#would probably not look very feminine to our eyes

[baejax-the-great]

Hello. How would you categorize Achilles/Patroclus' faces? (Traditionally speaking)Masculine/Feminine/Androgynous? Beautiful/Pretty/Handsome? Any more hcs on how do you picture their looks? Or does it differ among AUs?

Thank you, and have a nice weekend!

I don't know that I usually classify faces this way. I also have enjoyed a lot of different versions of Achilles and Pat and don't think any are particularly "wrong" or anything.

My first introduction into a visual representation of Patroclus was through Hades game, and I am partial to his design there. I also truly love @lady-forest's drawing of Pat here which is close to the Hades design, but a little different. Variations on Hades!Patroclus will always have me all heart-eyes.

A lot of how I envision their faces will depend on their age. Faces change a lot between the ages of 15 and 25. I had a silly post a while back about different artists' representations of Achilles as a girl in Skyros and how they had to choose to make him a hot girl or an ugly girl. Personally I enjoy the hot girl interpretations better.

This one, where he's serving, is a personal fave. But passing for a girl at 15 is a lot easier than passing at 25. And I've known a few very pretty boys who grew into "masculine" looking men, so I don't know that you can really predict.

I've debated what Homer would mean while calling Achilles' the hottest dude in the army. Does he mean the masculine ideal? Is Achilles sort of a perfect average of all idealized traits? Or is he pretty in the way Helen is pretty? The latter seems less likely given the misogyny of the culture as well as Ajax being called the second hottest Achaean in the Odyssey, and at like seven feet tall and built like a tank, I don't know that anyone is depicting him as having feminine features. Another example I think of is Heracles. Based on the sheer number of lovers Heracles had, he was also considered hot as shit by both men and women, and again he's not ever depicted as particularly feminine.

Achilles is a bit different because he represents "youth" in the epic cycle. It's the reason he's rarely depicted with a beard even when he's an adult in a culture that values beards a lot. In that spirit, I tend to try to blend the "masculine" and "feminine" in my mind, a boy whose features could have been girlish who grows up into a beautiful man. So much of what we consider "feminine" in a man is more about styling/affect/the way he moves and carries himself than actual bare bones facial structure, anyway.

As for what I personally envision while writing, it does change depending on AU to an extent, but there are a few constants. Patroclus can and will grow a beard (depending on his age). Achilles cannot and won't. Patroclus has big, brown cow-eyes (in the Homeric sense). I liked Miller giving Achilles green eyes, so I stick with that. I like Pat having a bump in his nose. I give them both long hair, though Pat's is more subject to change. Pat has darker skin than Achilles.

[seresinhangmanjake]

The Harkonnen's Claim

Feyd-Rautha x Atreides!Reader

Summary: Your brother, Paul, took you from Feyd in a vulnerable moment, and if he wants the woman he loves back, he will have to give your brother something in return.

Notes/Warnings: this is part 2 of 2. Ignore canon ages in the timeline. I don’t know what they are, but everyone young is in their twenties, cool? Cool. Dune inaccuracies. Mention of pregnancy (present) and miscarriage (past). Jessica and Paul kind of (very much) suck. Feyd’s a soft boy for our reader. Smutty-ish (18+) and fluffy stuff, tidbit of angst. I'm sure there are spelling mistakes. I read it twenty times, but you know how it is. I think that’s it.

Words: 3300

Feyd Masterlist Part 1

You can’t see him—your eyelids are too heavy—but he’s shouting. Cursing. With each of his grunts glass shatters and metal clangs against the walls. Feminine voices are shrieking in sync with the rageful sounds coming from your lover and his actions. He is scaring them. He shouldn’t be scaring them. It isn’t their fault. 

“Get out!” he yells. 

More shrieks. Multiple pairs of feet rapidly shuffle about. The door slams and then Feyd is sitting beside you on the bed, one hand brushing your hair back from your forehead, the other rubbing up and down your forearm and pulling it onto his lap. 

“My love…” he says, “It’s ok. You’re ok.”

You swallow hard and peel open your eyelids to see his face hovering above you. A sigh leaves his lips when his eyes connect with yours.

“They were only here to help,” you mutter. 

Feyd bites down hard, sharpening the line of his jaw. He has much to say, you know, but he struggles to release his frustration in any manner other than shouting or fighting in the arena. Right now, he can’t do either.

“They did nothing to help,” he softly snaps. 

But he’s wrong. The women he brought in to examine you did exactly as they were told. It’s just that their conclusion upon taking a look at you was not what he, nor you, expected to hear. 

“Considering the excessive bleeding, she seems to have—” the woman paused; you could hear the tremble in her voice “—lost the baby, my Na-Baron. I’m very sorry.”

Neither of you has spoken about heirs or lineage or combining the genetics of Great Houses. You hadn’t even known of your pregnancy until you heard them tell Feyd that you are no longer carrying the child, and yet, you feel a tremendous loss. You instantly wonder what that child would have been. A boy? A girl? Would they have been a warrior like their father? Or more level-headed like their mother? Maybe a combination of both—that would probably be best for everyone.

“We’ll try again when you feel better,” Feyd tells you, leaning down and pressing his forehead into yours. 

Slowly closing your eyes, you reach a hand up to rest on the back of his neck, your thumb caressing between his ear and the curve of his jaw. “Feyd, we weren’t trying to begin with.”

“Does that mean we shouldn’t?” he asks. “You are meant to be the mother of my heir.”

You sigh. “Feyd–”

“You are,” he demands, but you can detect his hidden plea. “You will be.” 

—

They are scared of him—your son—or, at least, she is. 

With your ear pressed against the door, you can hear them in the halls. Mother and son arguing over your value. 

“Get rid of them, Paul, while you still can,” Lady Jessica implores him. “It’s in our best interest. You have no idea the kind of man she will raise that baby to be.”

But Paul has embraced his new role. There’s no hesitation in how he speaks to her anymore. His words are firm, but well-chosen. He truly was born to be a leader, just not the leader the Universe agreed on.  

“The boy will one day be the Baron, and by then, he will have grown stronger than most, his father included,” Paul confirms. “But we only benefit from having that on our side. From Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen’s need for my sister, an alliance will be formed that could last decades, maybe centuries. But if you harm her, he will come at us in a way his House never has before. And if he finds out you also took his child from him then he’ll spend the rest of his life hunting you, me, Alia…Chani…your future grandchildren—he won’t stop.”

Paul sighs. You can picture him running his hand through his curly locks. He’s done that ever since he was a child. From the moment his little hand could reach above his head, his fingers would be playing with that hair. His mother scolded him wherever he did it in front of the other families of great Houses. ‘Makes you appear anxious,’ she would say, and no son of hers was permitted to come off as anything but respectable in front of their equals. She knew of the man he would one day become. But her nagging didn’t help him in the end. 

“Paul, listen to m–”

“QUIET,” he commands in the Voice that seems to ripple through the halls. “You act as if I won that duel without effort. As if I could do it again in my sleep. But not only did he survive what should have killed him, he almost killed me,” he reminds her. “So do not let your hatred for my sister lead us down a vulnerable path.”

You pull your ear away from the door. How strange that you always knew she hated you and yet never heard it from anyone’s lips until now. You can’t say it hurts, but it does affirm that the only thing keeping you alive is the one thing you didn’t want to be: Feyd’s weakness. He’s saving you even though you’re out of reach. You and the baby he put inside of you. 

You run your hand over your clothed stomach. There’s no physical evidence of your pregnancy, but now that you know he’s there you can feel him…somehow. You feel his strength. You feel his grit. You feel what Lady Jessica fears, and you love it. You hope she lives in fear for many years, always keeping one eye on the half-Harkonnen child that her son commanded her to spare. 

The doorknob twists and you quickly back away as Paul steps into your bedroom. His brows pinch when he sees how you’re standing in the middle of the room. You’re not resting, you’re not admiring the scenery outside your window, there’s no book in your hand—you look suspicious. You can practically hear his thoughts. What were you doing, sister? 

“It’s time to go,” he tells you, stepping closer. You don’t have a chance to reply before the command “SLEEP” weaves into your brain. Your eyes close. Your body goes limp into your brother’s arms. Your mind shuts down. You’re gone. 

—

It’s bright. The inside of your eyelids are glowing the same orange shade as the flower your father traditionally gifted you on your birthday. It’s brighter than Caladan and Arrakis. A brightness you know only comes from Giedi Prime’s midday sun. 

You're moving but not by your own feet. Your eyelids flutter to adjust to your surroundings, and when they open, you find yourself tucked against a chest. An Atreides soldier, once your father’s, now sworn to serve your brother. 

“Put me down,” you mumble, but he doesn’t. “Put me down!”

“Put her down if she wants to be put down,” Paul says. “She won’t go anywhere. This is exactly where she wants to be.”

You’re set on your feet, but the soldier’s hand wraps around your bicep as the group comes to a halt. You do a quick glance around. Sixteen soldiers, suitably armed and shields activated. More on the ship likely, ready to attack if necessary. One Bene Gesserit bitch. One intended emperor with the skin of your brother. And you, anxiously awaiting him.

“Atreides!”

Feyd steps out of the Harkonnen fortress alone. He walks down the lengthy walkway alone. He has a blade at his hip, a shield, but no soldiers. You know they are somewhere, though, hiding, waiting for his call if needed.

As the distance between you lessens, tears attempt to blur your vision, but you blink them away. Your legs quiver, and you would collapse to your knees if not for the vice grip on your arm. He’s alive. He’s so beautifully alive. He’s broad, and strong, and he’s stomping toward your brother like a predator honing in on its prey. You didn't know for sure what he would look like after near death, and the last two weeks gave your mind the will to run wild, but he's perfect. Like it never happened.

“Paul, you must reconsider,” Lady Jessica whispers from behind him. “We do not need him.”

“I decide who and what we need,” he says. “My sister, my negotiations.”

She tips her head and steps back into place before shooting you a glare that you refuse to acknowledge.

Feyd is closing in, but his next step is deemed too close for Paul. Weapons are drawn. A blade presses into your neck. Feyd pauses. 

“Give me what's mine, Atreides!” he snaps. 

He’s seething and makes no attempt to hide it as he paces along the invisible line your brother has drawn. His brow is low, a shadow over the blue eyes piercing through Paul’s head. He hasn’t looked at you, but you know he won’t. Not directly. He already knows what your brother has over him and there’s no need to remind him by giving in to the internal panic he’s fighting. 

“Yours?” Paul returns. “She’s not yours yet, Harkonnen, so it would be wise of you to cooperate.”

Feyd practically growls, pale lips splitting to reveal black teeth as Paul gestures for you to stand beside him. The soldier shoves you forward and you turn to smack at his wrist. 

“I know how to walk,” you grumble. “Bastard.”

Paul clasps his hands behind his back. “You want her; that is understandable. She wants to be with you, too. You should have seen how she fell apart when she thought you were dead,” your brother taunts. His tongue clicks to make a tsking sound.

Feyd’s fingers twitch at his side, itching to grab the hilt of his knife. You know a layer of red bleeds across his vision. His thoughts are a jumble of demands bouncing around his skull. Kill. Maim. Destroy. Take what’s yours. But he can’t. And, excluding his uncle, Feyd hasn’t ever faced a situation where he can’t do as he pleases with whatever stands in front of him.

“Do not push him too far, Paul,” you mutter in warning. “He's not alone, either.”

Your brother ignores you, voice raising as he says, “And your son? You would like to have him as well, yes?”

The pacing stops. Feyd’s lips softly part. His eyes widen ever so slightly and he finally looks at you. When you lightly nod, his jaw clenches. 

Paul doesn’t miss the silent communication. “So,” he says, lifting his chin a half-inch, “are we calm now?”

Feyd inhales a deep breath and huffs it out through his nose. He does it again and again, chest puffing out then deflating like an animal desperate to strike. ‘Calm’ isn't exactly how you would describe him—good, you expect nothing less—but he’s not displaying the same heightened level of fury.

“What do you want, Atreides?” Feyd grunts.

“Loyalty,” Paul doesn’t hesitate to answer. “You are my cousin. You love my half-sister and the two of you will share a child, assuming you can behave yourself. Family should inherently be loyal to family, I believe. That’s a fair place to start.”

“To start?” Feyd spits. “Do not play with me, cousin. Tell me all that you want from me now.”

Paul’s lips curve in a slight smile. The same modest smile he used when greeting guests of your father’s. You have your own version of that smile. They are smiles capable of hiding secrets. Like the smiles you would give Lady Jessica in front of your father, and the smile Paul gave Princess Irulan when he formally claimed her hand days after the duel.

However, there are no secrets behind the smile this time. He knows exactly what he wants from your lover and takes pleasure in revealing the totality of it.

“This war is just beginning,” Paul tells Feyd. “The other Houses reject my leadership. You will not. You will make a public declaration that the Harkonnens will fight for me, alongside the Fremen,” he says. “If you refuse to fulfill this, I will return with every fighter I have. My sister will be our primary target and you will fail to protect her…again.”

The disrespect lingers in the air. To force a Harkonnen to kneel to an Atreides is a power Feyd once told you only you possess. But it appears Paul has forced an unexpected exception.

“There's nothing for you to debate, I imagine,” Paul says. “Not when it comes to the woman you love and your child.”

Paul gives a winning smirk at your lover’s silence—Feyd’s glare is answer enough. 

With a hand firmly on the center of your back, your brother guides you forward. “Go on,” he instructs. “There's no reason to keep him waiting.”

You turn your head back to Paul, expecting a trick, but when he nods in encouragement you rush over to Feyd in a light jog so as not to get tangled up in the skirts you can’t wait to tear off your body. A pale hand reaches out for you and curls around your waist when you’re close enough to be pulled against his chest. A kiss lands on your hairline before his forehead falls to rest on yours. 

“You're not hurt?” he asks. 

“I'm fine,” you promise him. 

“This will never have to become complex, Harkonnen,” Paul calls from his side. Your heads raise to look at him. “Your House now fights for mine. If loyalty is upheld, personal lines will not be crossed. In other words, your child and woman are safe from me as long as my empress, concubine, and children are safe from you.”

Feyd’s Adam’s apple bobs harshly with his hard swallow; another practice in tamping down his rage.

“I’m glad we can all walk away from this satisfied,” Paul continues, grinning ear to ear. “Except for my mother, of course. Were she given her way, my sister would be cut open on the floor and her womb ripped out of her. She doesn’t believe a Harkonnen can exercise restraint and respect agreements. I’m sure you’ll prove her wrong.”

Your dress tightens at your waist from Feyd’s fingers fisting into the material. “Keep your head,” you gently whisper. “Let him go.”

“You have three days to officially announce your allegiance,” Paul tells the two of you before turning to his ship. He enters first, followed by his mother who gives you a final look of disapproval, and then, two-by-two, his soldiers. Not until they’re a speck in the sky does Feyd place a hand on your cheek, guide your face to his, and seal his lips to yours. 

—

He intends to burn the dress to ash in the built-in incinerator that the Harkonnens consider a fireplace. Before now, you haven’t seen it demonstrate its purpose. Feyd refused. “We do not need that,” he would tell you, somewhat offended when you would request a bit more warmth in the middle of the night while he was next to you. He’d strip himself of any clothing he might’ve been wearing and tuck you into his side. “See? You’re fine now.”

Tonight, however, he’s quick to turn the thing on and let it heat up as he takes his knife to the back of your gown, slicing through the buttons that trace along your spine until the material slips off your body. He helps you out of the ring of destroyed fabric at your feet before wadding it into a ball and tossing it into the flames. 

Feyd hums, satisfied, then piece by piece the armor falls from his form until he’s bare with his body to yours, his lips sucking and nibbling, fingers kneading and exploring, cock easing in and out of your core. You cry as he bites into your neck, and soak in the moment for what it is compared to what it could have been had he not survived. How alone you would be. How distraught over what would become of you.

But he did survive. He’s here. You have him. His lips and teeth and touch and cock and heart—all yours. You have the warmth of his breath that brushes your face and neck and shoulders. You have his groans and moans; the perfect sounds he makes when he first enters you and when he cums. Everything you thought you’d lost is wrapped tightly in your arms. Safe. Protected.

He finishes inside of you twice, and as he begs for one more, the ache between your thighs tempts you to remind him he already got you pregnant. But when you study the tenderness in his eyes, your desire refreshes, the pain washes away, and you can’t get enough. You take until he can no longer give—when all he has the energy for is holding and kissing. 

Feyd leans over you in the bed, your legs intertwined under the sheets and his hand at the back of your head as his mouth moves with yours. 

“W-Wait,” you say between kisses. He hums against your lips and when you tilt your head back, he makes a noise of protest before joining them again. “I-I’m ser-ious.”

With his brow pinched, he pulls back to stare into your eyes. “What’s wrong?”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth as you search for a delicate way to question the effectiveness of his new authority. “Feyd, what’s going to happen? What will everyone think?” you ask. “Your people? Your soldiers?”

“That’s what bothers you right now while in this bed with me?” You nod. He sighs. “I observed my uncle in his time as Baron. I’m capable of explaining these changes in a manner that will have them think nothing of it. Should an outlier take issue, they will face the known consequences. The rest will do as I command,” he says, emphasizing his words with another kiss. “Just as they will do as you command and as our son will one day command.”

You shake your head. “Don’t be silly. No one on Giedi Prime will listen to me,” you tell him. “My voice doesn’t mean anything to them.”

“They'll respect the voice of their Baroness.” 

Your brows raise. “Your wife?”

Feyd smirks and dips his head into the curve of your neck to lick and suck at sensitive skin. “Do you have objections, my love?”

It would be a lie to say you haven’t imagined being Feyd’s wife. It didn’t occupy your every thought, but it crossed your mind. Like when he would pluck out the eyes of the men who leered at you or remove the tongues of those who scoffed when you spoke. Or when you would watch him sleep and his face was unable to maintain the hard, stony stare that he brought back with him after dealing with his uncle. He’d be serene, the epitome of peace, and it was so lovely that sometimes you couldn’t help yourself. You would kiss his puffy lips until he woke to reciprocate, which led to him spreading your legs wide and stuffing his hard column of flesh between your folds. His ability to be gentle in his cruel world was how you knew he would be a good husband—to you, anyway. You have no idea the fate of his marriage were there a different bride.

His tongue runs over the bite mark and you gasp. “N-No.”

Lips trail along your jawline as his hand slides from the base of your neck between the valley of your breasts to settle on your stomach. 

“He'll be strong,” Feyd says, looking at you. “Our boy.”

You chuckle. “Stronger than you, I heard.”

Feyd swallows, then nods in acceptance. “Good. He’ll need to be,” he says, thumb stroking just above your navel. “The only Atreides my son will answer to is his mother.”

A/N: i'd be open to doing future fics for them if anyone is interested. you can send in requests if you want, no pressure. I have a different feyd fic in the works atm as well

@unicoreads @haehwasworld @moonsoulk @lothiriel9 @landlockedmermaid77 @vintageroses10 @mamawiggers1980 @mrsjobarnes @aoi-targaryen @buckysteveloki-me @pao-prazz @skel-skell @barnes70stark @pekusofixus @vanilla88 @niragiswhore @benwishaw

[themotherofhorses]

pairing: aemond targaryen x handmaid!reader

summary: lucerys velaryon witnesses a moment he should've never laid eyes upon.

warnings: explicit language. fluff and girl dad!aemond. aemond also spits sexy poetry at his girl. uhhh lucerys signing his death warrant maybe???

notes: hehehehe i'm enjoying this pairing SO MUCH GUYS

his handmaid's tales | main masterlist

It is Lucerys Velaryon, three and ten, that catches onto the relationship, though it was by honest mistake on his part. Or a stupid decision, perhaps. He never meant to lay eyes on such an intimate yet indecent moment.

The dinner held an hour before was an embarrassment to his family, that he understood quite well. It was wrong for him to provoke his uncle into a fury and, even worse, to allow his temper to flare past reasonable judgment. His right cheek still throbbed where his uncle Aegon slammed him hard against the table, nicking his browbone with the edge of the plate. But it was the look his mother gave him that seemed to float before him in the hallway’s darkness, against the very stones of the Red Keep.

She was disappointed in him, very much so. Daemon too, probably.

Lucerys felt the great need to apologize.

It clambered up his throat and settled deep within his head, causing his stomach to roil and fingers to tremble.

He needed to apologize.

So he stands before his uncle Aemond’s chamber, counting his breaths in some wretched attempt to steel his nerves. One, two, three….four, five, six….he repeats in his mind, over and over, as his knuckles ghost over the door…but then he notices the slight crack between the two doors. His eyebrow raises. It is large enough to peer inside, where he hears a soft voice, young and feminine.

His mother always did say he was naturally curious during boyhood, but she also would say that curiosity killed the cat, and snooping was a nasty habit for a realm’s prince to pick up. Against his better nature, Lucerys leans in for a small peak.  

Lucerys recognizes her as his uncle’s personal handmaid- a young maid, fair and cheerful and beautiful. She smiled at him in the earlier hour, at both him and his brothers, when she passed by the three carrying a handful of freshly washed linens. He remembers it quite well, actually. Despite being clothed in plain servant rags, he had thought she was absolutely lovely. And she had been the only one to spare him a sliver of kindness, no prudence.

He saw her again later in the day, trailing after Aemond. His handmaid, Prince Daemon mumbled to his mother, a smirk on his lips. Ah, but a maid of her beauty does not stay one for long. His mother ignored that, and he tried to as well.

Inside the room, he sees the pretty handmaid rocking in a chair, clutching a tiny babe to her chest. Back and forth, forth and back.

No, he soon realizes, dark eyes widening. The babe is feeding from her breasts. Was she a wet nurse as well? Lucerys tilted his head at the thought. She did not look old enough to be considered one, the majority being well in his senior. He watches as she continues rocking, singing a lullaby beneath her breath before bringing the babe’s plump face to her lips for a kiss.

“The Mother gives the gift of life, and watches over every wife. Her gentle smile ends all strife, and she loves her little children….the Crone is very wise and old, and sees our fates as they unfold. She lifts her lamp of shining gold to lead the little children….”

His uncle then steps behind her, leaning to kiss her brow before her lips. “Isn’t she beautiful?” Lucerys hears the handmaid say, smiling up at Aemond. He grins, nodding. “Absolutely beautiful. A mirror of her mother, I’d say,” and he kneels to one knee beside the chair, pressing his forehead against her shoulder. He kisses the bare skin there- once, twice, thrice, and his mouth moves, but Lucerys cannot hear what he is telling her.

Whatever it is, though, it makes his handmaid giggle and shy away, shifting her gaze back on the babe.

“Are you happy?” she asks.

His nuncle sighs. “My girl, my love, I’ve told you before- I love anything and everything you give me,” and he reaches forward to take the babe in his arms, cuddling her close, “-but you have answered my wishes. You have given to me the most beautiful daughter, with your eyes and enchanting smile and nose.” Aemond glances at her, then bring her palm to his lips and mumbles against it, “And I love you. I love you. I love you.”

“I have only done my duty, my prince. I am, as always, your humble servant.”

Aemond rolls his eye. “If I could give it, the realm would be yours, and you would rule as its queen. No more a fucking servant.”

The handmaid shakes her head, laughing as she leans back in the rocking chair. “I have no need for a realm; I’m quite content in having your bed and children as mine, my love.”

Ah. His uncle Aemond One-Eye has bastards. How many, Lucerys does not know, but the babe swaddled within Aemond’s arms is his and the handmaid’s, no doubt. He wants to let out the bark of bitter laughter bubbling inside his chest, to scream at the heavens and curse out any listening gods, before running to tell Jacaerys and Lady Baela and his Rhaena. Lucerys turns his attention back to his uncle. How dare he mock his bastard origins when he himself is fathering his own handmaid’s children.

To the health of my nephews- Jace, Luke, and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise…strong. ‘Twas only a compliment…do you not think yourself strong?

How dare he act any better. How fucking dare he. Aemond’s words did not wound him as much as before, not with the bastard baby lying in his arms.

It leaves Lucerys’s head pounding to the same beat as his heart. Bum. Bum. Bum. But then his breath hitches in his throat when his uncle lifts his head up, a lone purple eye meeting his own. Aemond gives him a cool stare. Dead. Dead. Dead. He rises to his feet, gently resting his daughter back in her mother’s arms, before standing in front of his handmaid, barring any further view of her.

“Aemond, what is it?”

Lucerys quickly pulls back from the door, stumbling and falling on his ass. All he can hear now is his heart hammering in both his ears and his uncle’s heavy footsteps looming closer and closer. “Aemond?” the handmaid’s voice calls out, loud and honeyed. “Where are you going?”

To murder me, the prince thinks, jumping to his feet. He turns to sprint down the hallway, braving only one final glance over his shoulder. What he sees terrifies him.

Aemond stands at the door, staring at him with a narrowed eye. The same glare he gave him during the dinner, cold and filled with pure animosity. If the Stranger was to be a mortal man, Lucerys would believe him to be his uncle, especially at this moment. There is a message twisted in his sharp features, in the furrow of his brows, the sneer curled on his lips, and the dagger clasped in his hand.

He won’t live much longer, less if his tongue shares what he witnessed tonight.

[pagannatural]

2.07 The Usual Suspects

-Sam being interrogated about Dean is so so good because we get to see Sam being told that his brother is a scumbag criminal and the way he reacts by rolling his eyes like he’s heard this before. It’s almost like seeing a teenage version of Sam. The detective keeps telling him to throw Dean under the bus and the whole time he’s just giving attitude and plotting how to help Dean and work the case. He keeps looking out the window. Some of his reactions are raw and some are fake and some are both and his mind is running through his options assessing what to do and how to get out of this.

When confronted with the cliff notes on his and Dean’s life, Sam runs the gamut of emotion from sad and grief-stricken about Jessica to defending Dean and acting all scandalized to being a smartass, to whatever the hell this is when she says “it’s not your fault he’s your brother, we can’t pick our family”

The double meaning here. The not meeting her eyes, the tension on his face, the disdain. It’s giving Bitch don’t I fucking know it, yet I would choose him a thousand times and every time I would be a little bit miserable. “It’s not your fault he’s your brother, we can’t pick our [soul mates]” is probably what God tells him in his most comforting dreams.

-So the detective’s theory is what? That after a shared sordid serial killer childhood Sam escaped the life and then Dean murdered Sam’s girlfriend in a house fire to lure him back in and make him his crime wife?

Because I mean yeah I would read that AU. That fits their vibe pretty nicely.

-She says “Dean’s a bad guy….his life is over, yours doesn’t have to be” and Sam looks at her like that’s the dumbest thing he has ever heard.

She doesn’t know that they become sickly and depressed when they’re apart like a pair of bonded sewer kittens.

When she tells him he can get on with his life and Dean’s as good as gone you can almost see him tuning her out and calculating how to lie about this.

-Sam starts on his cover story, using his trademark Sweet-Innocent face. He relies on his charms and on appearing helpless to manipulate people into doing what he wants. He would’ve learned to do this when he was a child as a survival skill, and I can just imagine how well this complemented Dean’s tough but earnest seduction thing. Acting sweet and helpless when you’re actually savvy and resourceful is a trope commonly used in female characters. These traits (innocence, sweetness, feigned helplessness) are associated with women gaining/utilizing agency in the ways available to them.

Because narratively, Sam is the girl. It’s stuff like this, plus the way he’s depicted as Dean’s tempting damsel in distress in other episodes. It increases the sexual tension between Sam and Dean when they rely on these archetypes because we know what it means when two leads are masculine and feminine, when they need each other and the plot hinges on their conflict. It means they’re the love interests.

-Dean makes a joke about Sam being Scully, and Sam’s like I’m not Scully you’re Scully, and Dean says “No I’m Mulder. You’re a red headed woman.” Really spelling it out.

Dean is smirking and making prolonged eye contact and just— he’s flirting. There’s a Bruce Springsteen song titled “Red Headed Woman” about how “it takes a red headed woman to get a dirty job done.” I have no idea if this is what Dean’s referencing or if it’s just a Scully reference but it’s a very specific thing to say and Sam is brunette. The song is very suggestive.

-Dean HATES waiting around while Sam works. Within seconds he becomes insufferable and has to leave to go do something, flirting with Sam again on his way out.

-“Sam’s story matches Dean’s to the last detail” they didn’t even SEE each other before talking to police! They’re just so connected that they tell the same exact story. Then they both work on the case in their separate interrogation rooms using different methods and arrive at the same conclusion at the same time. They also make the same joke about their public defender.

-I keep seeing this post about who knew Dean better, Sam or Castiel, and I just want to point out that these two are so in sync they can essentially read each others minds.

-We have an outsider perspective on their lives and relationship a few times this episode, and the detectives comment more than once on how weirdly connected the brothers are. Like, Dean communicates to Sam via movie reference to escape and Sam is already all over that, he’s been assessing how to climb out the window since his first scene.

-Dean tells the detective to go to Sam so that Sam can save her life, giving her their info on “how we find each other when we’re separated.” That’s very practical. It’s also true that when they aren’t together they are obsessed with finding each other and making sure they know exactly where the other is at all times. They must have felt so untethered when Sam was at Stanford. I’m imagining Sam going on a little trip over spring break and feeling like he’s forgetting something really important and starting to panic only to realize it’s just that Dean won’t know where he is.

[lunaticst4r]

nobody but you

in which, you and neteyam have been best friends since forever, and he always saw you as one of the guys rather than a girl, until it finally makes you snap

childhood.

you and neteyam have been friends ever since childhood, where you were sitting on the tree swing at grace’s school, and one of the boys, Za’ko had pushed you off

when neteyam stepped in and fought with him, just to defend you, as soon as he was done with him, he had helped you up and put you on the swing again, telling you that if you stop crying he’ll take you to see the pretty stars

ever since then, you two were inseparable. you had basically grown up with him, he was your very best friend. sooner or later, you two had reached that age…and you started liking him

more than a friend.

but neteyam had grown up with you, probably seeing you as nothing more than just a mere childhood friend, he saw you as more of a brother than a sister even.

it made a bit of sense since you didn’t really do what most girls did, dress up in pretty tops do your hair and such, not because you hated them or thought it was weird, you just never really had interest in them

but it was so much that you never clicked with the girls, leaving you nobody but neteyam and his guy friends, who saw you in a way you hated.

you finally snapped when you saw him talking to a girl by the forest, you stormed off, ignoring him for the whole day, not even daring to come out of your home, he didn’t know why, maybe just not feeling well?

but he was wrong, because the very next day, he stood with his friends, and heard a whistle from one of them, as he looked to see you there walking to them, his eyes widened

you looked so different?

your hair was down…it was never down, and it’s been braided so nicely, you had a brand new top, one that accentuated your figure so well…a little too well actually, you were walking so slowly, as if trying to look more soft and delicate

and then it just got worse

“hi guys…” you said in such a soft feminine tone, you have never sounded like that. ever.

hi guys? what the hell is hi guys? why are you so quiet? why are you trying to look prettier than you already were? why were you acting so weird?

neteyam hadn’t said a single word, but his friends sure did

“we’re just on our way to school, come on let me walk you” one of them said as he walked with you, away from everyone else, his hand hand on your waist while the others who were still standing there were smirking and talking about you good you looked

as the days passed on, you just got weirder, everyday the guys would take turns walking you to school, some even arguing over it, when you say with neteyam, you’d be so quiet and do things like giggle at anything he says

did you really just giggle…

he hated every minute of it, he hated how all the boys were noticing you, talking to you, what in eywa was going on!

he had to deal with it for a while, until one day he finally lost it, as he was on his way to your home, and saw none other than za’ko walking out.

what was he doing in your home?

neteyam walked in, clearly angry as he stared at you, you smiled at him softly, and he quickly grabbed you, taking you away, into the forest, as he finally let go of you, he just paced around you, furious

“is…something wrong?” you asked in that weird soft voice and neteyam stopped and looked at you

“is something wrong? is something wrong?! really! everything is wrong!” he yells, shaking his head and pacing around for a bit before speaking up again, “come on what are you doing! seriously! what is all this?!”

“what is all what—“

“do not play dumb with me. you know what i’m talking about. what’s with this whole thing! you’re so girly now—and dressing up in…really—weird ways! and every guy is always talking to you! and you act so freaky! your whole life you talked like a person suddenly you talk like you’re some sort of toy or something! and you giggle—oh my eywa the giggles! you never giggle! i didn’t even know what giggle even meant until you started doing it! what is going on!” he yells, pacing around, he was so confused

your soft act quickly drops at his words, “are you—kidding me!” you yell as you glare at him

“what! what! what is it!”

“all these years—all these stupid years! all you see me is as one of the guys! oh here she comes she’s gonna want to hunt and do things guys do with us for sure! oh here she comes she’s like a brother to me! and now—the moment a guy starts giving me the smallest amount of attention you say i act freaky?”

“yes!” he yells and walks towards you, his face inches away from yours, “i do not like it. not in the slightest. i do not like when others talk to what’s mine.” he says in a low low voice, your eyes widen

“wh-what?” you say and he tilts his head

“i think you heard me just right. so i suggest you drop the act, cause i really don’t have the time to fight every man in this village, but i will if i have to.” he says and looks at you, “for you.”

“neteyam…” you say and shake your head, pushing him away as your eyes tear up, “no! no—you cannot act like this with me! you cannot—flirt with other girls then say you like me!”

“i do not flirt with anyone! i have never flirted with anyone because i have you! all those times you see me with girls—it was never me who got to them! and i always brush them off!” he says and sighs

“why can’t you see? why can’t you see that i see you! i always have! there was nobody but you, it’s always been you…without this whole…act.” he says and you look at him, your eyes lighting up

“this whole act has been for you nete…”

“yeah well you can drop it now” he says and caresses the side of your cheek, soon, you two inch closer as your lips finally meet, melting in each others arms, once you finally let go, he looks at you for a second, “now if i see you talking to any of those boys again…it won’t be pretty”

you laugh as you shake your head, “don’t worry i won’t”

a/n: hi guys this is my first write!! i’m sorry it lowkey sucks but i rlly hope you like it!! requests are open!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

wibta if i keep having sex with my friends dad? nsfw warning

i (20s cismale) got invited by my friend (20s nonbinary) to try out some new edibles they made last thursday. this isnt too weird because both of us are unemployed (they get disability, i get money from unemployment, and we both live with our parents) and usually during the day their dad (50s cismale) is at work so we get the house to ourselves. well last thursday was different because i came over late in the night when their dad was home, and he offered to make me some dinner too. i get the munchies really bad so i was immediately like yes please and thank you while i fucked off to my friends room. we played some smash bros while we waited for the cookies to kick in, and when it started to hit his dad called us both out for dinner. dinner was great, and his dad is super chill — so he let us raid his alcohol cabinet. i dont think he knew either of us were stoned for the record (im naturally really quiet/dont make eye contact, my friend sounds high 24/7 naturally) so i dont think he was like trying to get anyone drunk or anything. my tolerance is pretty good but my friends is shit so it didnt take long until they were like blackout drunk and passing out on the couch, while their dad and i were both drunk too (not blackout but pretty drunk, and i was still high) and sitting on the opposite side of the couch next to eachother

important fact about me - i crossdress like femboys or whatever theyre called. i like looking really feminine and cute and confusing people. im not trans or anything like that gender is just a game and i am winning it. but i do tend to dress up in very egirl/goth gf clothes if you know what i mean, and i look pretty convincing ive been told (friend tells me i would pass for ciswoman with the makeup on). i think their dad maybe forgot that i was me (he usually sees me in boy clothes) and he started hitting on me? i didnt think i was gay or bi either until he started doing it and i got really flustered but i didnt stop him? again i was fucked up so the attention felt really nice despite it being my friends dad. but anyways he kept getting closer until he kissed me, and it felt nice so i let it keep going? which was probably super fucked up in retrospect. but anyways stuff gets hot and steamy, their dad doesnt bother lifting up my skirt, one thing leads to another and we have sex. he definitely noticed im not a girl during that (its pretty hard to miss lol) but he didnt stop so we kept going for a while

after we were done he and i passed out on the couch in a kind of awkward position, we both woke up in the morning and i think thats when he realized im me, but he didnt seem to freak out even though hes straight?? or at least i thought he was straight. but we had sex again in the morning and then when my friend woke up we all had breakfast and i went back to my friends room and we hung out more and got high again. while we were though i accidentally spilled the beans to my friend, and they FREAKED out on me and said that i was so gross for doing that, and they cant believe that it happened, stuff like that. they kicked me out of their room and their dad had to drive me home because i was shaking bad from it. but while their dad drove me home i was super pissed and mad and not thinking straight (haha) and so i tried to convince their dad to take a detour so we could fuck again. and he was like, okay sure, so we did?? but now i feel horrible for doing it knowing that it grossed my friend out so much, but i really like their dad and he seems to like me too, and i want to keep banging him :(

What are these acronyms?

[evilfrogcereal29]

ANOTHER NIKTO X READER I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE I WAS GOING WITH THESE SPECIFIC SCENARIOS JUST COME TO MIND DJDHSKS

this is made with a fem!reader in mind, I try to write everything kind of GN, so sorry, but gender is kind of important for this specific piece cause reader's mistaken for a man and doesn't correct anyone to hide their identity

Tw: drinking, swearing, google translated russian, probably a bit ooc Nikto, I make him a lil softer than he probably is.

Nikto x Disguised(?)!fem!reader

- "You're pretty small for a guy"

- you were more than used to that sentence by now, and you never once saught to correct or challenge anyone on it. Who cared? There where more important things than whats in your pants, and it was better that everyone thought you you a man anways.

- You were very private about your identity, you had friends and family back home you didn't want getting wrapped up in this shit. You've seen how petty people can be for just a little bit of revenge.

- you wore a full suit of gear that masked your feminine form, including a helmet with a built in voice changer. (You sounded similar to that of a metro-cop from half-life 2, but with way more clarity)

- You didn't even push the man narrative, everyone just naturally started using he & him for you, unaware of your past or who you really were.

- You were, for the most part, one of the guys. Your file even stated you as male. A serious oversight by the higher-ups.

- So then why was Nikto currently pointing a gun amd looking at a woman in *your* armor?

- *Funny timeskip that i added here because I thought it'd be a bit confusing jumping between these two bullet points*

- You often frequented the showers late at night, it was the only time you could wash yourself uninterrupted by others prying eyes.

- You never realized how often you and Nikto barely evaded seeing eachother. You’d finish, disappear from the showers back to your room, and Nikto would come in, with the same idea of a late shower as you within a few minutes to as soon as 30 seconds after you departed.

- Tonight though, maybe by fate, you both got the idea at the same time, unfortunately for Nikto, you walked just a little faster.

- Nikto almost immediately turned around when he heard the water running, there was no point. Yet there was also frustration, and an overwhelming urge to confront whoever it was. Who the hell was showering at this hour?! He’s never had this problem before, who was deciding to give him problems tonight?

- He cracked the door open, head peeping inside, his eyes widen big at you- whoever you were- in his fellow solider's suit.

- Now it should've occured to someone as intelligent as Nikto that this *was* his fellow solider, but he had known you for a while, and had never suspected anything before, he would've known if you weren't anyone you said you are...right? Had you truely bested Nikto?

- He pulled out his gun right as you seemed to notice him, letting out a yelp. You were a confident 'man' on the battlefield, but now, you were red in the face, caught in a web of lies you didn't even mean to string.

- *Timeskip from earlier ends here :3 there will be more timeskips tho because my ADHD ass LOVES giving context*

- "ублюдок, ты кто? Where is our teammate? What did you do to him?" He growled, cocking his gun and aiming it right at the girl's head.

- Your eyes are wide, as big as half-dollars, and threw your hands up into the air.

- "Nikto its me! Its me!" You plead. Only receiving a sneer and angry grunt

- "You think I'm a stupid man, маленькая девочка?!" He yelled, stepping closer, finger twitching on the trigger, his bloodlust rising.

- The running water is the only thing breaking the terrifying tension in the room, you're mind is racing, how do you get this killer off your back. You needed to prove who you were. Think! Think!

- "Please don't shoot- let me prove it, I can prove it's me Nikto. I-..." You feel your cheeks heating up, god this was fucking embarrassing, and Mr. Emotionless here is the last person you wanted to slip up with. Even if you did prove yourself, he might kill you just because he felt a little angry that you didn't tell him personally. You gulp at that thought.

- Nikto grins under his mask, amused, truely, his gun lowers a bit.

- "Go on." He muses, "tell me something only HE would know." He smirks, thinking about how he's going to lay your body in the shower and watch the blood seep down the drain.

- *Time skip backwards again here, cause I love me some backstory :3*

- Your mind races. You and Nikto weren't 'friends' per se, but you had a past, you had met him right around when he had come out of rehabilitation after his sickening torture. He was worse back then, he would snap on teammates. He snapped on you, pinning you to the wall once, eyes dilated and filled with a primal kind of rage, he pressed down on your neck.

- "Мы сломаем твои кости, как стекло, маленький муравей."

- You had picked up some Russian from being around him and other fluent operators, knowing a decent amount, and in that moment you knew just enough to fear for your life.

- Thankfully Minotaur was in the area, and while he enjoyed watching a good scuffle bewteen two soldiers, he knew very well that this one would end with you dead, breaking up you two with very careful wording and while staying a very far away distance from the still ravenous, blood-thirsty Nikto.

- Surprisingly, you didn't completely avoid him after that, not like you could, the allegiance seemed to love put you two on the same team. Something about the variety of both your skillsets.

- It was true, you had to admit. You and Nikto worked very professionally on the field, quick and easy kills, communicating everything with head & hand gestures instead of talking. It was preferable for the both of you. And always ended with success. So maybe thats why you always ended up near eachother. Still, you always tried to give the Psychotic man the benefit of the doubt. Knowing the story of his past, as told to you by Rodion, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of empathy for the broken man.

- It eventually built up to you having a very personal moment with Nikto.

- You were on a long-term mission, you'd been deployed in Yakutsk, Russia. Yes, one of the coldest fucking places in the entire country. Reaching nearly unalivable conditions- In your opinion- but of course Nikto never complained, he liked the cold after all.

- You had shacked up in an abandoned home on the outskirts of the city for the night. You laid on the one of the dirty mattresses left there by the old tenants, whoever they were.

- You shivered and shook like a rabid animal. Unable to sleep from how cold you were. Even in your full body of armor, it wasn't doing enough. You had those crap emergency blankets but even they, and the addition of the thin poo-stained mattress beneath you, didn't help with the very persistent cold that seemed to seep in through every crack of the home possible.

- You can only assume Nikto is fast asleep, at least, until you hear a soft humming, one that turns into soft singing, its gruff, and deep, but as you continue to listen, you find it rather soothing.

- "Здравствуйте, девочки Здравствуйте, мальчики Смотрите на меня в окно...." He sang, tapping his foot to a beat in his head. It seemed there *were* moments where nikto wasn't being mentally tortured by his own mind. Instead, filled with a melody from childhood.

- You rolled over and saw Nikto sitting criss-cross on the other mattress, his mask was slightly lifted up, but it was too dark to make out anything but the outline of his chin, and there was something in his hand, a bottle of Vodka.

- Now that you found weird, Nikto usually wasn't one to live up to the stereotype, in fact, he barely drank at all. Sure, he did drink lots in his youth, and still did a few lines of coke or toked off the occasional blunt when the offer somehow came up, but he was sworn off alcohol for the most part, especially vodka or anything strong, it gave him extremely awful headaches, he was hangovers bitch.

- You finally sat up after a few minutes, alerting him to your presence, his singing ceased and he pulled his mask back down over his mouth quickly, shooting you a dangerous glare.

- you frowned through your helmet that you kept on, blinking tired, dissapointed eyes at him.

- "Don't stop, I didn't know you could sing like that Nikto... Or that you drank-"

- "Господи, заткнись, сука. ты ничего обо мне не знаешь" he said defensively, you couldn't recognize every word but you recognized every swear, flinching at his vile language, but recognizing the slight slur in his words. A sign of inebriation.

- "Nikto...? You're drunk?" You try to ask, but he follows it up with a quick and defiant 'no' and more swearing. You let him, knowing better than you argue with the bullish man. Let him stop seeing red, than you could keep talking.

- "So.. what about tonight made you finally want to drink, I thought you liked the cold?" You ask, tilting your head.

- "I'm not drinking cause I'm sad." He corrected you coldly, setting the bottle down beside him, "The opposite actually."

- Nikto was...happy drinking? You didn't think normal people did that, but than again Nikto wasn't normal so- you supposed it made sense.

- "Whats the occasion?" You ask after a moment of consideration, and now that you thought about it, it was a bit rude, let the man be happy. occasion or not.

- "Everything is... Quiet tonight. I think we're just happy to be somewhere that feels like home." he says, tapping the side of his head.

- You're happy for him. He deserves moments like these. You find yourself scooting closer, settling down beside him when he doesn't shoo you away.

- "Tell me about your home, Nikto." You ask politely, taking him by surpise, catching him in a moment of vulnerability in his nostalgia and drunk-ness. The usual softness in your real voice, even with the voice changer, was present.

- He goes on to describe his early life to you, albiet, in bit and pieces, it's obvious he's holding back, relinquishing some details while stating others blantly. He also just doesn't remember much. Everything from birth to 5 years old is a blur for him. He just remembers his older brother and mom, and a vague outline of a father figure, but he left before Nikto's 6th birthday, Nikto can't remember his face or the sound of his voice anymore.

- He pointed out the song he was singing earlier, he listened to it often when he was a younger man. It reminded him of his mother and brother, of sitting at the dinnertable eating warm meals as a family whenever they scrounged up enough money to have the luxury of doing so. The laughter and love they shared, even if things around them were lackluster.

- He details early life in the military, his becoming of a spy and his... Eventual Downfall and capture.

- "One job, I got messy... I wasn't looking where I was going I..." He trailed off. He stopped telling his story and you reached a hand out, resting a hand on his shoulder.

- "Its okay. I get it. You don't need to tell me anymore if it hurts." You reassure, seeing the way he tenses under your pitiful touches.

- "I deserved it." He tried to continue, but you interupted him

- "None of that now. Just shut up and think about the now." You scold, noticing the wide eyes stare Nikto gives you.

- No one has ever told him to shut up before. He felt the heat rise in his cheeks underneath his mask, thank god he was wearing one.

- "Sorry." He muttered, and now you both sat there a bit stunned and quiet. The moment you were experiencing together left the both of your heart's racing, wondering a million things about the other.

- You because you had never seen such a soft, apologetic side of Nikto before, a man with no regrets, no empathy. He seemed so... Human?

- And Nikto because he couldn't believed he was being so soft and apologetic with someone. He always had his walls up. His mental fortress guarded with maximum security at all times. But you caught him when the Vodka- 3/4th a bottle of it that he found stashed in a drawer somewhere in the shack- had him weak, and you didn't take advantage of him. Didn't judge or even really cast much pity towards him. He didn't like being pitied. Fucking hated it actually. But here you were, rubbing his shoulder, which wasn't exactly an *unwelcomed* gesture, and sitting in silence with him. The voices were at bay tonight. Right now. It was just him, or whatever was left of Andre.

- "I used to walk 4 miles to school every morning in the freezing cold, and almost got hit by a pickup truck and stolen by a pack of wolves doing it." He suddenly blurted out, the previously warm vibes of the room returning as Nikto casted the past out of his mind. You were right. He was being too emotional, he should focus on the now.

- And right now, the booze brought him back to fonder memories, ones of childhood mischief and near death experiences.

- You looked at him with wide eyes and couldn't help the burst of laughter that followed, something that Nikto didn't find insulting, in fact, he was smiling too, underneath that mask.

- "You think that's funny, just wait til I tell you where I got my first tattoo..." He chuckled with his thick, russian accent.

- You and Nikto shared stories all night. And never once did Nikto question it, like when you told him you took ballet, or when you ripped your prom dress, or even when you told him about your first boyfriend. He shrugged it off. He wasnt exactly as straight as a board either. And the military exposed him to people from all walks of life.

- Of course, Nikto still thought you were a *man* at this point. A very effeminate acting man, but a man none the less.

- *Time skip ends here SORRY IF U HATED THAT SJSHSK*

- But now Nikto's world was flipped on it's head, as you combed through your mind, you find yourself going back to that silly song he sang. Trying to recall the words.

- "Здравствуйте.... дев-вочки.." you started, cringing at your poor pronouncations of the words and shrilly little singing voice.

- Nikto's eyes widen in recognition, all former sneers and snickers long gone. He wasn't joking anymore, and it seemed you weren't either.

- "Здравствуйте, мальчики..." You continued, your cheeks growing impossibly red, "С-Cмотрите на меня в окно.."

- "That's enough. Stop. Stop it." Nikto demanded, aiming his gun right at you again, "how do you know that? That night?"

- "Cause it's me Nikto! I'm a girl!" You exclaimed, getting annoyed yourself. You practically just performed for the bastard, and now he was still trying to shoot you, just like you figured.

- There was a moment of silence. And Nikto stood there, as if needing to process everything that just happened.

- "Put on the helmet." He demands. And you don't defy him, placing your helmet on, the change in your voice is like night and day,

- "I didn't think it mattered this much, I'm sorry." You said genuinely. Your voice deepened to it usual state, confirming your indentity.

- There a few more moments of silence before Nikto coughs, grabbing your attention. He straightens himself. Lowering his gun and putting the safety back on. There's a sense of embarrassment in his movements, he's tense, and avoiding your eye contact.

- "It...it doesn't matter. We'll just shower tomorrow morning." He says and hurries off. Another vulnerable moment with you, what was wrong with him?! He hated himself right now. For having never realized, and for having threatened you.

- Nikto did hold you in high regards, not that he would ever tell you or another soul. He respected your dedication to the work, and after that night in the cabin, a mutual but unspoken trust was formed bewteen the two of you. You never had a moment like it afterwards. Well. Until now.

- You don't dare go after Nikto in that moment, but you want to. It's late, and if you woke everyone else up and made them aware of the situation, only god knows what would happen. So you shower and head off to bed, replaying senarios in your mind, planning what you'd say to Nikto first thing in the morning.

- Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how you see it, he beat you to it.

- You were still sleeping when a heavy-handed Knock came to your door, sending you scurrying out of bed for your gear. You reach for your helmet until you hear the voice on the other side.

- "Hey... Its Nikto...let us in, please." He says, his voice gruff and demanding as usual but theres something else there....Pleading? Hoping?

- You freeze, fiddling with your helmet before deciding its not worth it. You quickly move to open the door, making sure noone else is around before ushering Nikto in.

- He takes a moment to look you up and down. You're not wearing any gear now. Just some plaid pajama pants and a white tanktop.

- He sighs, shaking any stray thoughts from his head. "We should talk. About last night." He finally states, and you agree with a simple nod, motioning for him to sit next to you on your bed.

- It feels like last time, except the cards have been flipped, this time, it was your secrets that were being spilled, and Nikto had the questions.

- "Why?" He asked flatly, "why hide your gender?"

- "Why hide your face?" You fire back, rolling your eyes at him like it was obvious, "for privacy, same reason as you, as Krueger. We don't want anyone knowing what we look like, our identities" you said, using another member of the allegiance, Sebastian Krueger, as an example.

- Nikto's eyes dart down in thought, and he nods, "I see."

- Theres more silence, it seems that was a recurring theme between you two, long bouts of silence. Never once did either of you try to force conversation. It came naturally.

- Nikto really appreciated that about you in this moment. It allowed him to get his thoughts straight, arguing with the voices for a bit before he opens his mouth again.

- "No one has to know." He says, like its that simple, and stands up. He starts for the door and you move to follow, a hand on his bicep.

- "Nikto wait- that's it?" You ask, confused, but what did you really expect? Nikto wasn't the type to gossip. If information needed to be gathered and brought back his superiors, he would. But that wasn't what he was asked to do.

- "да, that's it." He said standing the in the doorway with finality.

- He shut the door behind him with a click and you stood there dumbfounded. Did any of that really just happen, or was all of this one big dream you were about to wake from?

- You pinched yourself with a winced and cursed under your breathe. This was reality. Could you really trust Nikto with this secret? Without blackmail? Without shame?

- Apparently, yes. As you would come to find out. In fact, you soon realize that this whole incident only made you and Nikto somehow closer.

- In battles, during tight situations, he was always there. Freeing you from the enemies grasp, carrying you with a bullet wound in your back. He was your personal guard.

- He wasn't being more protective just cause he knew you're a girl, he knew you were deadly. He's seen what you're capable off. No. You come to learn Nikto does this as a display of affection. Subtlety showing his appreciation for keeping his secrets, and in return, he keeps your's, and keeps you alive as well.

- After one particularly long mission, you're walking alongside each other, covered in dirt and grime, heading to the showers as the sun set and everyone heads for bed.

- You two showered together now, of course, broken up by thin curtains. It was a bit intimate, but it was an easier agreement than an already insomnia ridden-Nikto getting up at ungodly hours of the morning to shower.

- As you're walking together you nudge him gently, "good work today. You still fight well for a guy your age." You tease. Nikto knew full well you were hiding a shit eating grin under than helmet of yours, grimacing at you.

- "Yeah, good work to you too... For a girl." He says back venomously, earning him a playful punch.

- "Bastard! Don't be so loud about that!" You scold while whisper-yelling, but Nikto can still hear the smile in your voice. And knows its in jest.

- "It would be a shame if the others knew what a pretty little woman you really were."

- "It would be a shame if the others knew about the smiley face tattoed on your buttcheek."

- Both of your faces are red and concealing mischievous grins. This was you and Nikto's relationship now. Learnings eachothers secrets, and using them to pick on eachother. Playful banter.

- Everyone around base notices what you two are doing...just FUCK already you two... Damn. The tension is killing everyone.

- You and Nikto will probably end up together after a while more of this, its inevitable. You're just unjudgemental enough to deal with his freak, while also being one of the only solider's on base willing to put up with his terrifying, intimidating aura for long periods of time!

- Nikto always kind of liked you, as a man, and even now as a woman. And sharing your secrets only solidified that attraction in his mind. You were his милый, and he would keep you and your secrets safe for as long as he lived.

AHHHH HOLY FUCKING SHIT SORRY IF THE END FEELS RUSHED I TRIED TO CONCLUDE THIS LONG ASS STORY, I DIDN'T REALIZE HOW MUCH YAP I HAD IN ME😳

The song Nikto was humming is Кино - Алюминиевые огурцы, and was inspired by a comment on my post about Russian and Austrian musc left by @weepingmagazinesandwich and once I heard that song I knew I had to use it in a writing piece its just so sweet. The two playlists were made btw I just never publicly posted them (also cause Nikto's list is chronically short, and Krueger's playlist is already almost hours long) so- idk if y'all want those posted but lmk👍 I hope you enjoyed this- whatever you'd call it. Idk what to call the reader in this. Disguised!reader sounds so silly.

I have a sfw agere krueger drabble comin out soon, and I just started writing big chunks of the hubby!gromsko x reader hcs.

[bucknastysbabe]

No Conviction - Ser Criston Cole x Aegon II

For the mother of our brainchild, SMOOCHIELINI @aemondsbabe

Rating: Explicit

Tags: TW//Degradation, Criston is taking out his frustrations and prior guilt, fat shaming, dub-con, Criston is mean, unreliable narrator, manipulation. Angst, M/M, rare pair, Bondage (light), anal fingering, dildo use, there is prep!, bratting, feminization, Aegon’s a slut at the end of the day, Criss priss takes the idea of an order and skews it, chubby!Aegon, prostate orgasm, nipple play

A/N: THIS IS NASTY DIRTY we will be back to our usual content soon, I put the usual taglist but heed the pairing!

Taglist: @arcielee @fallingintoyourlilaceyes @valeskafics @lovelykhaleesiii @fairysluna @starogeorgina @targaryen-madness @sugarpoppss2 @aemonds-holy-milk @dr-aegon

Ao3: Updated later

Alicent’s big doe eyes were watery, her hair wild. She seemed to become increasingly fraught by the day— it pained Ser Criston to know why she was so wracked with nerves. They both were aware of the plans for the future. Very big plans as Viserys continued to decay. He noted the Queen’s nails were bleeding again.

Criston grabbed her shaking palms, soothing her with a murmur, “My Queen, breathe, what is the issue?”

The Knight was grateful he had gloves on or Alicent’s ripped nails might have drawn blood. The redhead took a deep inhale and exhaled. She begged him, a frantic edge to her tone, “Aegon. He’s uncontrollable. I don’t know what to do. He brought whores into the Keep Sept! Ser Darklyn caught..my son..defiling the place.”

She spat ‘my son’ as if it was bile in her mouth. Criston clenched his teeth, anger beginning to rise up from the pit of his stomach. He was utterly revolted. They were going to thrust this wanton, deviant, gluttonous Prince onto the throne.

They had no other choice.

The green queen’s tone grew hard as she ordered, “Pay him a visit. Make him understand the castle is not his playground. Use any means possible. Your queen demands it.”

Criston squeezed her palms and nodded. He rumbled, “Prince Aegon’s heresy will not go unpunished, you have my promise.” Alicent turned away with a thanks, nails back to her lips. The white knight had an order to execute, striding off to the Prince’s quarters.

He stopped to raise a brow at Ser Arryk standing guard. The twin grumbled, “Princeling’s sleeping off his revels, by all means, go ahead.” He gave a wry smile, Criston not returning the look. Criston dismissed Cargyll, “The Queen requires you to take my place at her side. I’ve been sent to deal with Aegon.”

The other Kingsguard nodded, rolling his eyes at Criston’s serious demeanor. Cole watched him descend down the hallway, turning a corner before opening Aegon’s door. The knight wrinkled his nose at the smell of wine and musk— Aegon sprawled out in his bed, naked.

A bottle of wine sat on the side table. Criston’s eyes jerked to the foot of the grand bed. His lips twisted downwards at the ropes, leather, the collection of ivory to ebony carved cocks. The marcher was stunned. The open display of debauchery. An outwardly sinful collection. He swallowed reflexively, deciding on what to do.

Dark eyes roved up to the Prince. He’d grown rather fleshy with drink and overindulgence at the table. For a young man of twenty, a dragon rider, Aegon had the soft curves of a plump maid. Criston could almost laugh— Aegon probably spent too much time on his back to get a sweat working even with all the fucking he did.

He stalked over toward the side of the bed, leering down at Aegon. Criston had an idea pop in his head— a nasty one. Beating Aegon served no gain. The princeling would just snivel and cry, delving deeper into his cups. The knight’s cock stirred at the image of wide eyes and tears falling down fat cheeks.

Aegon was pretty enough, soft enough, tits grown much bigger than Rhaenyra had at the time he coveted her, sullied his cloak for her. His white hair was rumpled, lips, and cheeks feminine and plump. Criston was well acquainted with wide violet eyes and long lashes. He reminded Cole too much of Ali with that look.

Criston barked, “Aegon!”

The prince stirred and whined, rolling onto his soft tummy, exposing more plush thigh and a round ass. Criston rolled his eyes, ignoring his stirring cock. Aegon’s pallid fleshy hips had jagged pink marks, a sign of the glutton gaining too much for his skin to keep up. The marcher couldn't understand how the buffoon had no shame in his naked body, especially in a state such as this.

Criston’s eyes jerked back to the foot of the bed. Aegon was ruled by his extreme hedonism. His nasty thought blossomed into a plan. The knight sighed in annoyance. He’d remain chaste, but Aegon would get some sense fucked into him.

Criston undid his gauntlets in quick snaps, eyes blown and focused on the prince. Next came his pauldrons, dropping to the floor in a loud clank. Aegon snuffled and stirred, groaning, “Fuck off Cargyll, m’alive.”

Finally, the heavy cuirass was off. The marcher remained in his white garb. He took off his boots before snatching the phials of oil and the biggest carved cock available. The cloak was neatly placed out of sight— Criston would deal with his guilt later. This was for the crown, for his queen, for the future of Westeros.

He placed the heavy cock down on the bedside table, placing a knee on the plush bed. Aegon finally jerked and squawked, reddened eyes wide. His puffy lips opened and closed like a fish. The prince questioned “Cole? What in the seven hells are you doing here? I’m trying to rest! Did you not hear me tell Cargyll to fuck off?”

Criston wanted to snarl and jerk the brat around. He remained quiet, face placid, staring Aegon down. After taking a breath, he spoke, “I came to check on you. I don’t appreciate the attitude, my prince. You’ve been more withdrawn than usual.”

Aegon’s face softened, eyes gleaming from the attention Criston was lathering upon his minuscule ego. He murmured, “This isn’t some scheme from Mother, is it? You merely care for Aemond.” The blonde’s mouth pouted, face eager for a smidgeon of praise.

“No. I care for all of you. What’s going on Aegon? You surround yourself in Flea Bottom, but you seem lonely around the Keep. I notice more than you think.” Criston was not lying when he said his piece. Aegon irked him but he held affection for all of Alicent’s children. He also knew Aegon sought touch and affirmation in the lowest of places.

Aegon’s face softened, his body still bared to Criston’s sight. He mumbled, cheeks flushing, “I am already an idiot fool, I can’t fight, nor will I be as smart as Aemond. What is the saying? The black sheep.”

Criston placed a knee on the plush bed, leaning to cup a full cheek. He replied, “The black sheep of the family, yes. Although I believe that title is for the bitch on Dragonstone. You don’t trust yourself enough, hm? You never gave yourself a chance.”

Aegon nuzzled into his palm, eyes growing teary and cheeks flushing. He inhaled a bit, body shifting. The prince complained, “Why are you here? To make me feel worse? It’s too late. This is what I am. I’d rather be drunk than try and be laughed at more.”

Criston put his other knee on the bed, climbing towards Aegon. He purred, “So you’d rather spread your legs like a two stag whore and guzzle wine, feast and fuck your life away?” Aegon whimpered softly as Criston jerked the prince underneath him, pulling him up by thick hips.

“Ah- what are you doing?”

“Maybe you’ll learn some worth if I fuck it into you, pretty princeling,” He quipped back, fingertips digging into pliant flesh. He felt good. Too good. Aegon squirmed but Criston had him pinned under his toned frame. The prince whined, “Why, don’t, this is...no!”

“Your wanton pussy says no to me then? How strange,” Criston hummed, “Aemond would never defile a sept like you have. Disgusting.” The pale body under him struggled, tears pouring from the blonde’s eyes. Criston reached around to grab at a rock-hard cock, laughing meanly as he gave tentative pumps.

“Truly are a deviant. You probably dreamed of this,” he groped Aegon’s fat belly, “A glutton too. You were so slim. What happened? Aemond had a pudgy face. You’ve got tits now.”

Aegon mewled pathetically, bucking back into Criston’s hips. He whined, “Stop it, stop it, s’not that bad!” Criston snorted, grabbing a handful of chubby tits, Aegon sobbing and shivering. The knight pinched at the stretched nipple and swore, “Plump little princess. Content to laze around and get her pussy fucked all day. You have no conviction. No ambition to rule your kingdom.”

Criston reached over to grab the oil, Aegon’s sniveling music to the marcher’s ears. The prince tried to sneer, “Y-you swore to be chaste, you already fucked that up! Picking another Valyrian again?”

“No, no, simpleton. As much as I disgustingly lusted for a Targaryen princess on my cock, I have doubled over my faith. This is merely a lesson for you. Smart girl, wish you used your bigger head more, it is a scheme from your mother,” his gloved hand cracked across Aegon’s peachy ass, “As I pondered, figured you’d be apt to listen with a cock up your cunt.”

Teary doll eyes and trembling lips stared over a pale shoulder. Aegon’s white hair hung limp in his face. He tried to squirm again, pissed off, by his swears and leg kicking out. Criston shoved the softling by his neck, Aegon crying out in frustration.

The knight reached back for that discarded rope, yanking Aegon’s skinny wrists up and trying them. Criston hissed, “Goddamn brat. That’s what you are. You’re going to listen and maybe I’ll make your needy pussy feel good.” He was disgusted with himself— Aegon’s strangled moans were delicious.

The headboard clattered as Criston tested the ties. He took a moment to murmur, “Too tight?” Aegon rasped, heaving a sob, “N-no! Fuck me already! Make your point!” Criston’s lips quirked up, sliding a calloused thumb over Aegon’s twitching entrance, drawing a pitiful whine.

He poured oil over the twitching pucker, slicking his gloved fingers up. Criston had no experience with this but he knew an ass had no lubrication. Therefore, it was his job to open Aegon up. The prince squirmed impatiently, blotchy red cheeks ripe with embarrassment.

Criston could be gentle. But the leather whip told him otherwise. He pressed two fingers against the tight ring, trying to work himself in with circular movements. Aegon mewled, chubby thighs trembling, arching his back into a thick crease. Dark eyes hungrily watched Aegon's softened body fold and shake, idly worried why he thought it to be so fetching to the gaze.

“You’ve let yourself go to seed. No better than some lord's fat spoilt daughter. You’ve seen Aemond,” his other hand pinched Aegon’s back roll meanly, grinning at the prince’s whimpery pleads, “He’s lean and talented, even with one eye. You could’ve built yourself up in the yard.”

Aegon cried out as Criston’s oily fingers dipped inside the ring of muscle, the knight roughtly shoving them in deep. Aegon thrashed at the burn, cock bobbing against his drooping gut. The elder continued, “You might’ve been decent with a sword. Maybe you could read up and try to be smart? Aemond studies for hours.”

Criston cruelly jabbed his fingers in short thrusts as Aegon whined and babbled, “I- I can speak Valyrian! Stop talking about him now!” Aemond made Aegon’s hackles raise easily— the dutiful brother, the better son, the beloved. Alicent had eyes for the special son and his monstrous dragon.

Criston’s fingers curled against a nub that make the softling jolt in his ropes, throwing his wild hair back. The knight raised a brow— he’d heard Aegon talking about a spot that made the male whores squeal once. This must be it.

“I’m merely giving you some advice, Aemond excels. I could get you into fighting shape, hm?” He drug padded tips against the little spot, Aegon breathily moaning, “Ser Criston, Ser, please! No more about him!”

“Should’ve been born with a cunt. Let him breed you up with pretty Valyrian babies. You’re close enough anyways, always crying and needing your achy cunt pleased. Tits and hips made for babes. Greedy, greedy, greedy,” he tutted. Criston eagerly thrust his fingers, a grin plastered on his handsome face, eyes feral. The squelching added to Aegon's embarrassment, desire, and needs.

Aegon made a desperate noise, shivering all over. Criston flipped Aegon onto his back, seeing the fuss. The prince whined as his wrists twisted, eyes turned away, pouty lips swollen from biting. Criston eyed the milky cum decorating Aegon’s striped lower belly.

“Whore. Is that what we have to do to keep you in line? Keep you fucked out, drunk, and fed?” He snarled, face dangerously close. Aegon spread his thick thighs, tears leaking down his fat cheeks. The prince moaned “Fuck meeee, fuck meee, please just fuck me! I’ll be good!”

Criston groped at a tender breast, demanding, “You’ll be a good what?”

Aegon sulked as he huffed, eyes finally on Criston’s dark gaze. The knight slapped his fatty thigh, the prince wailing, “Your good little princess! The princess! Yes! I’ll listen!”

The brunette cooed, “Good girl, you’ll get your pussy fucked again. Such a lustful sort. Gorgeous whore. Look’it you.” His soiled gloves took their time squeezing Aegon’s curves. He hooked his fingers into a deep belly button, and the blonde began to whine again. His once-softened cock was already straining against his stomach.

“What? Gods. Surely all this blubber doesn’t turn you on? You need a corset, my Princess,” he laughed again.

Aegon stammered, “N-no, all this touching. S'sensitive.”

“Mhm, sure Aegon, you think I don’t see you at supper? Never miss supper do you? Ruled by your own greed. How will you be king? We’ll be penniless! Easy for your uncle and sister to take over.”

"I'll listen, you can be my hand, keep me in line," Aegon wetly cried, "Please, please, Serrr, need it."

Criston hummed in contentment, stretching black gloves against ivory thighs, spreading Aegon wide open. He smirked at the way Aegon's belly bunched into two thick rolls, forcing his little tits up. The knight swallowed down drool, he mustn't lap or suckle. He had to break his prince down some more.

The dark haired knight reluctantly leg go of a thigh, eyes drifting from Aegon's used hole. He grabbed that carved cock from earlier, slathering the earlier discarded oil onto it, something floral scenting the pungent air. The prince mewled and spread his legs, puffy lips swollen and spit-slick. Criston muttered, "Where the fuck do you even get these things...this one is lumped.."

Aegon panted, "S'for that spot."

"The spot that makes the spoilt princess squeal?"

Violet eyes watered some more, Aegon swallowing down a whine, softly pleading Criston- promising his utmost attention, duty, and service. Only if the Kingsguard would just use the toy! Criston smiled darkly, shoving the bulbous tip of the ebony cock into Aegon's stretched hole. The younger cried out, back arching again, almost sobbing with pleasure.

The marcher focused on settling it deep inside, pleased with the knowledge it would rub Aegon's tiny sweet spot raw. His hands were still gloved, he might fuck around with Aegon's small pink cock. Criston began to pump it in and out, watching tied wrists struggle as Aegon whimpered and moaned.

He shifted further forward, white garments rubbing against sensitive skin. It was as if Criston was practically fucking Aegon now, hand holding the toy being pistoned by his hips. His other hand groped its way up Aegon's flushed body, thumbing and pulling at a puffy nipple. Criston shook his head, commenting, "Your tits are growing princess, look how eager you are, shoving them into my palm."

He pinched harder, Aegon crying out in pleasure-pain. Criston leaned forward to hiss "We need to do something about your teat before they're bigger than your wife's. I expect some riding and training, yes?" Aegon babbled and sniffled, nodding along, slurred promising. The elder smiled down, easing his grip, patting Aegon's cheek.

"S-Ser, harder, I beg of you, m'close, I'll be sosososo good!"

"If you continue to be good after this, then you'll be rewarded every time. I think that's a good plan," Cole remarked, hand drawing dangerously close to Aegon's flushed prick, "I always have to handle you brats anyways. You're just a brattier princess who needs special treatment. Like your fucking bitch sister."

Aegon's thighs and ass clenched down on the thick cock, hitching on a warbling sob. The Kingsguard licked his lips, suddenly aware he was biting at them. He leered as he gripped the handful of cock, thumbing at the leaking tip. Cole reminisced with a frown, "Rhaenyra was more pliant after I played with her clit too, I guess you two are more similar than I thought. Deceptively pretty."

The prince's breathing had grown so thin it was as if he was breathing through a straw, eyes wide and lolling around, mewling and carrying on. Criston kept ranting, raising himself into a tizzy, "Luckily your hungry cunt will be attended to. Only in the keep. Until you can prove yourself to be competent! Can you respond to that?"

Aegon babbled, squirming from the pressure on his oversensitive cockhead, the Kingsguard fucking the carved toy into his ass, dragging across that little gland. Criston hummed, "There we go, the princess can behave when her clit's being rubbed hm? S'too much? You're leaking all over me, messy girl." He was having absolute joy with this, Aegon wailing and painting his soft tummy repeatedly, pearly seed shining on his pallid skin.

He'd roughened his touches, drove that ebony cock harder, lost in Aegon's cries. The poor thing busted again, begging for mercy, red-faced and spent. Criston felt that was enough, easing the toy out. He scooped up the copious seed and fed it into Aegon's slobbery lips, the whore lapping it up dutifully, hazy eyes the picture of a sweet royal. A good, well-behaved Targaryen.

Criston patted his cheek again, humming, "Good. I expect to see you at dinner. Then we shall discuss further plans. Whore."

He crawled off the bed, taking off his messy gloves and tucking them away with a shiver. Disgust crawled up the knight's spine. He turned toward the window as he put his armor back on. Aegon whined, "W-where are you going? Can we not talk about the plans here?"

He glared at the sot, scoffing, "Not like that we will. Get yourself cleaned up, I'll be taking my leave. Listen to as I have told you, Aegon. Criston donned his cloak, inwardly counting how many flogs he would receive for his sin. For the wetness in his breeches. For his hardened cock and desire for Aegon's wanton nature.

Aegon arrived at dinner well-behaved, quiet, and sipping his wine. He cast uneasy looks between Ser Criston and Alicent. The queen smiled, "I know you would help, Ser Cole, he looks better already." Criston watched those pouty lips tremble. Perhaps it soothed the scarred tissue of his heart caused by another. His lips quirked up as he bowed his head, "No issue, my queen, Aegon needs a firmer hand."

[izzabela]

How about the linkuei trio with a female partner who is just a little bit taller than them? Personally, I find it adorable when in couples, the woman is taller. Plus, our boys are also very tall :>

Height Difference - Lin Kuei Trio x fem!reader (headcanons)

in which you were blessed with great vertical length

a/n: something something something Tomas would ask us to sit in his face

ship[s]: tomas vrbada , bi han , kuai liang x fem!tall!reader (separate, headcanons)

warning(s): MDNI beyond a certain point

Tomas Vrbada

- Tomas minds his business when you pick something to wear. heels? lovely, put em on and make yourself tower over him. short dresses? absolutely, let him see your legs

- he absolutely loves when you feel yourself, confident in the blessing of your genetics

- he's little spoon fifty percent of the time. no, he doesn't care ("please hug me like i do you", he asks constantly)

- head pats. head ruffles. mess his hair up. anything involving your hand on his head is a must

- he will still carry you- bridal style is his favorite. thats definitive

- he loves dancing with you. slow dancing especially, the way you look at him as your head tilts down ever so slightly to meet his equally soft gaze

Bi Han

- Bi Han is reluctant to show intimacy in public, but in private he loves leaning on your shoulder when it's just you two

- Bi Han is a confident man, and he would actually put anyone in their place of they told you that you weren't allowed to wear things because you were tall

- you're a good sparring partner. when he's alone with you, he'll probably mention you're a good reference for fighting people

- you like it when Bi Han makes you feel like a woman. what i mean is that you still feel feminine and cutesy and lovey-dovey with him because of the natural masculinity he oozes- basically he still makes you feel like a cute short girl when you're having those days

- just like Tomas, Bi Han will carry you. except he's more than bridal style: over the shoulder, bridal, one arm- i don't know, i don't care

- Bi Han, when not around others, will rest his head on your shoulder

Kuai Liang

- he will always look up at you, smiling and giddy. he just loves to look up and see the love of his life

- he doesn't care, he will be affectionate in public and love up on you like Tomas

- Kuai Liang does dip kisses. idk i can see him doing ig

- Kuai Liang does the thing where he traces your silhouette like he's drawing. fingers gently gliding across your arm, shoulder, back of your neck- he loves that

- Kuai Liang also big on leaning his head on your shoulder, but he does it whenever and wherever he wants

- Kuai Liang does not mind if you throw your arm over his shoulder. he'll match your energy and wrap one arm around your waist and the other holding your hand that's over his shoulder

MDNI HERE ON OUT======

Tomas

- SIT ON HIS FACE. HE LOVES WHEN YOU SIT ON HIS FACE

- i think Tomas can be switchy- dom one night and sub next. he's a mixed bag of nuts

- when he's sub for the night, oh baby does he love when you're pulling his hair, forcing him to eat you out without air, or just being rough with him in general

- "show your mistress how much you love her," you command. his eyes are glazed and lost, the scent of your slick and the heavy air of sex getting him high

- when he isn't subbing, that man will fuck you like no tomorrow. however, he likes to see you on top of him in some way

- "come on, dove," he coaxes you gently, ironic to how fast his hips buck into you as you're moaning and gasping for air as he fucks you. "you're doing so well, dove. up and down- good~"

Bi Han

- he's on top always, but i think he likes to see your silhouette and admire how tall and lengthy you are (legs and arms wise)

- "beautiful," he says between gritted teeth. in doggy, he's got the perfect view of all of you: your ass on his dick, back dimples so deep that his thumbs were practically made for pressing in them, the fact your back was out in its glory. "my beautiful song bird"

- he'd fuck missionary too. your legs over his shoulders, meaty cock pressing into the tip of your cervix as you beg for more, more, and more

- Bi Han likes to bound you in something. hands behind your back, tied up wrists, etc etc. it might have to do with the fact he can see your entire, elongated figure. you like it too, don't worry

- sit on his face too, for sure, but he's more into 69. you're gagging, sobbing even, over his cock bullying your throat as Bi Han condescendingly asks if you like it ("you do?" he laughs maniacally, bucking his hips deeper. "have some then, my song bird")

Kuai Liang

- i think he'd pick you up and fuck you. whether you're facing him and you're foreheads are touching, or your back is against his and he's practically pistoning in and out of you

- mirror fucking! he wants you to see all the parts he finds pretty about you. "don't you see how pretty you look, darling? pretty little legs out so you can see how well i'm feeding that little hole of yours~"

- dirty talk! so much dirty talk about you and your greedy cunt, sopping wet cunt, how pretty you look spread out and dripping

- i think he's into the bjs where he's standing, holding your hands up by your wrists, and humping into your mouth as you whine and cry on his thick length

- Kuai Liang is probably into the sitting blowjobs too, where you're the one looking up at him instead of the other way around

- something something something, Kuai Liang fucks you sideways. your leg is in his hand as your legs are spread wide open, full access for his cock to fuck deep in you

=====================

whew okay finished

guys the voices are calling me to COD i wanna finish all of these before i hit it tho

[andy-wm]

Please love me is Jimin's line today

The hardest few seconds for me to watch, were these...

Jimin was absolutely dreading appearing on screen without his trademark beautiful hair.

We know he left it as late as he could and didn't want to show anyone.

He looked like he was barely holding it together when he called attention to his hair being shaved. He must have genuinely been scared of the reaction he would get, even from Kook.

"It looks good on you"

Jungkook, you absolute fucking LEGEND 💜

He knew exactly what to say.

When Jungkook told Jimin he looked good (even with no hair) Jimin turned his face away <those feels choking him up> and when he turned back, the almost desperate look of gratitude mixed with relief was so clear.

Please love me is Jimin's line today.

This is not about vanity, ego or pride.

It brings home how fragile his confidence is. His need for approval and the assurance of being loved is strong. It’s so heartbreaking, but we know he hasn't had an easy road.**

Thankfully he did stand a little bit taller once JK reassured him...

But it wasn't an easy moment for Jungkook either.

Whether because he had to witness Jimin's fear and could do nothing more than pet his head, or because he was facing his own misgivings (probably both) he looked equally lost in that moment.

Remember that these boys have left their home once before and journeyed to a place that was less than welcoming. They've had to face the grim, disproving faces of unkind critics and a system that didn't support or value them.

I don't doubt there were echoes of that feeling on this day, that same sense of trepidation they've known before.

We know how the military treats men like them.

And then...

we got this:

You can take the boy out of Busan but you can't take Busan out of the boy.

(People say this about my home town too...)

The shadow of fear is still there in his eyes but.... he looks like a (very hot) backstreet thug who will absolutely fuck you up no questions asked.

It does occur to me that MS might be the reason Jimin has been learning to fight.

I mean really learning to fight.

Yes he's probably doing boxing too but i suspect something more than that ... you shouldn't get torn knuckles from boxing lessons unless you aren't wrapping your hands properly, just saying.

<Gotta love a person who can hold you and cradle your head, and also knock down an aggressor when they have to.>

If all else fails (words before fists, right?) I hope he can handle himself.

If he must defend himself, and someone (not him) looks like they've had a close encounter with his fists, I saw nothing.

I hope for both of them, their background will serve them well. In any case they will support one another and their love will see them through this. It's exactly why they are enlisting as companions.

🐰🐥

This is no easy journey, for these young men (all seven of them) or for their families, their friends, and their loved ones. Yes, it's reality of life for every person in Korea, but that doesn't make it easier when it's YOU or YOUR person who is going away.

I am seeing them off with an in ache in my chest - I know we all are. But I'm toasting their successful military service, and their quick return.

짠 지민아, 정국이! We love you 💜💛

See you soon, Angels.

** 'Hurry up and be me soon' ...

Some of us know how much it costs to put our authentic self out into the world. The sacrifices you have to be willing to make are huge. You're not only exposing your own vulnerabilities, but the flow on effect for your family and friends is real.

<talking specifically about Jimin here... how many times do you think his parents will have to say 'no, Jimin doesnt have a girlfriend, and no he isn't looking for one... No he doesn't plan to marry'.>

It's a long journey to self love and acceptance...

We know Jimin has been through a number of iterations of himself. He's been through the tough guy phase, the closed book, the siren, aloof and sophisticated, and the gently feminine.

The image he presents to the world is as much a construct as any person's is - and whether you're aware of this or not, all our public selves are social constructs.

"One size does not fit all" for queer people

For cis gendered heterosexual people, society has a few different ready-made constructs you can adopt, and the rest of society automatically understands the message you're sending. Most of them maintain the status quo of heterosexual cultural norms.

For anyone who DOESNT fit those norms, it's honestly never going to feel good expressing an image that isnt really you. Its like trying and make your circle self fit in a square box.

But theres nothing else that's readily available...

You really have to construct your public image from scratch.

When you aren't part of that typical demographic, figuring out how you want to be seen by the world can be an arduous and complex process.

How much do you reveal? How much do you risk?

You'll experiment with styles, behaviours, and social groups until you find a safe space you can occupy.

Jimin's safe space is with ARMY or his members, but it requires looking perfect.

Think about Jimin's hesitance to appear on camera without makeup. How carefully he chooses his clothes - whether for airport appearances, stage performance or out on the street. He usually has a team of people making sure he looks perfect. His hair is a trademark feature. It's always beautiful.

Remember that he's used to EVERYONE LOOKING AT HIM, ALL THE TIME.

Imagine how it feels to go out in public - against your will - with a shaved head.

Without hair, he would have surely felt naked. Plus, he's no longer in the safe embrace of ARMY, and his buffer of security and managers keeping him out of danger is gone.

He's immensely famous, but not universally loved (don't even go there) and bald, and small, and an IDOL, and very gay ... lets go with unlikely to be heterosexual.

No wonder he was feeling vulnerable.

Ngl, it broke my heart to see him so afraid but I'm sure he'll have a substantial group of supporters around him. I can only hope.

💜💛

[moonstruckme]

hi love!!! I love ur work sm!! could you perhaps write a Sirius black x fem!reader, but the reader is very masculine? and sirius is more feminine? and maybe rude comments are made towards the reader for this or smthn? sorry if this is a specific request, but this happened to me recently with my boyfriend so i hope it’ll make me feel better. Ty!! ❤️❤️

Hi gorgeous! I'm so sorry this happened to you, people can be such assholes. I know "don't let it get to you" is much easier said than done, but I hope you're able to keep doing you without thinking about them too much. Thanks for requesting <3

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 602 words

“Baby,” Sirius sighs, wiping under your eyes while you sniffle and try to act like your tears aren’t falling. “You can’t let them get to you like this, gorgeous.” 

“It’s not me I’m worried about.” Your voice comes out bitter; Sirius tells himself it’s not aimed at him. 

Sirius gnaws at his lip, taking a moment to look at you while you look at your lap, a stubborn dam of tears shining in your eyes. He wants desperately to make a joke, to make light of what’s happened in the way that always helps him get through these things, but he suspects that’s not what you need right now. You’d come home red-faced and ranting, but it hadn’t taken more than one word from Sirius for your angry facade to crumple. The protective ire that had propelled you home was faded, leaving behind a frustrated sort of hurt. 

“I hope you don’t mean me,” Sirius says, shuffling closer to you on the couch so that his thigh is half atop yours. “I can take care of myself, sweetness. Trust me, you don’t need to be angry on my behalf.” 

“I’m just—they called you—” Your face screws up in indignant fury, even as a new wave of tears breaks hot and fast down your cheeks. “I just don’t get why anybody thinks they know more than us about our relationship.” 

Sirius blows out a breath. Any other time, he’d be the one fuming, but when it’s you that gets like this, it’s like calm rushes over him to balance you out. He doesn’t know how you do it most of the time; he much prefers being the one to rage. “But we know they have no idea what they’re talking about,” he reminds you. “It’s none of their fucking business, okay?” 

You squeeze your eyes closed, probably trying to keep more tears at bay. When you open them, the fight seems to have gone out of you. Somehow, this is worse. Sirius’ chest aches for you. 

“I know,” you say, softer now. Your hand comes up to hold his face, fingers weaving into his hair hardly an inch below the barrette keeping it out of his face, and Sirius can guess what those pricks said to you. About him. He’s not unused to comments on how he presents himself, but he can understand why you’ve gotten so upset; if someone said that sort of thing about you, he’d open his mouth to yell and flames would come bursting out. 

“Hey,” he says. “You like the way you look, right? And you like the way I look?”

He bats his eyelashes at you when you glance up, and you smile just like he hoped you would. It’s a small, tired thing, but he’ll take it. 

“Yeah,” you answer him. 

“Good.” Sirius mirrors you, placing his hand on the side of your face. “Then if those fuckers want to say that you wear the pants, let ‘em.” He leans down, kissing the soft, ticklish spot underneath your jaw. “Pants are uncomfortable as hell. You can have them, honey.” 

You’re laughing by the time he’s finished talking, and Sirius nips at you as you squirm away from him. 

“But if you want to try and be more traditional, I could get on top for a change,” he says, holding you in place while you cackle and writhe. “What do you think, gorgeous? Want to satisfy those conservative pricks?”

“No,” you say, panting as you shove him off you. “No. I don’t want them affecting anything we do.” 

Sirius grins. “That’s my girl. Let’s show ‘em, love.”

[m1ssunderstanding]

Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day 18

Staring John Lennon, as that kid I should’ve been nicer to in first grade who always smelled like PB&J and was never to be seen without his pokemon cards

The dancing is really too cute. They’re just absolutely giddy. Making each other laugh AND an excuse to touch? John and Paul’s heaven. 

John saying he was too excited after yesterday to go to bed. Like a fucking kid on christmas.

Everybody is serving today. While the candy-land suit is fun, I actually just love that vivid purple so much that I think it’s better without the coat over it. Billy looks extremely suave and classy.  And those red polka-dots on Ringo. Red suits him, and I think with his very frank, masculine aspect, he looks so beautiful and bold in feminine fits. Paul and John are both just wearing what they wore yesterday. Yeah. But John is still a cutie, and Paul, well, you all know.

The advice chain about finishing a song while you’re working on. Paul → John → George

Paul honestly does a great job being supportive of George and his work. Coming over and grooving with him, then hopping on drums then guitar (right-handed, may I add). Just to give George musical atmosphere to flesh out his song and start thinking of arrangement ideas, I assume. Then letting him bounce ideas around. And the whole time being overly-enthusiastic to build George up. Look how happy George is with the love and attention. 

John helping move some equipment in. We love a man who sometimes doesn’t think he’s too good for manual labor. 

Yes, clean that homeless man’s palm sweat off your instrument. Probably smart. 

TFW you made Paul McCartney jealous of your musical abilities. 

John really knew so well when to be his little impish self and when to be hard and intimidating. Exhibit A, going from, “Can we have our microphones, oh, mister, can we please?” to “And get one for Billy too.” In a matter of seconds.

George Martin stepping in when they’re all getting panicky about the sound and they need an authority figure to reassure them in ways that someone like Glyn Johns never could. Just, perfectly cool and collected, puts everything right as they’re all shouting at him like school children who’ve just had a terrible time in PE. 

“Believe me, when I tell you.” “Oh, I do.” Oh, good. He did put it in. That’s nice. Right, and this is the moment Yoko decides to tell John her divorce has come through and pull him in for a big smooch. Honestly, it just shows how threatened she feels by Paul. Nevermind her whole, “good thing Paul isn’t a girl or he would have been a great threat,” quote. Clearly, he just is a threat regardless of sex.

And then John, “I’m freeeee.” At Paul. Honestly, the amount of things they direct specifically and aggressively at each other that should’ve just been general statements if there wasn’t some weird thing between them. It’s really something. Normally, you’d announce something like that to the whole room. But it seems John specifically wants to impress upon Paul that he and Yoko could get married right now if they wanted to. I mean, it’s a little difficult to make the point, because John and Paul almost aways seem to be talking only to each other. But through the whole discussion of Yoko’s divorce, John does not take his eyes off of Paul. 

Oh my gosh, Ivan Vaughn is here? How many emotional support boyfriends does Paul need to make up for John having Yoko? Glyn, Linda, George Martin, Dennis, Robert Fraser, and now Ivan? Fuck’s sake, Yoko, you’re a powerful woman.   

Paul’s Strawberry Fields piano. Let me be as vulnerable and broken as possible in my singing, since I can’t show you any other way that you’re killing me. Do you remember this song? That you wrote when we were at the height of our partnership only two years ago? How happy we were then? How beautiful the world seemed for that one brief moment? And John can’t look at him, because, yes he fucking remembers and yes he knows he’s hurting Paul. But for whatever reason, (my theory is he wanted something more Paul couldn’t give him. What that was and whether it was ever specifically vocalized I don't have a guess) going back to that time would be more painful to John than this has been.  

So they’ve been goofing off and Paul gives this little speech to get them back on task. “Alright Chawn Love. I’ve gotta call order, John, now, valuable time, here, son. Cool down, son.” But John’s response, “Don’t let me down, babe” completely switches Paul’s gears. He now thinks it’s important enough to get in this little snatch of a *meaningful* cover, “Take these Chains from my Heart,” reversing the course of productivity he’d got them on and ignoring the fact that they were about to do a take on two-shilling-a-foot tape. My interpretation of this moment is a bit tin-hatish and long, but suffice it to say, John is not happy with the message.

Everyone convincing Paul to do another take of his song is surprising, considering everything we always hear about how Paul was a tyrant task-master who just forced everyone to keep doing his lame muzak over and over when they all clearly hated it. Mal, “You can always go back to it.” Paul, “Do you want your head kicked in?” John, “We’ll never get a chance to do it again.” Paul, “Okay, honey bunch. Let’s hit it one time, tutti-frutti.” 

Yoko watching Paul check out her boyfriend’s ass. Classic. Also the fact that she literally copied his outfit? I get so much second-hand embarrassment for her, and it’s not when she’s being a weirdo and a statement-maker. It’s the having to physically stick the gum you were offering your boyfriend into this hand because he won’t take his eyes off his boyfriend for two seconds to look at you. 

Everyone laughing at Perfect Paul being out of tune is so funny to me. Like when the nerd finally gets a question wrong and the whole class is all “ooooohhhh!”

Ringo having a grand old time on the drums. I love that he just knew that’s what he wanted to do from such a young age and he never wanted to do anything else. And why would he? He’s a genius at it.

Paul. “John’s got something at 1:30 and so have I.” Smirk emoji. Side-eye emoji. George is with me. “Yeah we've got something too. I’ll do Ringo at 1:30.” I'm dead.

This moment right here hurts me. Paul’s enjoying a nice cuddle with Ringo until he remembers the camera. You’re not going to get in trouble for having your friend’s arm around your shoulders, Paul. Why are you like this? 

[andieperrie18]

nobody's daughters (part ii)

Series: Blue Eye Samurai

Pairing: Mizu x Widowed! Reader

Chapter Synopsis: Mizu takes notice of you.

Warning: SPOILERS on Episode 5

A/n & DISCLAIMER: I'm still establishing the connection between Mizu and Reader. But future chapters will soon have more interactions. Please bear with my grammar. I'll probably proof this sometime.

Parts: ONE // TWO // THREE // MASTERLIST

Tags: @thefairywanderer @satwitch-blog @veethewriter @cutttteeee

With one final release of air, you open your eyes as the small garden in front of you. A small butterfly flutters towards you landing on your nose for a few seconds making chuckle softly from  the ticklish feeling. You exhaled and finally stood from your seat.

“Excuse me,” you hear a raspy voice call you. You turn to meet your awakened patient, still weak but seeing the spotless piles of plates by the tray was enough to tell you she had eaten well. You smiled as you entered back inside and went towards her.

“You’ve eaten, that’s good to see, I suggest not doing too much these next few days if you don’t want to rip stitches, ” you trail as you arrive at Mizu’s side. She adjusts herself to face you while still struggling, reflected in expression and tone but she manages. As your gaze met hers, you were finally able to get a good look of her blue eyes.

Blue wasn’t the best description but rather a reflection of the bright sky. That would have been the best description if it weren’t for the immediate glint of darkness that flashed. Her eyes reflected a submerged iceberg. You looked away, as you cleared your throat upon realizing that you might have been staring intently at your guest. Not that Mizu had missed the long gaze, she simply looked towards the open veranda. The sound of water running beside the zen garden followed by sweet chirps of perched up birds by the wall rang around the room as the two women sat casually together for a long while.

Mizu’s attention had shifted from the garden to scanning the very room she was in. There wasn't much furniture and neither were they sophisticated but rather functional yet each still carried a feminine touch. I didn’t take the blue-eyed woman to understand that she was resting on the very room and futon of the woman of the house and her savior.

“I’ll be heading out now, I have a bit more chores to do,” you inhaled as you lifted yourself from the tatami floors of your room beside Mizu who simply watched you.

“Do not rush your recovery and take your time, you can walk around the place to stretch some muscles and simply ask Midori if you need anything,”

Mizu was a bit appalled by such a humble host, your smile did not have any kind of hidden agenda no matter how much skepticism she presumes on your every exchange. She watches you nod off to her and head out to the door. 

(-+-+-+-+-)

Mizu did spend the next few days resting and took the offer of scouring around your rather spacious yet one story Japanese home surrounded by rich and thriving vegetation. She found the rural beauty of your household surreal with how peaceful it was. Midori had shared that your land was indeed settled far from the confines of any busy village or town. You have lived your life in exile.

“The madame has been a wonderful and responsible head of this household, my husband and I have dedicated our lives to helping her around this lonely home,” Mizu listened to Midori intently as she ate lunch one bright afternoon. The kind woman had taken it upon herself to accompany Mizu and had been quite a talkative nurse much to Mizu’s expectation. But she wasn’t going to complain as she found it rather nice, the old lady’s gentleness was both foreign yet not, it reminded her of those moments where she was happy with her mother despite how few they were.

Mizu and Midori dined near the veranda of the center of the house that showed the landscape of vegetation that you have been tending and growing with Tanaka. 

“I find it unusual how she has intentionally taken on the task of being the head of the house. Was this house from her parents that was passed on to her?” Mizu trailed as her gaze found you at the center of the vegetable patch from the house.

“Oh no, madame was married to a farmer who owned this land, sadly died from circumstance that I am not in the position to share, but they were a happy couple and immensely contented with this life style,” Midori’s tone lowered when she spoke of your husband but immediately raised back to lighten the mood. The last thing the kind old lady wanted was for an awkward meal. Besides, you were doing well.

For a farmer or a husband, with the kind of land your household has, Mizu assumed it was impossible not to gain some kind of higher status. Doing business with your husband and his thriving produce, you could have been living a rather rich life. Not to mention, your looks.

She was no daft when it came to recognizing beauty. And like every beautiful provincial flower, she was sure that you could have found another husband to help you and provide you with a luxurious life. And yet here you were.

You, the lady of this household, dressed in a shade-colored tunic and long pants, your feet covered with a muddy enclosed straw slipper that you constantly submerged through dirt mud in your daily routine within the garden. Hair that was neither in a sophisticated style to be littered with elegant hair pieces, simply pulled together within your straw hat so that it cannot cover your face while you dig and pull the hoe in your hands to the soil. Your face was littered with dirt and sweat, yet exhaustion nor any sign of labored breaths was absent despite the fact the Mizu has been watching you word for more than an hour or two.

(-+-+-+-+-)

Mizu continues to reach full healing as days pass on, and as time passes, she has never once again had conversation with you as you were always occupied with your household and agricultural duties of your home. It was not really like Mizu has any business with your life but she's been rather curious of you. How you've chosen to live and devoted yourself to the responsibility of being the sole caretaker of your household, never bothering to find another husband and having to forever have your deceased husband's ghost of memories occupy the lost part of your heart.

Mizu came to you one afternoon as you were casually chopping each block of wood you pick up and chop and toss to a pile. A rather tall pile.

“Ah, you look like you're in good shape now,” you arched back as you watched Mizu approach you. 

“I would like to thank you once again but I have to leave soon,” Mizu states firmly to you. You stared at her for a moment as her firm. Mizu bowed her head.

“I don’t think I can ever repay your kindness in not just tending to me but also being a most gracious host. But I will repay you someday,” she implores as your expression contorts to surprise and concern.

“P-please, there is no need for such a gesture,” you state as you placed your ax down and stepped towards her. You took in that her figure, her simple gray tunic that you have owned that you haven’t for a long time fit her frame perfectly, concealing her true figure from your two trusted people around your home. 

Mizu took notice of this and looked down. Although your gaze wasn’t anything unkind or uncanny, it was still observant and a bit piercing through her thoughts. You did her a favor of not informing anyone of her true persona. And you know of the path she is currently walking on, she may be groggy that night but she didn’t miss your statement hurled towards her.

“If you have nothing more to say, I’ll wish for your safety, tell Tanaka to take you to my stables, take one of my horses,” Mizu’s eyes widened to this as but she never got to as Midori emerged behind her with a large bag. The kind old lady looked at her with a wrinkled smile.

You smiled at the scene and looked at your blue-eyed guest, “I highly suggest you take the horse, Midori isn’t keen on backing down on people not taking the dishes she prepares for them for travel,” you inform, Mizu looks up to meet your smile. Her chest warmed and as her lips curled in a small delight. 

“You take care of yourself child,” Midori worries as she accompanies Mizu back to the main road. The female trailed beside the old lady, her hands holding the reins of her new travel company.

“I will. I’ll be forever indebted to you, Tanaka and your Madame’s kindness,” Mizu states as they stood facing each other at the side of the dirt road. The brown horse neighed beside the woman as it nudged her. Midori chuckled as Mizu smiled and continued on with her farewells.

But there warm conversation were soon to be cut short.

“Well would you look at that, you’re still alive,” 

----

A/n: Channelling Inner Tanjiro Kamado next chapter.

[otomelavenderhaze]

Can we stop for a minute and think about Candy's perspective during that whole situation between Rayan and Marina?

I don't talk enough about the feminine perspective of our female lead when I talk about Rayan's route, but today I was reflecting.

Ok. I won't even get into much of "did he actually and unknowingly give the wrong idea to Marina and maybe even was too trusting of others, more than he should?" cuz, come on, we all know from Marina's mouth that it was all in her head and she was the one trying super hard to hook up with someone's else man, saying that if Candy got hurt or not in the process, that was none of her concern (well, the black eye me and my girl Candy could give to Marina was also none of our concern, but we didn't so), let's leave this on the side right now.

But let's actually talk about Rayan's behavior outside of it, like when the shit went down and we got a glimpse of what he looked like (probably) when Chloe died.

Candy was a true warrior through and through, honestly, she didn't break down enough during that process (couldn't be me, I would have gone crazy).

Why do I say that?

We saw before Candy being understanding, showing empathy and loyalty to her friends, even to her significant others, but Rayan's unwillingness to share what was happening with the death threats, the kinda stalking nature, and the prossecution, all to not put a burden even bigger on her shoulders, BUT THE PATIENCE SHE RETURNED WITH IT, she asked, she didn't really know what to do or give what he needed at the moment, but she was there.

She never stopped being there, no matter what curve ball the situation gave her. And it was more than many would do in such situation.

And okay, the restaurant moment, trying to make him go with her, was a miss. My girl was delulu there. No discussion.

But who could've thought Rayan would SIMPLY runaway like a scared teenage boy that crashed his mom's car? Nobody. The answer is nobody. Even thou, after he had done it I was like "oh, I saw something like this happening before on his route".

Even when he communicated to her that he wasn't even in town anymore, she was simply devastated. But never stopped trying to understand his side. And later when Eric was pointing out (kinda rightly so, I give him that much) and she got to actually defend DEFEND the man who bolted on her, that got unceremoniously into a train and was GONE, she showed that her loyalty was real.

Like Eric didn't know Rayan at that point. Candy could've so easily (and some answers were, to be fair) talked badly about his behavior to Eric as a moment of anger or hurt, she had every right to, but choosing not, is to her merit for sure.

And we all know how hurt she must have felt, because she was ready to fight the situation head-on with Rayan, however, Rayan was NOT ready to face the situation head-on with her

(not because he didn't trust her, I read as that's his defense mechanism, he runs. When he caught himself having feelings for Candy? He ran. When they kissed and it was coming real? He ran. He knows how to be brave, but first, my man bolts, that's his thing).

AND STILL, when he came back, she received him with open arms!! With love!! Forgiveness even!!

Some of us cheated on Rayan with Eric, but honestly, honestly?? No judgments here.

And later when Chani asked Candy to talk to Marina about what happened and Marina admitted all of those things, after everything that she saw that whole situation from Rayan's perspective, how hurted and out of himself he was for weeks and Candy didn't jump on Marina at any point???

Even when Marina was like "if you did get hurt by it in the end it was none of my concern" sociopath shit. Truly, what a bad person. Toxic. Selfish. Naive. Sociopath real shit.

Through it all, that damn war, Candy made it work.

And I daresay, they only survived that one because of her, because Candy did not give up.

I don't think it was very realist like, we at least should've sit with Rayan and have a conversation about that whole shutting us out of the situation that him at times did, at the very least, and pretend it didn't happen, shouldering it alone, always so forgiving, couldn't be any of us, let's be honest here, just Candy with her never-ending loyalty.

And maybe, just maybe, that arc with Marina could've been better if we saw more of Candy's feelings and her expressing them to Rayan in a justifiable way (not like the restaurant thing, which was pushing a situation that didn't have to happen) but actually giving out a real moment.

A moment when we could actually express our feelings and even justify kissing Eric if some of us wanted to. But at once, actually seeing Candy getting hurt by Rayan's attitude, understandable getting upset, and expressing it to him to then he apologizes. Not having him just magically understanding what he did wrong and apologise without any of her input.

Just as I take my imaginary hat off for how adult and loyal Candy was in that whole situation, I also missed having the hurt she felt expressed properly to Rayan and I know he would understand and even grow from it. Another missing chance to improve Rayan as a character.

[pearldog30]

Ghost has a sister?

So I thought of this idea, and I thought it would be amazing what if Simon Riley discovers he had a little sister, he didn't know about. and how he would react finding out he has one family member left. Depending on how this turns out I might make a part 2 and if you want a part 2 please request! Part 2

Simon Riley X little sister reader

Other works 👉 Master list

Warnings| fluff, a little angst.

As you sit in the car looking out the raindrop covered window watching all the trees, buildings, cities, go by. listening to music quietly playing in your headphones, having one of those perfect car ride moments. Getting lost in your thoughts when you feel a tap on your leg, you jump at the unexpected touch. looking to your left your eyes meet with your Foster caretaker, slowly taking your headphones out, your caretaker begins.

"we're almost there, so have your headphones out so you can have a proper introduction. remember this is important." She says in a serious tone, trying to get it in your head that this is a reality. "ok" is all you can mustard up to say. You're a quiet person, always have been probably always will. You don't know if you should blame that on your quiet nature, or your traumatic childhood, either way you like keeping to your own, knowing you're safe in your own thoughts/worlds you've created. it's comforting, keeping you from all the traumatizing stuff you've been through. Even in this moment, you still can't help but drift off into those fake realities. trying to keep you from getting your hopes up, at the slight possibility that you might actually have a family member left, that might care for you, take you in, but who knows. you've never had your hopes up, not in this world. not at the hand that you've been unfortunately given.

As you pull up to the base Gates you see armed men at the gate, making you nervous. You've never had a good experience with men, not even in young years of childhood. so you're trembling at the thought of having to be surrounded by men, within the next few moments you're about to encounter. And before you know it, you hear a deep voice snappy out of your thoughts. "HEY! Personal form of ID please. I need to know what business you have here on base." A very tall, well built, man says in military uniform holding a rifle. "Here's our ID information sir we're here to have a meeting with John price" your caretaker says confidently unbothered by the situation. "OH! Go right on in we've actually been expecting you. When you come in take a left, and that first white building you see go right, through there. and someone will bring you to his office." He says opening the gate allowing you through. Y'all follow his instructions and he wasn't wrong, y'all are met with the white building.

As you slowly grab your backpack off the car floor, your hands begin to sweat from nervousness. What if this was all a lie, just a big joke to get your hopes up, that you have someone left. You open your car door and shut it, briefly. quietly following your caretaker into the building. Listening her to talk to people you don't know, you're trying to find something to distract yourself with. this isn't a reality you thought would happening right now. "All right, right this way" a woman in uniform snaps you out of your thoughts, gesturing you guys to follow her into a little office meeting room. you sit down, quietly staring at your caretaker, in the big chair. waiting to meet the supposed John Price, you hear the door open.

"this is Captain John price" a woman says. before a man enters a room with a funny hat, and a weird ass looking beard, that makes you chuckle to yourself quietly. "Holy fuck you really are y/n Riley you look just like him just in a small feminine form" he says smiling to himself, shocked at how much you look like someone you've never even met before. making you question how closely related You 2 really are. Hearing your caretaker clear her throat "Mr Price I am Mrs Riley legal Foster caretaker as of now. through previous messages you know why she's in the system. and I was told by you to come talk to you, before I even made any further attempt to contact her only family member left. could you please explain why" she says still annoyed that we had to come up here to base to talk to him, before we can even talk to your supposed brother. "Good reason for that, see the thing is when you contacted the base, you should be thankful it was me who got the message, before lieutenant Simon Riley did. he wouldn't believe you" so Simon is his name you think to yourself as those 2 bicker on. "Why should I be. it's quite unprofessional in this kind of field, we need to talk to the family member. not his leader" the caretaker States "Simon is a paranoid man we'll just put it at that. And I understand what you're trying to do for her, and I hope that Simon does as well. but the only way we can get Simon to see that this is real is this if you have m-" John gets cut off before the door opens.

And you see two men walk in one with the weird looking Mohawk, and the other a tall intimidating man wearing a skull mask. The two men just stand there awkwardly. staring at you, than to John, then to your caretaker. "Well speak of the devil" John says gesturing to the tall man wearing the mask. "That's not him is it" your caretaker says in shock, almost as if afraid. John just shakes his head "I'm afraid so" he breathes out. "Ay, what is this?" An Scottish accent breaks the awkwardness, and it comes from the shorter man of the two. "Will soapy boy. I was just about to have lieutenant Riley, come in here and discuss things about his little sister who needs his help." the room goes silent, almost as if no one's allowed to breathe. The two men staring wide-eyed "GHOST HAS A SISTER!?!" the Scottish man with the weird name, screams out. Before he's interrupted by an heavy British accent "UHH.. NO THE FUCK I DO NOT" The mask man finally speaks, that you have no other choice but now call your older brother.

"yes Simon you do actually, and this is a serious important matter. please come have a seat so we can discuss stuff" John says in a serious tone. trying to get it through his head "fuckin hell" your brother Huffs out. John excusing the Scottish Mohawk dude off leaving. the 4 of you alone now in the room. Simon taking a seat a few chairs away from you, glancing over at you every now and then, when you're not paying attention. "Mr Riley, I am your sister's guardian Foster caretaker. as of reasons I heard that you're her brother, and old enough to be her guardian. and it seems to be true, from all I've gathered. I was told by price to come to him first, and talk to him. but now that you're here I need to talk to you" your caretaker says happy she's finally able to get to the person she wants to talk to. "Look ma'am I don't know what you want or what you're trying to do. but from last time I've checked I don't have a sister nor I want one nor need one" and for some reason the words that leave his mouth break your heart, and you don't understand why. you've never meant this man until how. So why is it hurting your heart in a way. Price can see in your eyes, how it affects you, and he gives you a apologetic look.

Sighing angrily your caretaker looks to John for answers. "Look Simon for reasons I can understand why this is a lot to take in, and why you don't believe it. but you can't deny you two look alike, and I can already tell from how she acts y'all act like too" John says and this makes something shift in Simon, him looking around as if he wants to jump out the window. "And if I was then what do you want, there's nothing I could do" Simon says. slowly contemplating as if this might be true. "Well you could take her in, and be her guardian. and y'all grow a brotherly and sisterly Bond cuz you are the only person she has left" your caretaker says. turning back to you knowing, that this is your last chance in family. Simon looking back to you catching your eyes, and for some reason there's something in them that makes it feel like you've known him. "You know what how about we give you 2 sometime to talk alone" John says he knows that this is his last resort. in getting Simon to try and help, is on a one-on-one conversation with you and him.

Your caretaker and him exchanging nods, before they walk out. leaving you alone with the big intimidating Simon Riley. (And well awkward would be a overstatement to describe this) y'all are just sitting there. quietly staring at each other, waiting for one of you guys to break the silence. "Well fuck kid what's your name" he says finally breaking the awkwardness. "Y/n" you quietly say. And you feel vulnerable, knowing he's watching your every move taking in your body language. "Ok how old are you" he says and you can tell he's struggling. "I'm 14" you say, both of you wanting this to be over "Listen kid. I'm not good with this, so I'm not going to sugarcoat any of it. I don't even know you, nor did I even know I have a sister, nor expect I have one at all. so don't get your hopes up with me, it'll just break your heart." He says deeply, strongly, almost as if he's trying to take control of this. "And I wasn't expecting anything either, I didn't even really want to come here, I knew it all just be bad." You say, and this makes something in him change. But you can't tell what.

"well safe to assume, that if we are related I'm assuming we have the same dad" he says almost ashamed. looking at you, and this just makes you turn your head away, ashamed as well. "Fuckin hell. I was hoping that wasn't the case" he says looking down, and then back up to you. Then he moves his large hands up making you nervous. But suddenly he pulls his mask off revealing his face to you. you're meant with smudged face paint, and light brown hair, with a strong jawline. Staring at him taking in his features, you can definitely tell you guys are alike. Looking at each other exchanging head knobs, almost as if saying y'all understand the same hell you 2 went through in childhood.

Then quickly putting his mask back on, suddenly getting up from his chair shuffling out the door in a panic. You hear people talking on the other side of the door, for 10 minutes before your caretaker comes back in. Happier than before. "Ok I know this isn't a lot but it's something, and this is all up to you. I have his number, and mailing address, so you can keep in touch if you feel necessary" she says as you grab your bag, walking out of the office back to y'all's car. And you get lost in your own thoughts again, surprised! He just said he didn't want a sister, so now why do you have this, why should you have this, do you even deserve this? As your thoughts eats away at you. you hear someone else.

"HI GHOST LITTLE SISTER THAT WE DIDN'T KNOW ABOUT" you hear 2 men yelling, and you look behind you, before you exit the building. You see the Scottish man with the stupid nickname, named soap. and then standing next to him a little taller, black haired, tan man, with Mexican special forces on his vest. Waving their arms at you making you chuckle slightly as you see your brother coming up behind them, slapping the shit out of both of them, Cursing them out.

And that's going to be the end for this. I know it probably wasn't great ,but I was letting my mind do the writing. so if it's great please request for part 2 and I will gladly make it. Like always I hope you are having a good day/night wherever you are. reblogs and comments are always appreciated 🖤 (sideblog @pearldog)

[azukiel]

Nightfall Heir

Chapter 4

🔞 MDNI 🔞 NSFW

Warnings (as a whole): Explicit sexual content, Graphic descriptions of violence, PTSD, Angst, Blood kink, Pregnancy and Childbirth

Notes on this chapter: Fluff with Gale, banter about sex, relationships and periods. Also, I'm kind of on a roll with writing this story, I've already written chapters 5 & 6. I will try pacing out the posting of them 😅

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11

⭐Here is the story on Archive of Our Own ⭐

🔥Comments and reblogs are much appreciated! 🔥

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Walking the streets of Baldur’s Gate with Gale by your side was not the strangest sight. In fact, the people of the city were more accustomed to seeing him walking with you and the other members of your group than without.

“You’re looking radiant, my dear,” Gale began, his tone laced with curiosity. “Did you and Astarion have a good evening?”

“You could say that,” you replied, attempting to suppress a blushing smile.

“You know,” he began, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. “When I first saw the two of you together, I was somewhat shocked, to be honest. You didn’t seem the type to go for someone as, well, uninhibited as Astarion. But you complement him well.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

“Indeed.” he nodded, a knowing smirk spreading across his face. “And I must say, you’ve had a very positive influence on him. He’s mellowed out. Not as bloodthirsty. He’s become, dare I say, domesticated.”

“Domesticated?” You laughed, raising an eyebrow. But not as bloodthirsty? Well, you thought to yourself, you were still allowing him to feed on you.

“Yes,” he chuckled. “A star-crossed vampire and his drow companion. Who would have ever imagined?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you began, a sly grin spreading across your face. “Lae’zel and Halsin seemed to have their suspicions back in the day. And it doesn’t surprise me in the least that Lae’zel and Astarion still get into their bouts of verbal sparring. You’d think they’d get tired of it, eventually,” you shake your head, chuckling. But suddenly a dull pain cramped your abdomen. Flinching, you let out a small groan, rubbing the area where the pain was throbbing the strongest.

“For fuck’s sake, now of all times?” You grumble to yourself.

“What’s the matter, my dear? Are you in pain?” Gale was quick to notice, as was his usual.

“It’s nothing,” you lied. “Just a bit of a cramp.”

“Are you sure?” His concern was apparent.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” you brushed him off, trying to alleviate his worries. “Probably my monthly visitor is going to grace me soon. Perfect timing, as always.” You rolled your eyes with sarcasm.

“Ah, well, I’m afraid I can’t offer much assistance with that. Unless, of course, you require a some feminine hygiene products?”

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “Gale, really?”

He held his hands up defensively. “I like to see myself as an honourable man,” he declared. “And so I endeavour to look out for the women in my life.”

You chuckled, “I’m not sure how honourable a man who walks in on his friend pleasuring herself in the bath can be, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

He shrugged. “You should have had the door locked, then.”

“I should have,” you agreed, and shook your head, still laughing.

“But I think I may actually need some tampons,” you grinned nervously. You could feel a slight wetness at your junction but could not tell if it was remnants of your carnal thoughts from earlier or not.

“Shall we detour to the apothecary?” Gale offered, concern for your wellbeing still riddled on his face.

“Do you mind?”

“Absolutely not, my dear! We can’t have you bleeding through your clothes, can we?”

You flushed, embarrassed. “No, definitely not.” Thank the gods you were wearing a long, dark skirt.

“So,” Gale started after a moment of slightly awkward silence. “With Astarion being a vampire and all...” He trailed off for a moment.

You knew where this was going to lead, but did not stop him.

“What, Gale?” You asked, side-eyeing him.

“Well, does he drink your... You know...” He made a crude gesture.

“Gods, Gale, really? I thought we were mature adults?”

He flushed, embarrassed by his sudden crass inquiry. “Forgive me, I forget myself sometimes. I truly overstepped. Especially having walked in on you before.”

You snickered and patted him on the shoulder to reassure him. “It’s alright. I’m just joking. I think the lot of us have grown close enough with each other that talking about such things is now considered normal.”

Gale chuckled nervously at your words. “True.”

“And to answer your question,” you continued, “No, he doesn’t. The thought hasn’t crossed our minds. Well, if it has crossed his, he hasn’t said anything,” you shrug. “But that does not mean we don’t have sex on my period. I find myself... particularly ravenous just before and during it. He, too. Perhaps because he can smell all the blood, being what he is and all that. And he... does bite me sometimes when we are making love.”

“Oh?” Gale was intrigued by the notion.

“Yes,” you confirmed.

“Dare I ask where?”

“You’re a curious one today, aren’t you?” You teased.

Gale flushed. “Sorry... I just find it... intriguing,” he admits. “Obviously, I’ve never slept with one of the undead.”

“No, but with a goddess?” You elbow him playfully.

“And look how that turned out.” He rolled his eyes sarcastically. “So, are you going to indulge me? Or should I stop prying?”

You shook your head, laughing. “He sometimes bites my inner thighs, my breasts, neck, wrists... the usual places.”

“Usual?” His eyes widened. “I won’t even begin to imagine what the unusual places are!”

You laugh and slap his back affectionately. “We really need to get you laid, Gale. You’re getting far too curious for your own good.”

He shrugged innocently, blushing again. “Well, since losing to Astarion, I haven’t had any luck with women,” he poked you in the ribs.

You were surprised by this notion. “I thought you and Shadowheart had a thing going?”

He sighed, almost dolefully. “We sort of do, but it’s just that she’s so busy taking care of her parents now that they have reconnected. I would hate to come between them.”

“I understand your sentiments, my dear Gale, but I am sure the poor thing could use some ‘distractions’ as well. Her parents seemed to like you when we all met them. And besides, I am sure she would appreciate any assistance you could offer her with their care.”

“Yes, they are lovely people, and I am thankful to have been given the opportunity to meet them,” he nodded, and his expression softened.

“They’re proud of her,” you stated, “And they are grateful to us for giving her a chance. If not for her joining our little posse, I doubt she would have been able to break away from the clutches of Shar.”

“No, I don’t think she would have,” Gale agreed.

“But enough about me, let’s get back to talking about you and Astarion,” he smirked, and you chuckled at his persistence.

“I don’t know what else to tell you, Gale,” you began. “Our relationship is pretty typical, for the most part. We make love, we bicker, we argue. We fuck again.”

Gale almost choked at your colourful use of words.

“How blunt!”

“It’s called being honest,” you countered.

“Still,” he sighed, “you and Astarion have something special.”

“I would certainly hope so,” you smiled, blushing, looking back down at your ring. Gale noticed your affectionate gaze upon it.

“And with those, it is like you’re a married couple!”

Though he was only jesting, his quip caught you off guard, causing you to chuckle nervously.

“Yeah... well...” It was not like marriage had never crossed your mind, at least. But Astarion’s? Neither of you had ever breached the topic.

“Don’t worry, my dear, I’ll say no more,” he grinned.

“Good,” you smiled in kind.

“Ah, here we are!”

Looking up, you saw the apothecary just ahead. You sighed with relief. The wet feeling was indeed becoming... more apparent.

“Thank you, Gale, for being so understanding,” you smiled appreciatively, patting his arm.

“You are most welcome, Tavrin. Now, please, allow me,” and with a gentlemanly flourish, he opened the door but was courteous enough to wait for you outside.

“Such a gentleman!” You cooed as you stepped into the establishment.

“Only for you, my dear,” he smiled, and shut the door behind you.

The inside of the apothecary was filled with an abundance of herbs and spices and various medicinal potions and ointments. The scent was not unpleasant, however. It was rather heady and soothing. Once you paid for your feminine items and some herbal teas to help with your cramps, you went back out to where Gale was waiting patiently for you.

“All well?” He asked you with a smile.

“Yes, but I think I might need a new pair of panties,” you flushed.

“Come to think of it, I am fairly sure our old pal Lorroakan had some trunks of old clothes lying about. I am sure I spied some women’s garments when I was trifling through the stuff he left for us to plunder.”

You chuckled. “Thanks, Gale. I want to be freshened up before I meet Astarion at noon. So, we better hurry up with our cataloguing.”

“We’ll make good time. I promise!”

With a grin and a playful nudge, the two of you began your walk towards the Sundries.