#I kinned him when he used to say he didn’t know anything

[moniehon]

Smart boi

#I kinned him when he used to say he didn’t know anything #gdfgvfhbgj #mdzs #mdzs fanart #mo dao zu shi fanart #the untamed #nie huaisang #mdzs nhs #nhs #nie huaisang fanart #my art #giu art #procreate #fanart

[atrwriting]

trust me -- billy the kid x barowner!reader

hi everyone :) sorry I've been MIA — law school has been kicking my #ass but it's ok. I saw the new thg movie and while IAMNOTACORIOSNOWSTAN but I am a t*m bl*th and the man was so fine in this show. so fine. I've only seen like three fics for this man (maybe I just don't know how to search correctly thats probably my fault) but I was SEARCHING FOREVER and then I just got pissed because I couldn't find any so I wrote almost eight thousand words for this man that is how down bad I was

informal warnings: me. 1) I should be put on a leash 2) I use italics way too much 3) and whatever the fuck this "—" is 4) will i ever give up the female bar owner trope 5) will I ever stop tho? [vanilla ice voice] no, I don't know

as always, the actual warnings: smutty smut smut SMUT!, unprotected sex (1880's bby but you still gotta wrap it before you tap it), violence, guns, bit of gore but like the tiniest bit, virgin!reader, p in v sex, oral sex, bit of a dom!billy, bit of a bratty!sub!reader, overstimulation what can I say I should be put on a leash

anyway.... here's trust me:

when your father died… it was hard to be sad. he wasn’t very kind and he never seemed to like you very much… but in his will, being his only surviving kin, he left you money.

a lot of it.

and an old building.

the town it resided in was convenient in the way that many people that were passing through had to stop there. so what did you do? well, the only thing you could do — turn it into a restaurant and boarding house.

the money he left behind was used to fix up the place and pay your employees.

within a few weeks time, your place was up and running with very little vacancy. families and important people were always in your bar or comfortably in their rooms. never had you ever thought someone could be as lucky as you.

until one day. that day.

you worked alongside your employees but flipped between positions. sometimes you were a hostess, ran the front desk, a bartender, or anything else that needed tending to. in response, many people did not know you were the owner — and, therefore, some people treated you like you weren’t.

mainly gross old men, which you could handle. however, when a young, strong, and tall man challenged you?

that was dangerous. too dangerous.

even a fake wedding ring didn’t steer them away.

on that day, a young blacksmith had found his way into your bar. he was handsy with you much of the night, and you tried your best to steer him away. it wasn’t until you pulled a knife on him that he finally let up. it didn’t look like anyone saw, but still — you were scared and worried. would people think you classless, for pulling a knife on a patron? would they see you as weak? would they notice that the alcohol you served brought in too rowdy of a crowd? would they stop venturing in?

you thought no one noticed, and tried to convince yourself of that fact — but you were wrong.

when you were closing for the night, mostly everyone had left. a small group of men usually stayed until close — and you didn’t mind. they drank well, paid their tab, and were mostly quiet and polite. you didn’t know any of their names — but it was usually bad when you did know a patron’s name, so you liked them.

you had your back turned to the front of the bar, stacking bottles, when someone cleared their throat from behind you.

“ma’am?”

you turned around.

a tall, fair skinned man with a hat stood before you. his clothes were old and worn, and his fingernails reflected that he was a hard worker during the day. that type of exhaustion was also reflected in his eyes.

but, damn... his face? no one could deny that that man was handsome.

you smiled. “another drink, sir?”

“no. thank you.” he paused for a moment, keeping your gaze. “i wanted to check if you were alright.”

you immediately knew what he was talking about, but kept your face stoic. “yes, sir, thank you.”

he looked like he wanted to say something, but struggled with how to word it. “he usually a problem?”

you clenched your jaw. “he’s… he’s fine. too much drink, ‘s’all. gets the best of working men. can’t blame ‘em.” you swallowed, trying to keep your anxiety at bay. who was this man and why did he care? was he a friend of the man? “you sure there’s nothing i can’t get for you?”

“some wouldn't blame ‘em.” he ignored your question. his bright blue eyes held your gaze. “i would.”

you forced a tight lipped smile. with a laugh, you joked, “i’ll… be fine, sir. thank you. thought a fake wedding ring would do the trick… gotta think of something else now.”

he smiled, but in a sad way. “i was going to ask if your husband ever checked in on the place.”

“no husband,” you affirmed with a sigh. you introduced yourself, and then asked, “what’s your name?”

“william h. bonney, ma’am… but you can call me billy.”

“nice to meet you, billy,” you smiled. “and, please — don’t call me ma’am.”

“alright.” he returned your smile. “the men behind me… we run a sort of — security detail for part time work. if you ever wanted to hire us, we could have a man here when we can spare.”

you nodded, contemplating your offer. he explained the per diem, and you immediately agreed.

“if your man can keep this place safe with little bloodshed, i’ll even throw in a free bottle a day,” you countered.

and that was how your business with billy the kid and his men began.

the men that came along were usually polite and quiet, and mostly stayed at the edge of the bar. they watched for problems, and slowly but surely your fear had begun to subside. there was a minor scuffle one day, where a man had cracked a glass and cut you with it… but billy’s man had stopped him before he could do anything else. you didn’t hold it against billy’s guy — you cared about your business and if the business got bloody, not so much yourself.

billy, on the other hand… did not agree.

one day, bright and early, he parked himself at the middle of the bar where you stood behind the counter.

“rarely see you for detail,” you smiled, wiping down a glass. “much less this early. breakfast, mr. bonney?”

“billy, ma’am,” he responded. “breakfast does sound fine.”

you laughed. “i hate when you call me ma’am.”

“don’t much like it when you call me mister,” he quirked an eyebrow. billy was a rather emotionless and hard man, but you could tell he was joking.

you laughed again. “steak and eggs for billy, coming right up.”

the rest of the day went on peacefully, and you kept billy’s glass full. he was quiet and didn’t talk much, which you weren’t too keen about. he was mysterious, tall, dark and handsome — which was usually a bad combination. you knew it was, and you should’ve cared — but you didn’t.

as you were filling billy’s glass into the later hours of the afternoon, you finally bucked up the courage to ask him a question.

“so why did you stop in today?” you asked. “not that i mind. i just have only seen you when you come in at night.”

“we made a deal, sweetheart,” he responded. your eyes perked up at the nickname. you didn’t hate the nickname — but you hated yourself a wee bit for how much you liked hearing billy call you it. “the man i sent here was supposed to make sure he kept you from harm — he didn’t hold up his end on the deal.”

“it was kept quiet from the other patrons,” you responded. “that’s all i really care about. i’m a woman in the restaurant and boardinghouse business — stuff like that is bound to happen. no need to be hard on him.”

“you keep my men’s glasses too full for them to let slip ups like that happen,” he replied. “he knew better. should've acted better.”

“you’re the boss, billy,” you sighed with a smile. “i’m just the bartender.”

“damn good bartender at that,” he spoke. “too good.”

you giggled, and grew ashamed rather quickly at how much you enjoyed his company. you didn’t know him well, no… but damn, was it nice to have him around.

the rest of the night was rather quiet. a few families had stepped in and out, and a few meetings were being held where the tables sat. that was until the blacksmith that started this whole thing came in and sat himself only a stool away from billy.

you threw a look at billy, but he didn’t meet your eyes. his peripheral vision was already on the man. billy remembered him, and you couldn’t say fondly.

“whiskey, sweetheart,” he grunted. “leave the bottle.”

you sighed. a quiet day was going to turn into a rough night in a matter of a few moments.

“mr. martin, i can’t leave the bottle unless you settle your tab from the nights prior,” you answered. “i can get you a double and add it on, though, if that’s alright with you?”

“that’s not alright with me, girl,” he grunted again, glaring you down. “leave the damn bottle!”

you stood your ground. “there’s a bar across the street, mr. martin.”

“you don’t want my business, that it, sweetheart?”

“not much business if you don’t pay," you quipped.

through gritted teeth, he spat, “leave. the damn. bottle.”

“pay. the. tab.”

he went to catch you by the arm, but you were too quick. you anticipated his antics this time. you snatched an empty bottle, and broke the base of it in the sink. you put the broken, jagged edge of the neck of the bottle in between the two of you. your eyes were wild — you could feel it, and both men could definitely see it. startled, he drew back.

“this is the only bottle you’re getting with that attitude.”

that was when billy stood up and walked towards the man. the thuds of his boots, though few considering the short distance, were deafening in the mostly silent bar. you may have had a makeshift weapon, but billy? billy the kid? everyone knew what he had on him.

“time for you to leave, friend.”

the man laughed. “friend? who’s my friend to tell me when i need to leave?”

“the one who’s a quicker draw than you, that's who." his answer was slow and cool — too calm, which only made the shiver of a threat run up and down your spine faster.

the man, all talk, clenched his jaw as he stared at billy. he slapped the tab money on the top of the bar, and walked out.

you didn’t let out a sigh of relief until the man left.

but billy was the one that spoke first. “was going to step in immediately… but you held your own. they need to respect you before they’re scared of me.”

you laughed. “little does he know i’m all talk as well.”

“with that bottle?” he chuckled. “sweetheart, even i was scared.”

“you threatened him with a gun… i don’t think anything scares you, billy,” you asked. “thank you for stepping in.”

“‘s my job.”

“i know… but still,” you spoke.

you were continuing to close before he spoke again.

“what made you want to start this place?” he asked.

“my father passed a few moons before i opened this place,” you responded. “no parents, no husband — thought i might try this out.”

“my ma wanted to start a place like this,” he replied. “never got the chance.”

you nodded with a sad smile. “didn’t know her… but i think she’d be proud of how you handled that. don’t think he’ll be much trouble anymore.”

“she’d think i’m trouble with how full the lovely bartender keeps my glass,” he spoke, but looked like he instantly regretted it. “my apologies, i shouldn’t’ve — the whiskey —“

“you’re fine,” you laughed, your blush pinching your cheeks. as you walked away, you threw over your shoulder, “hopefully your ma wouldn’t mind that i keep her son’s glass full for his good work… nor that i think her son’s handsome.”

from that day forward, billy was always the man who sat at your bar.

he always greeted and made pleasant conversation with you, and glared at any man that got too aggressive with you. if looks could kill… billy would never need what he held in his holster.

you’d giggle to yourself after the creepy men would walk away. you’d never know… but when billy would hear your giggle afterwards, he’d smile, too.

but he kept that to himself.

however, slowly… he was becoming more comfortable with your company.

“so why didn’t you marry?” he one day asked randomly.

you were wiping down a glass when you got lost in the thought. “when there’s a nice one that’s interested… maybe. haven’t already because there aren’t very many nice ones. it was very convenient when you started keeping the bad ones away.”

to your dismay, he didn’t say anything in response.

but you had gotten comfortable with his company, too. too comfortable.

“and why isn’t there a mrs. bonney, billy?”

“she’d get jealous about how much time i spend with you,” he responded.

there was very little emotion in his voice, and you were afraid of reading into what he was saying. was he returning your flirtations? was he telling you that you were a drag? to answer your own question, you jokingly said, “well if i’m too much trouble, mr. bonney, you are more than welcome to have another one of your men step in.”

“well, ma’am —“ he began. “then i’d get jealous of how much time they were spending with you.”

you couldn’t hide the blush that rose into your cheeks. billy looked upon your face with a small smile tugging at his lips, and his gaze didn’t waver.

“keep talking like that, billy, and i’ll become trouble for you,” you raised an eyebrow at him.

“can’t say i’d mind much,” he responded, taking a sip of his glass, but holding eye contact with you.

if you weren’t frozen, you would’ve pulled yourself over the bar right then and then and planted yourself in his lap. you would’ve flung his glass to the floor, and wouldn’t have cleaned it up until you had kissed every inch of that man. you would’ve responded, but you couldn’t...

that was when billy’s men had stepped into the bar.

the air immediately darkened. the blonde one, named jesse, had led the pack as they stalked in. billy immediately flipped around to see what the problem was.

“sweetheart, give us a minute,” billy asked, calling over his shoulder.

billy never gave you orders, let alone in your own bar. however, if he was asking you to… you figured you should probably listen. you left the bar and went into the back. most of your employees had left for the night, so you helped the remaining ones clean up. it would be a few minutes or so before billy had come back into the kitchen to find you. you went back into the bar with him.

“i’ll be back before you close,” he spoke. “lock the doors.”

a second order. something he never did in the first place. something was wrong. you didn’t pry… you just scrunched your eyebrows in response.

“something’s up,” he spoke. he pressed a quick kiss to your cheek before he turned to leave. “i’m takin’ care of it.”

there you stood, absolutely stunned. billy and his men left the bar with haste and didn’t look back. you, on the other hand, stood frozen… unable to leave the spot where you had billy the kid, known for his deadly skills, kiss you on the cheek.

you finally moved, reluctantly, but only to close up.

it would be close to an hour before billy finally came back. a few of his friends came with him, and they dragged in a man on their shoulder who was grunting in pain. blood was pouring from his leg, and you immediately went for the medical supplies you kept hidden under the counter. you grabbed two bottles of whiskey for good measure, arguably also a part of your makeshift kit.

“put him down on the table,” you gushed. his men were stunned to see you hustling, but they didn’t hesitate to rest their friend. you immediately took a look at the man’s leg, and were thankful to see that there would be no permanent damage. you shoved a bottle at jesse, and stated, “make him drink this.”

jesse had unscrewed the bottle and helped his friend drink before you fished out the bullet. thankfully no arteries were punctured, but it would be some time before he was good again. you cleaned up the man the best you could, and asked if any of the men needed anything.

“no, ma’am…” jesse responded. “we were going to bring him here and do it ourselves, your place was closest… so thank you.”

you smiled at him. “take the bottles. need it more than me.”

he tipped his hat to you.

“jesse,” billy began. “you and the boys head home.”

without question, jesse nodded. they helped their friend to his feet and left with a goodbye. even though they left, the unsettling feeling of the room hadn’t changed. billy seemed… different. heavier. he wasn’t the same man that had kissed you on the cheek before he had left.

you turned to him. “i won’t pry, but —“

“good,” he spat, turning to you. billy’s eyes bore into yours like you were one of the problem men at your bar. “don’t.”

a look of hurt flashed across your face. you could feel it. “you’re looking at me like i did something.”

“i told you to lock the door,” he spat again, his look of anger unwavering.

you had only seen billy's eyes that wide and that angry when there was someone being cruel to you. the thought made you shiver.

“how would you have gotten back in?” you asked.

“knocked,” he bit.

you narrowed your eyes at his curt response. “i had a feeling something was wrong. if i had waited to unlock, i couldn’t have gotten that bullet out as fast as i did.”

“doesn’t matter,” he bit. “how am i supposed to keep you safe if you won’t listen to me?”

you scrunched your brows together in confusion. “billy… whatever happened where you were, it wasn’t here. i could’ve gone to bed… but i stayed up. waiting for you.”

“and what if someone came in, huh? what then?” he hollered. “what would you have done then?! what would i have done if you had gotten hurt?”

you shook your head in disbelief. you couldn’t believe billy was speaking to you with such disdain. “with the way you’re talking to me, billy — sounds like you’re used to women who don’t pull knives on creepy men, hold broke bottles to their necks — or fish bullets out of legs when i don’t know why he was shot in the first place. you’re used to those kind of women, and have a problem with me? maybe you should go back to them.”

you immediately turned away from him, beginning to walk towards the bar. billy was hot on your heels when he reached out to grab your wrist and turned you around.

he grabbed both sides of your face and pressed his lips to yours.

you wanted to scream at him, throw fists at his chest, push him away — anything to let you know how he hurt you, how he wronged you... but you couldn't.

no. you couldn't.

you were so stunned you stood frozen in place as his lips moved against yours. you loosely held his wrists in your hands, and kissed him back.

“don’t want those girls, darlin’,” he spoke, breathless, in between kisses. “knew you were a real woman the first time i saw you. the kind that puts the fear of god into you, but looks at you with such a sweetness in her eyes that you can’t look away.”

“better believe it, bonney,” you spat, half joking. “you’ve seen how quick i am.”

“i know, darlin’, i know,” he whispered, kissing you once more. “i also know i was wrong to speak to you the way i did.”

“shut your damn mouth and kiss me,” you replied, pulling him closer to you.

“yes, ma’am,” he playfully responded, and you slapped his shoulder.

billy had backed you up against the wall and pressed his body towards yours. you stood on your toes to reach him, and even then he had to lean down a foot or two.

“billy…” you began, pulling away. “i’ve never… but if you wouldn’t think less of me, we could go upstairs. to my room.”

“i’d never think less of you,” he spoke, shaking off your comment. “but… what’d’ya mean, ‘never?’”

“i’ve never been with a man, billy,” you responded, suddenly embarrassed.

he was quiet for a moment, before stating, “you sure you want it to be with me?”

you nodded. “if… if you want to, that is.”

he didn’t respond to your statement, he just kissed you. he kissed you with every emotion you didn’t think he ever possessed — raw, hot, desperate emotion that held you close and tight to him. the heat and the intensity made your brain swim, but you could only care so much when billy the fucking kid wanted you.

he slipped an arm around your shoulders and then underneath your knees before he picked you up. you bit back a squeal before you threw your arms around his neck.

“light as a feather, sweetheart, don’t you worry,” he spoke.

“all that steak i been feeding you?” you joked.

“my belt can’t help it if my woman feeds me well,” he replied, almost at the top of the stairs.

“you’re a flirt,” you giggled.

you pointed him towards your room. once in, he laid you down on the bed and laid on top of you. his body was warm and sturdy over yours, and you couldn’t help but feel warm. his hips were pressed against yours, but you couldn’t feel him through your dress. you grew frustrated at the thought.

you made quick work to undue his shirt, and billy was quick to catch on. he pulled away to take off his shirt, and you tried to take off your corset with his help.

“damn death trap,” he spat, fussing.

you giggled. he was cute when he was flustered, but nothing compared to the way he was looking hungrily down at you. you were completely bare before him, and you should’ve been embarrassed… but shame wasn’t present in this moment. the only thing you registered was how billy looked down at you — with adoration in his eyes as they raked down your naked form.

“will you…” you began. “will you show me… how to please… you?”

“another time, sweetheart,” he spoke, stealing a quick kiss from you. “i need my head between those legs of yours.”

“you-you don’t have to —“ you spoke. “i know that’s not something — that boys —“

“yeah — boys.” billy snapped, glaring at you. “real men want to taste their women.”

that shut you right up.

billy wedged himself in between your thighs and spread your folds. it caused a sharp intake of breath on your part, but you didn’t realize what you were in for. billy flattened his tongue, and licked a long stripe up your slit. your teeth sank into your lip at the foreign feeling that cause so much warmth to make your veins twitch.

…but when billy’s nose had nudged a specific spot at the top of your slit — your legs jerked.

“what — what —“ you stammered.

“shh,” billy cooed, slightly laughing. “i forgot how sensitive you were. my apologies, sweetheart.”

you trusted billy, sure, but you had never felt anything like that before in your life. the jerking motion of your legs was involuntary and made you fearful. billy could see the fear written on your face.

“that spot that i touched, that you felt?” he asked.

his eyes were so wide and meaningful you felt like you could melt in them. you brought yourself up to your elbows and hummed in acknowledgement.

“that is the most sensitive part of a woman, and if i play it just right —“ ever so lightly, you felt his middle finger and ring finger touch the spot. you shivered at the feeling, but you didn’t flinch like last time. you held his gaze as the warmth began to spread inside you. “i can make you feel better than you’ve ever felt.”

billy bent over your body and held himself up with extended arm planted firmly by your side. he swiped the two fingers over his tongue to lubricate them, and brought them right back to where they were. you both watched his fingers play at the most sensitive part of you, and your lip began to quiver.

“look at me, sweetheart.”

your eyes glanced back up to him.

like you thought before, if angry looks could kill… anyone would die by just a look from billy the kid. however, what would they say about the way he’s looking at you now? with his plump lips parted, and his eyes wild and hungry? you didn't know... but you knew you would find out.

“y’trust me?” he asked.

you hummed in agreement, nodding.

“say it.”

you sharply inhaled, caught off guard by his order. “yes, billy — i trust you.”

instead of leaning back down to plunge his face in between your thighs, he kissed you. his lips connected with yours in one of the most dominating ways you ever thought a man could. with his hand playing between your thighs, he swallowed every moan and cry you struggled to keep hidden inside of you. billy was breathing hard against you — relishing in how it felt to have you so vulnerable and close to him.

that was when his fingers picked up speed.

and, god… did it feel damn good.

“b-billy,” you whimpered. “feels…”

“still trust me?”

“yes,” you cried, screwing your eyes shut. “yes, it’s just…”

he leaned his head down so his mouth was right by your ear. his breaths were hot against your ear, and you hummed at the feeling. your hand played with the curls at the nape of his neck, tugging at the roots.

“fuck — you takin’ what i’m givin’ to you, darlin’,” he rasped, then continued, “drives me insane.”

you could barely hear what he was saying, nor could you respond. your head was swimming with the weight of billy so close to your naked body, holding you down and safe, with those skilled fingers of his working you like you were a damn trigger. you were a whimpering, crying mess — and billy loved every second of it.

“something — feels —“

“d’ya want me to stop?” he asked, breathless.

“no,” you whimpered, confused how the warmth inside you felt like it was going, going, going. you didn’t know where it started, where it was going, and definitely didn’t know where it ended. you were worried that you were going to explode — but you didn’t understand. “something feels — like i’m — i’m going —“

“let it happen, sweetheart.” his kisses were wet and sloppy along the skin of your throat. he nipped at the skin, and that only sent you into more of a frenzy. “that’s right, darlin’. that’s it. trust me. i’ve got you.”

and that was it.

the thing — billy’s words, that sent you toppling over whatever metaphorical edge you could think of to describe it. it felt like white, hot sparks went off behind your closed eyelids and were going off on every nerve ending in your body. whimpers left your bitten lips like you were a babe, and your back arched off the bed. distantly, you could hear billy cooing with excitement, laughter… and praise.

a light sheen of sweat was on both of you, and billy had never looked better. his musk was wafting through the air and had completely taken over your senses. you felt like the only thing in the room was billy and the only thing in the world that mattered was billy. men got drunk off whiskey, but you? you got drunk off of that pure, unfiltered scent and look of a masculine man who showed you how to experience the pleasure of a woman you had never known.

“fuck…” you whimpered as you came down from your high. you tried pushing billy’s hand away, but you were so weak you didn’t think you could.

“sorry, darlin’,” he laughed, kissing your throat again. “got selfish. wanted to keep seeing that pretty look on your face.”

it was difficult for you to find words, let alone enough for an adequate response. “billy… that… that felt…”

“i’m gonna be trouble for you now.” he stole a kiss. “nothing better than seeing you below me, like that…”

“i want you to feel good, too,” you began. “please, billy? i wanna see you, too.”

his lips formed a tight line. “i don’t want it to hurt you.”

“first time doesn’t always hurt,” you spoke. “no one says the second time hurts.”

he smiled at that, and began to roll on top of you. you stopped him, and gestured for him to sit up against the headboard. he was hesitant at first, but he did it anyway. you hovered your hips above his before licking one of your palms and gliding it over the tip of his length. you stroked him a few times, and a soft moan left his lips at the feeling.

“i can keep going,” you spoke, throwing a sultry look up at him. “i want to make you feel good.”

“no, doll,” he rasped. “too selfish. need to see that pretty face of yours do what it does again.”

you pouted for a short moment before you lifted your hips above his length and began to sink down. you could feel a slick leaking from your folds, which made you feel better about actually getting him inside you.

“go slow,” he ordered suddenly. “you stop if it hurts, got it?”

you nodded, half ignoring him.

but it didn’t hurt.

the first inch didn’t hurt. the second didn’t. the third, the fourth, the fifth, sixth, — you lost count. billy was so big and filled you so nicely that you were so greedy with how you sank down into him. you couldn’t have cared less about what he said before about going slow — all you needed was to feel all of him completely.

“you didn’t listen —“ he grunted, slightly mad. “you’re so lucky you feel good, fuck — you’re so tight —“

“so what if i didn’t listen, mr. bonney?” you smiled coyly at him, a sudden bout of confidence coming over you. maybe it was the post orgasm glow, maybe it was the new feeling of having the most perfect man inside of you — you weren’t sure. “you feel — so good.”

“don’t get bold on me, sweetheart,” he smirked.

you didn’t listen. you picked up your pace, rocking your hips back and forth to what felt good inside of you.

billy’s cock liked that, sure — but he didn’t. you could see the mental turmoil on his face as his neglected cock was finally getting the attention it deserved, but his hothead person didn’t like that his girl was getting smart on him.

that was when billy flipped you over onto your back, much to your dismay. you liked putting on a show for him and doing all the work for a change.

“you wanna act like that, darlin’, huh?” he asked in your ear with a raspy, lust filled voice. “not gonna listen to me?”

“it just felt so good, billy, please —“ you were whining at this point, pissed he had taken away that feeling.

“oh, you’re a greedy thing, that right?” he taunted. “gets one fuckin’ taste, and now she can’t get enough?”

you shook your head, desperate for something — anything. “so greedy, baby. please, billy — please just fuck me.”

his hips snapped against you. hard.

maybe it should’ve hurt — but fucking christ, it didn’t. it felt so good to have his strong, forceful hips thrust against yours and hit that spot so deep inside of you.

“you like that?” he asked, taunting you. “that’s what my greedy girl wanted? — needed?”

his hips were relentlessly snapping against yours now as he hovered above you by holding himself up on his elbows. the sight of his broad and strong chest and shoulders… enough to make any woman weak. a firm crease was in his brow, signaling he was struggling to keep up his mean persona.

“yes — yes —“ you cried. “billy, you’re so deep — it feels — fuck, you can’t stop billy. please —“

“sweetest fuckin’ pussy,” he grunted. “squeezing me so tight.”

“right there — that’s the spot, baby,” you bit your lip to keep your voice down.

billy leaned his forehead against yours, and his exhales fanned against your face. little moans were escaping his lips as well, but nothing like yours. instead, he spat, “couldn’t let me be nice to you and fuck you sweet, huh? had to get smart on me?”

you could barely hear him. billy’s usual raspy, and commanding voice was enough to make anyone stand at attention — but now? now you were some cockdrunk whore who didn’t care how she got what she wanted, only that she did. his thrust were hard and fast, hitting a deep spot in you that was making that warmth swell up in you again.

“didn’t want sweet, billy,” you whimpered. “wanted you to use me just like this.”

you weren’t sure what came over you — and billy wasn’t sure either. his thrusts didn’t falter, but he couldn’t understand how the pretty, innocent looking bartender could be so fucking naughty — but only for him. a sense of pride had never welled up inside him like that before, knowing that he was the only one who got to see the prettiest girl in town keen for someone’s touch like this.

his touch. only his touch.

“gonna be the fuckin’ death of me,” he spat against your ear. “should’ve known you’d be such a good girl for me — taking my cock like this. can you cum around my cock like this? gonna be the best girl — and show me how that pussy tightens around me?”

the curse words billy drew from you were not your sunday best, but they made billy’s guttural groans against your throat and ear that much more enticing. you were both covered in sweat, spit, and slick — and nothing had ever felt better. you were close, so close — and all you wanted was to see him finish so you could see it for yourself.

“billy, i’m so close —“ you cried. “but i wanna —i wanna see you —“

“shhh,” he cooed. “gonna take what i give you, sweet girl.”

he sent a hand in between your bodies, and started playing with that spot that had made you explode the last time. you almost protested, but there was nothing like having a man buried so deep inside you do whatever he could to make sure you felt the best you could. you whined, you cried, you screamed, fuck — you did everything to let him know that you were close, billy, i’m so close, please, i’m begging, please don’t stop, and billy refused to look away from your beautiful face as you came undone below him once more.

with your beautiful hair fanned out around you, billy thought you looked ethereal as your second orgasm overtook you. there was something about the way your eyes fluttered softly closed, but broken gasps left your lips like you were so far gone in pleasure that you were lost in it. here, beneath him, before him, was a woman he had spent so much time protecting, so worried about her safety… all he wanted to do was make her feel good. when your limbs began to quiver, knowing you were so deep in your orgasm that you were at the peak, billy couldn’t help himself. he knew you were sensitive, he knew how it would be too much, he knew he shouldn't — but he had to. he was so, so selfish with his greedy girl.

his fingers kept spinning circles on your pink rosebud, and it was like the white light behind your eyes couldn’t stop. you were gasping for air — begging, pleading, hoping, wishing. it was so much. it was too much. it was everything and anything all at once, and you didn’t realize how far you were falling until tears leaked from your eyes.

he should've hated himself for making you feel so lost, but he didn't. not one bit.

“billy —“ you cried, shaking. “i’m so — so sensitive —“

he engulfed you into a long kiss, smiling smugly against your lips. you would’ve laughed with him, but you were so weak. so, so weak. he knew how sensitive you were, and stopped his movements completely. you didn’t realize he hadn’t finished with you until he began to pull out of you.

“billy — you didn’t —“

“s’alright, darlin’—“

“no, it’s not,” you said firmly. “teach me how to do — that thing.”

“that... thing?”

“with my mouth.”

he hesitated before shaking his head. “i don’t… tonight was a lot — for you.”

you narrowed your eyes at him. “boys don’t taste their women, right? men do?”

he scrunched his eyebrows together, confused, but nodded anyway.

“and what about real women, billy?” you asked. “you think they like leaving their men unsatisfied?”

his lips parted at a loss. he couldn’t argue with that, could he?

“sit on the edge of the bed,” you spoke, sliding out from under him and finding a place on the floor.

he hesitated, but he didn’t argue with that, either.

you tried to hide your smirk from him.

he'd never tell you he saw it. he also would never tell you he loved it.

"you gonna tell me what to do, or what, cowboy?" you smirked up at him, taunting.

he shook his head, and pursed his lips in a way that he knew you were in over your head. "you're acting bold. let's see if you got a reason to."

you narrowed your eyes at him, but smiled anyway.

you returned your attention to the muscle you were holding in yours hands. it was long and thick — you weren't sure how it fit inside you before, and you definitely weren't sure how you were going to fit it in your mouth.

"too much for you, darlin'?" he quipped.

you shot him a look. "wasn't too much a minute ago, was it?"

you didn't let him respond. you licked the palm of your hand — throwing manners to the wind — and wrapped your hand around the tip and the top of the shaft. you made circular, stroking motions at the top and licked a stripe, like he did to you, up his shaft.

that shut him up.

a long and drawn out fuuuck had left his lips.

you shouldn't've — you knew you shouldn't've.

but you did anyway.

you started to kitten lick at his balls, and you could feel him shift from above you. hot and heavy groans were leaving his lips, to the point where he was incoherent. now that you had found his sweet spot, you'd never let go. just like he didn't.

"fuck, you are naughty," he rasped, voice dry and cracked. "my naughty girl. so good f'me."

you hummed as you wrapped your lips around the skin of his balls. they were warm and salty, and you relished in the taste. billy placed a heavy palm on the back of your head. you realized then and there he was foreign to giving up control — usually you'd give in, but not now. not when he was teasing you before.

you replaced your hand with your lips, and brought him down as far as you could.

from the corner of your eye, you spotted him beginning to fist the sheets.

tears were springing to your eyes, but you didn't care. you wanted to — had to keep going. you wanted this so badly — to take care of him. you needed this, and if he wanted it, too — he was going to give it to you.

you began to bob your head up and down, taking care to mind your gag reflex and teeth. the slurping sounds from your mouth were obscene — as was the drool falling from your lips, down your cheek, and along the skin of your raw neck.

both of billy's hands were on the back of your head now, giving you slightest — almost ghost like — push down. you welcomed it, hoping to show him you could take him far, farther than he thought you could handle.

above, he was going crazy. fucking nuts. his entire body was hot and on fire, and it took every ounce of him to not drag you back up into his lap and impale you on his cock. however... his muscles were tired, and his sweet girl looked so perfect on her knees before him, and who was he to deny her what she wanted so badly — what she earned?

he'd never tell you — but he wanted you to have it more than you wanted it yourself. he wanted you to know that he only felt comfortable enough with you to be in such a vulnerable position like this — pretty woman, teeth so close to his jewels. he wanted you to know that you were setting every nerve, vein, blood vessel on absolute fucking fire with the way your silky tongue slid down the length of his shaft, and the way your tight, warm throat enclosed around his sensitive cock... he wanted you to know how much he adored you, and how much he wanted to give you everything you had ever wanted.

"fuck, sweetheart —" he bit. "I'm so close — you better — pull off —"

"too much for you, cowboy?" she only pulled off for a second, before she put him into the deepest parts of her throat.

the way you teased him set a raw set of anger and adoration through this veins, and he didn't know what to do with it. he was so weak, tired, spent, and fucking horny — he couldn't move, think, or fight back. all he wanted was to cum down this sweet girl's throat and make her his.

"that's it, baby, fuck —" he spat through gritted teeth, the hands on the back of your head encouraging your movements. "right there, right there — fuck."

you held your place, keeping a few inches of him in your mouth. his thick cock throbbed a few times before ropes of white decorated the walls of your throat, and you swallowed every last drop. you pumped him a few more times, for good measure — and also to get back at him for earlier.

"don't be mean to me, baby —" he whined. "come up and lay with me."

you giggled, crawling up the bed to lay next to him.

"gonna tell me how that was?" you asked. "or too proud?"

he chuckled then. his post orgasm glow was so beautiful... for the first time, william h. bonney didn't have a permanent from embedded in his brow. he looked so... peaceful.

"not too proud to admit that was the best I've ever had in my life," he laughed, letting his eyes close. you trailed a hand up and down the soft skin of his chest and stomach before curling up next to him. "going to be proud after i take you to the courthouse tomorrow and make you my wife."

you scoffed at that. "i didn't think cowboys were the settling down type."

"they're not — but i'm no cowboy, sweetheart," he rasped, turning to look at you. "you're it for me — if you'll have me, that is."

you smiled then. a real smile. the type of smile that gave billy hope.

"on one condition," you spoke.

his eyebrows furrowed, but he nodded his head anyway.

"you'll ask me for real in the morning, mr. bonney."

"i'll give you anything you want, mrs. bonney — as long as you're mine."

---

what did we think?? xox

-L

#billy the kid #William h bonney #william h bonney x reader #kid antrim #billy the kid x reader #william bonney #William bonney smut #billy the kid smut #billy the kid 2022 #tom blyth

[dozing-marshmallow]

helloo!! i saw that your requests were open and wokred up the coruage to send in a request :] i rarely see chris mclean x readers (despite him being a fan favorite, methinks) and i kinda wanted to see if you could write hcs of him x a young nibling!reader who participates in tdi? (nibling is the gender neutral term for niece/nephew - since i want a nonbinary/gn reader :])

basically having to do with anything; basic interaction between reader and chris, his reaction or what he'd do if reader got hurt, etc. ty!! :]

Hello there!! Thank you so much for the request, it turned out a lot more wholesome than I expected! And yeahh I agree with you there that there isn’t a lot of Chris McLean content despite the large number of people appearing to like him in the fandom which hurtss ;A; but nonetheless! I hope this makes an enjoyable read, and that you feel more welcomed to send in future requests <3

CHRIS MCLEAN X NIBLING! READER HEADCANONS

Ever since you were younger, you always had a strong bond with your uncle, and were always excited whenever he came over.

However, there was never a time where you went over to his place, since he was always busy.

Up until this summer, where Chris got the job hosting a brand new reality show where teenagers would compete in challenges in hopes to win a large amount of money.

After talking with your parents, your uncle was ecstatic to announce that you were going to spend the holidays with him on the show.

It felt like preparing for a sleepover! You had to pack everything you’d need for the two months: your pyjamas, your toothbrush, a variety of clothes, your portable movie player, (naturally) some movies and your mountie stuffed bear.

“Be careful when you get there, (Y/N)! My brother always had a bit of crazy in him.” Your mother advised, kissing you goodbye and watching you get on the boat for Camp Wawanakwa.

“Uncle Chris!” You called out to him, seeing him wave at you from the dock. Frantically, you wave back.

“(Y/N), welcome!” He ebulliently greeted you, helping you out of the boat. Once you got on the same ground as him, you share a hug before he walks you down the island, rolling your suitcase for you.

“Are they recording yet?” You asked, looking around. It’s so big!

“Not yet, we will be in fifteen minutes!”

“Is this...where we’re staying?” You didn’t want to be rude, but the island wasn’t as tropical or as vibrant as Chris made out to be.

“Nope! It’s where they’re staying.” He laughed, referring to the teenagers,“We’ll be staying at my crib that’s just around the corner.”

Upon learning that Chris McLean was an uncle, the campers were keen on leaving a good impression on you, especially since what you thought of them actually did play a role on their chances in the competition.

It goes without saying, there were some foul people that painfully obviously wanted to use this kin as a tool for themselves. Exhibit A:

“Hey kiiiid.” Heather came over to you during her free period. The smile she had on her face was too kind to be true. You’re also sure she forgot your name,“Really cute pair of overalls you’ve-“

You pause your movie,“What do you need?”

Ah, cut to the chase,“Listen. You know all the challenges that Chris has in store for us, right?”

“Mhmm! Gross stuff.” 

She leans on your chair, intrigued,“What do you want in exchange of helping me win immunity?”

This was precious. She’s asking you for help. You place a finger to your chin, thinking carefully,“Hmm... A pony!”

Her nose wrinkles,“Ah...not that.”

“But that’s the only thing I don’t have yet...” you whine. So much for negotiation!

“Why not something more realistic? Like...” she struggled to think of something appealing to give you from her conditions,“Ugh you know what, forget it. Just forget it.”

Good riddance! Let’s look at an example where a camper was in your favour.

It was dinner time and the contestants were stuck eating their questionable sloop.

Using Chris’ pointed attention on Chef, you snuck out into the mess hall and crawled under the table of the Screaming Gophers.

“Psst. Leshawna.” You tugged at her shirt from underneath.

“(Y/N)?” She keeps her voice low, peering down at you,“What are you doing there, baby?” Leshawna was always so nice to you- and not because she wanted an advantage, but because that’s who she is.

That’s why you decided to do this for her,“I wanted to give you some of what we’re having.” You place a wrapped up burger and an ice cream tub on her lap, resulting her to internally squeal and cover her face’s lower half in joy.

“For me?! Oh, you’re an angel... Thank you, sweetie!” She gushes, squeezing your cheeks, amazingly attaining a low voice.

Also there was no reason for you to be sneaky: Chris would’ve allowed you to treat your favourites overtly if it meant hostility could grow among them. You knew that- you just enjoyed feeling like a spy.

Which would have consequences for getting your forehead grazed and knee scraped later: like any kid, you wanted to explore around your new environment; not during the day when everyone would be awake, that’s no fun, but when the sky was mixed with tangerines and blueberries.

You made sure Chris was still sleeping, for no adventure could be fun if someone knew exactly where you were going.

Putting on your wellington boots, you left through the back door of his mansion and embarked into the woods, humming, singing, throwing your stuffed bear in the air and catching it as it came back down.

All was going well, until a sudden blast of an air horn terrified you out of your skin. With the ground shaking, you lose balance and fall into a pile of leaves. To your horror, you discover your stuffed bear not landing with you, but rolling off the hill.

Urgently, you leap to your feet and was smart enough to know you were approaching the edge- a wrongly timed tree root thought differently, leading you to roll too. Bluntly.

“Ow...ow...ow!”

For what felt like ages, you finally came to be stationary and in dizzy vision, you saw your intact teddy bear in front of you.

You would’ve cheered, but your suspiciously wet forehead contracted your arm, seeing the freshly imprinted red on your palm reminding your consciousness of a similar sensation on your knee,“Ohhh that’s not good...”

“Hey Chef... Do you know where (Y/N) is?”

“(Y/N)? I thought you had ‘em.”

Chris’ instinctive worry quickly morphed into nonchalance once he heard your tale, but was still willing to bandage you,“You had me all worried just for that to be the case?”

“Are you mad at me?”

“Did you have fun?” He asked, cleaning your knee.

“I did.”

“Then you’re spared. You gotta be more careful though. If it was anything more serious, your parents will never let you into my hands again.”

Really? Over this?,“Ohhh, but I’m fine! I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

“Haha, you’re lucky you’re not my child.” He joked in response,“Alsoooo, while we’re on the topic of home, they called.” He walks over to his drawer and extracts a dreadfully familiar booklet, smirking at you,“Looks like someone forgot to pack their summer homework.”

You groaned,“Nooo... Why did you show me that? I thought I was on holiday, aren’t I meant to relax?”

Chris chuckled, shrugging,“Education is the scam of the century, (Y/N)! You’ll get used to it.”

“No faiiiir. I’m a kid! I should get to be on holiday forever!” You protested.

“Shouldn’t we all? Sadly, it’s one of those yucky things of life.” He wears a mocking melancholic look.

You blow a raspberry,“More like the yuckiest! Why does school have to exist in the first place? It’s sooo boring!”

“We can all agree with you there, my dear child,” He rubs your head in pity.

You tittered,“You’re the coolest, uncle Chris! If I said that back home, mom wouldn’t let me watch tv for the rest of the day.”

He laughs with you,“She was never the fun one in the family.” He goes serious,“Don’t tell her I said that, or else you won’t be the only one with an injury.”

“Got it!”

After Chris was done patching you up, you take the booklet outside, sulkily murmuring,“Nghh... I don’t wanna do this...”

Courtney happened to be nearby when she heard your dilemma,“Hey (Y- What happened to you? Are you alright?” Her concern real.

“I’m fine...”

“Aw! Poor thing. You can’t do homework when you’re unwell! Want me to help you?” She offered...to do algebra?

“Sure! It’s one of my best suits, especially as a CIT!” She enthusiastically seizes your booklet from your hand and immediately starts answering the first page. You watch in bewilderment.

She’s so smart...! Like a robot!

“(Y/N)? Any camper you want to give invincibility to tonight?” Your uncle asked with a smile.

“Uh... I really like Gwen, but I also like Leshawna...” you sheepishly selected.

Keeping his smile, he turned to said campers and threw both of them a marshmallow.

“That’s my buddy!” Leshawna cheered.

“Thanks (Y/N)!” Gwen’s sweet smile tainted ruthlessly to Heather.

“Brat.”

It was funny seeing Heather get annoyed.

After the week’s elimination ceremony, you gave Chris a toothy grin,“Unnnncle, wanna play uno with me?”

“You bet I do! Wanna invite Chef?” He asked, taking your hand.

“Yeah!”

#chris mclean #request #tdi x reader #tdi #total drama island chris #uncle chris mclean #nibling reader #nibling #chris mclean x reader #td chris mclean x reader #total drama chris mclean #td chris #total drama #total drama headcanons

[blushweddinggowns]

Eddie was…struggling to say the least. And by the end of the first week of sticking around this city, he was completely out of ways to rationalize what the fuck he was still doing here. 

Indianapolis was just supposed to be a pitstop after visiting Wayne. Then, he was supposed to see Chrissy in a few days, spend some time in San Francisco before jet setting around the world for his year-long vacation. But instead here he was, avoiding Chrissy’s calls, opting instead to take the coward’s route of sending cryptic texts and reassurances that he was fine. Despite the fact that he’d canceled his flight a few days ago. 

And for what? Some hot guy he had only seen twice? That he couldn’t even get past first base with?

And while technically it was the best date of his life, that didn’t exactly warrant whatever the fuck he was doing here. And that wasn’t even mentioning all of the fucking lies. 

It was safe to say that he was floundering over here. Which was so fucking stupid. He was Eddie fucking Munson for God’s sake, not some lovesick highschooler. And he was sure that there were many easier flings to be had in his immediate future if he just left. This was when it was time to abort the mission right? He hadn’t gotten what he wanted, and that was that. 

So why was that so hard to accept? Why was he so fucking obsessed with this dude? Eddie had no fucking clue. Well…maybe he had some clue. Because Steve was funny. And he was smart, adventurous, and interesting enough for Eddie to want to know everything about him. Not to mention painfully attractive. And then add in being a complete sweetheart on top of everything else. 

All Eddie knew was that he wanted to see him again. And leaving now felt…wrong. Because Steve liked him. He obviously liked him, or at least Eddie really hoped he liked him. He at least liked him enough to give him his number. And answer his calls.

They had been talking a lot in the past few days. Historically, Eddie had always hated phone calls, especially when a single text could usually save you a half an hour of awkward small talk. But with Steve…it was different. Everything with Steve was different. They didn’t even have to be talking about anything important. They spent an hour and a half the other night debating over plot holes in the Lord of the Rings franchise. 

He had been calling him from the hotel’s room phone, adding in yet another lie about forgetting his cell in his non-existent fumigated apartment. But he didn’t feel too guilty about that one. Especially since he went through the extra effort to buy a new real (fake?) cellphone. One that he had purchased specifically for talking to Steve with. Because no matter how much he liked the guy, he wasn’t breaking the cardinal rule of keeping his real number a secret. Not after the insane shit fans sent him the last time it accidently went public.

No, he did the much saner thing of dropping eight hundred dollars on a smartphone and an extra phone plan that he’d only use to talk to the dude he’d been dating for less than a week. 

He really was killing it with the circular logic these days. And it was getting harder and harder to ignore. This whole…thing had gotten away from him. And it was becoming a touch too insane for Eddie to keep rationalizing the lies. And it wasn’t even his usual brand of insanity, this felt almost clinical. 

But that didn’t stop him from dialing Steve’s number the second his new account was officially activated. 

It rang twice before Steve answered, “Hello?”

God, even the sound of his voice was enough to make Eddie shiver. 

“Hey it’s me,” Eddie said like a moron. Like Steve would recognize his voice after one date and a handful of calls-

“Oh Eddie, hi!” Steve said, and Eddie could hear the smile in his voice, “That’s so weird. I was literally just thinking about you. I’m guessing you got your phone back?”

It was the smallest bit disconcerting, that just the sound of his voice was enough to make Eddie’s heart beat like crazy. He was kind of used to being the guy who made people nervous, not the other way around. Though he had to admit, it was a little exhilarating to be on the other side of it.

“I did. And you were huh? What were you thinking about?” Eddie purred, more than a bit proud that his voice didn’t sound as shaky as he felt.  But if he was ever going to fuck this guy he needed to amp up the charm.

But unfortunately for him, Steve was very good at throwing him for a loop, “You know those Afghan Hounds with the really long hair? Well I just saw a black one that I swear looked exactly like you.”

Eddie barked out a laugh, loud and unbidden, “God, you really know the way into a man’s heart don’t you? Who doesn’t like being compared to a dog?”

“It was a very pretty dog,” Steve tried, “Extremely cute.”

Eddie laid back on his bed, smiling at the ceiling like an idiot, "You think I'm pretty?"

He couldn’t see him, but Eddie could swear that Steve was rolling his eyes before saying, "I think you know you're pretty. You’ve seen a mirror before right? Y’know, the shiny things that show your reflection?”

God, he could be such a little bitch. Eddie freaking loved it.  

“Well now you’re just making me blush,” Eddie laughed, hoping that it came off as a little sarcastic instead of painfully honest. 

“And I bet that’s pretty too. So what's up?"

Oh y’know, just obsessively thinking about you near constantly, “I was just wondering when I would get to see you again.” 

"Well, my sister's going to be at her girlfriend's place tonight. How do you feel about coming over? I know it’s late but-”

“I’d love to,” Eddie interrupted, already excited. If that wasn’t a green light for them going further Eddie didn’t know what was. In a few hours it would be nearly midnight. And Eddie was more than down for a booty call, “When?”

“Maybe a few hours? I can text you the address. I’m sorry that my schedule is so fucked, but y’know. Night shift.”

“No worries. Guess I’ll see you soon?”

“Looking forward to it.”

From the latest chapter of this fic, inspired by this post

#steddie #rockstar eddie munson #bartender steve harrington #steddie fic #stranger things #a very dumb famous man falls for an oblivious sweetheart #thats the fic

[justcallmefox89]

Eavesdropping Part II

X'aa'nath finally shows Gale how he feels

“It seems that we’ve lost our audience, my dear,” Astarion murmurs, running the brush through my hair one last time.

I shrug, trying to appear unbothered, as if I’m not hyperaware of Gale’s movements every time he is near me, as if seeing him smile is not the brightest part of my day.

What sentimental drivel.  How far I have fallen…

“Normally I don’t advocate for such things, but have you considered just talking to Gale?”

I glance over my shoulder at the vampire, confused.  “About what?”

“Oh by the hells,” Astarion sighs.  “Anything?  Everything?  Whatever it is that has the two of you so discombobulated?”

I hunch my shoulders, curling in on myself.  “Purification is our only goal.  After that Lae’zel and I will reunite with our kin.  The wizard is a distraction.”

“I’d find that a lot easier to believe if you didn’t look so miserable while you say it,” he says, languidly reclining back onto his bedroll.

“I am not… That is, I don’t…” I take a deep breath, picking at a loose thread on my trousers in an attempt to settle my nerves.  “I do not have experience in matters like this.  I don’t understand how to do… this.  Whatever this is.”

“Oh.”  Astarion sits up slowly.  “Oh dear.”

*Later that evening*

I’m beginning to think that Khou’zal left out some of the finer points of my education.

My earlier conversation with Astarion has at least filled in a few of the blanks concerning humans and their mating rituals, but it leaves me no closer to knowing what to do in regard to the wizard.  I grunt in frustration and scrub my hands over my face.

The first person to ever stir my blood is a human.  Of course it is.  Not a fellow gith, or a dragonborn, not even an elf.  But a human.  Between the tadpole and this Vlaakith must be testing me.

Without thinking I raise my head and search the camp for the reason for my inner turmoil. 

Gale stands outside his tent casting a spell, uniting tendrils of Weave together to form the likeness of a woman.  Cursing myself for my curiosity I creep closer to observe, wrinkling my nose in distaste when I recognize the subject of his spell.

“That’s that deity you wizards adore.  Mystra, right?”

Gale twitches and the image of the goddess fades away.  “Oh!  My, you startled me.  I… I was miles away.”

“Care to tell me why you were conjuring an image of the goddess?” I ask, eyeing him curiously.

“Just pondering what I lost.  Mystra commands all magic.  Salvation, if such a thing exists is hers to bestow or withhold.”

She doesn’t command my magic.

I conjure a miniature ball of lighting to reassure myself, silently thanking Vlaakith that I was chosen by the storm.  Something I’ve done more often since meeting Gale and learning of the limitations of wizards and their goddess.

“And yet, even now, more than I fear losing my own self and soul, I fear losing my command of her art,” Gale continues.  “Magic is… my life.  I’ve been in touch with the Weave for as long as I can remember.  There’s nothing like it.  It’s like music, poetry, physical beauty all rolled into one and given expression through the senses.  Is it the same for you?”

I tilt my head to one side, considering.  “The elements of the storm live within me.  I am magic.  While talented, you still had to be taught the command of magic.  It is like music.  While you need it written down, I can play it by ear.”

“Fair enough – though in the end we’re still playing the same composition.”

“One of us is playing it slightly better though,” I mumble.

“What’s that?” Gale asks, raising one eyebrow in question.

“Nothing!”

He smirks at me knowingly.  “Perhaps I can show you what I mean by reaching into the Weave together.”

“By all means.”

“Then follow my lead,” Gale mumurs, moving closer to me.

His proximity and the tone of his voice send a small thrill down my spine, and I have to force myself to focus on his next words.

Gale makes a series of hands gestures, Weave sparking between his fingertips, then nods to me.  “Now you.”

I glance over at him skeptically, then imitate the gestures with ease, the Weave obeying me as easily at it did Gale.  As familiar feeling – like a kind word and a kind touch at the same time – washes over me.  It’s warm and comfortable.

“Excellent!”  Gale nods in approval.  Now repeat after me: Ah-Thran Mystra-Ryl Kantrach-Ao.

“Ah-Thran Mystra-Ryl Kantrach-Ao,” I whisper.  The sudden scent of rosewater fills my nostrils as a general sense of well-being settles over me.

“Very good,” the wizard murmurs.  “Now I want you to picture in your mind the concept of harmony.  As true as you can.”

My body shudders traitorously at Gale’s praise, and I close my eyes in an effort to force myself to concentrate on his instructions.  I focus on one of my most treasured memories; the first time Khou’zal and I journeyed to Tu’narath, the feelings that coursed through me as, for the very first time, I beheld that great city built on the bones of a fallen god.  The Weave courses through the night in bright waves, and I feel Mystra’s unmistakable presence all around us. 

“You did it!”  Gale laughs in delight.  "You’re channeling the Weave.  How does it feel?”

I smile over at him.  “Incredible.  Though of course, I could have managed it all by myself…”

“You’re hard to please aren’t you?” he teases playfully.

The Weave connects us.  Joins us together in a way far different from the ghaik’s tadpole.  The moment feels intimate.  I grasp onto the feeling, knowing it will be my only chance to feel this kind of closeness with Gale.  Belatedly I realize the Weave has slipped between my mental defenses, that Gale is now witness to all my innermost desires.  Lost in the sensual haze of the Weave I picture kissing Gale, gently at first, then with increasing passion as my hands explore the soft skin beneath his wizard’s robes.  I imagine kissing the delicate skin behind his ear, burying my hands in his hair and tugging his head back, biting and licking the exposed column of his throat and then further down onto his chest, marking him, tasting him, possessing him…

“I… I didn’t think…”

Quick gusts of embarrassment and trepidation that are not my own pull me out of my fantasy and I open my eyes to see Gale staring down at me, red-faced and wide eyed.  I quickly sever our connection before anymore of Gale’s emotions break through, cursing myself for my stupidity.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter, turning to dart away, already planning to throw myself off nearest cliff and put an end to this madness the wizard has cursed me with.

“X’aa’nath.”  Gale catches my hand, tugging me closer to him, still flushed but slightly more composed.  “I wasn’t expecting… but it is a pleasant image to be sure.  Most pleasant, in fact.  Most welcome.”

I freeze the moment his skin touches mine, the small motion of his thumb gently stroking over my knuckles causing my heart to thump unsteadily in my chest.  The Weave slowly evaporates around us, and as it does so, the night feels suddenly cold and lonesome. 

“There it goes,” Gale whispers, still holding onto my hand.  “How easily things slip away from us, no matter how hard they were in the obtaining.  Stay with me a moment.  Please.”

I nod wordlessly, my eyes fixed on our interlocked hands.

As long as you will have me by your side, I’ll be here.

#astarion bg3 #gale bg3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 spoilers #bg3 #bg3 tav #gale #baldurs gate #shadowheart #wyll #baldurs gate gale #baldur's gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale x reader #gale fanfic #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #bg3 oc #tav #bg3 tag #tav bg3 #my tav #baldurs gate tav #baulders gate 3 #gale romance #tav x gale #male tav #bg3 githyanki

[multific]

His Queen

Dwalin x Reader

"No?"

"I-I'm sorry, I can't." you said as he looked at you with disbelief.

Dwalin just asked you one of the biggest questions a dwarf could, he wanted to court you and he asked for your permission to do so.

But...

How could you ever be good enough for such an amazing dwarf as Dwalin?

You being half drawf and half hobbit, you were not worthy.

"I don't understand why, Y/N. I thought our feelings were mutual."

"Dwalin, I'm so sorry. Really... but you are now- you have to think about your kin."

"My kin? What do you mean?"

"You are noble now, with Thorin as king..."

"You think I honestly care about that?"

"You should, Dwalin. It's your heritage, your kin, your future."

"Exactly. And I see you in my future, I see us. What, you want me to marry some noble dwarf who I don't know and care for? Would that be the future you want for me?"

"Of course not. but I'm half-blood. I'm not fully dwarf."

"In my eyes, it doesn't matter. You could be half fish for all I care. I love you, not for your blood but for who you are. You are the most beautiful, kind and amazing person. Do you honestly think I care about anything else? Do you think I care about what others would say?" Dwalin took a step as you took one back. You knew he didn't care, but someone will. And you would hate yourself for ruining his life because you were too selfish and wanted to keep him for yourself.

"I know you don't care Dwalin, I know that. But someone might, and how could I look into the mirror if I was to ruin your life?"

"You could never do such a thing. Only if you choose to leave me. You know well that dwarves once their find their life-time partner, they cannot forget them, so I beg you, My Love, do not reject me. Because if you do, I will never be happy with another."

"Dwalin, I do love you. You know that. But what if an elder brings up that I'm not fully a dwarf?"

"Then I shall chop their head off. No one can question my Queen."

He took another step, but this time when you didn't move he closed the gap, pulling you close. 

"I love you, Y/N. Nothing and no one can change that."

And as he closed in for a deep, breath-taking kiss, you couldn't stand your ground any longer. Everything came crashing down as his arms locked around your waist. 

Taglist: imreadinggoaway @fleursirvart​​ @v-2bucky ehsebastiancrunch-time-sports  @pxstelrainbow ablogbypeteparker liamssmilersmexylemony @greenarrowhead feelingsareharddd @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @avengers-r-us @destynelseclipsa   @spilledinkindumpster celebsimagine @capsiclesdoll snoopy3000 @firstangeldragonranch @puknow @crazzyter  @alwayshave-faith @soleil-dor @alex12948 scream-kiwi79  @lxdyred  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​ @liveforkarljacobs @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek​​ @paola-carter​​ @stunkbiggu

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

             DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

#dwalin x reader #dwalin x you #dwalin imagine #dwalin imagines #dwalin fanfic #the hobbit #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit imagines #the hobbit x y/n #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit x you #hobbit x reader #lord of the rings imagines #lord of the rings imagine #lord of the rings x reader

[landwriter]

Ok, for the WIP title ask game, would An Eternity of This happen to be the Oaths follow up? 👀

It would be!! This snippet is the first thing that I wrote again after too many months with not enough writing. It's a scene with Thomas and Catte after Hob has gone out after Dream about the. V grateful to it for getting the gears going again, even though it doesn't quite fit in the rest of the coda. Pleased to have a reason to put it somewhere else, like riiiight here. ~1.1K of Oaths Coda under the cut:

When they were small, Catte had teased Hob for his lack of patience. When they were grown, she persisted in doing so, for he persisted in having none.

He took it in good humour, as was his character; just as it was hers to tease him in all the things she knew better about. It was a mercy that he had been born into a saddle and not to any other manner of work. Strong though he was, she suspected he would not be able to withstand waiting even for a dough to rise. Making a simple basket had nearly driven him to grief.

It was only now, that she felt the abashed stirrings of sympathy. Patience. She turned away from the window and sighed.

“By morrow, he told you,” she said, again.

“By morrow,” replied Thomas, again.

“How many times is that now? God’s blood. It’s not as if the answer is going to be different.”

“Four, I think,” he said dryly. “You’re beside yourself.”

Catte shook her head and scoffed. “So I am. Come and comfort your insensible wife, Thomas.”

He stood up from where he was sat by their hearth, and came to wrap his arms around her. Only she was insensible on the inside, and had to shut her eyes to resist the impulse to slide out of his embrace as soon as it caught her and go back to the window. Her husband was warm and solid and smelled of smoke and himself, and she could be still as him, even if she felt less like a woman and rather more like a flystruck horse in the fields, twitching and restive and nearly mad.

Thomas pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “I’m not sure you can will yourself any calmer than this, hart. The others are surely drinking themselves blind tonight. If it wasn’t that your company was far better, I’d join them. You’ve more grace than us all.”

She smiled at the flattery and turned her face against his chest so she could half look out onto the dark moors. “I do have more practice.”

Thomas drew in a breath. “Is this what it’s like? Each time we ride out?”

Catte looked up. He met her eyes, and she thought of all the long winters, of waking before dawn and starting the day’s labours in the blue-grey light just for a reason to look to the horizon. Waiting for her Thomas before he was even hers, not wanting to put a name to the thing that already had her looking for him in the crowd of returning riders, dry-mouthed, no matter what they called each other.

She cupped his face and thumbed over his cheeks. Her husband now. Not that it made any kind of difference to how it felt, before or after, each and every time. But it was her work to carry the waiting, as riding was theirs. He should never have learned this feeling too. He’d recall it afresh when he rode out again and feel sorry twice over, for leaving and for knowing now how it felt to be left.

“Would you believe me if I say no?” she asked.

Thomas raised his eyebrows. “No. But I’d let you have it.”

“You shouldn’t let me have anything,” she said indignantly.

“Nay, you’d prefer to win it, love,” he said, hiding a smile, and she sighed. It was unjust that he knew her as well as she knew him. “You don’t need to explain. I just don’t know how you bear this.”

“It is like this. But it’s easier, too. Tonight is different.” When Thomas rode out, he was surrounded by good men, brothers and kin, some who she would grant were even as cunning or strong as her man. Hob had gone out with nobody, against a fell enemy they had never met before, not to chance suffering but to pay in it, and no way home but to withstand it all. It didn’t bear saying, so instead she said, “I have you with me. The bed won’t be cold.”

“You’re only trying to make me feel useful,” said Thomas. He pressed his face into hair. “Catte, I hate this,” he murmured.

“I know,” she said. “I hate it too.” Outside, rain gusted down, and they both fell silent, imagining Hob, outside and alone, making his way to Miles Cross.

“I’ll bank the fire,” said Thomas abruptly. Catte looked at the hearth and laughed. It had hours left in it. Thomas had been stoking it ceaselessly. It would take the whole bucket of cold ash.

“And I suppose then we’ll lie in bed and fall asleep,” she said.

He smiled crookedly. “Aye.”

But she did lie down in bed, and soon Thomas joined her, and pressed himself to her back like another bastle wall. Neither of them spoke. Catte had been surprised to discover how much she enjoyed the comfortable marital silence that came in sharing a bed, near as much as the very foremost activities of a marriage bed. Tonight, it hardly warmed her. Tonight, they were only silent because the remainder of their thoughts were too grim to speak aloud. They sounded awful enough inside her head.

Catte wanted to throw off the covers, shake all the fear off with it, but instead, she breathed slowly, and began to paint a picture behind her eyes. It was a childish habit, to soothe and distract. She hadn’t thought about it in years. Her eldest sister had told her to do it when Catte confessed she lost sleep for her nerves as soon her friends began to ride out. Think of someplace else. It doesn’t even need to be real, Effy had said solemnly. Name every detail of it, the smell and the sound and the feel, so you can go into it like another room.

A summer’s evening, she decided. A sky dark blue in the gloaming, the leavings of a perfect clear day. Sweet smelling air and a cool breeze in her hair. Dark enough for bats to be on wing in the field, light enough to point them out still, to her children, who were bonny and hale, and favoured her and Thomas both. But tonight they were indoors, sat at her feet on a yellow woven rug, listening wide-eyed to her fearful recounting of the Faerie Queen and the night their kinsman Hob Gadling won his love. Thomas comes inside, with more lines on his face and more handsome for it, and they pester him with questions, and he laughs—as he does, easily and often now, for here in this little room their future is plentiful and kind—and fetches Hob and his fey husband, both long since returned from the clutches of monstrous creatures, and then Thomas holds Catte in his arms the way he had since they were still half children themselves, and they all together listen to the only fairy story that was true, and ended happily.

WIP Title Ask Game

#wip title ask game #asks #oaths #the sandman

[thereal-true-ogilvie]

hello everyone welcome to i talk about benrey for a minute here

as someone who’s watched the entirety of hlvrai at least 6 times, the full vods at least 3, and the cast commentary hovering somewhere around 10, i consider myself to be pretty well-versed in the series. i also kin benrey. this is probably important to my perception of him.

the series is about self-aware AI.   its in the title! so it seems obvious enough to me that Benrey was programmed to be the final boss. he was SUPPOSED to be a silly character that antagonizes the protag and throws off the group dynamic, and then it’s a big reveal and you get to beat up this guy that was mean to you!

but he doesnt wanna. hes self aware.

Of all the characters, i think Bubby and Tommy are the most “powerful” in that they were able to break their characters the most. Tommy is a bit of a wild card because he doesn’t usually act like an AI. I view him as the “character you’re supposed to protect” in the party, but somewhere along the way he, too, became self-aware and figured out how to handle his own. I think that’s where the age thing comes in. He was programmed to be a 5-year-old that you’re trying to get out of this dangerous facility! but he didn’t want to be a 5-year-old, he’s smarter than that, he’s capable! so he changed it. Him being the son of Gman also probably helped with him being able to just do that.

I take Bubby and Dr. Coomer as both being tutorial characters. Dr. Coomer is a bit broken, but he still does his best to teach you about things. I think he’s the tutorial NPC that goes “watch out for [x]” and “we can use ropes to cross big pits!” and “we should call them Peeper Puppies!” while Bubby was supposed to be the “here’s how you shoot a gun”

Like, Dr. Coomer does the knowledge about the world, and Bubby does the action. for the video game. And Bubby is supposed to be kinda cold to you, because the action-tutorial NPCs tend to be. Like “what you cant even hold your own? tch, guess ill have to teach you.” But Bubby doesn’t do that. He doesn’t WANT to play the game, he wants to go back home. He liked it before the game was switched on. So he doesn’t teach Gordon shit and just tries to speedrun so the player will leave and he can go back home.

one little scene that stood out to me so much was when the crew is sitting around in a circle with the pigeons. not outside, the other scene with them sitting in a circle and there’s pigeons. why are there 2 of those.

anyways, Benrey is just staring at this pigeon behind Gordon, and singing to it, calmly. And then there’s a loud beep that sounds like the vox, and definitely doesnt come from Benrey. and he suddenly gets up and shoots the pigeon. That reads SO HARD like he was being too soft with the game world, so it pushed him to do something evil randomly. Like a little villain reboot.

Almost everything he does to antagonize Gordon can be read as genuine confusion. He kills random NPCs because he knows theyre not important, and that they can’t feel anything, and that they’ll only slow the team’s progress. And what makes Gordon so mad at him is how often Benrey says Gordon shouldnt be allowed in here. I take that as a similar stance to Bubby. Benrey doesn’t want to be the villain. He doesn’t want the player to progress and make him. That gets more obvious the closer we get to the end, and most people tend to notice it in the last scenes before Xen, where he’s suggesting they go all the way back, and basically begging the player to stop here, at least for a little while.

its really sad, honestly. but i take the cast commentary bits as canon. Which makes it adorable when Benrey comes back into the movie theatre with Gordon and we get

“I wonder what will happen. I bet you know what happens!”

“I win!!!”

He did win. He got to get past being the final boss. He got to join the epilogue. I think, he probably wasn’t supposed to be able to. But these guys broke the game enough that he could. Isn’t that sweet? Isn’t that a nice ending for him? I think he deserves it.

Wayne says he acts like “he isn’t aware unless he’s being spoken to” and I think that fits really well. Like, sometimes his actions are coded into his behavior, so he does them without realizing. And then the player interacting with him (which is the premise of the self-awareness) forces him to actually look at what he did, and sometimes he has no idea how to explain it. Leading to his “huh?”

listen to me. are you listening. i need you to hear this. i need more people to understand benrey. and how much i love him. hes trapped in the narrative, doomed by it to be the villain. but he doesn’t want to be. he clearly cares about the crew in his own silly goofy way. he doesn’t want to fight them. i wrote down everything he said in the finale, and he only says 5 outright malicious lines, all of which are directly after an unnatural pause, like he’s being rebooted again. Some important lines: “I knew this was gonna happen,”

“Stop shooting at me, I have to shoot back, I don’t wanna do that,”

“I didn’t have a big plan, I was supposed to be nice, but you forced me to be BAD so I’m gonna be BAD… friend.” the small, quiet “friend” there gets me every time. even after everything, even after his nature is revealed, he wants to believe theyre still friends.

“Don’t go in there, please… I don’t like that room." The amount of times he sounds so genuinely sad when asking them to stop, or even just saying “bro..” like he’s mourning the friendship they could’ve had. The amount of times he sounds genuinely pained when he’s glitching out and stretching across the screen.

And his last words, said childishly of course, but,

“This isn’t fair.”

#god i love character analysis #benrey #hlvrai #dr coomer #bubby #tommy coolatta

[echo-goes-mmm]

Silas and Wren 2.0 #5

Masterpost

Previous

Next

Warnings: past dub/noncon

Silas paced in his room. 

As much as he hated solitude, he’d grown accustomed to it. Now that he had company, what was there to say?

He’d gotten what he wanted, but it didn’t help the emptiness inside him.

Typical. 

He stopped, sighing. Maybe… maybe he just needed some time. To get used to another person again; or maybe time for the pain of rejection to leave.

If it ever left.

Silas opened his door, bumping into Wren. 

Wren squeaked at the impact. He stepped back, his honey-brown eyes wild.

“Sorry,” Silas apologized. “I didn’t know you were there.”

Wren's expression shifted in a flash, from fear to a placid smile, but Silas could hear his frantic heartbeat.

“I should have watched where I was going,” he said, polite as always. “I’m sorry, Master.”

Wren was afraid of him.

Of course Wren was afraid of him; how could he expect anything different? He shouldn’t hope for anything good from the universe. Nothing ever panned out right.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Wren’s relief was nearly imperceptible, but it was there.

“What’re you up to?” Silas asked.

Wren tensed again, and Silas could have smacked himself. “I’m only curious,” he added.

“I- I was looking for a duster, Master. To clean with.”

“Oh. Uh, I don’t think I have one. Sorry.”

“It’s alright, Master, I’ll make do,” Wren said with a sunny smile. It didn’t quite meet his eyes.

Silas wondered how many smiles Wren had faked before. He was too good at it.

“You don’t have to clean for me.”

Wren shifted. “I’d be happy to,” he said. “I don’t mind, Master.”

Silas knew a losing battle when he saw one.

“Well, alright. You don’t need to call me ‘master’, though. Just Silas will do.”

“Yes, Master Silas,” replied Wren automatically.

Silas sighed internally, and went downstairs.

So much for bonding. How did people make friends?

Silas scanned the bookshelf, looking for something to read. 

Unfortunately, he had read all of his books many times, and he really didn’t feel like risking the streets for the bookstore. 

The library was outside his pitiful territory, and out of the question.

Silas worried his lip. Maybe he could send Wren to buy a book or two?

He glanced at the clock. Ten pm. The bookstore closed at nine.

It was just as well, really. He couldn’t afford to spend money so frivolously. Sure, the banks were as happy to service vampires as they were humans- money was money after all- but his pockets were not as deep as most of his kin. 

Wren alone was a sizable expense, and he had to buy food for him every week. Not to even mention furnishing the attic room. No new books for a while, then.

Silas grabbed a random title and sat in his armchair. He flipped to the first chapter, skimming the words.

Nothing jumped out at him; the plot couldn’t hold his attention. He had read it too many times.

Silas scrubbed a hand over his face. 

He missed his sired siblings, even though they disliked him. He missed games and chatter and jokes, even if he was mostly left out.

But most of all he missed Felix; the only other person in his nest that didn’t hate him.

If only things had been different.

Silas sighed, and stood to put the book away.

___________________

Wren finished dusting the top of the kitchen shelves. No one had cleaned up there in ages, and no wonder. He had to climb on top of the counter to get to it.

Wren wiped off the counters one more time, and admired his work.

The kitchen was sparkling from top to bottom. He’d even mopped the floor, despite the lack of a proper mop.

Luckily, he’d found some rags in the bathroom closet. It seemed a rather strange place to keep them, but it wasn’t his place to question his Master’s organization system.

Speaking of his Master, Silas hadn’t fed from him yet. Surely he was hungry.

Wren put the stopper in the sink and filled it with hot water. He left the rags to soak, and went looking for his owner.

___________________

Master Silas was in the living room, staring off into space. His hands were folded in front of him, and his legs were stretched out.

Wren hesitated.

“Are you alright, Master?”

Silas turned his head, his gray eyes landing on him. Master looked away after only a moment.

“I’m fine,” he said.

Wren hesitated. “You haven’t had breakfast,” he said.

“I’m not hungry. Just… bored.”

What did he mean? A vampire who wasn’t hungry? Laughable. Incomprehensible. Then again, who was Wren to question him?

Boredom, though, he could fix.

Wren didn’t particularly want to at the moment- he was probably covered in dust- but it was about time he did his duty for Master Silas.

“I could entertain you, Master,” he offered, keeping his voice as pleasant and agreeable as possible.

Silas looked at him again. Wren’s hands twitched at the hem of his shirt, waiting for the order to strip.

It didn’t come.

Silas stood up. He walked to the shelf, and pulled down a box.

Confusion and relief swirled through him. A game. Just a board game.

“Do you know how to play Carcassonne?”

“I can learn, Master.”

Silas set the box on the coffee table, and Wren inched forward. Master began to pull out the pieces, and Wren sat on the rug across from him.

One day, soon, Master Silas would take him to the bedroom and Wren would find out what kind of Master he was. What he liked, and how to really please him.

But for now, Master wanted him to play a game.

Wren tried to pay attention as Master Silas explained the rules, but a thought nagged at him.

Why didn’t Silas want to bed him? 

No one had ever turned him down before. He never really had to offer before, either. It was a given; understood that Wren was always available. No Master needed to be bored when he was around.

It had been three days and Silas showed no sign of interest.

No Master had ever waited so long. Some took him into the bedroom immediately, others waited until evening came. One in particular, the worst of them, had bent him over the nearest piece of furniture as soon as they had walked through the door. 

But three days? Unheard of.

Silas placed the first square, and Wren was struck with a horrifying thought.

Was something wrong with him?

taglist: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @secretwhumplair @freefallingup13 @mylovelyme @whumpzone

@paintedpigeon1 @haro-whumps @whumpthisway @fanastyfinder @extemporary-whump

@susiequaz12 @keepingwhumpwiththekardashians @the-cyrulik @morning-star-whump @writereleaserepeat

@annablogsposts @tobiaslut @starfields08000 @ghost-whump @bitchaknso

#adderall refill coming in clutch #ahh wren. insecurity's a bitch #whump #my writing #silas and wren #slavery whump

[kikyan]

Yandere Savanaclaw Headcanons

Tw: Dark content up ahead y’all!! Mentions of manipulation, gaslighting, possessiveness, etc. 

Banner made by my lovely bestie @herestrish don’t steal pls or I’ll eat your kneecaps, I’m entering my Hannibal era <3! Jokes aside. . . disclaimer!! 

These are my interpretations of his/her/their persona and none of these is 100% accurate. I don’t condone any of these actions in real life and all of this is purely fictional and should be taken as such! Underage characters will ONLY be given SFW headcanons, please respect this decision. If these headcanons sound dry. . .I’ll redo them I’m sorry I was tired 

Leona Kingscholar

Okiedoki, these headcanons were WAY long overdue and me being the chaotic and messy person I am, did not plan these ahead nor did I make a posting schedule. Without further ado, here we go! Can you name a bigger kin? Leona is me and I am Leona. From what I’ve seen in the fandom, Leona seems to be a personality that not many people differ from. Like it’s all collectively and mutually agreed on how he acts. Regardless, the character traits I assign him are overprotective, possessive, and manipulative.

No one here can argue that Leona isn’t smart, mans is brilliant only issue being he lacks motivation. Assuming I got all my facts straight, he’s smart and talented and has all amazing qualities, but it doesn’t matter because he’s not the firstborn. His signature spell is so dangerous, he’s constantly being upstage because name and reputation matter more than actions. Not to his darling, he’s possessive over his S/O because you’re his. You’re not someone given to him because of his status or lack of, you’re his because you were able to charm the lion and gain his affection. You’re his because he won, he won YOUR affection. All hell will break loose if someone DARES to even touch you, looks at you wrong, or do anything to hurt you. He’ll often refer to you as one of his belongings but words aside, he really does see you as his equal. This ties in with his overprotectiveness and his overall fear of losing the one person that matters in his life, you.

Manipulative. Though he wants a fair game, mans is cheating. He’s not above using dirty methods to get you to be his in the first place. He’s probably gaslit you before and you wouldn’t know. He’s smart and he has Ruggie, this is important. He’d probably disagree with you and advise you to do something else, when you decide to go off on your own he’ll send Ruggie to stir up the pot but not right away no, that’s too convenient! He’ll wait until you have a sense of security before striking, when things go downhill and you come back to him he won’t smile, he won’t say anything other than, “I told you so.” He’s so smug about it too, that smirk when he’s in the right and you’re in the wrong.

I’d say personally, he’s a 7/10 on the yandere scale, he’s definitely not someone you want to mess with and by all means half of the time it’s him just being protective. Bro’s the type of guy to help you study but not before he makes you give him a kiss or fuel his ego for a bit. He’s able to lower his guard around you, sleep comfortably with you, and laze around, just don’t get too comfy. Any signs he notices of defiance and he’s not afraid to show you why the others respect him. His scale may increase if he’s angry, he’d never hurt his S/O but the others?

Ruggie Bucchi

I don’t know much about Ruggie just because he’s not a character I was very interested in but he’s so funny. Getting straight into it, possessive, manipulative, and overprotective. He’s not a threat, a solid 4/10. I happen to remember that Ruggie was raised by his grandmother and that in book 4 went back home with a lot of food because the kids in his home didn’t have enough. Ruggie has a good heart, it’s just hard to get him to trust someone else because of it. I like to this that his S/O is someone who was able to remind him that it’s okay to be selfish just as much as it is important to be selfless. With that in mind, I think Ruggie being possessive over his S/O is reasonable. Ruggie keeps things that matter to him close, that includes you, babes!! Just as he steals anything else, he stole your heart. Your safety and security matter a lot to him, maybe not at first but as time goes on it’s his first priority. I’ll be honest, Ruggie is a fun person to be around. His jokes and his mannerism are sure to make you smile along with his good heart.

Furthering into his possessiveness, I like to think he gets super jealous when his S/O is with someone else or not having their attention on him. Someone approaches you and asks you to have lunch with them or to study, Ruggie gets pouty and gives you the silent treatment. You’d ask him something and this man will be so petty. “I don’t know, why don’t you ask [Student Name]” or “I don’t know, you seemed to have more fun with them so I don’t want to disturb you”. That kind of petty. He won’t lie, he loves the attention he gets from you. You desperately trying to make it up to him because you NEED him. That being said, he’s a pain in your ass but he’s saved it multiple times. I like to think that Ruggie is that person who at the start of it tries to show that he doesn’t care. The type to flee when you’re in danger or not help because there is nothing to gain until he catches feelings. Slowly saying things like, “Well, we can work out the details of my reward later. . .” or “It’s whatever, I owe you anyways”. He gives off mammon vibes, just not a simp.

As time goes on and he and his S/O start to get closer, he’d be more willing to help you and do things for you. Manipulative, it kinda rubs off on him from Leona tbh. I know for a fact Ruggie knows some underhanded moves to get what he wants, at first he’ll play with your heartstrings, being pouty and petty. If that doesn’t work he’ll get annoyed and just flat-out ignore you. He’s not going to grovel and beg, he’s done plenty of that already. He’s going to make you beg for his attention and his help. The type to pull your hair in class and pull pranks, having the teacher find you and scold you while ignoring Ruggie. Unrightfully giving you detention as he looks the other way. As you’re sitting and doing your boring work, he pops in for a second and just mocks you.

He’s kinda like Ace just a bit toned down! He’s not a dangerous yandere just an annoying one but you should be alright with him!

Jack Howl

Jack gets two, over-protective and possessive. He’s not a dangerous yandere either, like a 3/10? He’s a character with morals and without a doubt, genuine love and concern for his S/O. I know he means well and he does, he’s a super sweet yandere!

Jack is most definitely a protector. As we saw in the game, at first he didn’t seem to want to do a whole lot with us until we got to book 2. He’s super loyal and caring, qualities that his S/O loves and respects as does he. If you’re ever being picked on or bullied, Jack is on the case! He’s going off on them, saying how it’s so cowardly of them to pick on someone who can’t defend themselves. Do you need a walk home? Jack will do it! Do you need some help with an assignment? He doesn’t know much, but he’s down to help you learn better! He’s a sincere lover who cares a lot, and he’s possessive. I feel like Jack at first would hate his feelings. He has no right over you so why does he feel so upset when you’re talking to someone else? Did you find a new partner? You’re staying out late? Don’t you need him….? He shouldn’t feel like this, but he does! Jack would try to deny it at first, surely ir’s just admiration! I mean you did stand up to Leona after all and that takes some real guts!

Possessive. Once those feelings subside, he’s doing what he can to have your attention on him. Inviting him to all his spell drive practices, offering to help you with homework or the other way around. He just wants to protect you. Sure his presence can be suffocating to the point he’s a bit clingy, I mean I don’t think you’re gonna get attacked in line waiting for your food, but who knows? He’s always there, conveniently as well. Acts of service are one of his love languages, you need a book from the high shelf? He’s already on it. You don’t have a partner for the project? No worries neither does he. Leona and Ruggie notice his behavior, often teasing him but never going further. Jack is. . .how do I say this? Awkward. He is so awkward, the type to invite you out to eat and just eat in silence. The type to be content being in your presence so he doesn’t really do anything else. Give him time and he’ll be better, promise!

#yandere #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere leona #yandere leona kingscholar #yandere leona kingscholar x reader #yandere ruggie bucchi #yandere ruggie x reader #yandere ruggie #yandere ruggie bucchi x reader #yandere jack #yandere jack x reader #yandere jack howl #yandere leona x reader #yandere jack howl x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere headcannons #yandere imagines

[scribbledghost]

hi hi hi!! i just found your blog and have been binging your simon blurbs they’re so good TT ~ i was wondering if you’d ever considered writing platonic!simon ?? like maybe where reader is his younger sister or something (non canon obv but maybe she survived and he didn’t know until later in life??) i feel like it could be super angsty + a little fluff

I'm down to write any sort of Simon tbh! This is a very interesting prompt, and I think it can really give a glimpse into his character, so thank you for sending it in!

I think, at first, he's in denial. Heavily. Everyone else was dead, he had no reason to think you weren't, too. He'd operated under this assumption for years, even when he'd watched from afar as a group buried an empty casket next to the others. He hadn't found you in the massacre, and he hadn't found you at Roba's compound later. Surely those were the only two places you'd be, right? And no one - not the former squadmates who betrayed him, not Roba, not the brass - ever said a word about you being taken somewhere. You were dead, just like the rest. That's the only explanation that made sense. Even in his personnel file, among the list of other names of his former next-of-kin with a "deceased" stamp next to them, your name had a "missing, presumed dead" designation.

But still, part of him never stopped looking. Part of him still kept an eye out whenever he went anywhere, looking for you.

It was a futile endeavor, until one day... it wasn't.

"...Simon?"

He turns so quickly he develops a crick in his neck later, wild eyes immediately finding yours. He'd been out with the 141 in some dive bar somewhere, buried in between city streets and burnt out neon lights. The rest of the squad quiets, silently watching whatever this is unfold.

No. No no no no no. You were dead. You'd been dead for years. It's why he hadn't spent every waking moment looking for you. The person standing in front of him can't be you.

Except it is.

He stares, wide-eyed and barely breathing. You look different. Of course you do. But he never forgot those eyes of yours.

"Is it really you?"

He could ask the same thing. In fact, he does. He softly says your name, followed by a quiet "thought you were dead".

"Thought you were, too."

Right. Sometimes Simon forgets that technically, he's legally dead.

The dam breaks quickly, and Simon isn't sure who moves first between the two of you. You shed some tears, he holds you tighter than he's ever held onto anything in his life. He apologizes for not looking for you, for not doing more to reunite the two of you sooner, but you shut him down. You'd gone into hiding as best as you could after everyone died, never knowing that the men who did it were swiftly dealt with by your older brother. He had nothing to apologize for. And still, he keeps doing so.

Simon fills in the 141 on who you are - his baby sister, the last remaining member of his entire family. Price immediately mentions giving him some leave time in order to "catch up", which Simon takes. Gaz cracks a joke about how you can't be related to Simon - you're way too pretty (Simon is quick to remind the Sargent that he's never even seen his face). Soap, meanwhile, is grilling you about what his LT was like as a scrappy kid, no doubt to find ammo to use later to heckle him about.

#simon ghost riley #not gonna tag this as x reader cause it's. platonic yknow? #ghost scribbles

[pedropascallme]

The Good, the Bad, and the Better

Pairing: gunslinger!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: "You stretched your legs when you got off the train, wondering how so much sitting could make your joints so sore. You had one bag, which was, truthfully, more than enough. You fit your entire life into the handheld leather case, and it felt both freeing and deeply, deeply woeful."

Content: Mentions of death, uuuh US cholera epidemic? gnc!Ellie because I said so. That's all for now. If I missed anything please let me know!

AN: hi I’m trying something new….felt the need to get Joel involved with a sexy lil cowboy AU. Full disclosure this was inspired by @qwimchii and the AMAZING gunslinger!ghost series she’s been writing (go support her work!!). Lmk if you guys want more of this in the future, I have….plans….for this story, to say the least, so treat it as an intro of sorts?

Jefferson Territory (Colorado), September 1847

The executor of your father’s will wore small bifocals, perched gently on the bridge of his nose. You bounced your leg, perhaps unladylike, but it was all you could do to steady your mind in the tight office that smelled of wood and purified alcohol.

You clutched your handkerchief to your chest, fresh out of tears to wring from your eyes and waiting to get the bequeathing over with. With breaths so deep they threatened the lace of your corset, you were able to look up at the executor, who had been kind enough to wait for you to give him the ok to continue.

“Alright, miss?” His voice was nasal, but not condescending. You nodded. “To my daughter, my only child and carrier of my good name, I leave my land in Texas; doing so in the hopes that she will live out her life there, with kin.”

The man stopped reading and looked up at you. That was all he had for you.

You hadn’t been expecting any more. Hadn’t even considered you would be getting any land—an unmarried woman with land, though, was sure to catch the attention of a gentleman, and you’re sure that your father had known that.

“Thank you.” You mumbled to the man, dry lips cracking under the moisture of the tears you had licked up. “Am I meant to sign anything?”

“No, miss.” He seemed sorry for you, and you felt a flare of anger at him in that moment; you were sick of hearing people speak to you so slow and soft, as if the weight of their words would knock you down and bury you along with your parents.

It hadn’t even been one year since the death of your dear mother, the woman who had brought you up like a proper lady, who had taught you your prayers, and the proper way to tie your hair up so that God would smile upon you along with the sweet church-going boy on the ranch next to your own home. Your family had been naïve in thinking that the cholera outbreak wouldn’t reach them in the west. When word first spread in the papers, it was a small number of people in the City of New York; your father was quick to dismiss the cases as God’s wrath upon those who didn’t appreciate the frontier, too busy with their fancy jobs and big-city values to go to church. But your mother fell ill that summer, vomiting and lethargic, and it wasn’t long until you watched the priest say his prayers over her coffin.

You admired your father’s will to keep going, until you didn’t. He kept busy, and you thought he would work himself to death—maybe that’s why he seemed so calm when he got sick, compared to the panic your mother had in her eyes in the days before she died; he knew he wouldn’t be on the mortal plane much longer, soul too deeply intertwined with your mother’s and ready to go where she went even in death.  

So here you sat, in the same mourning clothes you had worn for the past 11 months, listening to this law man explain that he would be taking care of any other business that had to do with your father’s measly estate. You thanked him, giving him a polite curtsey before you exited his office and found your way back onto the street.

You didn’t have much left in Jefferson Territory. You made the short walk back to your family’s home with your head down, ignoring the coaches that passed on their routes and the women who spoke in hushed tones when they saw you walking all by your lonesome. "Poor thing", “just a girl,” “should have been married off sooner.” You wanted to bite back at them, tell them you’d rather die along with your parents than ever abandon your family and run off with some boy just to mother ungrateful children who would in turn run off themselves. You were happy, at least, that your parents had died in your presence; you couldn’t imagine the suffering had you been gone from their home, the pain after being there with them when they took their last breaths was bad enough.

You walked through the door of the house, careful to close the door and lock it how your mother always told you—even without her present, you knew she would appreciate the little things. You appreciated them, too, now, more than you had ever thought you would.

“Auntie?” You called out to your father’s sister, hearing a bustle in the kitchen and smiling for the first time that day; your aunt was a wild woman, never married and never sitting. Her kindness was perhaps the only thing that motivated you to wake up every morning without your parents. You found her kneading dough, moving her whole body over the clay-like clump with a force, upper half covered with flour. “Auntie.”

She turned, noticing you for the first time since you arrived back home. “Welcome home, little one!” She greeted you, and you watched her run a hand over her forehead to combat the sweat running over her eyes, leaving a trail of flour over her brow. “You doing alright?” She turned back to her ball of dough, leaning an elbow into it, anticipating your answer.

You just sighed, pulling up a chair close to her and studying her movements, unsure of how to tell her just how alright you were; it was like you had no emotions left, your heart a husk keeping your body moving with nowhere to go. Not nowhere, maybe.

“I got land in Texas.” You were quiet, and her movements stalled.

“Texas?” She quirked a brow and slapped her hands together, sending flour to stray over her apronless front. “Who got you land in Texas?”

“Papa.”

“Your daddy had land down there?”

You shrugged, “That’s what the lawyer said. Said it’s all mine, now.” You hadn’t yet absorbed the news, unsure of what to do with yourself or your earnings.

“War’s bad, little one,” your aunt huffed, not angrily, but with a concerned look spread over her face, “not much use with Texan land until Mr. Polk can figure out how to appease the folks down south.” You nodded, aware of the conflict and uneager to get anywhere near it. “Still…” Your aunt looked at you now, the black fabric of your dress bunched up over your knees with the specks of white dust she had covered you with.

“Still?” You questioned, feeling a wave of anxiety cross you.

“…Nothing left for you here.” She spoke quietly, barely above a whisper, looking you dead in the eyes.

“You’re here!” You felt trapped, scared, but mostly confused. She of all people would be the only one to condone such an outlandish notion—dropping everything and running off to a war-torn territory away from everything you ever knew—but you had hoped she would appeal to her more realistic side in this particular matter and tell you to forget the whole thing before dinner.

“I’m not staying, little one,” her eyes were pleading, “got my own life, got people in other places to look after.”

You felt tears well in your eyes, appalled that you had any water left in your body to cry out today. “I don’t want to leave…I don’t want you to leave.” You felt yourself begin to cry again.

“I’ll never leave you,” she whispered, the ghost of a smile on her lips, “but I can’t stay in Jefferson Territory…got plans back east.”

“East?” You practically yelled it, offended that she would leave the life your extended family had built in Jefferson Territory despite the unease that churned in your stomach whenever you thought of living out your own life in the same spot you'd known since you could toddle.

“East.” She was calm, balancing your abject terror. “I’m sure you’ve noticed I’m not exactly cut out for…roughin’ it.” She emphasized the last words, using the accent your father had worn so proudly. “I got friends in New York—going out to be with them…it’s safer there, easier.”

You were enraged; the one final person you trusted was abandoning you for a life you couldn’t ever imagine. It was safe here, you were safe here—with her, and your mother, and your father. “Well, I’m sorry I’m not a big city fool like you!” You felt yourself tremble, “I’m sorry you’d rather have it easy than live the life God gave you!” You were seeing red, standing now to lord yourself over her and make her seem as small as you felt. It didn’t work, and she looked at you now like everybody else did—full of pity.

She let you cry, sobs taking over your body and forcing hiccups up your throat. You shouldn’t be mad at her, you realized, couldn’t be mad at her; she was a grown woman, with wants and needs, and maybe someday you would be, too.

“Take me with you.” You pleaded through sniffles, wiping your nose on your sleeve in a move that your mother would have tutted you for. Your aunt stayed silent, placing a hand on your head to smooth over the hair that had come undone in your rage.

“I would,” she explained, “but I don't think you...I don't think you'd enjoy it any more than you enjoy it here. Not now, at least. Not yet." The pity in her eyes faded to reveal the compassion she had for you, and you nodded into her chest when she pulled you into her, acknowledging the truth she had spoken. You wouldn’t know up from down in a place like New York; too many people, too much smoke and noise. You let her hold you for as long as she would, soothed by the hand she combed through your hair and the way her heartbeat thrummed in your ear. Maybe someday.

“We’ll get you a train ticket,” she murmured above you, chin resting on the crown of your head, “I know a fella in Texas—real gentleman, cross my heart—and I know he’ll have a place for you away from all the ruckus.”

“Cross your heart?” You asked her to promise once more.

“Cross my heart, little one.”

~~~

Texas, October 1847

You stretched your legs when you got off the train, wondering how so much sitting could make your joints so sore. You had one bag, which was, truthfully, more than enough. You fit your entire life into the handheld leather case, and it felt both freeing and deeply, deeply woeful.

Your aunt had arranged for her associates (her words) to pick you up, show you around, and help you to your new home, but she hadn’t given you much of a description; you had no idea who you were looking for, or what they might look like. All she had done was give you a name. You felt small, already sweltering in the Texan heat and feeling out of place in your black mourning gown. Maybe it would be ok, given the circumstances, to forego the entire outfit, and simply wear a veil, but you felt that the only thing grounding you was the way you were dressed, the reminder of why you were here in this dusty sand-and-brick station.

You looked around, not minding the jostling of the people passing you to get to where they needed to go. You tried to identify anybody that might look as if they were waiting on a lonesome orphan, but all you saw was a pool of sweaty businessmen and women in large hats.

Attempting to find a map to get the lay of the land, you turned a corner, and collided into the chest of a tan man with long black hair and a hint of a mustache.

“I’m terribly sorry—” You felt yourself go bright red, already a nuisance and you hadn’t been in Texas for all of ten minutes.

“Woah, there,” the stranger tipped his hat down to you, offering a wink and a toothy grin, “no harm done, ma’am.” He patted down the front of his vest, smoothing out any wrinkles that remained from the collision. “Y’look lost.”

“I am lost,” you straightened your posture, trying not to seem so inconsequential compared to those around you, “Um—I’m looking for…Mr. Joel Miller?”

The man in front of you laughed, and he flashed the same toothy grin again. His laugh came from his stomach, and you watched him take his hat off to fan himself after he calmed down.

“Found her, El!” He called over his shoulder and a shorter, much younger boy appeared; he was wearing the same style of hat but was much paler than the man who had yet to introduce himself. His clothing gave away how young he was—that, and he was shorter than you, with a babyface and nary a whisker on his chin. He looked almost feminine up close, and was clearly quite a few years your junior.

“Oh, I’m sorry—you’re Mr. Miller?” You closed the confused ‘o’ of your mouth to form the question.

“No, no no no—I’m Tommy Miller,” he put his hat back on, “Joel’s my brother.” You nodded, trying to appear as though you understood the series of events that were taking place in front of you. What an odd introduction to the people whose care you were in. You had never questioned the company your aunt kept—she had her life, and you had your own, much more conservative one. Still, you began to think that these men had just as little an idea as to what you were doing here as you did. “’N you’re Tess’s girl.”

“I’m her niece,” you clarified, “my parents are dead.” You winced when the words came out, unsure of why you felt the need to share that with a man you had just met. Surely he must have been aware by now, and if he wasn’t, why would he care?

Tommy let out a low whistle in lieu of an apology. “Best get you goin’ then, girly.” He turned on his heel, encouraging you to hurry after him through the crowds. El grabbed your sleeve in a manner that, although gruff, was clearly meant as reassurance.

“Mine are, too,” he spoke softly, and his voice was similarly feminine to his face. When you gave an inquisitory glance at him, he continued, “My parents. They’re dead, too.”

“Oh,” you tried to think of a way to make the subject more lighthearted, aware of how tiring it got to hear constant apologies for something out of everybody’s control, “so you’re not—”

You didn’t even have to finish your sentence; El had anticipated your question from miles off. “Do we look related?”

“Well…no…” You muttered, embarrassed by how obvious the answer was.

“They’re like…well,” the younger boy mulled over everything he could say, but instead placed his arm in yours and laughed, “you’ll see.”

~~~

The ride back to the Miller’s land was long and bumpy—or maybe it just felt that way with Tommy looking back on you and El to ask various questions and soothe any anxieties, though it wasn’t as much help as he had thought it was. You taught El cat’s cradle with a string you had found in the cart, and it amused you for long enough before you switched to cards instead. El was shocked to hear you didn’t know how to play poker, and tried to teach you blackjack before Tommy reprimanded him for trying to corrupt you; you opted for go fish instead.

The cart came to a short stop in front of a rundown shack. There was a horse tied to a post with three feed bags in front of it—the extra two, you assumed, belonged to the two horses pulling the cart you were in.

Tommy helped you down, and you were careful to pat down the front of your dress when your feet touched the ground, not wanting to look unkept in front of new company. El jumped down behind you, making quick strides towards the door of the cabin. You and Tommy followed suit, with the older man taking your arm to lead the way.

When the door opened, El swore. “Jesus H., Joel!” he jumped backwards when a large figure stepped over the threshold and onto the dirt outside, “Scared the hell out of me!”

“Language, young lady.” The man in the doorway was tall, with a chest and shoulders to match his height. He was older than Tommy, and had the salt in his beard and dark hair to show for it. He wore the same hat, but didn’t have a full outfit on, with only the pants of a gentlemen to go with his undershirt and heavy boots.

So this was Joel Miller.

You were so focused on the new addition to the group that you almost didn’t catch what he had said to El—“young lady.” Tommy, still holding your arm, sensed your confusion.

“Well, cover’s blown,” he laughed, and El rolled his eyes. Taking off his hat, you watched thin, curly locks of hair come down to frame his face, and when you looked under the dirt and grime that coated his skin, you saw a little girl.

“El’s short for Ellie,” El laughed, tossing the hat in the air and catching it before walking past Joel to go inside.

You were almost more confused now than you had been.

“Little girl living with two grown men, wearing men’s clothes?” Tommy read the look on your face, trying to offer an explanation, “she’s a natural at bein’ a boy—‘n it draws less questions.” You nodded.

Joel continued to stare at you, and you couldn’t help but feel exposed to him despite your body being covered in the modest dress you had on. He was riddled in scars, and his tan skin flexed under his white undershirt; he looked so masculine, and it frightened and excited you in a way you decided to repress. He strolled over to you, taking slow steps and examining you with dark eyes that looked like honey under the Texan sun. He stopped in front of you, and you let go of Tommy's arm to curtsy, unsure of what else to do under his gaze.

“You’re Tess’s girl.” He said it with more confidence than Tommy had when he found you. Joel didn't bother returning the friendly gestures of introduction you had extended, shifting his weight on his heels and letting his eyes drag over your face.

“I’m her niece.” You clarified as you had at the train station.

“I know, darlin’.” He smirked down at you, and the way it was painted on his face made him look almost predatory. You offered a weak smile in return, hoping he would mistake the blush creeping up your face as a sunburn. He grunted something that sounded like approval.

Joel turned around and walked in after Ellie, leaving you with Tommy.

“Don’t worry,” Tommy took your arm once more, “he’s like that with everyone.”

You didn’t know if you liked that.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction

[sherylhooper]

BSD rant? (MANGA SPOILERS!!)

When will BSD fans stop babying Dazai? When will they finally understand that they are projecting themselves on him and don't really "kin" him? (Cuz if you kin Dazai, then ya'll should be in mental hospital).

When will they understand that Dazai is a nihilist person who doesn't care about life or death, good or evil? When will they realize that Mori didn't abuse him or experimented on him (where did that idea ever came from?)?

When will they learn that in BSD no one is good or evil? It's a place for morally grey characters!!

Kunikida and Ranpo were ready to let Atsushi die when he was kidnapped by Akutagawa. Tanizaki was very murder happy with killing Mori. Even Fukuzawa used to be an assassin!!

ADA Dazai is still PM Dazai cuz he doesn't care about anything else besides Oda's wish for him to be on the side that saves people (see how he doesn't say "be on the "good" side"?)

Oda himself said that for Dazai good or bad has same meaning, so why do these so-called fans and "kinnies" pretend that they know him better than Oda? As if Dazai won't kill someone in cold blood? He tried to drown Dostoyevskiy to win against him in latest chapters!

He doesn't hate the mafia, he hates Mori because Mori killed his friend!! That is a reason why he hates Mori.

"He left toxic and abused place" — Dazai is toxic and abusive himself. That toxic relationship between Dazai and Akutagawa and Akutagawa and Kyoka began with DAZAI, NOT MORI! (Unless Asagiri tells us it was Mori.) He didn't care about Akutagawa. No one went and forced Dazai to shoot or beat the shit out him. He did it on his own!

When will they stop babying him? As if Dazai would let anyone abuse or manipulate him, let alone his boss. He did what he did on his own.

It gets so annoying reading BSD fanfics cuz most of writers have him written "sad uwu boy who didn't want to be in Mafia but because he was abused, experimented (simetimes even SA'd) by Mori, he finally left the toxic space, hates Mafia and really wants to be a good person" 🙄

Do they even understand that all these are just "headcannons"? To them if you even say that you like Mori, you are a p*do excuser and abuser lover? Like, do these people even know how to think???

None of whatever they have deluded themselves with is Canon! Dazai is in ADA because of Odasaku. Mori isn't a p*do cuz Asagiri hasn't confirmed anything. Chuuya isn't a feminine uwu boy who can't function without Dazai and Mafia is actually very important to Yokohama.

"Mori doesn't deserve Elise" — Elise is Mori!! She is like Demon Snow and Golden Demon. She doesn't even have a personality unless Mori gives her one. She doesn't have feelings on her own. She isn't a human being.

"Mori said she was his wife" — well she is a part of Mori, so he can call her whatever he wants. Mori probably had her since he was a child. I wouldn't be surprised if he were to love her 🤷‍♀️

"The name of his ability is sus" — well, if they had read real life Mori's book "Vita Sexualis" they would have realized that the book is about a man who has very low s*x drive, probably an asexual — there, a simple answer. So, no we don't know anything about how his ability works and wiki page that says Vita Sexualis is projecting his own sexual wants on Elise isn't canon!

"He said he like his women below 12" — yeah, as a joke, both with Kouyou and Fukuzawa. Elise calling him a "lolicon" is Mori calling himself a "lolicon". Elise hating Mori is also self hatred 🤷‍♀️ Because, once again, Elise doesn't have a personality on her own, do we even know if she can think on her own? BEAST and Yosano’s past kinda raise this question.

They can hate him for what he did to Yosano but if my country was in a war, I, probably, would do the same if someone had that ability. It's one person versus a whole country. It's called necesasry evil.

BSD fans have to realize that what they want to sell as canon is just a headcanon, not everyone has same headcanons and that they are reading a Seinen not Shounen.

#dazai #dazai osamu #dazai x chuuya #dazai x chūya #mori is a good character #damnit #mori ougai #chuuya #15 chuuya #bungou stray dogs chuuya #mori #bsd #bsd canon #bungou stray dogs #skk #soukoku

[raina-at]

Family

John slowly opens his eyes. The room is quiet. The lights are dim, and the television over his bed is showing cartoons on mute. The blanket is uncomfortable and it smells of antiseptics and human misery.

He hates hospitals. Well, on this side of the bed at least. 

There’s something heavy and warm lying on one half of his body. He looks down and sees Rosie, fast asleep, her head on John’s shoulder. Apparently, she took a bit of a break from colouring on his leg cast and fell asleep.

It’s impossible to tell what time it is, but he guesses it must be rather late.

The door opens and a nurse comes in. She smiles when she sees him awake. He nods at Rosie and motions her to be quiet and she nods.

“Everything all right?” the nurse asks quietly. 

John nods. “So far so good.”

“With a bit of luck, you'll be out of here by the end of the week,” she says, adjusting his pillow. “Your husband should be back in a second, he just stepped out to take a phone call.” She smiles at Rosie’s sleeping form. “Couldn’t get either of them to leave. You have a lovely family.”

“Thank you,” John says, returning her smile, not bothering to correct her about the assumption she made about Sherlock. It’s easier this way, no arguments about visiting hours. Also, he’s used to it. So many people think they’re lovers, and he’s long since stopped even trying to explain that they’re not, because honestly, it doesn’t make any difference. 

“Looks like the little one might be out for the night. I’ll bring in a cot for her later, we can settle you both more comfortably.”

“Thank you,” John repeats.

The door opens again, and Sherlock walks in. 

“Hey,” John greets him with a weak smile. 

Sherlock looks tired, but he returns John’s smile. “Hey yourself.”

The nurse excuses herself, muttering about seeing to the cot.

Sherlock sits down next to John’s bed and scrutinises him with narrowed eyes and what John calls his ‘deduction face’. “You still feel like shit, don’t you?”

“I was hit by a car not 48 hours ago, what do you think?” John asks, but he keeps his tone gentle because Sherlock looks exhausted and worried. “It’s not that bad, though. Could have been worse.”

“Three broken ribs, a broken leg and a light concussion, that’s not trivial, John.”

John holds out his hand and Sherlock takes it, clasps John’s fingers between both of his hands, moving closer to the bed. 

“I’m sorry I scared you,” John says, gently, quietly, careful not to wake Rosie. 

“Hardly your fault,” Sherlock mutters, looking down at their joined hands with a murderous expression. “That stupid driver. He’s lucky you weren’t hurt any worse, or I would have murdered him with my bare hands. Or maybe I would have just broken all his bones but let him live a life of misery and-”

“Calm down, love, you’re going to wake the Gremlin,” John soothes, squeezing Sherlock’s hand tightly. 

Sherlock grumbles something inaudible, but he subsides with the threats. 

Silence falls, and John watches Sherlock watch him. There’s obviously something on Sherlock’s mind, but John knows from experience that it’s better to let Sherlock work things out in his own time. 

“They didn’t let me see you,” Sherlock finally says, quietly. His eyes drop to John’s hand still entwined with his. “I had to tell them we’re married, otherwise they would’ve made me leave.”

“But you’re next of kin on all of my records,” John answers, frowning in confusion.

“There was a problem with the Internet, they couldn’t access your records.”

“I’m sorry, that must have been stressful,” John says, squeezing Sherlock’s hand. “I remember when they wouldn’t let me see you after you were shot.” He shudders a bit at the memory. “It was horrible. I didn’t know whether you were dead or alive for hours. I had to wait for Mycroft before they’d tell me anything.”

Sherlock looks down at their joined hands again, obviously lost in thought. “I was so scared,” he mutters, almost inaudibly. 

“You held it together like a hero for Rosie, though,” John says with a fond smile, remembering Sherlock and Rosie just before he was wheeled into surgery, Rosie holding on to Sherlock’s hand in a death grip, Sherlock white as a sheet but outwardly composed, explaining calmly to Rosie that John would be just fine.

“I was sick in the bathroom when Mrs Hudson came to take her home,” Sherlock mutters, still addressing their entwined hands. 

John smiles fondly. “I won’t tell her if you don’t.”

“John-” Sherlock looks up from their joined hands. “This is going to sound incredibly stupid-”

“We should get married,” John says, interrupting Sherlock.

Sherlock looks gobsmacked, and John congratulates himself silently for managing to surprise Sherlock Holmes. 

Sherlock blinks a few times in the way he has when his mind palace crashes, so John decides to take over the talking out loud part of the conversation. “I’ve thought about it before, but it never seemed urgent. But you know what I thought yesterday, when I saw you standing there? If anything happens to me, they’ll send Rosie to live with my sister, and we can’t let that happen.”

“But-” Sherlock blinks again. “But we’re not-”

“Sleeping together?”

Sherlock nods and actually blushes a bit. “I don’t-”

“You don’t want that, and I understand. I don’t, either. I know you don’t like sex, and I’m not interested in a sexual relationship with you,” John says gently. “But you’re everything else to me. You’re my friend, my confidante, my rock, my partner, my co-parent. My family. We live together, we work together, we’re raising a child together. You know how often I get asked if I have a partner? I never hesitate to say yes because that’s what you are.”

“You said romantic entanglements would complete me,” Sherlock says, his voice hoarse with emotions, his eyes wide and uncertain.

“That was six years ago, and I’ve learned a lot since then. You taught me a lot. Love is complicated, I get that now. And I love you. Not conventionally, but since when do we do anything the conventional way?”

Sherlock smiles slightly, but says nothing, so John continues,  “I was always looking for someone who’d stick with me, someone to spend my life with. Well, you’re it for me, Sherlock, and if that’s a problem for you, you’d better tell me right now, because otherwise, you’re stuck with me for good.”

“Not a problem,” Sherlock says, and there’s an expression on his face John has never seen before. Soft and gentle and hopeful. “You’re it for me as well.” He pauses. “And - I love you too. In case that was in any way unclear.”

John smiles, overcome with relief. “So that’s a yes, then? To the whole marriage, adopt the Gremlin, stay with me forever thing?”

“Yes,” Sherlock says, brushing a soft kiss over their joined hands. “That’s a yes.”

I think I never wrote Ace Sherlock/heterosexual John before, but there's a first time for everything. Fluff of the tooth-rotting variety here, sorry for the sappiness two days in a row.

Thanks for keeping us going with the challenges, @calaisreno!

Tagging a few people again: @keirgreeneyes @helloliriels @jrow @meetinginsamarra @catlock-holmes @khorazir @lisbeth-kk @thetimemoves @topsyturvy-turtely @fluffbyday-smutbynight @7-percent @the-reading-lemon and anyone else who wants to play!

#johnlock #bbc sherlock #my fic #johnlock fic #may prompts #family #tooth rotting fluff #ace Sherlock #heterosexual John #queerplatonic relationship #parentlock #slight John whump

[whorekneecentral]

kinktober - day 11: shower sex// j.s

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Fem!Reader

Warnings: alcohol and the consumption of, shower sex, penetrative sex, fingering, little bit of teasing, oral (m!receiving)

Word Count: 1,200

Author’s Note: sorry for the last minute change! I couldn't come up with anything for the original prompt :) 

kinktober 2022 masterlist 

---

Jake had a long day, he wanted nothing more than a hot shower. Maybe his want for you is a little more than that.

The practice was completely fucked. Maverick kept getting on his ass and now that Rooster was back in his good graces as the golden boy, Jake was on an out. 

Today was just an off day for him and he wanted nothing more than to see you. He skipped the after training hangout at Penny’s bar and drove straight to your place. He called you on the way over. 

“Hello?” You picked up, he could hear how noisy it was on your side. “Hi honey, I'm on my way home.” 

“Okay, I'll be a little longer. Just have to finish up with a few patients and check these labs and I should be good. I’ll call if anything comes up.” 

“Sounds good.” He tells you, and you end the call. 

You and Jake had been seeing each other on and off since he first got there. You never put a label on it either, just friends that helped each other out. 

When he wasn't on base, he was at your place. To be completely honest, Jake was basically living there. He referred to your house as home and whenever you're on your way home, you would call to see if he was there. 

All his clothes hung in your closet, aside from the couple pieces he kept on base with him but other than that, you kept all of his stuff. You had the spare key to his truck, you were listed as his emergency contact and his next of kin, you were the one by his side when he had his crash during his first year. 

When you think about it, it was like you two were married. 

Except the team didn’t know about you and no one in your life knew about him.

His fellow pilots knew he disappeared from time to time and as much as Jake loved to blab, he never did about you. 

You were his secret and his good girl. 

Jake used his key to go in, kicking off his boots by the door before walking to the kitchen to get a beer. The fridge was empty, which meant you had been working late nights again but that was fine, he’d order something for you two when you got home. 

Right now he needed a shower, so he walked down the hallway to the bathroom. The beer was sitting on the counter and he left the door wide open as he got into the shower, the warm water relaxing his stiff muscles, but not better than your massages could. 

Jake pulled his truck into the garage which meant you had to park on the driveway. His boots tossed carelessly by the door and you could hear the shower running when you shut the door. 

“Jake!” You shout, walking down towards the bathroom. The bathroom was steamy from how hot he had the water running. 

He couldn’t hear you or he did and chose to ignore you. You hopped up into the counter and took a swing of the beer before reaching over to turn on the bathroom fan. 

Jake sticks his head out from behind the curtain, “oh hi sweetheart.” 

“Why is your truck in my garage?” You ask, spinning the beer bottle on the counter. 

Jake’s brows furrow, “it’s going to rain.” 

“Exactly. I drive a convertible.” You remind him, waiting for him to connect the dots. “Oh shit! Right, sorry. I’ll move it when I get out.” He tells you, flashing you a smile before going back to his shower. 

Might as well join him, save water or whatever it is they say. 

You strip off and get in behind him, wrapping your arms around his torso. Jake turns around to look down at you, “I won’t get out of here to move your car in time.” He tells you, leaning down to kiss you. 

“Oh well, you can clean it after then.” You smile, now on your tiptoes to kiss him. Jake’s hands rest on your ass, pulling you flat against his chest when he kisses you. 

The warm water runs over his shoulders, spilling down onto you before Jake turns you, the two of you standing directly under the water. He takes another step, leading you to rest your back on the cold tile wall. 

Jake’s hand shifts to rest on your hip, giving it a squeeze before moving down to pull your leg up a bit to rest on the edge of the tub. Your head rests on the wall when Jake slips two fingers into you. 

Your hand gripping on his shoulder, “Jake fuck- oh, that, do that again.” You ramble out in one breath, chest heaving, Jake’s fingers curling upwards. 

He loved when you praised him, telling home. how good he makes you feel. Jake brings you just to the edge of your orgasm before he stops, moving his fingers to your mouth. 

Before you could complain, Jake had pushed his lips past your lips. “Suck,” He tells you, feeling your tongue lap his fingers. Meanwhile, Jake’s other hand is wrapped around his cock, rubbing it along your slit, slapping on your clit a few times. 

“Jake,” you whimper, eyes pleading with him, “god just fuck me.” You beg, your hand wrapped around his wrist. 

“Hold on baby, patience.” Jake tells you, hooking your leg on his hip instead of resting it on the ledge. 

Jake pushes into you, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. His lips met yours, a hand resting on your hip to keep you up as he fucked you, your body welcoming him like he belonged there. 

There was something about coming home to you, being in the shower together, homely and sweet and domestic. 

Jake’s other hand rests on your cheek, pulling your focus to him. “I love you,” he whispers against your lips. 

“Hm I love you,” you say back, your hand resting on his jaw. 

He can feel you squeezing his cock, your eyes fluttering closed. Jake smacks your jaw lightly, “look at me,” he tells you. “If you want to cum, open your eyes.”

You give in, your eyes opening a little and Jake’s thrusts are sloppy, you know he’s just as close as you are. A few more thrusts and you’re over the edge, calling his name as you do. 

“Where?” He asks, his head on your shoulder and you know it’s not gonna last. You push him off of you, sinking onto your knees. Jake gets what you were doing, putting his cock in your mouth when you open it. 

He pulls your hair up and away from your face, “you’re so perfect, god I love you.” He mumbles, another string of praise falling from his lips as he cums. 

Jake helps you up, giving you a kiss before wrapping his arms around you. “You know I do love you, right? I’m not just saying that because I was fuck-” “I know,” you cut him off, “I love you too, Jake.” 

“Good,” he smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

----

taglist: @timetoracewrites @diorleclerc​ @lickmeleclerc @daydreamingleclerc @halsteadssneakylink @Mashtonbunny @Mashton_Bunny @amsofftrack​ @ads-skywalker-leclerc​  @allisonxf1​ @making-it-big​ @ruledchaos​ @skarlettmikaelson​ @charles-dimple​ @miniminescapist​ @venuschicc​  @romanjbittenbinder​  @earfquak3​  @hypermess​ @choppedroadcolorapricot​ @ellalovesvettel​  @deviltsunoda​ @jeannebmnt​ @pedrohoe04​ @d1amianodavidhands @elegantleclerc​ @lostinketterdam​ @dragon-of-winterfell​ @givemeasainz​ @princessbetsy123-blog​ @logischeroktopus​  @wonderwoman292​ @valkyrie418​ @batmanslittlelover​ @d0ntjudgemy50shades​ @ricsaigaslec​ @ferrarifwendvale​  @ellabellabus07​ @lovelytsunoda​ @bisexual-desi​ @freddoneptune​ @crookedcreationstudent @oultonparks​ @sebastchin​ @starlightleclerc​ @perfectsublimekid​ @fishtankcleaner1000 @strawberrypaul​ @defnotsobbing​ @ifancycharlesleclerc​ @angstyturtlewitch​ @apocalumpse​ @molliemoo3​ @pleasedontfollowimlost @sk8jeon @zig-zzag​ @supertrashheropasta @sainz-leclerc​ @rhaeszn @coffeehurricanes​ @symmi​ @angeluvvv​ @somanyflippingbooks​ @simpforpierre​ @hopelessluvrs​ @user143859 @chilisainz55​ @takktolya​ @anonymip​ @beepbeepanna​ @em-idk-123​ @shiftingwh0r3​ @mimisshhrri111 @justmeandmyfuckeduplife​ @lewisthoughts @Bouncyballs001 @carronyaflowers​ @sugarmelonwater​ @buendiabebeta​

#kinktober - anj's version #kinktober 2022 #jake seresin #jake seresin smut #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin smut #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman #hangman x reader #hangman smut

[simlit]

Chosen of the Sun | | dawn // thirty

| @izayoichan | @maladi777

ABILITY CHECK | CHARISMA Aster is assigned a base stat of 10 charisma, with a bonus of 5. Question #1 requires a roll of at least 15. Question #2 requires a roll of at least 16. Question #3 requires a roll of at least 18.  Question #4 requires a roll of at least 18.  Question #5 requires a roll of at least 20. 

next / previous / beginning

LUCIEN: Then… someone died? ELDEWYN: Indeed, someone did. And none of the remaining nine claimed responsibility. Made things quite interesting for spectators. There was some rumors that perhaps even the Chosen of the Sun might have been the killer. INDRYR: Surely the goddess of the moon would not select a murderer as her chosen. ELDEWYN: Ah, but it is sometimes the case. After all, back then, anything was acceptable. Even had they admitted their deed, they would not have been punished. LUCIEN: How awful… INDRYR: And who was the victim? ELDEWYN: Mm, the last to lose their life in the moon trials… What was it… ah yes… Castien, was his name. Castien Thallan. KYRIE: Who was he? ELDEWYN: A rabblerouser from the south. He used to get into all sorts of trouble. I remember before he was chosen, he and his little gang would stir up the city, made people restless. The guard was always after him for one thing or another, but never could hold him long. Imagine our shock when it was announced he'd been picked. After that, he was untouchable of course. Ironic, you ask me. KYRIE: He was just a delinquent, then? ELDEWYN: Yes, you could say so. A thorn in the capital’s side, really. But clearly honorable enough for the Moon to choose him. ASTER: A toast! To a veritable troublemaker! I can certainly relate. After all, they only had to drag me out of jail right to the steps of the church! ELDEWYN: Ha! That’s right! I’ll say, there was quite the gossip about it in town! INDRYR: Whatever were you arrested for, anyways? ASTER: Oh, you know, a little scuffle… bit of a bar brawl if I’m honest. I’m not much of a fighter, but tell that to my tongue! INDRYR: How curious that no one ever admitted to the deed. Are they certain he didn’t die to the elements? ELDEWYN: To be frank, there was a great deal of speculation about it, but seeing as how no one but then Ten were inside, there’s really no way of knowing. Afterwards, he was given over to the King’s clerics and prepared for burial. We honor the fallen, of course. They’re still Chosen, even in death. But he had no kin to speak of, and no one after came to claim him that wasn’t one of his fellow troublemakers. KYRIE: Whatever happened to them? ELDEWYN: I’m certain I don’t know. Went on their way, or grew up, I suppose! INDRYR: Perhaps there was someone else in the labyrinth? ELDEWYN: Hm? What do you mean by that? INDRYR: You said there were many dangers within the maze, it could be that he encountered someone there. Someone not Chosen? ELDEWYN: The labyrinth is located on the outskirts of the city. During the trial the entrances are heavily guarded, and very few people know the way through. Even if someone could get passed the blockades, they’d be utterly lost! INDRYR: Then, it doesn’t seem particularly efficient that anyone would plan to use the trial as a cover for murder. Unless… LUCIEN: Why would anyone think to do that? ASTER: Quite conspiratorial there, Indryr! And who doesn’t love a good conspiracy theory? Mm? I’m sure there’s a secret dragon under the castle waiting to make snacks of us all. More wine, my lord? ELDEWYN: Of course, of course! KYRIE: Surely you don’t think there was outside involvement? INDRYR: I’m only speculating. KYRIE: I’m certain there’s no evidence of that. Isn’t that right, my lord? ELDEWYN: Well, you know, he’s not the first to say so. There were rumors at the time that perhaps Castien’s involvement in the trials had been predetermined. KYRIE: Predetermined? ELDEWYN: They said he was selected deliberately. At request of… It’s all hearsay, anyways. LUCIEN: But the Chosen are selected by divine right! Lunar Priests get their orders directly from the goddess of the moon! Right, Your Grace? KYRIE: Uh— ELDEWYN: Of course, Your Highness. It is silly gossip, nothing more. Some people believed the presiding priest was espousing false information. But the trials were successful as every year before. There’s no reason to think he was lying about Castien being one of the true Chosen Ten. But people will get all sorts of ideas if given even a shred of mystery.

#ts4 #ts4 screenshots #ts4 story #ts4 bachelor challenge #chosen of the sun #oc: kyrie loren #cc: aster songleaf #cc: indryr #oc: lucien aravae #y'all are so fkin lucky it was Aster #his base stats had to carry this scene because all the rolls are DICE PENITENTIARY WORTHY #wcif karmatic dice #for text readers: beginning dialogue is cut out for wordcount