#you could almost forget that they actually know how to torture people

[cowboycthulhu]

durarara!! is an anime that really needs to take its adhd medication and yet it somehow manages to have mostly solid characters with interesting interactions and it also has erika karisawa the love of my life. she used to be a dangerous interrogator but she uses her powers to be a fucking weeb instead. she really thought two guys who want to beat each other to death should fuck sloppy style instead. absolutely iconic of her

[gremlingottoosilly]

I know this page now is filled with Mafia König, and Monster König, and Slasher König, but it was revealed to me in a dream- Executioner König. Apparently, (though I don't have a source) given that the profession often met with isolation, which obviously made it hard to find a bride. Some executioners if they weren't married already, could pardon a woman prisoner if she agreed to marry him. Now enter, all in white, Reader that has commited an unspecified crime. It's still enough to be on death row for it. But Konig, seeing her, just can't let such a pretty thing die. He's lonely, and not getting any younger....

Cut to Reader confused later in life how her life from stealing or conning went to cooking potatoes and warming his bed at night while he's busy ripping someone's intestines out.

(plus fucking Reader in a pillory as a treat)

You prayed every night. They gave you a week before the execution - threw you in a cold basement, dampened your feet in water, and waited until you begged for the sentence to come faster. They couldn't - the royal executioner was out on the road from another city, and they couldn't have a royal maid to be killed by some commoner. You thought you'd have time to let them know how you didn't do what you did - how you were innocent all along if only crime for protecting yourself. No one listened, of course. The royal executioner has cold hands, and you can almost feel them preparing for the torture. This is what he is going to do, you think - put you in a pillory, slowly rip you from inside out. A fitting punishment is to dump your common blood so everyone can see just how much of a filth you are. Konig knows he has a right to you - a royal maid, probably framed. Maybe you are guilty- but he looked at your wide eyes and tear-stained face, and he didn't really care. You have soft legs and nice hips, a body that even prisoner's rags couldn't hide. You'd give him nice, fat babies - about a litter of them, poor bastard living with their father's profession. Daughters never get married, and sons get themselves wives in a similar fashion. Konig draps a hand over your thighs, under the rags - you're filthy, but he never minded. Can clean you up after, make you a wife. Honest woman, getting clean with his cock lodged deep in your cunt. He always liked girls from the royal district - clean, fresh, looking small like dolls on their fast legs. Like deers in the forest, except that he can now get himself one. Like catching a forest nymph. You don't even whimper as he drags a hand over your pussy, fingering you slowly - learned his way with brothel girls, always too nervous to actually do something, but also too horny not to. No one would be with an executioner willingly, so he would fuck you until heaven and the crown would forgive you and then would put a nice ring on your finger. Drag you to his house and made you his made - and his princess, too. Would buy you a dozen little goose feather pillows and a soft blanket from a foreign merchant so your body would forget the cold and the depth of the dungeon. He knows you'd be a good housewife because you managed to work in a castle - he doesn't care if it was the lower quarters if you only worked with other servants. He calls you a princess in bed and gets expensive cuts of lamb to cook. You burn your first one, roasting it too much, not knowing how to deal with meat if it's not made from scraps - and he ate it anyway, nuzzling his face into your breasts later as if asking for seconds. Puts a baby in you two months after the wedding. Haggles with merchants for soothing herbs and tortures 5 people per day for a bigger cut of what was in their pockets. Gets you a really nice bracelet out of some poor merchanting bastard, and you wore it like a shackle, your hands still trembling lightly when embracing him. The smell of your hair makes him forget about blood, and he clings to your body like a dog whenever he is home. Konig couldn't be happier.

[ghostskiss]

Handle It

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x F!Reader WC: 5.1k Summary: Reader is taking a shower and someone decides to crash the party. Warnings: 18+ Exhibitionism (risk of getting caught), shower sex (kinda), SUB SIMON, teasing, begging, sub to dom to…sub, finger sucking, oral, fingering, penetration, overstimulation, spit, creampie

Hot water beads down your back. Well, maybe that’s a bit too generous. It’s hardly trickling out of the showerhead above you, and the water’s lukewarm at best. But it feels great, your eyes are closing, your muscles are relaxing, and you almost forget that it’s a communal shower. That anyone could walk in and join you at another showerhead, there’s several in here, meant to get a group of people clean to save time. Time’s important in the military, you know this. So does everyone else, but there’s an unspoken rule. If someone’s in the showers, you don’t join unless absolutely necessary.

Which is why you’re allowing yourself this moment. You’d announced to the group that you were hitting the showers after the operation. And true to your word, as soon as you’d stepped out of the vehicle, you beelined it to the building. Soap joked about joining you, earning a punch from someone in result. You hadn’t cared to look behind you to confirm who it was, instead you’d waved a hand over your shoulder, acknowledging that you’d heard him, but wasn’t threatened by his constant yet harmless flirts. It was how you two communicated. It was a nice break in the violence and mayhem Task Force 141 found yourselves in. Even if Ghost and Price rolled their eyes at the banter, you could tell it eased their nerves at times. It’s hard to hold onto humanity when you see the worst of it day end and day out.

Getting the bar of soap into your hands, you rub it against your skin, ridding yourself of the dirt and grime from today’s work. It’s normal to get dirty doing what you do, and yet no matter how you wash yourself, it feels as though you’re never clean. You’d scrubbed your skin raw once, after a mission, coming out of the showers with irritated skin. Still. You were never clean. Today didn’t feel like that. The operation went well. There was no killing, no torture, and for once, it was an easy day. You want to savor this feeling, knowing that today went right, how relaxing the water is, feeling somewhat clean despite the past.

A knock rings through the showers, bouncing off the walls. The soap slips through your fingers as you jump with sound, the relaxing feeling you had now long gone. The knock has authority to it. It has impatience. Gritting your teeth, you rinse off quickly before turning the knob to shut the water off. You leave the poor soap on the ground, moving to the cement wall separating the showers from the door of the building.

“What?” You call out, a little irritated. Sure, you’d been in here for a bit longer than normal. But it was the one time you’d actually felt…nice.

A deep voice from behind the closed door comes to you. You resist an urge to roll your eyes. Ghost.

“Been in there a bit. Other people would like to clean themselves before heading in for the night.”

This, you do roll your eyes at. He’s right. You’re hogging the shower, but there’s an unspoken…thing you have against Ghost. He’s stoic and a bit miserable to be around if you’re being honest. He’s too serious, all the time, he never likes to have fun, and if you and Soap are going back and forth, he’s got to voice his displeasure. You secretly think he’s jealous. You think that he either is jealous of the relationship you have with Soap, or he’s jealous of Soap. Probably the former since you two can hardly stand each other.

Sighing out, you cross your arms over your naked chest. Right, you’d almost forgotten where you were.

“Well,” you start out, a bit snarky, “there’s always room, Lt.”

You’re joking, obviously, already moving to wrap a towel around your body. Without waiting for whatever response your lieutenant is trying to muster up, you cross the space from the cement wall to the door, hand gripping the handle to wrench it open.

There he is, in all his glory, towering over you. He’s ditched the mask he wears in operations or important meetings, donning his comfortable skulled balaclava. In fact, he’s changed out of most of his gear. Bare hands, black Henley shirt rolled up to his elbows. Of course, his lower half is clothed in his usual black pants, and he still has his boots on. Yet he looks more naked and vulnerable than you do in your little white towel. He looks at a loss of words.

A playful look crosses your features, a smirk teasing your lips as you prop a hand on your hip. Before you can get a word out, Ghost shifts forward quickly with a grumble tumbling out of his chest, pushing you back into the building with his presence alone. You frown a bit as you move backwards to accommodate his size as the door behind him closes you both in, confused as he glares down at you.

“Christ, could you not waltz around in nothing but bloody a towel?”

Another attempt to not roll your eyes comes over you. “What’re you, shy? It’s not like I’m completely naked.” You gesture at yourself; it’d be as if you were wearing a strapless dress. Granted, the towel is tiny, you’re wet from the shower, and you’re definitely not wearing any panties. Still, you had no idea Ghost was such a prude.

“Really?” Ghost’s gaze trails hotly down the front of your body. Suddenly your face feels hot. He’s never once looked at you like this. Like he’d…

A shaky breath escapes you before you laugh it off, “If you can’t handle me in a towel after shower, I doubt you’d be able to handle being around me in the actual showers.” You jerk a thumb over your shoulder as you watch his gaze follow it behind you. He can see the room of showers over the wall. You think you see his jaw clench under his mask.

This is bad. You’re jokingly teasing him the way you and Soap talk. This is uncharted territory, and you’re not sure you can keep the act up. With Soap, it’s harmless fun. You both know you’re not interested in each other. It’s easy to try to get a reaction out of each other, to see who says the most ridiculous shit first. It’s a stupid game. With Ghost, it’s dangerous. It’s nerve wrecking. It’s serious because he’s serious.

Suddenly he’s looking back down at you. You try not to fidget as you stare back at him. You can’t read him. You’re about to talk to break whatever this tension is, about to tell him the showers are his.

“No, I probably can’t.”

Did his voice drop an octave? Why was it making your skin heat? What was going on right now? You feel like your brain is malfunctioning. Your gaze drops down to the broad slope of his shoulders, and down his frame, distracted a bit. Of course, he’s attractive. You’d be insane to not think so. Even if you’ve never seen his face. It’s the way he holds himself, it’s the way he’s built, it’s his damned voice, and his eyes and everything else. But he’s your lieutenant for Christ’s sake. He’s mean sometimes. He’s ruthless, a brute, a –

“Let me see. I want to try. To… handle it.”

You freeze, eyes shooting back up to his. “You -?”

His chin dips to your towel, “Take it off.”

For a moment, you’re both watching each other. Ghost’s got his eyes on yours, unwavering. He’s really serious about this, you realize. Your thighs are clenching together now, trying to relieve the ache. You were joking, you think, about him not handling it in the showers. Now you’re thinking maybe you’re the one who can’t.

Shakenly, your hands raise to the knot tied at your breast. Your actions stop for a moment, silently waiting for him to tell you to stop. The command never comes. You can’t believe you’re doing this, bearing yourself for your broody and moody higher up. For him. All because you don’t want to back out on what you started. Suddenly, you want to prove him wrong. That he can’t handle it. That you’re not affected at all by his words or actions, or more importantly his inactions. The towel drops.

It’s loud with how silent it is in the room. Who knew a damp towel could be so loud? Your gaze doesn’t leave his, holding it, even as you stand bare in front of him. A smirk quirks your lips. He’s avoiding looking at you. That’s how he thinks he can move around the situation at hand.

Testing him, your hand brushes against your own collarbone, trailing slowly -- tantalizingly slow. Still, his eyes never wander from your own. So, this is how you could play games with Ghost. It’ll be fun to see him break.

“You’re not looking,” you start, stating the obvious.

“Never said I had to. Only said that I could handle being around you.” He shrugs, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like he won the game.

You laugh a little at that, and watch his eyes ever so slightly dip to your lips before coming back up to your eyes. Your own hands are wandering your body now, groping a bit at your chest. His hands clench at his sides.

“Are you going to take a shower, Lt?” A breathless noise leaves you as you ask, your fingers pinching one of your nipples. Fuck him. You’re so turned on right now it’s ridiculous. He doesn’t have to look. Just the thought of being here in front of him while he’s fully clothed doing this, while the two of you are alone and anyone could walk in –

“No. And quit that.” He growls out, knocking your hand away from your breast. He still hasn’t looked, but you’re guessing he’s getting a view from his peripherals.

“Quit what?” You feign innocence, your hand that’d been knocked away now dips in between your thighs eliciting a soft moan from your lips. “You said you’d try. If you’re not going to take a shower, you can watch.”

Ghost has no words for you now, his pupils dilating before your very eyes. Spreading your legs a bit wider to get a better reach on yourself, you continue. Slow pressing circles on your clit, your arousal slicking loudly in the air. Your free hand goes back up to your tits, to continue groping, pinching, pulling.

Finally, he breaks. He breaks when your pussy squelches around your own fingers, his burning gaze trailing down your body to the hand that’s pulling such noises out of you. A groan sets loose from him, and you shudder from the mere sound.

“Kneel.”

Ghost’s eyes shoot back up to yours in question.

“Kneel, I said. You can get a better look.” Your tone is set in stone. Despite the burning ache you’ve got, the need for him to touch you, you feel in control.

He hesitates for a moment before lowering himself down to the ground, knees pressing against the cement. His eyes have yet to leave yours.

“You can look but don’t touch.” Your breath hitches, arousal seeping into your very being seeing him like this. Listening to your commands. You watch his hands clench on his thighs, his attention going back to your pussy. Your breath hitches at his stare, feeling the heat of it. He doesn’t have to touch for you to feel his attention. It’s making you sloppy, messy, and wet. You keen, a brief thought of asking him to touch you, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

Staring down at him as your fingers continue to tease yourself, you watch him just as intently as he’s watching you. He seems fixated. You wonder if he’s drooling in his own mask. The front of his pants looks tight. His hands are clenching and unclenching on his thighs, his shoulders shuddering when you make a noise in the back of your throat. You watch him tense as you ease a finger in yourself. Your clit is throbbing, aching, begging for attention, you’re teasing yourself just as much as you’re teasing him. Slowly pumping the one finger in yourself, you press another one in, mewling out as your hips buck a little upward.

“Let me taste you.” He rushes out suddenly. Ghost’s voice is gravel, scrapping across your body. Your head nearly tips back at the sound of it, another pitiful noise leaving your mouth.

 Stay strong. Stay strong. You shake your head, unable to give him an actual answer as your fingers create a devastatingly slow pace, slick coating your fingers and thighs.

“Fuck. What’ll take? Let me taste you.” He’s demanding now, knuckles white with how hard he’s gripping the material over his thighs.

You pant, trying not to stammer. “Beg.” It comes out stronger than you feel right now. Core burning with the need to come.

“Please.” He grits out through his teeth, angry eyes coming up to your glassy ones.

“You don’t sound sincere.” You laugh breathlessly, shaking your head again. Your fingers pause, coming out to press softly against your clit. If you press any harder, you have no doubt you’ll come. You don’t want to give it to him yet. Ghost watches the action, a growl coming from him.

“Please,” he tries again, looking back up at you to see if it was good enough. It’s not and you tsk at him. “Please, let me taste your pussy. Let me put my mouth on you. Please.”

The last plead is strained, almost a whine. Your fingers dip back in, curling as you pump them again. Your head falls forward a bit with a whine of your own and you try to gather your bearings. “How are you going to taste me with your mask on?”

Quickly, he tugs it upward, only exposing his mouth. Christ. His mouth. He’s got a scar running down his lips. His jaw is clenched, and you curse whoever created him. He’s handsome, even if you’re only seeing the bottom half of his face. You watch his tongue tease his full bottom lip, his mouth opening into a soft pant. He’s eager. You catch another whine in your throat, fingers leaving your pussy to press against his mouth, covered in your own wetness. He opens his mouth, latching onto them, sucking and licking, taking anything you have to offer.

You watch with a newfound feeling. Here you have your lieutenant on the ground, kneeling and begging, sucking your fingers like it’s his God given right. Like he has something to prove. That he’s desperate enough to be debased to nothing. He’s moaning at the taste of you, following your fingers as they leave his mouth, like he’s not ready to stop cleaning yourself from them. He’s tilting closer as he watches them disappear back to your throbbing sex.

“No,” you tell him, stopping him from following your fingers all the way, “that’s all you get.” You moan out, your fingers wet with his spit now circling your clit. You need to come like this, having him at his knees in front of you.

“W-wait. Please. I’ll do anything. Fuck, please. Let me give you what you want, I can make you cum. With my mouth please –”

His begging sends you over the edge, not stopping as you cry out loudly, pussy clenching on nothing as your fingers circle and circle. It’s long and crippling, and you almost feel your knees buckle, your free hand gripping the cement wall behind you. Fuck, he’s not shutting up. It drags it out, hearing him whine and beg, a man who you thought could never be like this. You rip your hand away from yourself, panting, thankful for the wall behind you holding you up. Your thighs are quivering and wet from the orgasm, breath trying to catch up to your pounding heart.

Ghost is quiet now, looking up at you, waiting for your next move. His mouth parts, like he’s going to start up again and you hush him.

“Clean me up.”

You barely have the sentence out before he’s shooting forwards, hands gripping your thighs to make room for himself. He pulls one of your legs over his shoulder, tongue latching onto your already overstimulated clit. You cry out, hands shooting up to his masked head, trying to pull him away as he laps at your cream.

“A-ah, wait, Simon –” You start, squirming, trying to get away from his mouth and tongue. You feel him smile, the bastard.

“Think you can tease me like that? Huh?” He growls as he laps at you, tongue not missing an inch of your pussy. His words vibrate through you, not bothering to really pull away to talk. He’s violent in the way his mouth attacks you. “Think you can just do what you want to me?”

You stutter, about to apologize until he starts to add his fingers to the mix. Two thick fingers of his slam into you, pumping up as his tongue flicks your clit. You cry out, tears in your eyes as you take it. He’s going to make you come again, this fast. Too fast. You feel dizzy, vision fuzzy.

“Making me sit in front of this pretty pussy and not letting me touch or taste it.” He groans, and then chuckles as you bare down on his fingers, clenching hard. “Oh, you gonna come again pretty baby? Come on then.”

He’s mean. Meaner than you were to him. You’re panting, quivering, and aching, your pussy making obscene noises as he assaults all of your senses. You know you’re coming before you feel it. Like a delayed reaction. Gasping and bucking, he’s saying something again that you can’t register because your hearing leaves you, your sight leaves you, every sensation and thought is gone as you cry out, coming and coming again. Somehow in the midst of it, his fingers and mouth leave as you come back down to your body, and he’s holding you up, thank God. You doubt the wall behind you would’ve helped at all. Your fingers are clenched on the material of his mask, and as you blink down at him, chest heaving, you see his wet mouth smirk.

A flash of fear goes through you. This was the Ghost you know. The ruthless, cold, domineering, Simon Ghost Riley. Not the man that’d been on his knees begging. Not the man who’d let you command and tease him. He sets down the leg that’d been over his shoulder. You’re not sure if you’re still completely all together. He stands to his full height, and you shiver, trying to sink yourself back into the wall behind you as much as you can. His hand comes up to your jaw, gripping it gently as he tilts your head back.

“Open.”

You obey, lips parting, mouth opening. Nothing could prepare you for what he does next. He leans into you, pressing up hard against you, lips barely hovering your own. He spits. Fluid enters your mouth, and you moan, swallowing it up. It’s your own arousal, sweet and warm and oh. Your wet lashes flutter shut as Ghost licks the seam of your closed mouth, lapping at you before he nips and bites and kisses you. The kiss he’s giving you isn’t gentle. It’s consuming and you cry into it as your hands find purchase on his shoulders, sliding up to his neck to haul him closer to you. He answers your cry with a groan of his own, his hands cupping your ass to lift you up. Your legs come around him, locking your ankles behind his back to keep him close. Your sensitive pussy is pressed and rubbing against pants, the feeling abrasive and raw but you can’t stop from grinding against him.

 “Tell me what you want. Tell me and I’ll give it to you.” Simon mutters against your lips, licking and biting still. You’re breathless and whimpering against him, his words going straight to your core as you move against him. He’s helping you, moving with your hips, matching you move for move. You’re distracted, unable to give him an answer as you kiss him back, your trembling fingers sliding a bit under his mask to grasp the back of his neck. He hisses out in pain when your nails dig in. “I’ll give you anything baby, please. Just say the words.”

“I – I want…” you gasp, your clit pressing against the seam of his pants. You can feel his length hard and heavy against you.

“Fuck, please. Please tell me.” He’s begging again, rutting his hips up against you, hands keeping you still as he continues.

“I want you.” Is all you can muster; all you can think about saying. You swear your brain isn’t working correctly. Even before this started. You must’ve hit your head during the mission.

"Want me? Want me to what?” He stops moving.

You groan out in frustration, head tipping back a bit before you look up at him. “Please, Simon. You’re teasing me now.” You’re not sure you like how quickly the tables have turned.

Ghost laughs a bit, breathless himself. You think he’s going to drag it out further until he sees the pout furrowing your brow. “Alright. I am. I’ll give it to you.” He still keeps you wrapped up against him, one hand holding you, the other going in between the two of you. His knuckles brush against your bare sex and you moan lowly, watching him unbuckle his pants, pulling his hard cock out. Precum is dripping down the length of it and your throat dries at the sight of him.

Concern must be showing on your face with how big he is. Another chuckle from him, “You can take it pretty baby.” Your concern dies out as he slides the length against your wet pussy and you bite down on lip, trying to contain your noises. You want him in you, size be damned. He runs the tip up and down once more before pressing against your entrance, pushing in slowly. This time, you can’t contain the low moan you have. He gives it to you slowly, pumping his hips up into you, letting you adjust to his size. It’s stretching you open, and you feel like he’s splitting you in half. It’s heavy and deep and throbbing –

“Oh.” You let out, almost surprised it feels so good. Addicting. You feel drunk.

A sadistic laugh comes from the man in you, his cock slowly pumping into you. He’s being nice, giving it to you this softly. His hands are pulling you back onto his cock, pinning you against the wall and his hard body. Your legs tighten around him as your nails dig into his shoulders.

“That’s it. It’s all yours, isn’t it?” Ghost dips down to nip your lips as you whimper. “Been wanting this pussy wrapped around me for so long, baby. Fuck.” He moans lowly as you keen at his words, clenching around his girth. “Teasing me when you have no idea what I’d do to you. For you.”

He’s going slow, dragging this out as long as possible. He’s pressing in deep, rolling his hips before pulling slowly back, letting you feel every inch of him before starting all over again. It’s driving you insane. It feels like it’s going on forever, his slow thrusting. He rocks into your soaking cunt, easing his throbbing cock in you smoothly and repeatedly. Ecstasy has taken hold of every fiber of your being. You hardly feel conscious, as his words lull you into lust, his cock pacifying you into drunken state. He won’t shut up again as you cry against his lips.

“Pussy feels so good. So good. Fuck. You can have this dick whenever you want baby, just say the word and it’s yours.” He moans lowly, the sloppy sounds of your pussy and his hips thumping into you with languid strokes are overpowering your thoughts. His words make your pussy clamp down on him and he moans again, not afraid to let you hear how good you’re making him feel.

“Si—” you gasp, mouth falling open against his, trying to pull him up closer to you.

“Tell me. Tell me, sweetheart. Fuck.” He rasps against you, his hips stuttering slightly at the sound of your broken moans.

“F-fuck me. Please fuck me. Simon, please.” You beg, not afraid to be pulled down to your knees like he had been. To be debased to nothing just as you had done to him.

He’s not just pliant, he’s willing. Eager again to please you. You know he could’ve done what you had to him, teased you, made you beg more, made you want and want and need. But he gives it to you, just like he promised he would. Your pussy flares as his thrusts get heavier, deeper, faster, rougher. It’s destroying you as much as it’s freeing you and your eyes roll back a bit. God, you’re going to cum again.

A knock sounds. Not unlike the one Ghost pounded on the door earlier. You gasp, trying to stop running to the hurdle you’re launching towards. Your body doesn’t get the memo, or doesn’t care, and it certainly seems Ghost couldn’t care less that someone is right outside the door. The man makes a frustrated noise, at you or the knock, you’re not sure. He clamps his hand down over your mouth as you try to contain the noises you’re currently making. You want to tell him to stop, someone’s right there, but he keeps fucking you. God, he’s so mean and cruel and –

“Lt?”

Your heart shudders in fear. Soap. No, God, no one can see this. Ghost fucking you against the wall, completely clothed, unrushed. Despite the fear of being caught, you feel a whine catch in your throat as you thrash again Simon’s relentless fucking. He hushes you quietly, slamming roughly into you now. You stop a squeal, but just barely, a loud yet pathetic squeak leaving you as euphoria bursts through you, pussy convulsing around his cock.

“Just a sec, Johnny.” Ghost throws over his shoulder, a smile playing on his handsome face. He hardly sounds phased even when just moments ago he was the one loudly moaning into your mouth. He hardly sounds winded even with the rough thrusts he’s delivering into you, fucking you through your orgasm. You claw weakly at his chest, angry at him, still coming down from the heaven he just gave to you.

You think Soap leaves, you’re not sure, but Ghost moves his hand from your mouth, back to your ass to bring down onto his cock. He’s using you now, making you meet him thrust for thrust, drilling your G-spot with such precision that your vision fades for a second.

“No, look at me. That’s it. Good girl. You’re so pretty baby. Such a good girl. You gonna let me fill you up now? Haven’t I been good enough for you? Huh?” He’s mocking a bit, but serious. His own form of a joke that you have no power or brain to call him out on. All you’re feeling, all you’re thinking about is his cock ravaging you from the inside, still, overstimulated. Your body hardly cares. It’s right there, right at the edge, ready to jump and to give him your all. You’re too dumb, blinded with pleasure, staring up at him as he growls down at you, throbbing cock ready to give it to you when you say the words. Maybe he really is under your command after all.

A whine comes from you, frantically nodding to him, hands scrambling on him to try to find solid ground while you’re in a different time and space with the fucking he’s giving you.

“No, you have to tell me baby. Fuck, tell me I’m good baby. Tell me I was good, and I can fill you up.” Simon’s begging, whining lowly in the back of his throat, his hips getting sloppier and shorter, pounding into you.

“You’re good. You’re good. Simon, you’re good. It’s so good. Please, pleasepleaseplease come in me.” You’re begging, sobbing, actually, tears streaming down your face as you try to catch up with your body. It hurts, it hurts so fucking good, you make a long and agonized noise against his mouth, he’s kissing you again, sucking your tongue, running his against your teeth, pulling sucking overstimulating –

Simon makes his own devastated noise, a low and shattering groan of pleasure and you feel it just as you’re coming, milking him into you. His cock is surging into you, pumping hot cum with each deep thrust. He’s grinding into you, fucking you both through your orgasms, making you see stars as you cry into his mouth, fingers tearing into his back through his shirt. His hips finally still after what seems to be eternity, your pussy still clenched around him. He keeps himself deep in you as you both try to gather your bearings as well as your breath. You’re staring at each other, panting, chests heaving. He brings a shaky hand up to your cheek, cupping it as he runs his thumb over your tears. The tenderness makes your heart clench. All he’s done tonight surprised you. He leans down to place a kiss against your lips as tenderly as the thumb that stroked you. You kiss him back gently, a little worried where this was going to leave the two of you.

He pulls back, eyes bouncing in between your own. He seems to sense your worry and he sighs, pulling out slowly. You almost want to cry at the loss of him. Ghost sets you down steadily, keeping his hands on you as you wobble, legs weak. You hold onto him and look back up, ready to question what the hell this meant. He shakes his head a bit and nods towards the showers.

“I think I can handle taking a shower with you. But it’s gotta be quick baby.”

Shocked, you stare at him incredulously before you burst out into a terrible laughing fit. You’d almost forgotten how you got here in the first place. You watch his mouth quirk up into his own smile before he starts to laugh a little too. You grab his hand, tugging him with you towards the showers.

“C’mon then big boy. Show me how you handle it.”

[luveline]

𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

miguel can’t control himself when you get hurt in the field —a ficlet featuring an irritated (lovesick) miguel and a flirty, distracted spider-girl. pre across the spider-verse but contains spoilers. requested he re, fem!reader, 2.5k

tw. fighting, injury, blood

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Miguel watches the screen in front of him unhappily. 

"Spider-Girl," he says. Two people answer him. He sighs. "Y/N," he amends, "you're being reckless." 

The little droid camera that follows you around circles your head as you swing from one place to another. "I'm being good," you deny. 

Miguel would never tell you this, but he loves how you speak. Sure, almost every word you say annoys him, but the cadence of your voice is melodic and addictive at once. And Miguel knows you're nice to everyone, but it's him alone that has you speaking so softly. 

You do it to torture him, he's sure. 

"You're doing well, but you'd be better if you didn't free fall for so long. Mechanical failure can happen at any minute," Miguel says. 

"Then one of the others will catch me." 

"And if there's no team member close by? I'm supposed to come and scrape you off of the sidewalk?" 

"Miguel," you say gently. He can tell what mood you're in today. "They have people for that." 

"Could you just do as I asked you to?" 

"Ah, but you haven't asked me anything." 

"Please," he says, "focus on the task at hand, and use your webs cautiously." 

You make a chirping sound that feels more laughter than affirmation, but you do as he requests, reducing the length of time between each web shot. You're in New York, Earth-1844, attempting to send home an unhappy Doc Ock variant whose mechanical arms are immensely technologically advanced, even when compared to Nueva York's futurism.

Miguel had sent you along with a rather large team, one. because a big team was necessary for the task, two. because you'd asked and he has trouble saying no to you, and three. because if you'd spent another hour in his office today he actually might have given into temptation, which wouldn't be good for anybody.

Miguel is used to doing what needs to be done rather than what he'd like, these days. So while he wants to indulge you and your fanciful suggestions —I'm not heavy, handsome, please, you won't even notice I'm in your lap, your thighs are so wide— he can't. He has things to do. Things that cannot endure distraction. 

"Woo!" you cheer through laughter, letting your shoes skim the floor in an especially dangerous manoeuvre. The adrenaline turns you giddy. "Holy crap." 

Oh, right, that's why he resists temptation —he hates you. (He doesn't hate you.) He hates you and your disregard for your own safety, he hates your rejection of his authority, and he hates the stupid sweet sound you make when you're excited. 

"Do you listen to me and then forget what I've said, or do you not understand the English language?" he asks. 

You land on a rooftop overlooking the centre of Future Doc Ock's destruction. "Well, I've been learning Spanish. We could always try that," you suggest. 

"Why have you been learning Spanish?" he asks. 

"Coquetear contigo," you say, your pronunciation all over the place. To flirt with you. 

"Qué maravilla," he mutters. 

"I don't know that one, handsome, so I'm going to assume it was a love confession or something similar." You sound so overly fond he has to tense his jaw. "Gwen, where are you?" 

"I'm over here?" 

Gwen is wrapped up tightly in a metal tentacle. It shakes her around fanatically. Miguel swears and zooms in on her location, watching in apprehension as she attempts to free herself while the arm creaks, tightening, tightening. 

"Woah," you say, taking a running jump off of the rooftop. "Can you believe it? I'm not the first one who needs rescuing." 

Hobie Brown reaches Gwen before you can, and he makes an impressive rescue. You divert your path, shooting a web at the glass dome covering Future Doc Ock's head. Miguel crosses his arms across his chest. Wannabe Mysterio loser, he thinks, and then, when you've smashed a hole into the dome with a generously momentous kick, Nice. 

He doesn't suppose Doc Ock was expecting a kick to the jaw today. 

You hiss as you propel yourself away from him, another web shot at a nearby lamppost. It does something funny to his chest when he hears you whine in pain, but he's too distracted to ask what's wrong —he scours your droid's view for an answer, finds it red and saturating the fabric of your suit. 

"Why are you bleeding, Spider-Girl?" he asks, gaze drawn to the main screen where Dock Ock shouts belligerent threats at an approaching Spider-Man. 

"No biggie," you say, hissing again, "I think I cut my leg on the glass. I need a better suit." 

"Can you walk?" 

"I'm fine," you say with a sniffle. From the amount of blood, the cut is deep. "Is it me, or is it dusty in here?" 

It definitely hurts if it's making you cry, though maybe you're unprepared. This was a bad idea, you aren't as seasoned as the others, and he knows you don't know what you're doing yet. You need more time, more practice. You've hurt yourself in the field on your very first mission, and you don't have the pain threshold or the super-healing necessary to cope.

It's his fault for letting you go. 

"Prepare for extraction," he says.

"No! No way, are you kidding? I'm fine, I– I can do this."

"Y/N," he warns. 

You fling yourself from the lamppost with impressive grace considering your injury and join the fight once again. Miguel can't keep an eye on you like he wants to, as the alarm that indicates an anomaly begins to sound. He's forced to rush together a second team while the elite strike force are preoccupied, yanking members of Spider-Society from their goings abouts, Lyla in his ear recommending effective combinations and fighting styles. From that point on, he has to supervise two different missions, his head pounding with effort. 

His hands itch. He should be out there. Miguel is the cream of the crop and he isn't shy to admit that. He's a good fighter, but he can't be everywhere at once, and most of the anomalies they face require multiple sets of hands to fix. So he forces himself to stay put and guide the teams through each fight, sick to his stomach with every bloody footprint you leave behind. 

He's following Hobie Brown and offering rejected instruction when he sees you go down. He toggles your voice channel and catches the end of a high-pitched, "Oof," the air-knocked from your lungs forcibly as you hit the ground. The tentacle that propelled you veers up for a finishing blow, and three different webs catch it and pull it backward. 

It's a blur. One minute Miguel's in the control room at Spider-Society headquarters, the next he's breathing in the smoggy air of New York, Earth-1844, concrete and asphalt torn up under his hands. Lyla speaks in his ear and he's deaf to her, his focus pointed with only one thing in mind. 

The restraint it takes not to wipe Doc Ock from the face of the dimension is incalculable. Miguel can't quite believe his own moderation as he orchestrates the return of the anomaly, your body on the ground in the corner of his eye. 

The second the situation is under control, he runs to you. His gloves hit the ground with a thud by your hip, as do his knees. Spider-Man, a Peter Parker from Earth-751263, has already set nanobots over your prone figure, tiny spider-like creatures that leave webbing bandages in their wake, closing the sluggish wound on your calf. But nanotech won't fix a broken spine, not in the field. Miguel needs a stretcher. He needs to get you home. 

"Miguel," you say, drawing his gaze from your slow-rising chest, "I can't breathe.

He slides his thumb as gently as he can into the seam of your mask and eases it off. "You're winded." 

You cough. The sound is disturbingly wet, but your lips remain unsullied. Miguel can't look at you in this much pain, and he won't: he stands, and he takes control. 

—

You're not in nearly as much pain as you should be, because Doctor Spider-Man gave you the good stuff. "Your healing isn't nearly as expedited as most of us," he'd said. 

"Is this medical discrimination?" you'd asked, faking a serious concern. "Do I need to talk to Spider-Lawyer?" 

You found it funny. He maybe didn't, but he gave you an extra dose and told you to rest up before leaving. Resting at the Society medbay isn't easy because Spider People are constantly filtering in and out of the ward for check-ups, medication, and corrections. 

It's also not easy because most Spider People are incredibly lonely in their home dimensions, and incredibly friendly here. When Miguel finally comes to visit you, you have a Spider-Girl from a few dimensions over who has the same biological mother as you but a different father sitting to your left —she's trippy and adorable, if you do say so yourself— two Peter Parkers to your right, and a melting pot of currency lost in the white linen sheets over your legs.  

They get one good look at Miguel and put down their playing cards. 

The Peter Parkers slink off together promising to come and see you again sometime, and your variant stops just shy of Miguel's position to look him up and down affectionately. 

"Go away," he says. 

She beams at him. "Okay." 

"You can't help it, can you?" he asks after she's gone, picking a rogue playing card up from the end of your bed. He twiddles it between his index and middle finger, the card shushing with each turn.

You sit up in bed and try to straighten out the sheets, hoping to entice him. You don't bother answering his question. It barely sounded like one. 

"I'm hurt, you know?" you ask. 

"I know. I told you to retreat." 

"No, I'm hurt it took you so long to visit me," you say. You're putting on airs. Truthfully, you genuinely are a little hurt, but your voice is soft and dreamy as always. "I thought we were friends." 

"Ah, because you need more of those." 

You sink down into your pillows, your knees hiked. "I really can't help it if people like me. And you'd know." 

Miguel surprises you by sitting down. He faces away from you, his thigh just shy of your feet below the sheets, and it's only then you realise he's tense. He's in civvies for a change, a t-shirt stretched tight across his broad shoulders and chest and regular black sweatpants. He's wearing converse. 

You look at him through a squint. "Did you hit your head, too?" 

"I'm off-duty."

"I just never pictured you in sneakers." 

"How do you picture me?" he asks, neck craned to look at you, his chin touching his shoulder. He has dark circles under his eyes and his brows are ruffled on one side. 

You let your knees fall to one side and pull your legs to your chest, hoping to entice him closer. "You're not sleeping well?" 

Miguel doesn't answer your inquiry. In fact, he falls silent. His eyes are on your hands where they're bunched at your chest, his dark flush of lashes twitching as his gaze tracks along the column of your throat, your jaw, and finally, your face. 

"If you were anyone else," he says eventually, "you'd be benched." 

"I'm not benched?" you ask. 

"You disobeyed a direct order," he says, "and your actions affected the people around you. Someone else could've been hurt protecting you. You have to listen to what I'm telling you to do, or this is never going to work." 

You look at the hospital bed railing rather than face his disappointment. 

"But it's my fault." 

"What?" you ask, startled. 

"It's my fault you got hurt. I knew you couldn't handle it, and I let you go anyway. I'm… I'm weak." 

"What are you talking about?" you ask. "Weak? You're the strongest person here, with or without Rapture." 

He flinches at the drug's name.

You lay there, paralysed by your own mistake, your big mouth ruining everything for the thousandth time. If there's one thing you know about Miguel, it's that you never mention his weaknesses. His drug. His last attempt at a full life. You might be light-hearted, a free spirit, but you're far from stupid usually. Your emotional intelligence must've got lost somewhere on Earth-1844. 

"Sorry," you murmur, looking at him from under your lashes. "I didn't mean…" 

Slowly, so slowly, he puts his hand on your leg. It doesn't hurt, you've been medicated and stitched and his touch is far from cruel, but you're so startled that your breath gets caught in your throat. Miguel doesn't touch you unless he's giving you a vague reprimand, moving your hand from a button you shouldn't touch or a door you're not allowed to open. 

"I let you go on that mission, knowing you weren't ready, because you asked me to let you. I put selfish motivations over your safety. It won't happen again." 

You're not as brave as you think you are. You try to hold his hand but it looks so big, and you've never had him this close to you of his own accord. You're a moment away from nervous goosebumps. 

He looks up at your touch, your pinky finger wrapped over his, smaller and shorter but with the same pattern of calluses, skin abraded by tight gloves and rough surfaces. 

"Selfish motivations," you repeat in a murmur. 

"I don't– like saying no. To you." He couldn't sound more unhappy to admit it. 

"You say no to me all the time," you say. You don't mean to, but suddenly you're folding your fingers over his, forcing him to hold your hand. He doesn't stop you. He doesn't let go. "Like, ten times a day." 

"It's difficult." Your complaint is a blessing for him —the atmosphere around you shifts to something less vulnerable, and his permanently chagrined personality rears its head once again. He raises his eyebrows. "You make my life extremely difficult," he says flatly. 

"You make my life difficult, too," you say. 

You can't help but give him your fondest smile, your lashes kissing in the corners of your eyes.  

He visibly softens. His thumb rubs the back of your hand, just once. 

"Fantastic," he says, looking firmly away from you. "Great." 

"Isn't it?" you ask happily. 

He squeezes your fingers gently. It's almost imperceptible. "Yeah, it is," he says. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! also, im sorry if you already speak spanish i realised after that that detail was subjective to the reader, sorry!

[gothamhappiness]

You are my heaven 3 (Bruce Wayne x f!reader)

It was supposed to be a little imagine of a dark and lonely Bruce Wayne switching place with another Bruce Wayne from a parallal universe, but I wrote more than I thought. And then you asked for more :)

My masterlist is here.

Part 1 // Part 2

Warnings: no proof reading, stressed out neglect!Bruce, mentions of dead characters, jealousy and all kind of bad feelings, language

This was Hell. It had to be a nightmare, right? It couldn’t be the reality. It couldn’t be the truth. Someone was toying with him, torturing him even. It had to be an illusion of some sort. Or maybe he was stuck in the darkest part of this mind, full of his worst fears.

No child, no wife, no Alfred, no Justice League, no good day, no good night. 

Gotham wasn’t usually funny, but this was pure punishment.

At first, Bruce thought that the worst part was how awful the business was with Wayne Enterprises; there was so much work to take care of, all the time, and no one he felt like he could trust. 

Then he realised how empty his manor was. It was dark and quiet. It was making him want to throw up because of how tight it was making his chest and stomach. He couldn’t stand this utter silence. He couldn’t stand to not be able to play the annoyed mentor with his children and the good husband to you.

Not even having Alfred was a punishment, a torture, a cruel life. How was he supposed to care about everything without Alfred? How was he supposed to stay sane without the man who raised him? How was he supposed to survive without him? 

He so deeply missed the children. He tried to find them, but they were in prison, dead or gone from Gotham: Dick was a police officer who died during a mission, Jason was in prison, Tim died in his parents' accident, Stephanie had left Gotham forever, Cassandra killed herself to not be a killer anymore, Duke died as he looked for the Joker, Damian didn’t exist.

And Barbara looked so happy, Bruce didn’t even dare going to talk to her. And when he passed by her, hoping she would talk to him, she just seemed surprised to see Bruce Wayne in her local library. All the people he knew didn’t know him anymore or weren’t there to know him or to care about him.

In some desperate attempt, he looked for Talia, but the league of assassins simply kicked his ass for having tried and reached for her. They weren’t interested in him, merely wondering how he knew about them. He almost got killed that night, but he found a way out, like he always did.

Except he didn’t seem to be able to find a way out from this Hell.

The worst part was definitely your absence. He was so used to going to bed with a pretty little wife by his side. He was so used to kissing her goodnight. He was so used to her cute little whines for five minutes more of cuddles in the morning. He was so used to having his arm around her waist wherever they went. And he missed that so much. He wanted you so badly. He needed you so badly.

Fuck, he promised himself to not ditch any more dates with you once he would be back to what reality was supposed to be. He would take such good care of you. He would make you forget about the divorce papers and not just by saying to Alfred “She had a good life here and she loves the children, so she’ll stay”. No, he would make sure you actually wanted to stay. With him. With your husband.

He needed to find you in this world. Maybe you could help him, at least to not completely go insane.

He quickly found you, and for a brief instant, he was so relieved that you seemed to know him. You clearly weren’t his wife since you didn’t even live in the manor, but thank god he hoped you were his girlfriend. But your coldness hurt him more than he would ever admit it.

“What do you want, Bruce?” you groaned when you saw him at your door

“Just wanted to check on you” the man tried to smile

“Look, I’ve already told you that I’m not interested. You creep me out, man. And it’s not because the cops won’t do anything if I call them, that you can keep going here. So please, stay away from me and stop sending me gifts that I need to send you back. We’re not a thing, and we’ll never be” you told him before closing your door.

Bruce knew he was going to lose it.

He started to try and recall what happened the night before everything changed so drastically in his life. He slowly remembered this mission with the mad scientist. He remembered the light he saw right after he was going to sleep by your side. He was feeling so weak and strange then. Something happened then.

He needed to find the man. When he did, the scientist was actually a teacher in the University of Gotham, who was talking about the possibilities of parallel universes. It was how Bruce finally understood what happened. It wasn’t his reality. It wasn't an illusion. It was another world.

For a very brief instant, he felt very bad for the version of himself who had to deal with this world and this constant loneliness. But he couldn’t care. He wanted to get back home, surrounded by his people and their attention. He was relieved in a way because now he knew how to escape from this place.

He worked hard for several months. He showed a very dark version of himself, as he was forcing the scientist to find a way to send him back. He was slowly losing himself. He needed to come back home soon, or he would start to actually kill; why would he care about crossing the lines in a world that wasn’t his? In a city that didn’t like him anyway? In a life where no one loved him?

The media were commenting on how ruthless Batman was lately. Bruce couldn’t help it. He was feeling so bad. And there was this nasty little voice inside his head telling him over and over again that “Maybe no one realised you were gone. Maybe no one wants you back. Maybe that’s why you’re still there months after. Another man is fucking your wife, another man is talking to your children and to Alfred, another man is leading WE and the Justice League. And they all don’t care. Worst, they like him better”

The scientist wasn’t obsessed with the idea of getting rid of Batman so he thought about things quite differently. He found a way to send Bruce back to his world but he didn’t switch places. So when Bruce arrived where he was supposed to be, he was quite shocked to see another him.

What was worse was that you were by his side, laughing at something the man murmured to you. His arm was wrapped around your waist. It was then that your husband noticed how round your belly was. You were pregnant. You were heavily pregnant. There was no way it was actually his child. It had to be his. Didn’t you notice it wasn’t your husband who was making love to you? Or did you want it? Him?

The sole idea was driving him crazy with pain and raw jealousy. The jealousy that the Bruce of the other world felt when he first arrived in this world, the “real” Bruce” felt it too. His life has been stolen away from him, and he needed to get it back. 

It drove him even crazier when he saw how his children acted around the stranger. How could they all seem so happy around him? He hoped that no one understood what happened. He hoped that you all thought it was him.

He didn’t know what to do though. He couldn’t come back to the manor, he couldn’t show his face, so he hid in the dark for a little while. He kept stalking all of you, getting sick in the stomach each time he saw his children or you or the Justice League with his other self. Everyone seemed to do so much better.

Or maybe it was just his paranoia and the mean voices inside his head that wanted to make him believe that you all loved this other Bruce better than him. He couldn’t stop thinking about the child you were carrying. He had wanted that too, but you never seemed ready.

And now…

Now he needed to find you.

--

Part 4

--

Taglist for all my work <3

@blublock404

@wind-canoe

Taglist for this series <3 (you’re my heaven)

@bat1212

@karakento

@kneelforloki

Thanks for the ideas <3

@motherofdragons1998

@silverklaus

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@kazuko-stuff

[maliro-t]

The highlight of Veilguard for me is the relationship between Solas and Rook- and I don't know how to write about this on the internet without being acutely aware of other peoples' criticisms (such as there not being enough of it)- so I'll just say up top that I'm not actually intending this as a refutation of any of those. I just want to talk about my experience with the game and why I like it so much, which will probably make obvious where I disagree with some reoccurring critiques I've seen. *

The thing about Solas in this game is that he plays the role of the trickster perfectly. As much as Fen'Harel is a myth or a persona, and the stories we know of him invented or twisted, his role in Veilguard feels like it could slot in so, so easily with the myths, and in many ways directly parallels them. He is sinister and noble, monstrous and sympathetic, ruthless and compassionate, all at once. He spends the game trapped and humbled but can be almost gleefully condescending at times. He conflates outsmarting an enemy with being right, even as he plays the long-suffering martyr, tortured by countless mistakes. He falls easily into the role of advisor but is quick to note your foolishness. To sneer and declare the problem yours and yet still impose upon you an appraisal of your conduct.

But more than any of that, for most of the game, he's...passive. Dormant. He seems to make no moves, other than as a glorified consultant, despite starting as the main threat.

In Blood of Arlathan, when he finally rears his head again as major a player on the board, it's with a gallant offer of help. As an ally. He is exactly what you need, right when you need it, and you don't even have to ask him to be. And- because you don't have constant access to him, you maybe haven't even considered him an option!

He feels extremely intentionally sparing to me before this in service of a) making you think you're the one with power over him and b) causing you to forget he might contribute at all, so that when he finally does, it seems wholly benevolent. It comes in a moment where your goals are exactly aligned, and indisputably noble.

It's a waiting game. A classic of his, harkening back to stories we've heard time and again about Fen'harel and traps.

As Felassan tells it in the Masked Empire:

Fen'Harel was captured by the hunting goddess, Andruil. He had angered her by hunting the halla without her blessing, and she tied him to a tree and declared that he would have to serve in her bed for a year and a day to pay her back. But as she made camp that night, the dark god Anaris found them, and Anaris swore that he would kill Fen'Harel for crimes against the Forgotten Ones. Andruil and Anaris decided that they would duel for the right to claim Fen'Harel. He called out to Anaris during the fight and told him of a flaw in Andruil's armor just above the hip, and Anaris stabbed Andruil in the side, and she fell. Then Fen'Harel told Anaris that he owed the Dread Wolf for the victory and ought to get his freedom. Anaris was so affronted by Fen'Harel's audacity that he turned and shouted insults at the prisoner, and so he did not see Andruil, injured but alive, rise behind him and attack with her great bow. Anaris fell with a golden arrow in his back, badly injured, and while both gods slumbered to heal their wounds, Fen'Harel chewed through his ropes and escaped.

He goads his enemies into fighting each other for his benefit. Anaris, who had hunted him, succeeds with Fen'Harel's advice, exploiting a weakness he could only see with his aid. In turn, Anaris himself is left exposed. The victory goes to Fen'Harel, who has now dispatched two enemies at once and cleverly won his freedom.

He who was both Creator and Forgotten One. Who could walk amongst both as kin, and who in the end turned his back on them all.

Another tale:

The god Fen'Harel was asked by a village to kill a great beast. He came to the beast at dawn, and saw its strength, and knew it would slay him if he fought it. So instead, he shot an arrow up into the sky. The villagers asked Fen'Harel how he would save them, and he said to them, 'When did I say that I would save you?' And he left, and the great beast came into the village that night and killed the warriors, and the women, and the elders. It came to the children and opened its great maw, but then the arrow that Fen'Harel had loosed fell from the sky into the great beast's mouth, and killed it. The children of the village wept for their parents and elders, but still they made an offering to Fen'Harel of thanks, for he had done what the villagers had asked. He had killed the beast, with his cunning, and a slow arrow that the beast never noticed.

Felassan is everywhere in the Crossroads, in memories, in regrets, in notes that speak to a time you can barely fathom and traces of a friendship that is never once brought up by Solas directly (to my knowledge at least). I think Felassan serves a lot of purposes; he's a window into history, into Solas' mind and ideals, someone who challenges moments of ruthlessness but is loyal, an advisor who keeps Solas grounded even as he pushes him to become something larger than he is, a lingering notion of a loss that you can never really see the full scale of, and so on. And I think, too, that he's written carefully to be a meaningful presence from the rebellion without explicitly spoiling what eventually happens to him, which I wouldn't be surprised if was a legit consideration made for people who might go back and read the Masked Empire after dav lol- in the same way that Trespasser only really spoils the book if you already know what happens.

But for me, every note signed with his name is almost a tongue-in-cheek warning about what's to come. Felassan. A slow arrow, fired apparently mockingly into the sky, only to strike true when it's least expected. A solution executed with neither kindness nor explanation, serving first and foremost the interests of the one who fired it. Felassan's presence in the game ever so slightly encodes a reminder of who you're actually dealing with and what his core tenants are, whether as an ally or an adversary. You only know if you know, but it doesn't seem an accident to me that this reoccurring name of a general who shaped himself in honor of the Dread Wolf's unorthodox cleverness is so key to these traces of Fen'Harel's past, despite, again, never directly being discussed.

Anyways, to Rook. First, I gotta give a shoutout to Bryony Corrigan, whose voice I used for mine- she honestly made the game for me, especially in moments where I felt unsure of it. I love Rook, I love how they're written, and I love how they're performed. While a complete blank slate protagonist can be really fun, I find putting myself as a player in conversation with limitations given by the game really fun and interesting, and often surprising! And I do feel there's still plenty of flexibility.

My perspective on the relationship between Rook and Solas in Veilguard is specific to how I played of course, and I haven't seen other versions of their dynamic at this point to compare so I can't speak to them. But my experience was as such:

I didn't come into the game wanting to intentionally antagonize him. If he rose at me, I rose at him- and those moments of tension were really, really fun. But I tried to accept what he gave me with a fairly open mind. Skepticism, sure, but also the knowledge that ultimately, we both wanted Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain gone, and he knew them better than I did.

It was really gratifying, then, to see our rocky partnership evolve over time into what seemed like a genuine respect. But it didn't really feel straightforward to me either. For example, the conversation before Weisshaupt held a lot of weight for me: listening to him tell that chilling tale about undermining an enemy with persistent laughter and finding that 'Do whatever it takes to remove those who oppose you' was something we came out aligned on was.... There was an element of foreboding to that. Like, I had found myself actively trying to impress him here! And feeling good when it seemed like I had, but uneasy about how I had done it, even when I agreed with what I'd said.

And of course, after that comes Arlathan. Solas' big hero moment. This is the point in the game where our alliance finally felt comfortable to me. The conversation in the fade after was the first time that it really seemed like we were on even ground. And the game- not just Solas- told me here outright that I had earned his respect! After that, I didn't consider betrayal a possibility for a moment. Honestly, I barely even considered him an antagonist at all, because he had become a partner instead! I was expecting something clever down the line, but I wasn't worried about it hurting me. Our disagreements had been set aside, and the goal of his that I had initially opposed had been so thoroughly usurped I had forgotten that he was even pursuing it. And yes, that's perhaps naivety on my part, but I was so distracted by that not at all being the main plot that I forgot that it actually still was. Which is the whole point, right? He waits until your head is turned the other way to strike.

All this to say, my reaction when you kill Ghilan'nain and Solas uses the instability of the Veil to force you into his prison went beyond shock and confusion. It wasn't until well into his villain monologue that I was able to accept that he had betrayed me at all- having been thus far trying desperately to convince myself that the sequence I was seeing was Elgar'nan playing mind games in retaliation, and not actually Solas.

That prison moment is his Slow Arrow. You are Anaris to Elgar'nan's Andruil, the dagger the chink in her armor, and Ghilan'nain's death the golden arrow striking you in the back.

The wolf chews its leg off to escape the trap.

And I should say, I was coming at this all from the meta perspective of someone who loves Solas and empathizes with him and has never seen him as irredeemable or evil- and I, the player, who believed that all game and is ultimately satisfied with the resolution I got- felt hoodwinked as fuck in this moment lmao!!

There's a line in the prison that Varric has about it being easier for Solas to play the villain when he knows he's causing harm- so I do think he plays up his sinisterness here on purpose. But it's such a slap in the face coming straight off of "You have earned the respect of the Dread Wolf." A true and profound betrayal, at least for me.

And it doesn't stop there! His trickster maneuvers and half-truths aren't done until the credits roll. I love that when you meet again, he is nothing but apologies. He makes every concession- that Varric was a good man, that every victory in this fight has been yours, that he needs you and not the other way around, that he was wrong and made mistakes and betrayed people who never deserved it. And of course, we know from experience at this point that this won't stop him from doing it again anyways. But he never holds back from placing the blame on himself. Agreeing with you. Telling you you're right, and that Elgar'nan must be stopped. He only ever says things that are true. Things that are aligned with your point of view.

"[The veil] will never come down by my hand." Well, yes. Because it will fall on its own when Elgar'nan is dead. You won't hardly have to do anything at that point, Solas, will you?

It doesn't matter if Rook isn't falling for it, because if they don't accept his partnership, they lose! That's it! It's the same as it was at the start, but with the added sting of knowing it probably won't work out in your favor this time.

I remember before launch John Epler saying that Solas sees himself in Rook, which really echoes throughout the whole game for me. There are some ways you could say Solas seems opposite to Rook- and of course this can wax and wane depending on roleplaying choices, but the central conceit of Rook as Varric's recruit is that they are a specialist in being willing to act. And on the surface at least, that's kind of counter to Solas' Slow Arrow, right? Blunt force versus delayed gratification. But not entirely! Because every backstory we have for Rook revolves around a kind of heroism that is unorthodox enough to have left you ultimately punished for it. Like yeah, yeah, you saved some lives.... The optics were kinda bad though, so maybe you could go on a sabbatical for a while?

Rook is, from the start, an unconventional and unsung hero, admonished by some for ruffling feathers that they shouldn't have in pursuit of a noble goal. Not unlike Fen'Harel.

I find, too, that there's kind of a nesting doll of parallels around Rook and Solas as foils that the whole story hinges on:

We see Solas, his regrets plastered on every wall, each of them tied to Mythal. At every turn he seems to warn her that this is not the right path, but he follows her down it anyways, until he is left with nothing but an overwhelming need to fix what they have broken.

We see Felassan, who still wears Mythal's vallaslin on his face, challenging Solas' judgement and methods, but still standing by him through the rebellion, after the Veil, for however many thousands of years they slept. Ultimately, in the Masked Empire, the thing that makes him falter is his admiration for someone else's pursuit of freedom. His admiration for Briala.

"I suspect you'll hate this, but she reminds me of-"

Solas is Rook. Solas is Briala. Upstarts, flawed defenders, people who are made into leaders because of their willingness to fight for something. Who see injustice and cannot rest.

Solas is Felassan, the devoted general. One who pushes against his orders but cannot deny them. Someone who loves the cause, but more than that is dedicated to the person who champions it. A voice of reason who, in the end, turns away.

Solas is Mythal, a pragmatic leader, responsible for uncountable deaths. Someone who has relied on partners and power structures that have led her down a dark path, partners whose mistakes in their pursuit of power have become her own. Partners who in the end betray her.

Solas is trapped in his regrets because they are not all his. He struggles with having been failed and with how he has failed others, and in his mind the two become conflated. He carries these contradictory roles on his back- perpetrator and victim, betrayer and betrayed- and cannot see how to overcome them. He is ultimately freed by Mythal's absolution because the foremost factor in his crusade is not belief but guilt.

The ends have to justify the means, because there is no other way he can live with himself. And at every step, he is trying to redeem Mythal as much as he is trying to redeem himself.

He did not want a body, but she asked him to come. He wanted to give wisdom, not orders. I will always follow where you go.

He left a scar when he burned her off his face.

It was all for her. It was always for her.

Solas' duplicity is unending, but so is his devotion. And there is such an earnestness to a Rook, always betrayed, that sees and empathizes with that and uses it to free him.

* I will say that during the game I was definitely wishing you could show your hand to him a little more and press him about his memories prior to the endgame (and separate from this I have quibbles with the impact of some of those memory reveals- like wrt the delivery just not feeling as weighty as I would like. The payoff is absolutely still there in the end, it just felt to me like they were too nonchalantly getting a ton of info out that had to be established moving forward, despite these being like earthshattering reveals that people have Correctly (!!!!) theorized about for up to 15 years). That being said, in retrospect it would have lessened the impact of the finale to have pressed Solas about, for example, his relationship to Mythal prior to absolutely pulling the rug out from under him with it at the 11th hour. And additionally, it's a structural nightmare because you can uncover the memories at almost any point in the story, and you don't have constant access to Solas to chat with him about them. Which you shouldn't imo, in service to the story being told!! But it's also true that early on I found scenes with Solas super gripping, and scenes with my team often...not. And that was initially disheartening, but developed positively over time on all fronts once the game didn't have to worry about setting things up. So, I did wish for more here at first, but I've revised my opinion now that I can see the whole arc.

[swivi]

Be warned. This is my first time writing something like this, so it may contain some errors. I was actually quite stressed while writing this and didn't want to disappoint anyone so..if you have any suggestions. Feel free to send them to me. Just no hate please and thank you..enjoy🩷

The almighty k'uhul Ajaw is tired of you both being oblivious.

It started as a joke, Ajaw would see you both being close and then proceed to mock kinich about how obvious his crush was for you. Now it was just tiring. It was safe to say the Almighty k'uhul Ajaw was at his limits.

First strike

You both had decided to hang out with each other at a new resturant and ajaw had to come along because of this stupid contract with Kinich...Oh the humiliation he thought. Having to watch you both throw "secret" glances at each other was actually driving him insane. "How much longer?" Safe to say Ajaw could not find his appetite that day. It was true torture for the poor pixel dragon lord.

Second strike

You both getting jealous easily. Whether it was from him talking to mualani and {{name}} getting jealous or you talking to the traveler and him getting jealous. It would never end..The almighty k'uhul was actually close to his limit.

It was another day at the Scions of the Canopy and the traveler and paimon had decided to come over for a visit. While on the way, they bumped into both you and Kinich, who both seemed to be happily walking away..well you were doing the talking while he listened.

As the two walked closer, paimon couldn't help but speak. "Hey..doesn't Kinich seem a little more softer when talking to {{name}}? It's actually quite funny..", The traveler nodded along seemingly getting her point. As the two slowly made their way over to the two people talking. Seeing the traveler and paimon, you quickly waved them over with a smile.

Quickly forgetting about what you were walking about as you conversed with the traveler. It was quite obvious that kinich was glaring at the two and paimon couldn't help but sweat nervously floating over to the traveler. "H-hey...Paimon thinks we should go..", Paimon nervously whisperied to the traveler. The traveler seemed confused at first, before finally feeling the glare as they glanced over, some of the passing tribe members also seemed to be quite scared as they throwed nervous glances at something. The Traveler slowly turned around and, there and behold stood Kinich. He seemed rather calm, but something about how he was staring at the two without blinking was actually quite scary. It basically screamed "Leave before I make you."

Safe to say the two quickly made a excuse to quickly go. Leaving a confused {{user}}, a seemingly happy Kinich and a frustrated Ajaw that had to witness the entire thing.

As the traveler and Paimon walked off, Paimon finally broke down. "That was so scary..Paimon thought she was gonna die!". Paimon yelled in slight fear and panic. For the first time, the traveler seemed to agree as they both scurried away for their lives

Third strike(Final strike)

Everyone has their limits..even the small Pixel dragon that claims to be a god.

Kinich had finally decided to ask you out on a date after 7 long months. To which you agreed to, excited yet nervous at the same time. The date was meant to be on a nearby cliff, when the sun was going down and the world fell almost completely silent. And completely silent it was as none of you had gotten the courage to talk to each other, leading the setting to be quite awkward. That's when he finally had enough, even watching a group of ants would be more entertaining than watching two awkward adults.

Ajaw was practically bright red, as he finally went on a rant. "God! Can you both be anymore dense!? Kinich likes you, he thinks about you every night and almost every thing he sees reminds you of him. And you...", Ajaw turned his pixel body to you. "Your both so obvious that even the saurians probably know you like him! The almighty k'uhul Ajaw is tired of this you hear me tired! He deman-" As quickly as he appeared, the pixel dragon was now nowhere to be seen clearly put in time out as a small sigh escapes Kinich's lips.

A tense silence filled the air around you both, with only the occasional sounds of the wind and birds flying off to god knows where. After what felt like forever. Kinich finally broke the silence, clearing his throat with a light blush present on his face. Kinich turned to you, for the first time...he actually looked quite nervous. Which was surprising. He was always to composed and calm time. As kinich turned to meet your eyes, he finally found it in himself to speak.

"I'm sorry about Ajaw..he can be quite annoying at times, although what he said was true..I've been quite tired of hiding my feelings for you and the truth is, I really like you {{name}}. I know I'm not one with words..and I can be quite blunt at times, but what I speak is only the truth. I really liked you..for quite a while now." Kinich spoke, his voice holding a unusually soft tone to it.

A few minutes later had passed, and it was obvious what had taken place as you both we're now sitting closer to each other. His hands holding yours, as you both looked off into the distance. Maybe having ajaw wasn't too bad, for the first time Kinich thought.

In another space

Ajaw was seen practically fuming with anger as he cursed Kinich in the darkness

"Curse you kinich! Just you wait...the almighty k'uhul Ajaw will have his revenge soon!" Ajaw yelled off in the darkness.

To be continued

"Next chapter: Ajaws plans of revenge"

[doctor-dusk]

𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 | 𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱 𝐭.

well, your second time on omegle definitely wasn't that bad.

warnings: male masturbation, nipple playing, exhibitionism and voyeurism.

word count: 2.4k

part. 1

well, everyone was hyped for part 2 and consequently me too lol, hope you enjoy it :3

your week passed slowly. torturously slowly. all you could think about when your mind was empty was him. you replayed the scene in your head like a movie. your favorite movie, actually.

‘’you've been having your head in the clouds lately,’’ your mother would say when you were caught too distracted. all you could do was smile and agree with her. you really were too distracted to think about anything other than alex.

in the nights that followed, you found yourself sighing between your sheets, vividly remembering every detail, every moan, every eager stroke, and you couldn’t wait to see him again. you found yourself asking too much if your parents were going out again on this friday, needing to contain your excitement as much as possible when your mother confirmed that they were going to a company party where your father worked.

‘’don't forget to take the trash out.’’ your mother told you for the second time as she walked to the door, your father was already waiting for her inside the car.

‘’yeah, don't worry. will you be back long?’’ you asked, but you weren't genuinely worried about whether they would be late, but rather how much time you would have alone.

‘’i don't know. i'll text you, but if it gets too late, don't forget to lock the doors and windows.’’ she said, giving you a brief kiss on the cheek, leaving the mark of her red lipstick like a soft tattoo on your skin.

‘’alright. bye, have fun!’’ you said waving excitedly at them, watching the car leave the garage, the anticipation running through you from the inside out, you just wanted to see the car disappearing from your field of vision so you could finally run to your room.

you left the door ajar, running to the kitchen just to take out the trash, and when you finally found yourself free, you ran back to your room.

your laptop was already on above your bed, the lights on the same way you had left them last friday. you looked at yourself in the mirror on your vanity, seeing if you looked presentable enough for him. you had even put on some mascara, it was almost pathetic to think that you weren't even hoping to want anyone to see your face.

but as you always told yourself, he was different.

you typed the website so quickly that you even got some letters wrong, but the search engine was equipped enough to already have the website saved in the search bar, since you had visited it once.

and of course, you covered your face again. you were no longer interested in talking to strangers and learning about their crazy addictions. now, you just wanted him.

you had been there for almost 40 minutes, jumping from conversation to conversation, hoping to find him, like in a cliché where you accidentally bump into your love interest and end up knocking your books to the floor. but here, as time passed, the uncertainty became greater than your hope.

did he lie? did something happen, did something unexpected prevent him from showing up tonight? did you go to the site too early? too late?

the questions ran like a carousel in your head as you watched the different people in different scenarios pass by like photographs on your laptop screen. you swallowed hard, thinking about giving up. maybe he can show up next friday. or maybe you should stay a little longer. just a little longer...

you stopped skipping conversations as the familiarity of the scene hit you. was it finally him?

you could only see from his chin down to part of his waist. this time, he was facing forward. last time he was sitting on his side. the angle was different, certainly. 

but oh, it could be him, it had to be him. you knew you had seen that fist clenched around that cock before.

you were silent for a while, clearing your throat before speaking.

‘’alex?’’ you asked, bringing your face a little closer to the screen. his hand stopped, and just like you, he also came closer to the screen, and now you could see his face.

‘’there you are.’’ he smiled warmly. ‘’i was waiting for you.’’

‘’and i was looking for you.’’ you answered, pulling the blanket off your face since you no longer needed to hide. ‘’i thought you wouldn't be here tonight.’’

‘’told you i’m here every friday. it's like going to church on sunday.’’ he joked, relaxing a little more in his chair, his toned muscles flexing a little as he found a comfortable position. ‘’is the angle okay for you? i can change it if you want.’’ he asked, adjusting the height of the camera a little.

‘’yeah, that's fine. as long as i can see you.’’ you suggested, seeing a little smirk sprouting on his lips.

‘’oh, i see. you seem to have been really looking forward to seeing me again, huh?’’ he deduced, resting his elbow on the arm of the chair, his right hand resuming his slow and subtle ministrations. as always, you could only see the tip smeared with precum, but it was enough to make your body a little warmer.

‘’i'd be lying if i said no.’’ you bit your lip. something about him made you feel bolder, you didn't know exactly what.

‘’mhmm, that's what i thought. do you want to tell me how your week was? you know i like to hear your voice.’’ he suggested, starting a conversation so you could say something, his breathing was calm, as were the movements of his hand. you could tell that he liked to build the mood of the moment before intensifying it.

you summarized your week as much as possible, sparing some details because you weren't that interested in talking about your week when he was slowly masturbating in front of you, surprisingly attentive to what you were saying, humming in agreement without interrupting you. as much as talking about something mundane while he did this was unusual, you enjoyed it.

‘’it seemed like a pretty tiring week. i'm glad you're here, by the way. i was also looking forward to talking to you again.’’ he admitted, making you raise your eyebrows.

‘’you were?’’ you almost giggled, but you couldn't help it.

‘’oh, you know i was.’’ he said in a purr. ‘’i kind of like seeing you look at me like that. you're an excellent spectator.’’

you felt a knot in your stomach, like butterflies circling inside you like a whirlwind.

‘’can i see more?’’ you asked anxiously. he tilted his head, looking at you.

‘’wanna see more, baby?” he chuckled, his head falling back against the back of the chair as he pretended to think, his thumb ghosting on the tip, spreading the wetness around it in a lazy motion. ‘’let me see... do i get something in return?”

you thought for a moment. it was fair. whether you liked it or not, the only thing you showed him was your face. and deep down, you wanted to be seen by him, little by little.

‘’what do you want to see?’’ you asked, settling yourself in your bed.

‘’anything you want to show me.’’ he replied, his tongue ran over his lower lip, wetting it a little with saliva. ‘’but it's okay if you don't want to show me, i just thought it would make things more interesting.’’

you chuckled. as always respectful. well, he certainly deserves this.

you sat on the bed for a moment, out of his field of vision. you took off your shirt, keeping your black bra. you made the right choice, it accentuated the curve of your breasts, giving the impression that they were bigger. plus, there's a cute bow in the middle.

you lay back down on the bed, your almost bare torso on full display for him, his eyes going a little wider as a lewd smile appeared on his lips.

‘’boobs. i like it.’’ he said and you chuckled, he looked like a child in a candy store, like he wanted to grab you through the screen if he could, his grip on his cock getting stronger without him even controlling it.

‘’yeah? wanna see more?’’ you giggled, playing with the right strap of your bra, stretching it as much as you could to loosen it, the elastic hit your skin and it stung a bit, but it was worth it to see how his eyes darkened at the sight of you.

‘’hell, yes. show me your tits, babe. they must be as beautiful as your face.’’ he instigated you, shifting in his chair, his hard cock was more exposed to you now, the tip was almost red, the excitement was already starting to take over him.

you giggled, your hand ran up to your back, unclasping the bra with one swift motion, you were so used to it that it was no surprise when the straps became looser and you could let the piece slide down your arms, and your chest was finally bare for him to see.

‘’gorgeous.’’ he praised you, his eyes watching you like a prey, his hand almost twisting around his cock, pumping up and down. “play with them, can you do that for me, love?”

you nodded, moving your hand up, tracing a path from your belly to your torso, feeling the bones of your ribcage as you ran your fingers tortuously over your skin, getting close to your left breast, supporting the weight of your body on your right elbow, laying on your side.

your palm landed on your left breast, the contact made your skin shiver, your nipple automatically stiffened, perking up as you squeezed it softly, as if you were kneading bread dough. 

you watched his every reaction, his mouth agape, his breathing starting to get ragged as the strands of hair started to fall down on his forehead because now his hand was moving eagerly, stroking his cock faster, fucking his fist like a desperate. 

you moaned softly when your thumb and your index finger trapped your nipple, squeezing and twisting it, the sensitivity was practically at its peak, your panties were so wet that it was almost uncomfortable. you wanted to touch yourself, but you weren't ready to show him that, not yet.

“fuck, you're so pretty.” he panted, his voice was stained as he watched you giving slight slaps on your breast, making it bounce a bit. “i wish i could cum on those tits, cover you with me.” 

the mere thought already made you delirious, your two hands gripping your breasts tightly, your skin flushed right where your fingers pressed, like a blank canvas being painted red. 

“yeah, just like that, baby. so fucking beautiful, playing with your tits for me, you like that?” he asked you, pausing for a moment to spit on his own cock, the saliva sliding down the tip, down the rest of the length, and soon he moved his hand again, spreading it and making it slide easier. 

you nodded, your lip was trapped between your teeth, but soon you opened your mouth, adhering to his idea, bringing your fingers to your mouth, your tongue running along your digits to make them wet enough so you could spread saliva across your nipples, the wet feeling made everything better not only for you, but for him as well.

he panted desperately, nearing his climax and you wanted to keep your eyes very wide to see him, your boobs almost sticking to the screen of your laptop, as if you wanted to rub it in his face.

“god, i'm gonna-” he said, his sentence being replaced by a broken moan as he came, the jets of cum shooting out of his slit as he spasmed slightly, his hips jerking against his closed fist around the base. “oh, fucking hell…” he trembled, his body completely spent on his chair, just like the last time.

“are you okay?” you chuckled, moving back a little to get back to your starting position, supporting your body on your elbow. 

“yeah, yeah, just… fuck, give me a minute.” he gestured with his hand, he was clearly still recovering, his body was experiencing slight spasms as he wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. 

you gave him time to recover, he blinked a few times, taking a few deep breaths before settling back in his chair and looking back at the screen, widening his eyes a little.

“shit, can you believe it splashed a little on the screen? it even looks like it's on your face, how i wish.” he joked, cleaning the screen of his laptop with a clean tissue, looking for more places where there might be more residue. 

“i do believe.” you chuckled, watching him grab a small bottle of water from behind his laptop to take a few sips. you couldn't explain how wonderful it was to see him like that. 

“tell you what, girl... you wrecked me and i haven't even fucked you. how do you do that?" he laughed, like he didn't even believe it. it inflated your ego.

“i don't know. guess i'm just charming." you said modestly and he chuckled. you adjusted yourself in bed, the material of your panties was sticking to your pussy, your wetness was too sticky and slimy at this point. 

“what?” he asked curiously.

“nothing, i’m just… too wet.” you answered, watching his smile grow. 

“yeah? can i see it?” he asked eagerly, shifting in his chair and getting closer to the screen.

“nah.” you teased, watching him pout. 

“oh, c'mon, you can't just throw this at me like that. now i won't be able to sleep.” he spoke in a dramatic tone and you laughed. “you're a bad woman.”

“maybe next time?” you suggested. oh, of course you wanted a next time. and another, and another.

“ugh, such a bad woman. i don't think i’ll be able to wait until next friday.” he said, his playful dramatic tone still on, making you laugh again. it was true that he wanted to see every bit of you, but you were willing to make him wait. maybe beg for it.

he took his cell phone from the desk, unlocking it after entering the password, looking at the screen again.

“can i have your number? i definitely want a next time.” he asked politely.

“a private session, you say?" you raised your eyebrows, seeing him smile. you both knew very well where this was going. and you couldn't deny that you loved it.

“a private session, baby.”

[sanjisprincesswifey]

jealousy, jealousy ⋆ trafalgar law x reader

summary: eustass helps law realize something

♡: sort of non-canonical wano law content. female reader. 750+ words. sfw content.

law could feel his eye twitch at the sight of you two. it has his stomach twisting in knots and his throat running dry, like some form of horrific torture.

despite being an incredible asset to his team, he was beginning to regret bringing you along on this mission at all.

out of all the people in the country of wano, you had to end up with that red-haired, idiot of a captain. law doesn’t understand how anyone would find interest in that unruly dumbass, but here he was with an arm around you and his face so close to yours that law was sure you could taste his breath.

law never knew exactly what your type was but he wasn’t expecting it to be…that.

“trafalgar, what’re you staring at over there?” the dumbass in question asks, with an obvious smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

you turn at the call of your captain and law bitterly rolls his eyes in response, attempting to act as unbothered as he could right now.

hearing eustass laugh in response, surely making you chuckle too, has an unreasonable, seething jealousy burn in law’s chest. and when he turns back his heart sinks, staring in disbelief as the two of you begin to lean in to each other.

law doesn’t know what comes over him, but his vision grows blurry and time begins to feel like it is slowing down. “y/n-ya, can i see you outside for a moment please,” he strainingly calls. he doesn’t bother to check for a reaction from either of you, but he can assume that one of you isn’t too thrilled to be interrupted.

the moonlight that cascades over wano envelopes your skin in a minute blue-ish tint the moment you step out and law momentarily forgets his distain for a couple of seconds, too engulfed in your beauty to be able to think.

“captain?” you question, pulling his head out of the clouds.

he shifts awkwardly on his feet, scratching the back of his neck. “i, uh—“ he dryly coughs, “i needed to see you for a moment.”

you nod, assuming he would continue and inform you further, but he just stood there averting his gaze between the ground and you. “yes…for what?”

his gray eyes seem more lackluster than normal, which was odd, even for him. law usually was so composed and calm, even in the most dangerous situations, seeing him so on-edge was slightly unnerving.

“captain,” you gently say, reaching over lightly grab his shoulder, “you can talk to me.”

before you can retract your hand, law grabs it to hold in his. “i don’t think you should date eustass,” he blurts out, startling the both of you.

his hand that’s holding yours grows clammy, you were certain even he wasn’t intending to reveal that information.

“i—i mean, he just doesn’t seem like your type…no, wait, fuck—“

your head tilts, brows furrowing as you watch him poorly string a sentence together. in all the time that you’ve known law, you’ve never heard him babble like he is right now before.

“so what is my type?” you question, crossing your arms over your chest.

he thinks about speaking before he actually does, “well…you deserve someone who could treat you, you know, good. someone smart, who knows you and—“

your lips curve into a smile, eyes softening when you realize who he’s describing. “law, that sounds like you,” you interrupt.

law’s entire body freezes, his eyes widen as he looks up at you. he shakily points to himself with a confused, almost humorous, expression on his face. the realization on his face soon sets in, finally taking a deep breath. “…that sounds like me,” he repeats, to himself mostly.

“i didn’t realize you felt that way about me, captain,” you say in a much calmer, almost flirtatious tone as you step closer to him. you reach up to lightly graze the stubble on his chin, bringing his lips closer to yours.

his breath hitches, wanting nothing more than to continue where you and eustass had left off. “wait, wait, wait, as your captain…and future boyfriend, i would like to take you out on a proper date first. it’s the least you deserve,” he blushes, trying his hardest to not give in to the temptation of how soft your lips look.

as disappointed as you are, you have to appreciate his dorky, yet chivalrous, nature (which doesn’t surprise you one bit). “i guess that’s okay, the longer i wait, the more i’ll want you,” you smirk, thumb brushing over his bottom lip as you head back inside.

law stands in awestruck, a small drop of blood descending from his nose.

likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! (✿◠‿◠)

[fortheloveofkonig]

Hello, hope you're having a good day/night

I was wondering if I could request the 141 x Male reader, they know alot of medical like they use their knowledge of the human body against anyone whom threatens them (or people the care about). They aren't a medic are doctor parday but have extensive knowledge of the field that helps the team. Seem cold uncaring and ruthless but if anyone of them is injured its like a total switch of 'mom bear mode' checking them over the gentle hands and worry.

(Kinda of trope of don't mess with the doctor lol)

Summary: TF 141 reacts to Reader who knows a frightening amount of medical knowledge.

Note: I'm going to do this as more of a headcanons type of post ^^ hope this is good enough! ^^ I did 95% of this all in the last 2 hours

Content: Medical speak, Injuries, Slight Torture, Slightly Bad Medical Research, But I Did Research. Roach Talks.

Word Count: 1085

TF 141 x Knowledgeable in Medic Field M! Reader

Ghost

Probably first heard about your knowledge from Soap talking to him about how terrifying it is to see it come into play

Doesn't believe him.

You've always been good at what you do but have never shown any previous knowledge or interest in the medical field so, who can blame him?

There was also no way you could've went to medical school unless you were years above your usual education range

He finally sees it come into play when you two were 'interrogating' someone.

"If you're gonna stab, don't do it right there. Price said he needs to stay alive."

Ghost looks at you, annoyed. "I've stabbed many people and seen many people survive stab wounds of surrounding areas."

"In lower places of the abdomen and with quicker medical care, if you do it there" You point to where he had the knife, pointed at the tied up man's skin. "It could puncture an intestine and we will be fucked. If you want to stab, move the knife below the belly button...about right... right there. Do not remove the knife once it pierces through."

He did as you said, with questions, but still followed your lead.

From then on he watched everything you did, even noticing that you took care of some of the rookies that ended up with minor cuts and damage that wasn't enough to bother the medics with.

Needless to say, he also ended up coming to you for some patch ups, mostly when he wanted to keep his new damage a secret from Price.

He ended up finding it kind of hot during the interrogation thing so he often asked to do things like that with you again.

Soap

Honestly, probably figured out about your medical knowledge after he was being a dumbass with explosives and almost got hurt.

"Go change into some shorts and a tank top." Your voice was in a serious tone as you went to grab a nearby first aid kit.

"Already wanting to see me strip?"

You just glared at him until he actually left and did what was told.

Despite having only a few scratches, you still cleaned them up as best as you could.

You also went on a rant about it too, about how dumb he was

"Do you realize how dumb you are? What if you actually made a big explosion and a piece of shrapnel flew and hit one of the carotid arteries in your neck?

"My What?"

"Do you realize how fast you would've died? Why weren't you wearing any protective gear?"

"I'm pretty bad at forgetting protection."

If looks could kill, he'd be dead.

That was not the last time you had to clean his wounds, he seems to be a magnet for them.

Asks you more about medical stuff, just to get an idea on how much you know.

You know a lot.

Unsure at this point if he hurts himself in new ways just to hear you yell at him for what dumb way he could've gotten himself killed this time.

Gaz

He falls out of helicopters a lot, that's the truth. What's one more time?

This time (and somehow not the last?) he ended up hurting his foot, you were there the whole time when it happened.

When the both of you were both safe in the safety of a van, you got him to put his leg up so you could check it.

"This is stupid" He mutters, "It's nothing more than it has been in the past."

"Shush, let me concentrate" You mutter feeling around his bootless ankle, nodding your head when you hear him hiss at a pointed touch.

"Any pain when you walk on it?"

"Possibly....yes."

"I'm gonna say it's a sprain for now but I think we should take you to the infirmary after we get back to base. Doesn't seem dislocated. Possible fracture though."

It was just a sprain

Was surprised when you spoke fluent...doctor to the doctor.

Honestly felt like a little kid in the doctor's office, watching his parent's converse with the Doctor telling them what was wrong.

Wouldn't have it any other way.

Price

Always knew, almost nothing gets by him unnoticed

Was probably one of the reasons he wanted you on the task force.

He knows how soap and gaz the boys are

Has you teaching rookies how to probably put a tourniquet on.

"What the fuck are you doing? That's not how I taught you."

The rookie you were speaking to just looked down at the dummy that they were working on and the tourniquet, "It looks-"

"Terrible! He's still bleeding out! Retry it."

Definitely has to sit in on these sessions, some rookies have complained to him that you take it too far.

You always just use the excuse that if those were real people and not training dummies, they'd be at fault for letting them die.

He agrees with you.

The rookie looks over at Price.

"Get to it. He told you to retry it. The man is bleeding out."

Mostly just sits in because it's less complaints now that he is showing he agrees with you in front of everyone.

Roach

This fucker needs a friend that has medical knowledge

Much like Soap, it seems like he is a wound magnet

Was probably the first of the 141 that you had to go full protective, medical knowledge out and work on him.

Man's like a tank too, no matter what the day brings to him it seems he's just able to walk it off

You don't let him

"You're limping, sit down."

He just waves it off, "'m good."

"Like hell you are." You walk up to him and grab his wrist, dragging him to a nearby chair and pushing him onto it. "Stay or I'll have Ghost lay on you."

Does not stay.

You cannot get Ghost to lay on him.

You just end up pelting pillows at him until he joins into a pillow fight, and you both end up getting exhausted.

"I'll rest right here."

"Good."

Stubborn but still okay with medical help

Often comes to you with oddly specific questions.

"Hypothetically, if a car blew up in the near vicinity of where I was at, what is the possible health issues that could arise?"

"Well, burn marks obviously, depending on the distance it could be any degree. If it was enough to knock you over, then a possible concussion. Depending if you hit the ground and hard enough, possible broken or fractured bones. Not to even mention the possible pieces of metal and glass flying, and just blast trauma in general. Could cause damage to internal organs with enough force."

"Okay, so...hypothetically, if that happened, I should go to the infirmary?"

"Roach, were you next to a car when it blew up?"

"..."

"Gary???"

You immediately dragged him to the infirmary.

[mikajunie]

how to deal with failure when all you know how to do is beat up yourself (as an adhder)

please read this if you are a chronic self-loather like myself.

i used to hate myself for everything i did; the way i talk and walk, my accomplishments, my daily activities, how i cannot keep up with my peers, all that jazz. and especially as a late-diagnosed adhder this gets worse overtime. i ended up getting into a 6-month burnout, failed 3 classes and have to extend one semester, and i had lost my identity as a person.

overall i was just a breathing, walking flesh with depressive thoughts every day.

but after many many months of rediscovering myself, i have come up with the conclusion that life gets easier when i don't fucking hate myself.

shocker, right? ik this is probably like a 'obviously' type of thing, but i think many ppl with adhd can confirm that this is one of the hardest pills to swallow.

but trust me, you don't need to feel bad!!! and i will tell you how to do it down below. pls read, i hope it helps.

(keep in mind im not a psychiatrist or a therapist btw i just wanna help fellow ppl with adhd)

reminder #1: adhd makes you more prone to making mistakes - beating yourself up for every failure is torture.

as people with adhd, we are more prone to making more mistakes and questionable decisions. we are just built that way. we can work on it, but that's our baseline.

self loathing encourages you to beat up your baseline. your default state. your non-productive mode.

beating yourself up for making a mistake is literally like beating up a cat for sleeping. humans are bound to make mistakes, and us with adhd are bound to make more. it's fine, let yourself breathe. im not saying we cannot do anything right or that our mistakes are permissible, but missing an alarm clock or forgetting things we want to say are not surprising. it's just embedded inside us, so either be miserable for the rest of your life or work on reframing your thoughts on failure in general.

reminder #2: you can learn how to be better even if you don't beat yourself up for it

these neurotypical adults who tell you that you should feel bad about failing are stupid. and whoever tell you that negative reinforcement is needed for you to get better are the dumbest motherfuckers ever.

you don't need to feel bad to ge better.

in fact, once you don't feel too bad about it, you can focus more on how to do better in the future instead of replaying the past over and over again.

literally after almost failing college, i only realized that i should not be hard on myself. literally. i remember deciding i should try being nice on myself and now boom! i feel better AND i actually have been working towards fixing my life more and more.

and you know whats the best part?? i can finally start enjoying my life again!!

reminder #3: not everything you do is a failure. seriously.

this is a thought pattern i keep seeing in every person with adhd.

"nothing i can do is right" WRONG!!!! you do some things wrong but you also do some things right!!!! quit discrediting yourself

now try acknowledging your failures:

cry about it first. let yourself sit in and feel your feelings first. you can continue after you finish crying about it

do some form of meditation that helps you clear out your mind. i suggest just 5 minutes or until you don't feel as heavy anymore

let yourself know that failing is an action and consequence, not a part of your identity. it is not you: you are someone who succeeds and fails sometimes. you can fail, but that does not mean everything you do will be a failure.

identify what kind of failure you're thinking about , why you feel so shitty about it, and what you should do for next time. it'd be good if you could write this down. here is an example from me:

failure: failing out of class

what happened: i failed bc i kept procrastinating and ended up sleeping in, so i could not submit on time

consequences of event: i had to retake the class, paid a significant amount of money, and now i cant graduate on time with my friends

why i feel shitty: i feel so left behind and stupid. i feel like this is such a stupid mistake that was easily avoidable.

and now i have so many thoughts in my mind right now, like "how can i be so stupid? how can i be so careless? this is such a stupid mistake."

now notice. if you also think like this, you are actively judging yourself. you are being so mean to yourself, and for what? would you ever told your friends they are so stupid and dumb for making careless mistakes? even if it's stupid, you wouldn't say it to their faces.

after identifying everything, confirm what actually happened, reframe your thoughts, and apologize to yourself:

"How can I be so careless?" -> It's not intentional, and I did try my best to work on it. It's not my fault my executive dysfunction took over the better part of me.

"How can I be so stupid?" -> Just because I cannot initiate tasks as well as the others, it doesn't mean i'm stupid. i am pretty good at other things, i cannot expect myself to be good at everything.

"This is such a stupid mistake." -> It is stupid, and that's... okay. It's fine. I accept it, I'll work on how to make it better in the future.

when you combat negative thoughts, make sure you combat them not only with facts but also with empathy and future action-focused thoughts.

the key is to focus on what you can do now, not what you should have done.

because focusing on the past is very very unhelpful.

now please focus on what you can do now:

Make small goals for the future.

What you should not say:

"I promise I will try harder to focus" -> Nope, you are relying on your ADHD symptom to not be ADHD anymore... which is impossible.

"I promise I won't forget next time" -> Same thing.

"I promise I will make a routine that I will stick to" -> This is too idealist, don't commit to anything for a long run, it's just setting yourself up for more failure.

What you should say instead:

"Next time, I will try to write it down so I won't forget next time" -> Tell yourself the clear steps on what you need to do. You cannot rely on your brain to just be better, come up with actions that can support you!

"Next time, I will set more alarms and ask a friend to remind me. In fact, I will do it now" -> Commit to things you can do immediately! The faster, the better so you won't lose this momentum. Stop thinking that your future self is 100% reliable. Always assume you need to do it as soon as possible to help yourself in the future.

"Next time, I will try out this routine and see if it works or not" -> Experiment with routines. Routines don't last long, so don't give youreelf empty promises. Instead, accept that your routine will chance every once in a while so you need to learn what works or not.

Apologize and forgive yourself

Say sorry to yourself.

It's normal to make mistakes, and it's unrealistic to think you won't make more.

Move on

Seriously. Don't sit on it too much.

Once you know what you need to do to not fail in the future and you have written it down... just let it go.

You don't need to feel bad to grow. You don't need to feel bad to be better.

You are allowed to feel good about yourself.

In fact, you should feel better about yourself now because you are showing your commitment to getting better by reading this long ass post.

Pat yourself in the back.

Failure has its consequences already, you don't need to punish yourself more. Please get something nice.

Failing is EXHAUSTING. Please give yourself a snack or some gaming time.

Allow yourself to breathe.

We are humans, we are not failures. We succeed and fail sometimes, not all the time.

Be nice to yourself, you have been through a lot.

[ilikepjo24]

Lol another dumb take on reddit

https://www.reddit.com/r/CharacterRant/s/ER8SmBToSm

WOW! There are so many things to unpack here...

"Iroh, the most-" Iroh!? IROH!? THE Iroh!? The "redeemed" warlord that only gave a fuck about being a warlord after it affected him personally? That Iroh? The Iroh that left a child to bare the weight of a nation just bc he, the mature responsible adult, wanted to sit on his ass instead of being mature and responsible? THAT Iroh? It seems awful like both those actions appear to be those of a selfish and unempathetic person. And let's not forget that even after his "redemption" he assaulted June. So how exactly is he the most understanding and kind person in the show, exactly?

Would you like to know who actually is the most understanding and kind person in the show? AANG.

The boy who found it in himself to forgive and learn to have affection for the dude that chased him around the world and almost hurt/killed him and his friends multiple times. The boy who found it in himself to forgive the nation that genocided his people enough to want to help them, teach them their old ways and bring them back to the light. The boy that found it in himself to spare Ozai, a sadistic, manipulative, abusive warlord that wanted to watch the world burn in an attempt to satisfy his narcissism. And may the record note that Iroh did not extended his own brother the same mercy. He believed Ozai needed to die, when Aang didn't. So Aang is more empathetic, understanding and kind that Iroh.

And do you know what Aang has to say about Azula?

That he believes in her ability to do good and be good. That he trusts her to do so. He could have had her executed. He didn't. He could have taken away her bending. He didn't. He could have said she's born evil and a bad egg. He didn't. He put in a good word for her. He said she did something good. That can be good. THAT'S what the actual most understanding and kind person in the whole franchise has to say about Azula.

"She smiles when-" So did everyone else and so does everyone ever alive when justice is served. Because for the audience, the event was unfair and traumatizing. But for the people of the Fire Nation it was justice. And it's only normal for people to be happy when justice is served. When a groomer goes to jail you don't think "oh, that poor groomer", you think "good, this piece of shit definitely deserved it". Similarly, in the Fire Nation, an imperialistic dictatorship, when someone disrespects their Firelord, which they worship as almost a god (if not more, bc we see them worship their Firelord more often than Agni), and that person gets punished they don't think "oh, that like boy", they think "good, this piece of shit definitely deserved it". That's not called "being a bad egg", that's called propaganda and borderline mass brainwashing.

"She mocks-" She's repeating what she heard from adults in her life. That's not being a bad egg, that's bad parenting.

"She tortures-" Not cannon in any way. We've heard that she threw bread at them. Not only was that told from Zuko's pov, who's known to be a biased narrator when it comes to Azula, but it's also not even that freaking bad. It's bread, when it hits the water it becomes soft. No one ever died because they got hit by a loaf of bread. And she doesn't burn them with.

"Her mother's comments-" Oh, you mean the "what is wrong with that child"? That comment? That comment that was thrown at a child after doing a very normal childlike thing? I used to to play execution with my Barbie dolls and beheading them by pulling off their heads and my least favourites would always be the ones that got executed. Kids break toys they don't value and/or like. Azula is not obligated to like or value a gift that wasn't for her. The doll was a gift for every little girl. It wasn't personal. It wasn't hers. She doesn't have to like or value it. She doesn't have to not break it. The only reason that she chose fire instead of execution is because she had fire handy. That comment Ursa made was absolutely not justified.

"She's never given an excuse-" Not only is this take proof that media literacy is dead, it's flat out anti-intellectualism. We see that Fire Nation schools brainwash kids by shoving propaganda in their faces and we know Azula went in a Fire Nation school. All that's left to do is put 2 and 2 together. It's 4. It's fucking 4. Azula was brainwashed in the Fire Nation school that she went to that brainwashes Fire Nation kids. Canon fact. Use your brain.

"Her vision of what she wants is twisted-" What, exactly, is twisted about wanting to be acknowledged by your family that is proud of you, being loved by your family that is supposed to love you anyway, and completing the mission you've been brainwashed into thinking is the right thing all your life? What is twisted about reaching expectations and having a happy family? I'll wait.

"We're supposed to sympathize with the spi- No, we're not. The spirit is very obviously a liar and a manipulator as we've seen throughout the whole damn comic. And it wants to eat her. The spirit is the villain of the story that has been continuously twisting reality to weaken Azula's ambition and will to fight back, so that it could kill her. By the end of the comic we're supposed to know that the spirit is a full of shit and we shouldn't trust what it says, since all it has said throughout the whole comic is lies. Not sympathize with it.

"Rationalizations of her behavior are believe yet unprovable and based on subtext." It's almost like she's not the main character. The show isn't going to take time diving into her background. They are going to only give us subtext and we have to use our critical thinking skills and come to a believable conclusion, as we do. Zuko loving Ursa isn't outright stated at the show at any point, but we know it's a fact because we see it in the way they interact. We know his mother matters to him because he thinks of her and misses her. That's subtext. And we know Azula is not to blame for the person she was bought up to be because Fire Nation schools canonically brainwash their students. That's subtext. You can't selectively decide that this subtext is enough to prove this point, but that subtext doesn't prove that point because it's not outright stated. That's called double standards.

"The show portrays her as being inherently evi-" The show? You mean the same show that didn't even portray the genocider, treacherous dictator (Sozin) and the abusive, manipulative dictator (Ozai) as inherently evil went out of its way to portray the manipulated, abused, brainwashed child as a bad egg? ...Sure. That's what happened.

"Mai and Ty Lee do the same stuff but are portrayed differ-" No, they are not. Mai is portrayed as somebody who abused the power they have over others, since she views ordering servants around as a fun activity, and as somebody who has no empathy towards their family, as she didn't hesitate to agree that her brother has less worth than a king. Ty Lee is portrayed as sadistic, since she's animated to smirk and sneer while taking down soldiers defending their homes. I think she even goes as far as to mock them at sons point, but take that with a pinch of salt. They are portrayed to be classist, sadistic, unempathetic people that only give a fuck about the select few and mystery everybody else. Y'all just refuse to see it because Ty Lee is cute and is constantly infantilized because of it and because Mai protected your lord and savior, Zuko, right after she was done being classist and unempathetic. They are not portrayed as better, you just go out of your way to portray Azula as worst.

"Even in LoK-" Azula is given Freudian Excuse. You just refuse to see it because, as opposed to Legend of Korra, the creators do not chew your food up and spit it in your mouth for you to swallow. You have to put the pieces of the puzzle together and make realization. Which can understandably be hard for people that have a brain the size of a peanut, like yourself.

"It feels weird for a show like Avatar to imply somebody was evil from birt-" It feels weird because it is weird and it is weird because it's something they would never do which is why they didn't do it. You literally just created this narrative inside of your head while understanding that it goes completely against the philosophy of the show. And now it's weird to you that it doesn't align with the show? Make it make sense.

This isn't asking for an Azula redemption arc (although "this fourteen-year-old who was acting under orders of a tyrannical fire lord can't be redeemed" seems incredibly harsh), this is just me wondering why the writers consistently, across mediums, refuse to suggest that she's even the slightest bit a product of her environment? But Zuko gets a pass for pretty much everything more or less? Alright then lol.

This is close to being the smartest thing you have said during this post. Unfortunately it is easy to notice that some of the creators just don't like Azula. That's it. That's the reason why. They don't like her and they don't want her to have a happy ending. So it's good that somebody else is riding this show now. Faith Erin Hicks, as we see from her comic, is not afraid to treat Azula as the victim she is, and is not afraid to lay the blame on the adults that failed her. As opposed to previous creators, she seems to be willing to apply the general philosophy of the show in Azula's character as well. Which is something she's able to do because Azula is not, in fact, inherently evil. She's a victim of abuse and a manipulated child that has done some very fucked up things but has all her life ahead of her to grow up and be better.

Give us a scene of Ozai molding her into the cruel person she is

Supporting and praising bad behavior is enabling it. A good parent would say "I understand that you were upset at feeling as though you were underestimated when you got efficient results, but it's important to keep your cool and respect your instructors since they have more experience than you. If you feel as though the inability of this instructor to stray from traditional paterns is holding you back, communicate that problem with me, and I'll find you a new teacher if it's necessary." Does Ozai do that? No. What does he do? Praise her. What will Azula do in response? Repeat the same behavior to receive praise again. What is that called? Nursing cruel/bad behavior.

Give us a scene of Azula being at least a normal child at some point.

Stealing sweets at a sleepover and recreating scenes from a movie/play with your sibling? I recall doing both those things as a child. We're talking about universal normal child experiences.

Don't vindicate her mother being cruel.

The narrative itself is not excusing Ursa. Azula herself goes to lengths to hold her accountable, actually. The only ones excusing Ursa's actions are Zuko, who's looking at her through rose colored glasses, because she's one of the first people to show him love, and he wants to sing the best of her, and the fandom, for the same exact reason.

Have Iroh say something slightly more insightful than "she's a crazy bitch leave her alone"

Personally, I don't value Iroh's opinion at all. I think he has to work through the issues that he obviously has with himself, instead of projecting those issues onto Azula, which is what he's doing. But since you care about his opinion so much, here's him saying Azula has the capability to find peace.

Here's an easy one: instead of smiling when Zuko got burnt, Azula looks visually horrified. That tiny, tiny change would've made her far more nuanced! It wouldn't be much, but not only would it make the fire lord's actions seem even worse, it shows us that deep down, she does--or at least, did--care! This is more in line with the show's themes and far more interesting than "she's just gonna be super evil hehe".

Here's the thing. Azula doesn't smile because she's just so "evil hehe". She's smiling because Zuko is receiving a just punishment for his actions. At least as far as she's concerned.

Think about it, in the Fire Nation they treat their King as a god. They pray/say an anthem/swear loyalty to the Firelord and the crown every single day. It should be needless to point out that nobody would question the actions of the Firelord. They would just assume that this is the correct course of action because this is what the Firelord is doing.

Azula not only is a subject of that Firelord but she is the daughter of her father. She was 11 when the Agni Kai. At that age, kids do not question their parents. The think things are right because the parents do it. If Dad is upset with Zuko, then Zuko must have done something wrong, because Dad can't be wrong, he's Dad, he's never wrong.

So both as his daughter and as his subject, Azula has been conditioned from the day she was born to think that he's always right. So when he decides to punish Zuko, that's just another instance where he's right. So why would Azula be upset with him for being right? Especially considering that if she were upset with him, it's possible that you would also receive a punishment for disagreeing with his methods.

So imagine you are Azula. You see your dad, who is always right, and is also your king, who is also always right do something. Anything. Do you think to yourself "Why would he do that? That's bad!" or do you think "He's right for doing what he does because he's always right."? She's under the impression that he's a just ruler and father, so why wouldn't she be satisfied at the sight of him rendering justice to the foolish subject that disobeyed? Especially when having a different opinion can result to being in danger?

Do we get anything from the answer to her personality being "bad egg"?

No, we don't. Which is why this isn't what they did. You just have a false idea of pretty much everything regarding Azula's character and how it was handled.

Thus proven.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Fallen || CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!devil!reader Summary: When a young driver wants to make a deal with the devil to get his greatest desire you find yourself forgetting what side of Heaven and Hell you are on. Warnings: supernatural themes, mention of deaths (Jules, Hervé & Hubert), angst, fluff WC: 5k

F1 Masterlist || Bonus Scene

16th October 2013 The kid had no business standing at the crossroads. What could a boy need so desperately that he was willing to part with his soul for it? But it wasn’t your place to question, merely to answer. 

The boy murmured to himself as he knelt on the gravel and started to dig with a pink trowel he had borrowed from his mothers gardening tools. The quiet mutterings brought you amusement as you thought of the surprise he would get when his doubt was proven wrong and you appeared.

He carefully followed the instructions inked on the page that had been torn from a very old book. He reached up to his dark hair with a small pocket knife and cut away a small patch before laying it in the hole he had made. Turning the knife on himself, he whined as he pricked the tip of his finger and squeezed it until three thick blood drops fell onto the strands of his hair.

You would usually laugh at the poor attempt of the incantation to call upon you but instead you sighed as you grew tired of the theatrics. 

“What do you want, kid?”

A small shriek filled the night as he fell back on his ass. “But…but…you…but…”

“Shit, you’re not even old enough to talk properly,” you said as you knelt down to his height. “Go home.”

His mouth snapped closed before scrambling to his feet and wiping the dust that covered his jeans. “Sorry, you gave me a fright. I was expecting…” he looked around and frowned, “never mind. Do you need help?”

“No, do you?” 

He looked genuinely concerned as he searched the dark road and you tipped your head to the side before you remembered that to a human you looked like a 21 year old. It didn’t matter that you had roamed the world for a thousand years, your physical form remained the same.

“I guess not,” he sighed as his shoulders slumped and he kicked his vans at the loose stones as he whispered, “it didn’t work anyway.”

“It was your pronunciation, Latin is a tough language. I’ll let you in on a secret, you can say the incantation in any language and it will work.” You leaned in closer and chuckled darkly. “The devil just enjoys torturing people.” 

“But…but…”

“Great, we’re back to that, are we?” You rolled your eyes and opened your palm, a ball of fire erupting into the night and the scent of sulphur lingering after the flame burned out. “What did you expect when you called me?”

“You…you’re the…dev…”

“Devil,” you offered as his face paled and he stumbled backwards. “Say it with me. De-vil.”

“You’re the devil? But you look like an angel.”

“More or less, there’s actually a lot of us.” You clapped him on the back and grinned when he jumped. “So what can I do for you, kid?”

“I heard you could grant wishes.”

“I’m not a genie, I’m a dealer,” you said with a shake of your head. “You tell me your dream and I make it happen, for a price.”

He chewed on his lip, his conscience trying to warn him it was a bad idea. “What price?”

You flicked your hand out and the piece of paper on the ground flew into your fingers. “You know the price. How old are you anyway, kid?”

“I’m sixteen, today actually.” 

“Congratulations!” You frowned as it didn’t sound quite right and he did the same. “Wait, it’s happy birthday, isn’t it? We don’t exactly have them since we are fallen, not born.”

“That's really sad.”

“Hell help me, you are an emotional one.” You pinched the bridge of your nose as you felt the waves of empathy rolling off the teenager. “Listen, I’m all up for taking souls, it’s my job and I’m pretty good at it, but you seem like a nice guy so I’ll help you out pro bono as long as you don’t cry.”

“Really?” His excitement was almost as infectious as his smile as he grinned at your offer and you could tell that with a few more years of growth and maturity he would be as handsome as those goody-good angels.

“Really. So what’s your dream? And don’t go all ‘Disneyland’ and that shit, make it big.”

“I want to be a Formula One World Champion.”

“Fuck, okay, I said big not gigantic,” you said as you cracked your neck and then your knuckles before rolling your shoulders. “That will take some time to pull off, but we got this, kid.”

“Charles, my name is Charles Leclerc,” he said as he held his hand out. “Do devils have names?”

“Of course we have names, but names have power and I don’t know you well enough to share mine with you.” You shook his hand and he jumped a little at the heat difference since the hellfire made you run hotter than humans. That same heat flickered up your spine as you felt another calling at a crossroad half a world away and so you stepped away. “I’ll check in once a year to see your progress.”

“Wait, that’s it?”

You laughed darkly as thick smoke began to gather at your feet where the earth was opening to your home realm. The teen yelped as a lick of flame encircled his wrist but the scar that appeared just as quickly healed so no one would know he had been marked by the devil.  “Goodbye, Charles.”

16th October 2014 “I wasn’t sure you would actually come, I thought you were a figment of my imagination.”

You stepped out of the shadows and looked around the modest home that should have been full of his friends celebrating his 17th birthday. The air was thick with grief and it made your back ache from the weight of it bearing down on you as you watched the teenager stand with his back to you at a bookcase.

“Maybe I am,” you murmured as you walked over to him and saw his eyes fixated on a photo. 

Placing the photo back carefully on the shelf he turned and you saw the difference a year had made. “I want to make a deal. My soul, take it.”

“Woah, slow down, Birthday Boy, you don’t know what you are offering.”

“I don’t care, I just need him to be alright.” Tears were swimming in his eyes as he grabbed your hand and squeezed tightly. “Fix Jules, please.”

Unable to resist, you reached out and touched the tear that ran down his cheek. Pain obliterated your chest, crushing your insides as waves of memories flooded your senses until you knew Jules just as well as he did.

For the first time since your fall a thousand years ago, you were envious of the angel you had been. You wanted to be the cause of his hope, but that wasn’t something you could give and you tugged your hand from his hold before they could blister his skin. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

“Bullshit! You are a dealer, you said so yourself.”

“That’s not how it works, Charles, I’m a devil. Don’t you see? The deals I make are selfish, the things people want for themselves. You want a miracle,” you sighed and felt the familiar ache where your wings once were, “I can’t do those anymore.”

“You got me into Formula Renault.”

“You got yourself there, kid,” you said as you stepped away. “I just whispered a few suggestions to people I knew would listen.”

It was a little more threatening involved but you weren’t going to let him know that. You hadn’t needed to do anything other than get someone to give him a chance since he had the talent to win all on his own.

“There has to be something you can do,” he pleaded, his green eyes swimming with tears.

You sighed as you stepped away, rubbing your temple as if you could actually get a migraine like a human could. “I can’t make any promises, but…let me see what I can do.”

You faded from the room before you could see the hope that filled his face and followed the memory of his visit to Jules, finding yourself in the shadows of a hospital room. The room was empty except for the young man laying on the bed, wires and tubes keeping his breathing steady. You were struck by the pain you felt and knew it wasn’t real but the lingering effects of sharing Charles’ memory of him, but that knowledge still didn’t ease the ache.

“Azrael, come down here.”

It only took a second for the angel to appear and she didn’t look pleased at being called away from her duties.

“You’re not an archangel anymore, you can’t just snap your fingers at me.”

“Obviously I can since you showed,” you pointed out. “I need a favour.”

“You don’t do favours,” she said as she narrowed her eyes.

“I do now. I need you to leave him alone.”

Azrael looked at the comatose man before reaching forward and touching his forehead and shaking her head. “He’s one of ours, he has to come with me soon.”

“You have no sense of time, whatsoever. Soon could be 50 years from now.” You crossed your arms and stared the death angel down. “I’ll deny three souls in exchange for his life.”

“You’d turn down three deals for Jules? Who is he to you?”

“No one, but he means everything to someone else. Do we have a deal?”

“Deal, he has until I next come back down, no more.”

You nodded in agreement hoping her sporadic trips to earth erred on a lengthier time away this round. Unfurling her wings, you felt a pang of jealousy arise as you watched her fade away only to hear the strong beats of her wings carry her higher.

You aparated back to Charles and found him slumped in a leather reading chair, an album of photos open on his lap. Droplets splattered on plastic sleeves, only to smear into streaks as he wiped them away at your arrival.

“I bought him some time,” you said softly as you fell into the seat opposite him. “I can’t say how long because I don’t know but for now he will live.”

Charles dropped the book as he fell to his knees and clutched your hand tightly, the gesture making you uncomfortable. “Thank you,” he choked as his tears hit your knee through the rip in your skinny jeans and turned to steam. He didn’t seem to be affected by the heat radiating off you, he didn’t seem to feel it at all as he closed his eyes and rested his head on your joined hands. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet, kid,” you said ruefully, pulling your hand back from the touch. “Healing was never my gift. He will have to do that on his own.”

“He will, I know he will,” Charles said with certainty as he rose to his feet. “He’s the strongest man that I know.”

You stood up with a nod and realised this year he was the same height as you, seeing eye to eye after his latest growth spurt.

“I hope you are right,” you said, feeling the floor start to give way beneath you as you willed yourself home. “Until next year, Birthday Boy.”

Charles’ nose wrinkled at the smell of sulphur filling the room and he stepped back at the sight of the black plume swirling around your boots. “You don’t have to wait a year, you can visit anytime.”

“Have you forgotten who I am?” you laughed as the smoke climbed higher.

“Just because you’re the devil, it doesn’t make you bad,” he said with a shy shrug. “You’ve been nothing but kind to me.”

He was right in the fact you had been kind, something no one else would say about you. You couldn’t explain why you were different with him, why you couldn’t treat him like any other advantageous young man wanting to get ahead. There would surely be hell to pay if word ever got out about it.

The smoke reached your throat and pulled you down. “Maybe I made a mistake.”

16th October 2015 Charles would never know it but you had visited him throughout the year. You had kept to the shadows, watching from afar as he graduated to Formula 3 and came one step closer to reaching his dream. You were there by his side when he received the phone call that had devastated him, you had felt Azrael’s presence on the mortal plane and immediately went to him. You didn’t reveal yourself, not when the gut wrenching sound he made had you hate having fallen. You could offer him nothing so you remained hidden, torturing yourself with the knowledge of what could have been.

It was a little before midnight when you arrived at the busy nightclub. You should have just apparated into a bathroom stall but instead you had to produce a fake ID so the bouncer would let you in.

“Guess I can’t call you kid anymore,” you said as you found Charles in the VIP area and took a seat beside him. “Happy Birthday.”

“Who’s this angel, Charles?” his friend asked with a confident grin.

You tipped your head back with a laugh before you recovered enough to say, “You’re barking up the wrong tree there, but you call me D.”

Charles nearly choked on his drink at the snort he gave. “What are you doing here, D? I don’t remember inviting you.”

You leaned closer to see his cheeks flushed pink with the alcohol he was now legally allowed to imbibe in and whispered, “There’s only one place I need an invitation, and despite the name on the door outside - this isn’t Heaven.”

With a huff of annoyance he stood up and made his way out of the VIP area to the packed dance floor. Knowing everyone was completely inebriated you didn’t bother to follow him, instead you suddenly appeared in front of him.

“Leave me alone,” Charles growled as he turned his back, but everywhere he went you were in front of him.

Finally he gave up escaping and you shoved a hand on your hip as you asked, “What’s your problem?” 

“My problem? You lied to me, that’s what!” The drink in his hand spilled over the rim of the glass with the angry shaking overtaking his body. “Jules died…and you weren’t even there. You never visited me and…I needed you. I needed to know why!”

You took the glass from him and tipped the liquid back, relishing the burn of the alcohol down your throat as he stared daggers at you. “I don’t have to explain myself to you, mortal.”

“Well, we never made a deal, so there’s no need for you to be here, devil.”

The words hurt more than you cared to admit and the glass shattered in your hand, ichor flowing from the wounds before they could heal as quickly as they came. Charles' eyes widened at the dark liquid coating your palm and he almost looked worried for you but you weren’t looking at him. Your eyes were fixed on your heels, the shoes uncomfortable compared to the boots you normally wore but you had wanted to fit in. For him.

“You’re right,” you muttered as you freed your hair from the constricting hair tie and kicked the shoes off. There was nothing to be done about the tight red dress until you were home, but you would be there soon enough. “Goodbye, Charles.”

16th October 2016 Try as you might, you couldn’t stay away. Unbeknownst to Charles, you regularly checked in to see what his latest accomplishments were. As it was, he was leading the Formula 3 Championship and was a sure graduate to Formula 2. He raced like he had the devil breathing down his neck, pushing the boundaries to the brink of disaster.

Maybe he knew you hadn’t abandoned him, or maybe he just didn’t care. You knew you definitely shouldn’t have cared but still you watched him grow into a man and mature as his career evolved.

16th October 2017 You had nearly started another war the day Azrael came for Charles’ father. For three days you stood ready to fight the angel of death for Charles’ biggest supporter while he visited the hospital to say his goodbyes. He had lied to his father, telling Hervé that he had signed to a Formula 1 team for the next year and you promised to make it happen - with or without a soul to bargain.

It wasn’t a difficult task to achieve, a small incident with Pascal Wehrlein making a seat available in Sauber. All Charles had to do was keep his head in the game and go fast like he always did.

When you watched him celebrate his birthday his eyes had glanced around the room and you wondered if it was you he was looking for. It was only when those green eyes landed on a family photo you pushed the silly thought away, he was just missing his father.

16th October 2018 “How long have you been there?” Charles asked the empty room.

How he sensed your presence, you didn’t know, but since you no longer needed to hide it you let the shadows fall away. Turning away from where he had been styling his hair in the mirror, he leaned against the dresser and crossed his arms over his broad chest.

His room hadn’t changed all that much, Ferrari posters still covered the majority of the walls but they were also joined by some models posing on hoods of cars. The twin bed had been upgraded to a double and was covered in a red and yellow bedspread that clashed with your trademark black outfit as you lay across it.

“How often do you do that?”

“Do what?” you asked innocently as you stared at his ceiling and not his narrowed eyes.

He waved a hand over your leisurely state. “This.”

You got off the bed and stalked across the room to the Formula 1 racer and found you had to look up at him even with the heels on your boots. “Don’t mortals leave home by now? I thought the 21st birthday was some big right of passage.”

You reached for the tub of hair product and sniffed at the vanilla scent before it was swiped from your hand. It smelled edible and there was another scent that was just as good but you weren’t sure what it was or where it was coming from until you leaned closer to him and inhaled.

“I just bought an apartment but it’s not ready for me to move into for a few more weeks. Will you stop that?”

“What is that smell?” Your head was swimming as if you were high but that wasn’t possible. “My head…”

You could barely stand upright as you felt drunk all of a sudden and Charles caught you as you stumbled back. “Sit down,” he said softly as he guided you to the edge of his bed. “Why did you come back?”

Your head lolled onto his shoulder and the room spun as the truth tumbled from your lips. “I never left you,” you admitted, your words slurring as the intoxicating smell left you dazed. “Not when Jules died…or your father, never…”

Charles frowned as your eyes closed and you fell back on his bed. He had spent so long blaming you, being angry at you, believing you had abandoned him when he needed you most but as you murmured in your strange state he realised he had it all wrong. 

“D?” he called out as he shook your shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You tried to open your eyes but they were too heavy and you curled into a ball as your stomach churned. “Because I shouldn’t care. You’re just a human.”

“But you do care,” he surmised as he grabbed the blanket and draped it over your shivering body. 

“Devils don’t care.” You could hardly talk through your chattering teeth, the blanket doing nothing to warm the ice that had seeped into your being.

Charles curled himself up against your back and tightened his arms around the blanket as he tried to warm you. Nothing seemed to work until his voice spoke softly in your ear, “Then maybe you’re not like the others.” 

The silence grew and he thought you had passed out when you muttered, “I had nowhere else to go.”

“What do you mean?”

“There was a war…couldn’t choose a side…threw me out.” A yawn silenced your words and you snuggled into his arms, your nose finding that delicious scent strongest on his neck where you nuzzled deeper.

“My cologne,” Charles whispered and you realised you had asked aloud what it was. “You’re like a cat high on catnip.”

“Haven’t been high since I had wings.” You giggled, a sound so unlike you, but it turned to a sad sigh. “I miss my wings.”

Charles brushed your hair back from your face but you didn’t have the strength to open your eyes. “What colour were they?”

“There isn’t a colour to describe them. But you can see it at dawn…look to the east…the last star in the morning sky.”

“The Morningstar?” Charles looked down to see your lips parted with a soft snore and reached into his pocket for his phone. There was no way he was going to leave you in the state you were in, not even for his own birthday party.

16th October 2019 You had thought Azrael had forgotten the deal you made but she made sure to remind you of it when she crossed paths with you at the Belgium GP. Charles’ head had snapped your way the moment he heard the crash and you shook your head sadly. The only reassurance you could give him was that the young driver’s soul was at peace. 

Before leaving with her precious cargo, Azrael had given you two months to keep your end of the bargain and you didn’t want to test her patience. The crossroads had been quiet and it took nearly the whole time to find three souls worthy of denying a deal, most people who offered their souls for their greatest desires deserved the eternal damnation in return.

As soon as your task was fulfilled you returned to Charles, to the only place you felt at home. After waking in his arms a year ago you had struggled with the duties expected of you, finding more and more excuses for the downturn in deals. After waking in his arms, you wanted to be more than what you were. You wanted to believe you could be more, like he believed in you. 

“D,” Pierre greeted as he joined you at the bar. “Still looking as lovely as ever.”

“Still the charmer.” 

His attempt to shift closer to your side was blocked by the heat radiating from you and he pulled back with a frown, brushing the oddity off in his tipsy state. “Where have you been?”

“Here, there, everywhere,” you answered absentmindedly as you felt Charles’ presence before you spotted him. “I travel for work.”

“Let me guess - modelling?”

“Dealing.”

“No way!” His eyebrow shot up and he leaned in to whisper, “Drugs?”

“Not quite,” you said with a laugh. “Something far more lucrative.”

Charles’ hand came to rest on the small of your back and his lips brushed your cheek. “Sorry I’m late, ma diablesse. What are you drinking?”

“I could do with a-” your voice trailed off as a fissure ran through the air and you turned to see what had just walked in the door. “Hold that thought.”

“What’s wrong?” Charles asked but you were already weaving your way through the crowd. 

Waves of power rolled off the beast but no one would see the tusks spearing out of its face or the black soulless eyes, they would merely see a mountain of a man and a vibe that warned them to move aside. 

“This is a bit out of your territory, Fowler. What are you doing topside?”

The demon looked over your shoulder and smirked. “Heard some interesting rumours.”

“And what rumours were those?”

“That some darling angel was caught up with a mortal, helping out for free. You know the rules. No soul, no deal.” Fowler’s hand snapped out and caught your throat, his claws threatening to tear it out. “Don’t forget who took you in when your family threw you out.”

“Fuck you, I’ve more than paid my debt,” you spat as you grabbed his wrist and seared his skin with the lick of your flames. “Don’t come and threaten me.”

“I don’t have to threaten you,” he chuckled as he cradled his hand to his chest and looked past you to where Charles was pushing his way to your side. “Mortals are so weak, a little accident is all it takes.”

There was no way you could let Fowler return to Hell with the information he had, your weakness, so you did the only thing you could to protect Charles. You rushed the demon as the ground opened, disappearing into the pit with him before Charles could follow. You called all of your power and funnelled it into your fire, pouring it down the demon's throat until he was smothered by the flames and a smoking husk that turned to ash as you crashed to the ground. 

“Morningstar, what is the meaning of this?” 

You bowed to Beelzebub before kicking away the ash that had settled on your boot and painted a dark smile onto your face. “He interrupted a deal, I couldn’t let that grievance go unpunished. Or did you want me to forgive him?” You challenged him with an arch of your brow until he huffed a sigh and waved the question away with the whip of his tail. 

“So where is the contract for the soul?”

“Did you miss the part where I said he interrupted the deal?”

“I’m not sure if I liked you less as an angel or not,” he uttered from his throne of skulls. 

“I have that effect.” You started to leave the way you came but a chain snared around your ankle and locked into place before you could escape. 

“Not so fast.” You were thrown onto your ass as he yanked the chain and dragged you to the foot of his throne. “I find myself short of an enforcer,” he said as he looked pointedly at the pile of ash you had created.

“So find another,” you growled as you tried to melt the chain but it merely absorbed the heat you poured onto it, “there’s no shortage of brainless fools ready to serve you.”

“But look how that ended,” he laughed. “How about a deal? Ten years as my enforcer for your freedom.”

Freedom. Ten years was nothing, just a blip to an immortal, but you weren’t thinking of yourself. You were thinking what ten years would be for Charles. Would he have a wife and kids? Would he have won his world championship? Would he remember you?

“Two,” you countered.

“Five.”

“Deal, but on one condition.” You stopped fighting the chain and rose to your knees. “I want a soul.”

16th October 2024 You were beyond exhausted when you stumbled into the bedroom, using the last of your strength to find your way back to him. The last five years had been brutal and it was a miracle that you had survived to complete your end of the deal, much to Beelzebub’s chagrin. The bastard had thrown every impossible task your way but you had something he could never understand, hope. And it kept you fighting to the bitter end. 

You crashed onto the bed as your legs gave out and he leapt up at the intrusion, the bedside lamp lighting up and illuminating his silhouette as he stared at you wide eyed. “Ma diablesse? You came back…”

“Always, Birthday Boy.” You reached for him, needing to feel him with your own two hands after missing him for five years. It was his face that had kept you alive and you cupped his jaw to pull him closer only to freeze at what you felt. “Charles?”

“What? What is it?” he asked with panic as he placed his hands over yours, holding them tight to his cheeks.

“You have a beard,” you whispered, turning his face to the side to see the styled hair on his jaw. “When did that happen?”

Charles laughed and pulled you into his arms, burying his face in your neck as he crushed you against his chest. “I can’t believe you’re really here.”

“I would have been back sooner but I made a deal with the devil.” You reached into your pocket and pulled out an unassuming medallion. “A soul, my soul.”

Charles frowned in confusion as he trailed a finger over the symbols of an ancient language long forgotten. “What do you mean?”

“No more devil deals, if you’ll have me, I would be human.”

Shock rippled through his features. “You would give up immortality for me?”

“Hell is an eternity without you,” you said before you pressed your forehead to his, sharing his breath of life. “And if I never make it back to Heaven at least I will have had a moment of it here with you.”

Bonus scene here.

[poppinspops]

Hey I was just wondering if you could do a descendants 4 Hades x Maleficent x reader were the reader is the kid of the big bad wolf (or the younger version of the big bad wolf) so shes a werewolf and its close the full moon and she feels psychically sick and achy and shes been unintentionally avoiding them the past few days and they get worried. If you do this thank you so much.

Werewolf season

Paring: Hades x Big bad wolf reader x Maleficent

Genre: hurt/comfort, happy ending ofc & werewolf changing described kinda like growing pains..

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, descriptions of pain, cursing, and Grammer/possible spelling errors that I'll fix later

A/N: I was watching an ever after high edit whilst writing this, so if she reminds you of a certain wolf girl.. anyways I'm so sorry this took a hot minute, schools coming up but I hope u like this still!!!

God, was it torture to be in class right now

I mean, how could you stay focused in class when the full moon was coming in two days.

You started your werewolf changing process, which was rather slow this year, taking a full week to start, and of course, the changing process was causing you to be more paranoid, mainly more paranoid of hurting others around you because some werewolfs couldn't control themselves when in their werewolf forms, you being one of the unlucky people.

An incident of this being when you fully changed and attacked a student in freshman year, almost getting yourself expelled if it wasn't for your parents arguing with merlin about how horrible and a 'punch to how werewolves are already treated as monsters' so he'd be setting back all werewolves by years back and adding that you couldn't control yourself in that state making it not your fault

And clearly, your parents won that argument as you're still attending merlin Academy.

And so here you where practically laying on your desk in this boring history class with clenched teeth, wanting nothing more than for it to end.

You forget every year how painful the changing process really was as you felt sick, not a cold sick. Your whole body felt like it was growing and stretching from under your skin, and it was.

Bouncing your leg under the table, trying to distract yourself from the pain you were in as you spaced out or tried to space out, it wasn't really working all too well.

Your eyes kept flickering towards the clock, 10 more minutes until this class ended, you rolled your eyes, they now had a weird itchy feeling so did your hands balling them up and closing your eyes waiting out the minutes till you could run to your dorm room away from the prying eyes of your classmates

Honestly, this class wasn’t all that bad. The teacher was lenient to you being as she did, she'd research on werewolves and could hold your attention for long enough.

But a certain fae, your girlfriend that you just so happened to be avoiding, was currently staring holes into your skull with a slight worried expression on her usually blank face

You had almost forgotten you shared this class together and where seatmates... well, you two didn't actually sit together, but the kid she stole the seat from was too scared to get it back, so it was her seat now.

You felt her hand on your shoulder as she stared down at you. "You've been ignoring me and hades." She said, not caring for the teachers annoyed expression. When she interrupted the teachers rant, she was more focused on her girlfriend, who had been ignoring her and their boyfriend almost all week.

She didn't understand or know why

"I dont know what you're talking about. " You mumbled out a blatant lie through your clenched teeth, eyes avoiding hers.

Maleficents eyebrows furrowed at the lie, her mouth opening to say something but was interrupted by the teacher. "maleficent, i will send you to the principles office if you interrupt me again, im teaching you can talk to your girlfriend later." Maleficent rolled her eyes at the teacher but stayed silent, returning to staring at you

The teacher looked at you, shaking her head but continued on with her boring rant about some old witch called 'glinda' and all her good deeds she'd done for some girl from a place called Kansas. Who would name their kid glinda?

The bell rung signaling classes was over everyone had stared to get up gathering up their stuff to leave but being stopped by your teacher as she spoke loudly "class i will be assigning homework for you to do tomorrow."

Your whole class could be heard groaning and complaining from down the hall as they all packed up their things to leave the classroom. She was the only teacher to assign homework when Castel coming was happening in a week

You had already been out the door the second the teacher finished, heading straight for your dorm

If you had looked back, you would have seen a confused and almost hurt look on your girlfriends face as you practically ran away from her

You'd been lucky enough to get a dorm with a girl that had a boyfriend, so that meant she was never really there, so you had the whole dorm to yourself most of the time

As you rounded the corner, you collided with someone, stumbling back as growling at the person looking up to start yelling at whoever almost made you fall only to see hades your other partner you were avoiding.

Hades looked almost caught off guard by you growling at him. He'd seen you growl at others before, but never him. But that wasn't the only reason for his concerned look

You looked bad. Your hair was messier than normal, your nails looked sharper, almost claw like, and your eyes were blown wide and seemed to have this glow to them, making the normally cocky God concerned

"Are you alright?" He asked, almost uncertain of his words as he stared at his girlfriend who was looking anywhere but at him "I'm fine, I really have to go so..!" You said almost too quickly as you ran past him and towards your dorm you could hear him call out your name but you didn't turn back

Once you got to your dorm, your roommate not being here per usual you flopped onto your bed backpack thrown somewhere across the room as you immediately curled into yourself tail wrapping itself around your front as you just wanted to stay in bed and rot.

Your body ached in places it normally wouldn't it normally shouldnt. your body was growing, changing and it hurt is bad your nails digging into your arms as you held yourself tears brimming in your eyes as you wanted someone to stop it, wanted someone to hug you close without you accidentally hurting them in the process..

As you laid there you heard a knock, not a gentle one, one that makes you jump at how hard it was but it abruptly stops another person is seemingly yelling at someone and soon comes more gentle knocking oh.. you knew both of those knocks maleficent and hades where knocking at your door.

You slowly sat up staring at the door, contemplating if you wanted to open the door knowing your partners that you've been avoiding like the plague the best you could where standing on the other side of the door waiting for you

Begrudgingly, you sit up, sitting on the edge of the bed for a minute or two and getting up your bare feet touching the cold wood floor making you wanna crawl back into bed but you couldn't, not now... sadly.

You slowly walked closer to the door as you hearing the two bicker through the door, making you sigh out loud before twisting the door handle, looking down at your hand and noticing just how long your nails are and how they look a bit dirty before looking away and pulling the door open

The twk stopped arguing when they noticed you standing there, still holding the door handle, turning towards you. maleficent was the first to speak as always

"Why are you ignoring us, and don't say you aren't because you are blatantly." She said, crossing her arms as she spoke, her voice flat like she didn't care but her slightly raised eyebrow, and the way her eye twitched told you otherwise..

hades preferred to stick to snide comments, but he still nodded at what maleficent said, furrowed eyebrows and a frown

You took a breath already regreating your choice of opening the door as now you're being greeted with the consequences of ur actions, actions being not telling your clearly worried partners about being a full werewolf not just the whole werewolf traits and such.

You looked at them a frown of your own now on your face. You stayed quiet for a bit, trying to think of what to say, but your head was empty. There wasn't anything you could say that would be a good excuse, so you kinda shrugged, standing there before you quickly tried to close the door and end this rather tense and awkward silence

But you where stopped by hades boot that was now in between the door keeping you from closing the door, before his hand pushed it back open you looked at the door than him, then maleficent before sighing as you knew they wouldn't leave you alone till they knew why you where ignoring them

"Don't just close the door. We're just worried about you, and we deserve an explanation." Hades said as he looked at you. "You've been avoiding us. Why?" He said as you stayed silent looking away as you realized you couldn't hide this anymore even if you wanted too.

It's not like it was that big if a deal it was just.. you were a bit ashamed for no apparent reason but still

You put a hand on your side that felt a bit like it was streaching, which it was, and it hurt a bit. "I just... I'm sorry, yeah, I've been purposely avoiding you guys it's just.. im a werewolf, and I didn't want you two to think differently about me, so I hide it. " You took a deep breath before speaking awkwardly laughing a bit before continuing."I know it's really not that big of a deal, but it is to me! Being a werewolf is frowned upon, and i was afraid that if you knew, then you wouldn't want to be with me anymore, I guess.."

You took a shaky breath before looking at the two who stayed silent in the doorway. They both had strange looks on their faces that made your heart twist in your chest as the longer they stayed silent, the more you were sure they didn't want to be with you anymore nkt that you'd blame them you did lie to them..

You were one of the monsters people would tell stories to their children about to scare them from going too deep into the woods

Maleficent rolled her eyes as she spoke, "That was the reason you were ignoring us?" Making your eyes snap over to her before shaking your head, yes. "I mean, yeah, it was -"

Maleficent interrupted you as she spoke as if you had said the stupidest thing ever. "Well, that was a stupid reason. We've been together for two years, and I truly couldn't care less what you are. you're our girlfriend either way, beast or not." She stated, shaking her head as hades let out a laugh, making maleficent hit him in the side with her elbow

Now, it was your turn to feel slightly stunned. You felt silly for worrying about what they'd think now that they were here. You really were worrying all for nothing, eyes stinging, and the fatigue finally hitting you

Hades rough hand came to your shoulder lightly pushing you aside so that they could come in instead of standing outside of your room

A softer hand grabbed yours, being careful of the claws that now replaced your nails, leading you over to your bed sitting on the large bed, placing your head on her lap as you almost curled up immediately in her lap, bottom lip wobbling a bit

Hades moved your legs so that they were now resting on top of his lap as the two stayed silent, just listening to your slightly incoherent mumbles, and every now and then groans of pain

Maleficent already figured out that you must be shifting still. That may be why you've been more flightly than normal and more... emotional as the tears in your eyes just from your head in her lap only proved her point

Hades drew patterns on your leg that calmed you down a bit. You'd say it was the hand motions when asked, but truly, it was just his touch

Maleficent silently and skillfully undid your cape strings that were tied securely under your chin, slipping the soft meterial off of your form tossing it onto your floor. You'd complain about that later

With the cape gone now, there could be seen two small ears and a long tail that would most likely get bigger in the next two days when you actually shifted fully.

But no comment was made about it, just a comforting silence from your partners as you drifted off, succumbing to sleep in your lovers embraces.

[buggybambi]

femmes en colère | carmen berzatto

when carmen's former head chef shows up, it may be your rage or the pregnancy hormones causing you to walk over to him ─ 844 ─ fem/afab!reader, pregnant!reader, reader yelling at his former head chef, some cursing

ʚɞ

You were the nicest person Carmen Berzatto had ever met. Ever since you and him met, you had been the calmest, sweetest girl he could have ever met. And ever since you'd gotten pregnant nearly six months ago, he started seeing you differently. The pregnancy hormones brought out a more attractive yet angrier side of you.

It was the busiest night of the Bear so far, and from the second Carmy came back into the kitchen from his brief appearence in the dining room, he's got tears in his eyes. Hands nervously shaking his hands at his sides as he takes deep breaths.

You're perched near Natalie as she holds a tablet in front of you, talking over some details with you. Both of your eyes are drawn to Carmy as you (lightly) shove her away, making your way over to your distraught husband. "Are you okay?" You ask, though you think you know the answer. But his shaking of his head confirms that. "Sugar, take him into the office. Get him some water." You direct as Natalie does so.

You walk over to Richie, whose staring at the dining room area. There, sat at one of the booths, is Carmy's former head chef. His image engraved from the time Carmy showed you an article he was mentioned in.

"Shit. Why is he here?" Richie asks, his voice low. You shake your head. "Hell no. Not tonight, uh-uh. Take over the table orders, make sure Carmen's okay." You say, as you shove open the doors. Smoothing out your hair and dress, you walk over to the table the chef is sat at. "Hi there. My name is Y/N Berzatto, I'm the chef's wife. I am just such a huge fan, do you mind if I sit?" You ask, rubbing your stomach.

The man smiles. "Take a seat. I'm shocked Carmen has a wife. And a child on the way it appears." He comments. You laugh. "Oh, you know he is such a good guy. You must have been the best teacher, he tells me you're really smart." You say, a smile on your face.

"Oh, well thank you, I tried with-"

"Yeah, so I really don't understand how you think it's acceptable to show your face here after the hell you put my husband through." Your smile then drops.

Carmen steps out of the office, a hand running through his hair. "Where's my wife?" He asks, fearing the answer. Richie watches from the door, and when there's no answer, Carmy steps over to it, beginning to watch you. They open it a little, just enough to overhear the conversation.

"Should we stop her?" Richie asks.

"No, no, I wanna see how this goes." Carmen answers.

The chef stares at you, almost in disbelief. "Excuse me? Who the hell are you to talk to me like this?!"

"I''m the wife of the chef who was put through emotional torture by you. Do you actually believe it is acceptable to 'teach' people through methods of verbal abuse? You told him he'd be better off dead, did you think he'd forget that by morning?" You question as you lean forward. "Or maybe you were under the impression I'd forget he told me that, or that I'd forget his face. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't do this to every person whose insulted Carmen because I wouldn't have a chance to rest, right? But I don't despise those people."

"I don't appreciate-"

"All due respect, I don't give a damn what you appreciate. I don't care if you appreciate my tone or don't appreciate my attitude. I know the staff back there, don't appreciate what you put him through. I almost didn't come out here but you better be glad it's me and not his crazed family. They're really scary some times, even worse then me right now, if you can believe." You smile, exhaling as you stand up. "I hope you enjoy your meal, sir. I'm sure the chef would love all the positive comments you have to give." You turn, walking back into the kitchen.

You can hear the faintest "bitch" come out of him, and as soon as you're turning to go at him again, Carmen and Richie are suddenly pulling you off. They pull you back into the kitchen, as you exhale. "I really don't like that guy." You mumble.

"Are you okay?" Carmy asks. You nod, pulling him into a hug. "Are you?" You question in return as he laughs. "If that's how you react everytime he's around, I will be. Those pregnancy hormones are something else."

"Yeah, I'm actually kind of scared to piss you off now." Richie comments as you smile. "Aw, I could never hurt you, Richie!" You say as you turn, going back over to Natalie. She grins. "You really are something else, I may use you as my new backup." She says.

Carmen watches you as Richie stands beside him. "You're scared of her too, right?" He asks softly.

"Scared shitless." He answers before going back to work.

[arctichotch]

the cod boys at the eras tour ✨

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish:

this man might actually be more excited for the show than you are.

he’s made his own friendship bracelets, handed some out on base. he would never mention it, but he saw ghost wearing his while training rookies.

a dedicated swiftie, knows the setlist off by heart. makes a list of surprise songs he wants.

only listened to taylor for you, but fell in love with her. wants to buy the poster from your show.

maybe tears up a little seeing how happy it makes you and loves that you guys can share this together.

beyond fascinated at the pyro during bad blood. maybe you shouldn’t tell him about the picture you sent to ghost of johnny eying up all the fire.

won’t take any mocking that he’s a taylor swift fan. that’s his singer and he will defend her to the death (not literally but close enough)

Simon “Ghost” Riley:

less into her and more reluctant to attend the show with you. doesn’t understand why you wouldn’t want to go with a friend instead of him. he doesn’t think he’d fit in.

definitely the tall ass boyfriend who blocks people’s view and feels bad about it.

allows you to jazz up a balaclava of his for the show. he normally wouldn’t wear one in public, but he doesn’t exactly feel comfortable in a crowd of thousands, especially with his scars. doesn’t want to scare kids (:()

listens to you talk for hours about taylor swift. anytime you guys are driving together, she’s playing.

wouldn’t consider himself a swiftie, but he knows his stuff. you saw him swaying at times and vibing to shake it off at the show.

you love any reference to ghosts in her songs, even though they’re mostly extremely depressing, because that’s your man!!!!

one of the best nights of his life, but he’d never admit that.

thinks the tortured poets department is one of the best albums ever made. listens to it constantly when he’s away from you.

John Price:

this dude is old!!! he’s not really that old, but acts a lot older than he is! so he honestly doesn’t have a clue who this “taylor swift” is when you two first get together.

boy, does he know her now.

honestly, a swiftie. he can’t deny it. she has some bangers.

cheered you on when you were in the ticketmaster battle to get tickets, not letting on that he was also in the queue on base with his own code. ended up surprising you with the tickets after your attempts failed. will never forget the look on your face.

(he definitely also had selfish reasons trying to get tickets. he just has to go!)

loves it. i mean he doesn’t look like he’s in the eras tour spirit but inside he’s feeling it. looks like someone’s grumpy scary dad, but also knows a solid 80% of the words.

he was big into rock and metal type bands when he was younger. went to tons of shows as a teenager before enlisting. this was his favourite he’s ever seen.

can’t stop admiring the technical aspects. finds it all fascinating. thinks he could’ve been a roadie in another life.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick:

now this man has been a swiftie since before you two got together. teardrops on my guitar was his jam in secondary school.

glad he can be open with you about how much he enjoys taylor swift when you are together.

you both compiled a comprehensive list when trying to get tickets. with who was going to try for what shows, budgets, codes, dates, times. it reminded him of a mission brief. almost with the same stakes.

you ended up getting tickets for 3 shows across the UK.

had the best time at all of them. would go another 18 times if he could. kept noticing things at each show that he hadn’t seen before and you both kept pointing different cool things out to each other.

definitely one of the best summers of his life, and he got to do it with the love of his life by his side.

cried when the kids got brought up for the 22 hat.