was a dear to me. I don’t know what I’ll do without him.” Her honey eyes begin to mist again, her lips trembling woefully.

But you are quick to catch her gaze again as if looking right into her very heart. “For what it’s worth, you’ll have us for as long as you need, Mrs. Adler.”

“Sadie. Call me Sadie, I insist.” She gives you a genuine smile, probably the first since the death of her husband. “And, ‘for what it’s worth’, nobody has to understand what is between you and Arthur but you two.” 

And you and Sadie wrap your arms around each other, resting in the comfort of the other’s understanding. 

But outside in the cold, Arthur trudges through the snow, pouting and sulking as he heads back to the bunkhouse. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. Things were finally going well for him. Dutch was starting to think of “retirement”, however that would look. And the gang was making its way away from trouble, but now you are all buried so deep. 

And, Arthur has you in his life now and things are going well there, too. Things are going too well. At least they were before this shitstorm descended upon the group. He longs for the blissful moments where he can taste you on his lips and smell you in his clothing. He should have known it couldn’t last. 

It’s hard not to let the all-too-familiar bitterness start to creep its way back into his fractured heart. Good things don’t happen to bad men. This is something Arthur has always been adamant about. Like a fool he was starting to believe you when you told him otherwise. When your sweet voice floated into his ears like a feather on the wind, swirling around in his mind and nesting around his heart, Arthur was starting to think he could have a decent life with you at his side, that you could somehow build something really good together. That he could finally mean something to someone. He harbored the thought that maybe, just maybe, you could eventually break away from the gang, just the two of you, after the dust had settled and everyone in the gang was safe and out of harm's way. 

Arthur wants Tilly to find the good man she deserves and to start a family of her own; to see Mary-Beth achieve that dream of being a writer and make something of herself. He’d love to see Dutch living his best life, free and wild. Maybe John could finally get his shit together and make an honest woman of Abigail and be a real father to his boy. He prays that Hosea will someday finally be able to rest his weary bones with a roof over his head and a fire at his feet. And for himself, to have you at his side on a little homestead, living the life that only existed in his daydreams before you fell into his life. 

But all Arthur ever seems to find is hardship and bloodshed. And now, he has you trapped in the middle of all of it, the very thing that he has wanted to avoid from the beginning. And what’s more terrifying is that he’s not so sure if he can protect you from it. Arthur can’t imagine the sorrow and responsibility you must feel from losing both Davey and Jenny, knowing that you did everything you could, but it wasn’t enough to save them. 

He’s not an idiot. Arthur can sense your grief and misgivings about what’s happened. What if you finally come to your senses and decide to leave him, leave the gang at the first opportunity you get to escape the danger all around you? He certainly wouldn’t blame you if you did. 

But the thought of you leaving clefts his black heart in two. What would Arthur do if he lost you? He may as well put a bullet through his skull if he did, as there would be no use in living without you. It would be like the color drained from everything in his life. The sun would refuse to shine and air would turn rancid, burning his lungs as he tried to breathe.

When you found each other, Arthur could not get over how your broken pieces fit together so perfectly with his. How wonderous it was that together, you create one person, both halves being fused together to make a whole. And now, he fears you may be slipping away from his ever-strong grasp, losing his other half, his better half.

Arthur stops at the corner of the bunkhouse, leaning against it with his forearm. His other hand comes up to his mouth, trembling as a shaky breath exhales across his lips. His eyes furrow like a canyon with concern. 

If he could just hear the sound of your laughter, then he’d be alright. 

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

*Almost there! More drama to come, but don't worry, some fluffy goodness is coming!

Tag List: @rivetingrosie4​ @bimbo-dollz​ @pine4pple-b0i​ @redwritr​ @kuri-chans-blog​ @queer-sadie-adler​ @joelmillerswifey​ @gimmethosedaddymilkers​ @pcotarelo​ @delilah-grimes​ @maemortem​ @wistfulwisteriawitch​ @lilacxxdreams​ @mentallyillfrogs​ @absolutegeek​ @spurz​ @sophiaj650​ @uniqueclodzinevoid​ @lookingformaurice​ @pawoui​ @randomidk-123​ @yyiikes​ @eddiemetalheadmunson​ @twola​ @kmartkiddieisle​ @red-dead-simp @regwishesshehadmagic​  @rhehr241​  @earwen-x​ @akariver75​ @djennty​ @nervousmumbling​ @xliliths​ @unbotheredbeeeee​ @onnetonprinsessa​ @kittiowolf210​ @ezrynn​ @suhiss @arthurmargon​​ @codnerd1999 @queer-sadie-adler​​ @alice-vanderlinde​​ @sweetandstoned21​​ @j4llyf7sh @spooky631​​ @m0r4rx @ilovrxats​​ @i-69-urmom​​ @ddbluesie @ivuravix @nervousmumbling @sickvictorianangel @tirededuxhours @ezzythereal1 @chloepluto1306 @ivys-valentine @spiritcatcherxo @lea-khena @brccklynbaby1 @foundynnel @readingcoco @carmelamontezlikr @ultraporcelainpig @sofiaa-xcx @namesaretomainstream @miphy @cookiesandcreaminthetardis @loveheartabby @daisybvck @julialoopeezz @a-court-of-valkyries @oziozzioslo @stargazer-88 @lunawolfclaw

*I tagged people who expressed interest in the continued story. If you’d like to be added or removed, please let me know. There are a few that would not let me link, so I apologize if this doesn’t ping some people. 

[tobitofunction]

The Pact of Fire and Ice part 7

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part5 part 6

Spoilers for the future of house of the dragon, not a 100% accurate to the book

after a thousand years it updated again

You tighten your flight jacket around your body, "It's still not too late to stay here" Cregan said, "It's a fight of dragons, as a dragon I need to fight" you said turning towards him, he was in his armour his fur coat currently missing, he hummed and cupped your cheek,"I love your flight gear so much" he said placing his other hand around your waist, "You should walk around like this more often" he added kissing you gently, "I could say the same thing for you, the fur cloak his hiding to much of your armour" you said against his lips, kissing him again gently pulling at his locks "Don't tempt me now wife, we won't leave the bed for another week if you continue like this" he said as his lips ghost against yours,"My Lord?" a servant said gently," What is it" he said closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against yours," Aemond Targaryen took over Harrenhall and killed everyone within the walls" he said straightening his posture”Any word from Dragonstone?”,” They are preparing to use Aemond absent as advantage to take over Kingslanding and they want you to march as soon as possible” Cregan hummed,” Are the troop’s ready”,” Yes Lord, the Greyjoy and Manderly ships are also deployed to strengthen the sea snakes and help out to invade Kingslanding and destroy the Lannister fleet ” you turned to Cregan and patted his chest,"Well my Lord husband it's time, send worth to my mother that her army is coming" you said making the servant nod and bow before leaving. Cregan sighed and wrapped his hand around yours,"Off to war then".

You ended up deciding to ride your horse alongside Cregan. Tyraxes was flying alongside the winter wolves, high in the sky, she was just a blop in the bright white sky. “The roads are treacherous,” you said,” The north doesn’t have the privilege of the west wife, our harsh winters just keep destroying the roads so we don’t fix them, as it a waste of resources we rather put them elsewhere to good use” Cregan explained riding closer to you,” My men don’t find it a good idea to bring you along,” he said after a while,” Why not?” you questioned,” They believe you should stay in winter fell, swollen with a child,” he said softly, you sighed,” I suppose that was the deal of our marriage. I provided you with heirs in return for your help to get my mother’s crown back,” you said,” It’s different now however, our first born won’t be the Lord of Winterfell but heir to the Iron Throne,” he said,” Or daughter” you added making Cregan nod after a while,” Or daughter,” he said with a smile which you returned," I'm not bringing a child into this world until the war is over, I don't want to be pregnant while the danger of being assassinated by the greens is an option" you said which Cregan nodded at,"I agree with you on that one, also I'm scared of you carrying my heir" he said," My first wife died on the birthing bed with my son following in the days after",he said softly remembering the pain of losing his childhood love and first born child, he felt like dying in months after,"I'm scared too, losing children during pregnancy is common within my family, maester stated that each one of them had dragon like deformities, my sister had scales and a tale when she was born, I guess our blood is cursed" you said,"The Stark blood line isn't any different, I guess we can be cursed together" your cheeks heated up at that comment,"I guess we could". "My Lord it's getting dark and the men are tired" Greyjoy said,"Than we set up camp for the night".

You sat in front of the fire with Cregan sitting next to you, he was drinking some ale and talking to his men while we waited for the food to cook. You looked over your shoulder and saw Tyraxes, you excused yourself from Cregan and walked over to the large beast," Ao merbugon hāedar? (you hungry girl?)" Tyraxes lifted her head and pressed it against your body gently,"Nyke find nykeā tīkor hen ōtor syt ao hemtubis nyke kivio (

You sat in front of the fire with Cregan sitting next to you, he was drinking some ale and talking to his men while we waited for the food to cook. You looked over your shoulder and saw Tyraxes, you excused yourself from Cregan and walked over to the large beast," Ao merbugon hāedar? (you hungry girl?)" Tyraxes lifted her head and pressed it against your body gently,"Nyke find nykeā tīkor hen ōtor syt ao hemtubis nyke kivio (I find a flock of sheep for you tomorrow I promise)" you said rubbing her scaly head,"You need to teach me Valyrian" Cregan's said from behind you, one hand found it's way around your waist.While the other rubbed Tyraxes forehead," She still seems to like me which is good" he smiled,"Or tent is ready if you want to sleep" he added after a second, "I will, I just wanted to check on her, we need to find her food tomorrow, she will need all the energy when we fight the greens" you said, Cregan hummed.

You shed your riding gear and got into something more comfortable,"If you are looking to take a bath there is creek close by" Cregan said sitting down on a chair,"A creek?" you lifted a brow,"Yes, my dear wife we are off to war so we won't have our usual luxuries but you are always welcome to fly home" Cregan said,"I know what you are trying to do and it won't work, I'm coming with you. I will be in the creek....fish don't live there?" Cregan chuckled and stood up,"I protect you from the fish, I will go with you" Cregan said,"It also will stop my men from spying on you","Spying? Aren't most of them married?","Even a married man will stop to take in the natural beauty surrounding them" you licked your lips.

The water was freezing against your skin, you wrapped your arms around your bare body, you turned to Cregan and saw that he was unfazed,"Aren't you freezing?" he chuckled,"I'm a northerner darling, and you are a dragon" he said wrapping his arms around your body and pulling you closer,"Can i be honest with you?" Cregan's brow furrowed but he nodded,"I feel useless in this war so far, so many people have given their lives and I just hid in a castle for the majority, I didn't know my brother died, I didn't even know he went to battle, the same with my grandmother Rhaeny's. My mind is filled they could have been alive if I assisted them. Cregan listened carefully, his hand cupping your cheek,"You might not have fought with sword in hand but you forged alliances, you proved to the other Northern houses that your mother's side deserves their alliance when you faced your Uncle when he took our men hostage. Don't disregard yourself my dear wife" you sighed,"But they still rather have me back in Winterfell than fight alongside them" Cregan sighed as well,"That's different, men usually range wars while the women stay at home. Times have changed something I needed to realise too" he said before kissing your forehead,"You and your dragon will bring an advantage to us," he said pressing you closer to his body,”You look so beautiful, standing bare in nature” he said softly kissing your neck,”Cregan” you whispered softly,”Ever dreamed of making love in the wild” he said his fingers tracing your skin,”The men could see or hear us” Cregan hummed against your skin,”They won’t come near the river bank, I told them to stay away and for the hearing part that didn’t seem a problem back in Winterfell Princess” he said making your cheeks darken,” Than my Lord Husband, ravish me like a wolf does”

You spend days riding your horse, Tyraxes becoming more restless with each day, she was feeding of your energy , you nearly reached Harrenhall, even though Kingslanding is your goal a jab of taking it back is planned. “We will reach Harrenhall in two days time we set up camp here” Cregan explained as he stopped alongside his men, he helped you off your horse Tyraxes landed in the open space which made the ground shake a bit,” From now own I want you to ride your dragon, if Aemond is at Harrenhall by chance we need air support but if it gets to dangerous I want you to promise to fly away, back to Winterfell” he said grabbing your shoulder,” Cregan I can -“,” Promise me” he cut you off,” I promise” he nodded, caressing your cheek with his thumb gently and kissed your forehead,”My Lord your camp is set up”,”Let’s rest wife, we have long days ahead of us” Cregan said holding his hand to you.

“Aemond one eye is still at Harrenhall, we should avoid it and go around it to get to Kingslanding” Cerwyn said,” We need all the men we have to keep the city under our control”,” We are here so we should take over Harrenhall while we have the chance” Lord Bolton said leaning forward in his seat,” How would you suggest doing so? Aemond has Vaghar” Cerwyn says,” Even though, I didn’t agree with her presence first, it be to our benefit having the Princess here, she is the heir and a girl, they would assume she be hiding in the north-“,” her dragon is not even half the size of Vaghar” Lord Frey son interjected,” Tyraxes might be smaller but she is quicker and Aemond had the chance to kill me but didn’t, if we draw Aemond out on dragon back, we can surprise attack him with Tyraxes and me” I defend,” My brother promised you Harrenhall didn’t he? I thought you be eager to take it back from Greens my Lord” I said,” Than we have a plan, we take over Harrenhall beforehand we continue to Kingslanding” Cregan said and his tone didn’t leave room discussion.

I changed into my nightgown while Cregan read the letters of the Greyjoys and the Manderly’s,” Any news?” you asked walking towards Cregan,” They haven’t reached the Lannister fleet yet but they are ready and that’s all what we need to hear” Cregan said pulling you on his lap,” I need you to promise me something” you hummed and moved a piece of stray hair from Cregan face,” If Aemond tries to kill you, fly to Winterfell, Tyraxes is faster as you mentioned use it to escape if needs be” he said his hands on your belly,” Cregan-“,”Promise me” you sighed,” I promise….if I have to flee I want to make love to you, I don’t think be able to live long without your touch” you smiled

The next day you saddled Tyraxes, she gently nudged you with her snout making you smile,” Ready my girl?” you asked patting her neck,”Try to keep up with us, I know it be tempting to fly head first to confront your Uncle” Cregan said placing his hand on your waist,” I can’t believe everyone who called Harrenhall their home is dead now”,” Aemond will repent for his sins, he won’t survive to see the end of the war. He will die, but the hand he will die on is still in the stars” Cregan said cupping your cheek, you looked up at Cregan, you pecked his lips gently,” Let me help you” Cregan said helping you on Tyraxes,” Be careful and remain what you promised

[aziraphales-library]

Hi! Thank you so much for all the work you put into this archive. I've spent so many hours reading fics lately and enjoying every second thanks to you all!

I wonder if you have any recs for human!au fics where Crowley and Azi meet either online, as penpals or some other way that's anonymous, but maybe they don't know each other in real life or they don't know the other is their online friend/penpal. I really like the build-up towards meeting each other and things like that! I hope it's not too confusing. Any suggestions with those themes would be wonderful ❤️

We have loads of fics along these lines on our #social media tag, a specific pen pals post here, and you'll find similar kinds of fics our our #mistaken identity tag. I've got a bunch now, but I'm sure these'll all be on the tags mentioned, because there are only so many (unfortunately; I too love this trope!)...

Texts from an Unknown Number by GaryOldman (T)

The human wrong number AU I have been craving. Trapped at a boring Halloween party, Aziraphale tries to get in touch with Gabriel but his text ends up in the wrong place.

Press L in the Chat (for Love) by Phoenix_Soar (E)

Bickering fan-content creators Aziraphale and Crowley only have three things in common — they are both avid fans of a new revolutionary TV series about pirates, they are popular for their fantastic fanfiction and fanart… and they are members of the same discord server. Neither of them likes the other, but across the chaotic virtual world of a discord chatroom, who knows what can happen when these two unlikely fans are paired up for an exciting collaboration? Us. We know ;) Discord Server AU — a collaboration between Phoenix_Soar (fic) and Djapchan (multivoice podfic organization & editing) for Pod-Together 2022

A Tricky Situation (Entirely of his own making) by sixbynine (E)

"Crowley stood up and went to leave, he turned back just as he opened the door and took a deep breath. “You know I was quite excited to come here and work with you. I enjoyed reading your work. I disagree with a lot of it, but your writing style is lovely and every so often you’d let that privileged rich white boy mask drop and it was fantastic. I was hoping to meet that Professor Fell, but I’m beginning to think maybe he doesn’t exist and I’m going to be stuck with a rude stuck up arsehole for the next five years.” He slammed the door behind him before Aziraphale could respond. Aziraphale gaped, open mouthed, at the shut door." -- Aziraphale is teaching at Kings College London. He's been teaching at King College London for a long time now thank you very much and he does not take kindly to new Professors being sprung on him suddenly. Especially when this one has quite publically made his opinon of Aziraphale's work known. Luckily Aziraphale has an understanding penpal...

Readings From the Books of Ashtoreth by Quefish (E)

Vicar Aziraphale Bookman has a comfortable life. He lives in and serves the small village community of Tadfield. He enjoys contributing to local businesses, taking walks, and of course reading. His 'guilty pleasure', which gives him no guilt and all pleasure, is a series of novels by one AJ Ashtoreth. But what happens when he reaches out with an innocent bit of fanmail?

The Anon Before Christmas by foolishlovers (E)

When Crowley’s friend, blogging buddy and business partner Anathema announces her annual Secret Santa Exchange on Tumblr, she is very adamant Crowley should join this year. The old-fashioned (but admittedly compassionate) man he gets assigned to send anonymous messages to every day until Christmas sounds awfully similar to the fussy bookseller that his friends adore, yet Crowley tries to avoid at all costs. But surely his friends would have mentioned if Aziraphale had taken an interest in the Bad Omens fandom as well… right? Or: An Enemies to Lovers Secret Santa Tumblr AU.

I Knew I Loved You by AppleSeeds (E)

In September 1999, when his family gets connected to the internet, prospective Marine Biology student Crowley discovers an online forum where he can actually talk to people who share his passion for saving the whales. He begins corresponding with a kind stranger he knows only as Ocean_Angel, and is incredibly excited when the opportunity arises to meet this mysterious person in real life. As their friendship develops, Crowley shares things with Angel that he can't talk about with anyone else, and Angel's insights help him to explore and embrace his own identity. As Crowley works towards finding a place in this world where he feels like he really belongs, he realises that a big part of the answer to that question might actually be right in front of him. What if where he belongs is with Angel?

Big Name Feelings by ghostrat (E)

FANDOM AU! • Crowley is a BNF fic writer, and Aziraphale is a lurking artist who might be just a little parasocially in love with him. How they ever became friends is beyond him, but here they are: One month out from Prophet Con, and Crowley is asking him to be his boyfriend. Just for the weekend, of course.

- Mod D