#And I think it's a brown horse but I'm not sure yet

[night-dazai]

Hi !! i got this idea while looking at a picture of dazai, i suggest you a pm dazai x reader x ada dazai smut 👀👀 i'm hungry for dazai 😭 please can you write me one? 🙏🙏🙏

Hey all I am sorry that I have not been posting for a week, college is too rough on me I have nothing done I am sorry😭😭😭 I will update all requests soon and the box is always open for more spice!

Tags: threesome, ass and pussy fucking, female reader, slapping, nipple play, rough sex, creampies .not proofread

SLAP! Your ass throbbed with pain and pleasure as both of them riled into your cunt and mouth “Bella ~~” one moaned out while the other grabbed your breasts harshly while calling you a whore. It has been hours you were sure but not one of them had any intentions of stopping “pls.. I cannot “ you whined when one took his dick out of your mouth only to get another harsh slap across your ass and a mean hard thrust “ shut it “ one said while the other kissed your passionately “ one more love ~”. His smooth voice wanted you to do more for him but the other made sure you did more for him little did you know they were opposites but one thing they had in common was that not one of them was stopping anytime soon “ Dazai ~~” your moan was horse and rough due to your overused vocals “ yes love/slut” both answers moving their hair from their face. 

FEW HOURS BEFORE : 

“This is a fucking time travel machine !!!” you shouted to your boyfriend, you both were supposed to find the criminal who stole the machine, arrest him and destroy the machine. “Not use it to go to the past !” you shouted while your lover was too excited looking at his surroundings “It sure is the past !” he exclaimed clapping his hands together like a happy kid. You wanted to punch the life out of this man but you could not plus just 24 hours after that you guys will automatically go back to the future or your present. 

For one hour both of you walked the streets of Yokohama seeing your past “That shop “ you said pointing at a candy shop. Dazai giggled “Yeah, after each mission, I would go there right ? Why not get some candy now ?” he asked. Both of you entered the tiny box-like shop but stopped dead in your tracks seeing a brown-haired in a black coat biting his nails instead of the food . “thaa…” you stammered while Dazai smiled but it was a sad one, before any one of you could act you already made eye contact with him “Port mafia executive Osamu Dazai “ you mumbled holding your lover's hands tightly. 

You did not know if it was excitement or what “Hi!” your lover said walking towards the confused-looking younger Dazai. He looked at Dazai for one second turned his head towards you and kept staring “That's rude “ you said smiling. “Marry me “ was all the younger Dazai said making your lover laugh “Yeah only after a few years, still I am yet to go there but we can get there, “ he said. 

Everyone in the shop was curious as to the twin-looking people but the executive seemed to be a bit too calm “Explanation? Ability?” he asked calmly. Dazai explained the whole situation but left out important parts like how he no longer was a pm member. You thought he would think you guys were lying but for some reason, the Dazai and Dazai had some weird way of communicating.

After listening to your lover he rubbed his chin processing the information going through his head “So, you are the future me, this girl is our lover and she is an ordinary citizen (which is a lie your lover told him for safety “). And now you are stuck here for 24 hours ?” “More like 22 or 21 hours “ you corrected putting your tea cup down “Wanna spend time together ?” you asked. 

You knew Dazai from his mafia days, you were following him ( you were a detective in ADA ) but little did you expect to fall for him and seeing his younger self made you want to know him as a person and not some living person you read from a file. 

The Executive gave you one more weird look “ wanna go to my house ?” he asked. Dazai went quiet for one moment and then agreed, you had just decided to follow them both for the day and that's how you ended up in his house, stuck between both of them as you guys watched “TV “.

Both of them squeezed you as you sat with tense muscles when you felt a hand on each of your thighs, confused you looked at both trying to remove it but they didn't budge “ Dazai …???” “Why not have some fun with me ?” the executive asked smirk plastered on his face “Well you can never be as good as me, “ Dazai said squeezing you and making you shut and open your eyes “Then Why not find out “ the younger Dazai felt challenged and you could feel the cold air but you seemed to have no say plus both are your lover right ?? (you were confused ).

That's how you ended up on the large queen size bed of the mafia executive while your lover lay on it calling you to lie on his chest “I am removing them “ the executive said pulling your jeans in one pull and dragging your panties halfway done while the other kissed you making you look at him. 

“This is something new for you right ..so wet “ he said licking your juices. That's when reality hit you “What were you doing ?!!! Your lover is okay with this ??” but you could not think or talk as a whimper escaped your mouth feeling the executive move his tongue in your cunt while your lover had your top naked making you completely naked. 

“Bella~~~” he moaned pinching and twisting your nipples leaving hot wet kisses down your neck and back. Shivering you held the hair of the executive “Slow” you said as his to slow his mean pace of tongue. 

Not did you unknowingly encourage him to go faster he had you cumming 4 mins after you said that and it was a strong orgasm. Your lover laid you down on the bed and switched positions with his past self, positing at your wet throbbing cunt “In love “ voice dripping with lust he moved his entire length in. 

Breathing hard and whimpering you moved to his thrust when you felt a hand on your jaw “Put this to use love “ the mafia said shoving it and making you choke. It was hard and rough the way both of them handled you but also felt similar and … good….

Your jaw hurts and you have cum 3 or 4 times your hazy did not know “Come on the move “ your lover hissed slapping your thighs as you stopped shaking your hips to match his rough, up shots “Can… can't” you thought crying tears which mixed with your drool and cum dripping from your jaw as the mafia executive kept abusing your poor mouth. 

“ You can and will “ the executive said one last time holding your jaw tighter and shooting in your mouth for the nth time. As he pulled out your lover pulled out of your cunt, both holes leaked white cum of his and yours mixed cum and drool and juices. 

It was nasty and wet but satisfying “Switch?” the mafia Dazai asked as your lover agreed and then again you were on all fours as they did the same after cleaning their cum from both holes. Your eyes were rolling to the back of your head when you suddenly noticed the mirror next to you. You could see yourself getting fucked at both ends, embarrassment flooded your mind and your body reacted “Don't tighten suddenly you slut “The mafia Dazai slapped your ass making you jerk from the reaction. 

The look in his eyes is animal-looking and soo predatorial, unlike your sweet lover. Noticing the path of your eyes was not to the liking of your lover who pulled his dick out of your mouth “Eyes on me Bella “ his voice was firm and stern but still warm unlike the person fucking your cunt. 

He suddenly kissed you, it was rougher than before and more harsh grip on your chin. ADA Dazai stared at PM Dazai “Oh… I see “ the executive said giving more mean thrusts making you jerk up and fall off your hands landing on your lover's lap crying and holding his thighs “ suck me off “ he ordered eyes not on you but the man fucking you. 

It felt hot, your sweet lover who had a rough fucking style was always still warm to you but suddenly became 100 times hotter as you got fucked by his past self. You eagerly sucked his tip massaging his balls while he put his head back “Yeah deeper “ he ordered pushing you a little deeper. 

Time flew like a second and you had cum thrice on both their cocks while they still seemed to have enough energy to ravishingly enjoy you two more times “Please…..no more” you begged but they were having none of that. Both were focused on giving you pleasure more than the other when suddenly one of them would make you look into the mirror and spread your pussy opening it with his fingers as his cock was in “See… see how this slutty hole is sucking me in “.

As you turned your head to stop looking from the view your lover would have your mouth used again and again as he played with your nipples like they were a toy. 

Suddenly your lover pulled you up your back in his chest as he positioned his dick at your asshole while the other Dazai got in front of your cunt “I heard this feels too good” he said and both entered you at the same time forcing you to see your fucked out messy face in the mirror asking you “ who is better ?” 

HOURS LATER : 

Kunikada sat with the most worried expression on his face you sat down panting while your lover just sat next to you smiling “Are you alright ?” he asked rubbing your back you would flinch making the blonde look at you more worried but he removed his hand. 

Yosano smiled and patted your head “ wanna rest in the office “ she offered as you nodded weakly and walked up with her help. “ Get lost “You slapped your lover's hand when he offered but he smiled and just watched you walk limping “What happened “ the blonde asked again “Nothing…..she just met me again for the very first time “ he said smiling a bit weird. 

“Dazai have you gotten a bit shorter ?” Kunida asked suddenly asking him to look at him for the first time after getting back from the past “No..why ?” Dazai asked but the blonde was gone when his phone rang “How is she ?” the caller asked “A little better but I think we should go easy on her “ the smile still plastered on his face “You should have gone easy on her “You lover shouted hanging up “ well maybe …next time “ 

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[bellarkeselection]

I had an idea for rip. It’s kinda like the scene from season 1 where jimmy got beaten up by Fred but instead of Jimmy could it be the reader is rips wife and she’s secretly pregnant with their second child and she protects her stomach and then revel to rip she’s pregnant again. You can easily change bits to the story or even add a little bit of smut that’s fine with me .

The Rule Of Fighting…Especially my Wife

Threading my fingers through his black hair Rip broke the kiss pulling himself out of me where we laid under the covers naked. Running a hand over my face I began catching my breath. Moving my other hand over my growing pregnant belly until Rip grasped my hand in his. Rolling onto my side I whispered still not awake even though we woke up in a very pleasing way. “Do you have to go to work today. Can’t we just take a day and lay around the house?”

“You’re daddy wouldn’t like that. Besides I owe him everything for letting me work at the ranch.” He responded leaning forward and kissing me on the head gently getting up from the bed. He shrugs his jeans on and grabbed his black jacket with his hat off the hook.

Holding myself up on my elbow I held the sheet up against my chest even though he had seen me naked already. “Yeah you’re probably right, baby. Hey though where do you think our little Georgie is off too?”

“I ain’t too sure. He’s probably trying to sattle a horse or running around with his grandpa John. I’ll see you later tonight Y/n.” He placed his hat on his head coming over giving me one last kiss going to work.

Getting out of the bed, I ran my hands down my grown belly, looking myself over in the standing mirror we had in the corner of the bedroom. I slide on the pair of jeans that didn't press on my stomach, pairing it with a light orange flannel shirt that was tucked into them. With some light brown boots and a tan cowgirl hat on my head. Heading towards the barn, I grabbed the saddle for my horse about to throw it over until I heard someone make a remark about me entering the room. "Woah, I guess that Wheeler really couldn't let you go, so he just keeps knocking you up."

"I'm sorry do you have a problem with me?" Throwing the saddle over my horse I turned around on my feet with my boots kicking up dust.

My gaze met the appearance of one of the ranch hands who was named Fred if I remember correctly. "I've got a problem with you getting special attention from the boss."

"Your boss is my father, so.." Crossing my arms over my chest, I snipped in a slight tone.

Fred stepped closer towards me, glaring down at me since he was slightly taller than me. "I ain't talkin about your daddy, Dutton. You're sleeping with Wheeler and get off work early and still getting the same pay as we do. That isn't right in my opinion."

"First off, I get breaks more than you because of my five year old son Georgie and are you blind cause at the moment I'm pregnant again. Two, I'm heading to work now Fred - argh!" I screamed when he stomped up grabbing me by my hair yanking me backwards until I elbow him in the face.

He stumbled backwards holding his nose while I spun around on my feet. "You bitch!"

"You don't want to fight me, Fred." I warned him, getting in a fighting stance with my hands into fists ready to go.

Yet the ranch hand refused my warning and came charging straight for me. He tackled me to the dirt before I could really blink. He was throwing punches at me but I was blocking most until he gave a harsh one to my belly and I released a cry of agony. "God damn!" I cursed curling up in a ball for a second with him getting to his feet.

"You need to remember who is stronger here, Dutton girl." He spat down to me.

Sniffing through some tears i glared at him until I swiped my feet underneath his near mine where he topped to the dust. Forcing myself to my feet I held my stomach with one hand landing a good punch on his nose with the other. Fred came back trying to kick my stomach yet I buried my face close against it so he kneed me in the face. My nose begins bleeding where he quickly grabbed my arm throwing me over his back until we heard my son's sweet voice. "Mommy, why are you wrestling?"

"You're boys gonna see how weak you are - ohhh fuck!" Fred groaned in serious pain onto his knees when I kicked him in between his legs giving me the chance to rush to my son.

Grabbing his shoulders I croaked through tears and some pain myself. "Georgie, go find daddy now. Bring him here." He ran off when Fred started getting up until I charged tackling the man even though it was harder when I was pregnant.

Swinging a few punches at Fred I got some of his blood on my knuckles. He grabbed my wrists twisting them behind my back throwing me down again. "I told you I was stronger than you, bitch!" He growled in my ear where he about kicks me in the stomach again until someone harshly shoved his body against the wooden barn stalls.

Gasping for breath and some relief I sat upright seeing my husband Rip had him by the collar where he threw him against the stall and then did it again but it was down in the dirt raising his voice. "What's the rule about fighting, Fred. You wanna fight somebody, come fight me. I'll fight you all damn day!"

"That girl done started it with her saying that she deserves the same pay as we do but cuts out half the work. I guess you'll believe anything when you married a whore." Fred coughed looking at me when Georgie came over by my side.

Rip yanked the guy by his jacket holding him against the wall where he almost couldn't breathe by the choke hold he had on the ranch hand. "What did you call her!"

"She's knows I'm right that's she had to send in the little guy to get the big guns." Fred taunts until my husband kicked him harshly in the gut and he collapsed into the dirt.

He grabbed Fred up one last time against the wall for good measure croaking his deep tone with the words he declared. "If you ever hit or speak to my wife like that again I'll kill you, Fred! Are you okay, Y/n?" He released him from his grasp coming slowly over to me with his gaze softening.

"I hurt a little bit...here especially. But otherwise I think I'll be fine." I mumbled placing my hand in his with my eyes dropping to my pregnant stomach where he tugged me up to stand where he picked me up bridal style when I almost collapsed onto the dirt not able to stand on my own.

He carried me back to our cabin with Georgie following us and opening the door to the cabin, then our bedroom and finally the bathroom. "Georgie, go grab one of my shirts and the shorts off the foot of the bed for mommy." Rip spoke towards our son who quickly came back with what he asked.

"Is mommy going to be okay, daddy?" He asked with worry in his sweet voice.

Rip sat me down on the toilet lowering himself to his knees since I didn't have gotten my balance back yet. "She will be. I want you to go play with grandpa John while I help mommy okay little man." He nodded leaving us alone in the bathroom letting silence into the room.

He slowly tugged on my shirt shrugging it over and off my body giving him perfect view of my belly. "I'm sorry he did this to you..to our baby. I'll take him to the train station tomorrow morning if that's what you want." He placed his on my bump feeling me slightly pull away when he touched the sorest part of my body from the fight.

"Rip, don't blame yourself for this. Fred has always been a jackass from the day my father hired him. I'll go to the doctor and get the baby checked out." Resting my hands on his shoulders I sent him a half smile knowing he would start blaming himself for me getting injured.

He nodded, helping me remove my pants and slide the shorts up. He ran a hand through my hair once I slipped his shirt on that was like a dress on me. "I love you so much, darling. He will never touch you again I swear it." He softly took me into his arms carrying me into the other room laying me down in the bed.

He climbed in on his side and I snuggled up into his warmth knowing he would leave to deal with the rancher when I went to sleep and rested. "I love you, Rip and so will this second child of ours." Whispering up into his brown eyes I intertwined our hands together closing my eyes letting sleep overtake me.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

#rip wheeler #rip wheeler x reader #rip wheeler x wife reader #rip wheeler imagine #rip wheeler x y/n #cole hauser #yellowstone imagine #yellowstone x reader #yellowstone masterlist #yellowstone one shot #yellowstone fans #yellowstone #requests open #ask box is open for anything #comments really appreciated #rip wheeler x pregnant reader #rip wheeler x dutton reader #pregnant reader #cowboy fights

[corazondebeskar-reads]

no quiet on this earth

Joel Miller x f!reader

originally for Febuwhump 2024 Day 10 - killing in self defense | Febuwhump masterlist

words: 2.8k

summary: You and Joel run into hunters on patrol.

-- I'm a fucking menace, and this is Joel & reader from "you know you never stood a chance" (spoiler warning). BUT this can be read as a standalone. I just can't seem to help myself/let them go.

warnings: established relationship, jackson, patrol partners, hunters, Joel and reader both kill hunters, canon-typical violence, graphic descriptions of violence, lots of blood, oral (m receiving), p in v unprotected, creampie, feelings, guilt/trauma, trauma response, a little hurt and a LOT of comfort, Joel takes care of you, one (1) ass slap, pussy/clit spanking

dividers by @saradika-graphics

They had been waiting for you. Not the biggest group of hunters that’s come ‘round, but there hadn’t been any signs. It was supposed to be an easy half-day route. 

It was also your first patrol with Joel. 

You’re already off to a rough morning. He’s settled back into Out There Joel, gruff and tense, and you’re already feeling useless again even though you know you can handle it now. 

You’re on horseback, you with a gentle brown mare that you’re a little irritated about. Penny is notoriously slow and usually used to teach people to ride. Tommy taught you to ride ages ago, but Joel fucking insisted. 

“Ain’t havin’ you have to deal with a spooked horse our first time out.”

“Our first time. I’ve been out loads of times,” you grumbled. He leveled you with a look so stern that you rolled your eyes. 

“Don’t start with your smart mouth,” he said. “Only way this works is—“

“If I do what I’m told. I got it. Same shit, different place.” 

To say you’re pissed would be an understatement. You thought after all the shit you’ve been through that he’d trust you now. And you’ve gotten quite good with your revolver and halfway decent with the rifle. 

Now, out here on the trail to the safe house, neither of you has said a word. Just like the good old days. Y’know. If they had been good. 

You’re nearly there when they make their move. They don’t have guns, thank fuckin’ god, but there are five of them and two of you. 

It becomes quickly clear that they want the horses. Joel makes quick work of the first hunter that lunges for him. 

One comes at him from each side, and you’re too worried to notice the other two do the same to you. 

One grabs the reins and the other tries to yank you from the saddle. Your boots are stuck, and they don’t seem to particularly care if they break your legs during the extraction. 

You free your feet, boots left behind, and let the brick house of a man pull you down. He doesn’t care much about your landing, so when you hit the ground, you grapple for your revolver. 

His partner yells, and he spins back to you, a huge fist aiming for your face. But it doesn’t connect, because your bullet does first. 

He was close enough that it would have been near impossible to miss, which also meant that his stupid body landed on you, turning your clothes into a sponge for his blood. 

Joel’s rampaged through the others by now and turns to take down the one trying to abscond with your horse. 

But he doesn’t make the shot, because he freezes up when he sees you. 

“Get the fucking horse,” you yell. 

He swears and loads the rifle, one neat bullet into the head of the escaping hunter. He hadn’t fully mounted your mare yet, and his corpse crumples into the soft spring soil. 

Joel whistles and Penny takes her fucking time to come back, giving him a very unimpressed look and shaking her mane. 

He heaves the dead man off you. “Where?” he says sharply, eyes darting all over your body. 

“Nowhere, Joel, I’m fine,” you say. 

He’s already dropping to his knees, hands gripping and patting every inch of you before cradling your face. “You’re sure?”

“I mean, I think so. Unless I’m in shock, but I guess we’ll find out in a little bit.”

“Not funny, sweetheart,” he mutters, doing another check, slower this time and more thorough. 

You let him. You feel kind of funny, dizzy almost, but mostly just… muted. Like the world around you is muffled and you’re suddenly hyper aware of how blood is turning tacky and your jeans are stiffening as it dries. 

“Hey,” he snaps. 

You’re pretty sure that means he was already talking to you, and when you look up and meet his eyes, they abandon their irritation for concern beneath furrowed brows. 

“Sweetheart, listen to me,” he says, voice low and slow. It draws out the Texan twang and loops you in. “You’re okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you. You did what you had to do, okay?”

“Okay,” you echo, but the word sticks in your throat, tasting of copper. 

“Say it.”

“I did what I had to do.”

You’ve done as he said, but he looks more worried for it. 

“Alright, c’mon. I’m gettin’ you home.”

“But—“

“Rethink that, baby. I ain’t in the mood to argue.”

“But we were supposed to—“

“Yeah, and plans fuckin’ change. We’re going back. Tommy and I can come out and deal with the bodies later.”

He stands and pulls you up, though you follow willingly. You hover where you stand as he pulls a rope from his bag and tethers it to Penny’s lead. 

“What’re you doing?” 

“Want you on Oakley with me.”

“I can ride,” you snap. “I’m not fucking hurt.”

“I know,” Joel says. “But you’re gonna ride with me.”

“Don’t start this shit,” you say, mortified when your voice and hands are trembling. “I can handle myself.”

He spins around, fury written in the curl of his lip. “I fuckin’ know that! I don’t give a shit. You’re riding with me, end of fuckin’ discussion.”

You open your mouth, ready to bite back, but he seizes you by the shoulders and shakes you a little. 

“Don’t you fuckin’ get it? It’s not about you,” he snarls. You’re crushed against him before you realize it’s an embrace. “You’re gonna fuckin’ ride up here, so I know you’re okay.” 

“Oh,” you whisper, leaning into him. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” he says, but the fight is already leaving him. He presses a kiss to the top of your head before he lets go. “Now get on the damn horse before I put ya there myself.”

You think you deserve credit for only hesitating a little, tempted to see if he really would. But his jaw ticks and you heave yourself up onto Oakley. Joel swings himself behind you, caging you in as he takes the reins. 

“You’re so fuckin’ stubborn,” he gripes. 

“I learned it by watching you,” you say, voice pitched in mockery of the vague memory. 

But instead of irritation, something akin to relief flashes across his face. “Yeah, s’that right?”

“Uh-huh.” Now that everything has calmed, you’re exhausted. He can tell because of course he can. He knows you too well. 

“C’mon, lean back. I got ya. Not gonna let you fall.”

You don’t sleep, not really, but you fall into something between the light and dark. It’s blissfully absent of reality. You’re only aware of the soft sunshine, the sway of the horse, and Joel. 

Joel, your Joel, is everything right now. All encompassing. You’re surrounded by his warmth and smoky musk, masking the chill and tang of the stains on your skin. 

His heart seems to beat in time with Oakley’s hooves and the steady pace he encourages keeps you lulled in this safest place. 

“Holy shit, what happened?” Carl asks at the gates, almost loud enough to knock you from your peace. 

“Nothin’ too serious, she ain’t hurt,” Joel’s smooth tone settles you back down. “But do me a favor and get the horses back? Send Tommy my way in a while. I’m gonna take her home.”

Home. It sounds so nice. But you’re already there, you want to tell him. There’s nowhere you’d rather be than right here. 

You must actually say it, because he chuckles. “Okay, sweetheart, but I can think of somewhere I’d rather be.”

It hurts a little before he leans in and murmurs in your ear. 

“I’d rather be in a warm bath with ya. That sound better than stayin’ put?”

“Oh,” you say. “Yeah, you’re right. Way better idea.”

He makes good on his promise when you get home. While he draws the water, he peels your ruined clothes off and sits you on the bathroom counter to rinse the blood into the sink. 

You sit very still with your eyes clenched shut as he cleans you. 

“I know,” he murmurs. “First one’s the hardest.”

You can’t quite stopper the whimper. 

“This is part of why I don’t like ya goin’ out there. I can’t protect you from this.” The admission costs him, but he seems to decide it’s worth it when you look up at him. 

The tub isn’t really big enough for both of you, but he makes it work, long sprawling limbs propped up to make room for you against his chest. You lie on your side, both to make more room and to press your ear to his chest and listen to his strong, tender heart. 

He holds you there, hand gentle on your head and the other around your shoulder until neither of you can pretend the water is comfortable still.  More importantly, his cock’s been pressing against you for a little while now, and you’re unable to ignore it anymore.

You roll over on your stomach, legs bent a little funny to fit, but it’s the right angle to press a kiss to the fat mushroom head that you love so much. 

“Sweetheart, you don’t need—”

But you just give him a look, because he knows better, he knows you’d never do anything you don’t want to. And he knows how often you crave it, how your throat aches for it.

He raises his hands in surrender. “I sure as hell ain’t gonna stop ya.” 

With the convoluted seating arrangement, you’re able to swallow down his length, working your throat open in the way you’ve grown to know well. It’s a lot at once, but the way he groans is worth the effort. 

You choke and gag a little, but neither of you are really bothered by it. Quite the opposite. And you’re grateful for the way the thoughts you don’t want to face are knocked from your brain each time he ruts deeper. 

Too soon, though, he’s pulling you off, spit thick with precum stringing between him and your lips as you whine.

“C’mon, let’s get out. I gotta have more of you.”

You don’t dry off quite as much as you’d like, but you’re probably going to need to change the sheets anyway. He can’t be bothered to let you towel off properly, picking you up and setting you on the bed before crawling over your body.

He kisses you, ferocious but hesitant, and you trail your hands up his arms, basking in the way he encompasses you for the second time today. His soft, powerful body leaves no wiggle room, practically pinning you down with his bulk. 

Except he’s holding himself up, tense. And the gentleness of his tongue and distinct lack of nipping teeth in his kiss is grating. 

You turn your head to break apart. “Stop acting like I’m gonna fall apart.” 

“I—”

“Oh, don’t even. It’s like you think I’m going to break if you touch me.”

“I didn’t want to make it feel like…”

“I know,” you say, softer. “But I want to feel you, Joel. I don’t want to feel the ghost of it… him. Please.” 

“You wanna feel me, sweetheart? Want me to be a little rough with ya?” 

“Unless you’re too tired. S’it past your bedtime, old man?” 

He doesn’t fall for the taunt, but he pretends to, and you’re deeply grateful as he snarls and bites at your breast before licking and sucking at your nipple, taking it between his teeth and shaking a little. 

“Oh, fuck,” you moan, hand tangling into his hair. He wears it a little shaggier these days, and you find you like it long. A lot. 

“Think you can take it just like this?” he says around your other nipple. The hand that isn’t holding him up has reached down to his cock, rubbing it against your clit until you squirm, and then dragging it down your slit. “You’re fuckin’ soaked. I think you can take it.”

He doesn’t wait any longer than the first little nod of your head before he flicks his hips, parting you, forcing your body to make room for him. It takes a second thrust to push all the way in, and you cry out as he stuffs you full. 

It hurts so good. It’s just the edge you need to feel awake again. The world is no less fuzzy but the haze is pleasurable and electric instead of the numb fog that refused to dissipate. 

“That’s my girl,” he says. 

It floods you with warmth. You think maybe the sappiness is leaking through, that he can see how stupidly in love you feel. 

Or, you know, it’s actually leaking, since you’re apparently fucking crying. You can’t really begrudge yourself for it. It’s been a hell of a day. 

“There you go,” he murmurs, the gentleness of his voice playing second to the harsh slap of his hips and the tight pinch of his fingers on your breasts. “Let it out, sweetheart. Let me help you.” 

His pace, somehow, intensifies, the brutal snap of his cock blunt against the softest parts of you. He pushes your legs to your chest so he can shove his way in deeper, and smacks a harsh hand against your ass from his new vantage point. 

He grips your hip with one hand and lets up on your tits, only to show no mercy to your clit. He skips over the gentle circles and soft strokes, instead pinching and tugging. He wrenches two orgasms from you before he eases off. 

“Hold your pussy open for me,” he grunts.

You look at him with wide eyes. How can he still be finding ways to shock you with depravity? The two of you have to have fucked every which way, and yet. You slide a hand down but he shakes his head.

“Both of ‘em, baby. Nice and wide.” 

Your cheeks are burning as he lifts up onto his knees, pushing your legs apart to watch as you spread your lips wide. For a moment, he’s mesmerized by the push and pull of his cock splitting you apart and the way it comes out a little slicker each time. 

“Look at that,” he says, a smug smirk spreading. “Fuckin’ creamin’ all over me, sweetheart. Now hold still.”

Before you really process the order, still dying from how hot his filthy words are, he slaps your clit. You jerk and let go, crying out more in surprise than pain.

“Put your fuckin’ hands back,” he says, and you obey. 

Your whole body is on fire, maybe. He brings his hand down sharply again and again, making you hold yourself spread wide for him to use as he pleases. 

It doesn’t really surprise either of you when you come. He finally knocks your hands away from your cunt and leans back down over you, hips stammering sloppily. 

“Can I—” he chokes out, and you’re nodding so hard it shakes your brain around. He digs his fingers into your hips. “C’mon, sweetheart, one more. Gimmie one more while I fill you up.”

He goes to reach for your clit, but it doesn’t matter. As soon as he starts twitching and pulsing inside you, you come, eyes rolling back and fingernails digging into his biceps. 

When you’ve both settled, there’s something bright in his eyes, something wild and dangerous. He sinks his teeth into your collarbone and doesn’t pull out. His softening cock isn’t much smaller than it is erect, and he stays buried deep in you, eyes trailing over your face. 

“What?” you say softly.

“I thought… thought I fuckin’ lost you today.” His voice is gruff but tight.

“You didn’t, Joel. M’right here.”

He kisses you, and it’s not gentle exactly, not like earlier, but it’s tender and demanding. His hands grip you and roam, not pursuing pleasure but just to have his fill of you, to feel your body warm and alive beneath him. 

When he breaks away from your swollen lips, he presses a kiss to your forehead. “You did good. I don’t like it, but you did good. I’m not gonna ask you not to go out again, but—”

“I’m gonna ask Tommy if I can have a break,” you say, pursing your lips. “I’m not a coward, but I don’t know if I can do that again.” You’re burning again, but this time with shame.

“No one expects you to. It doesn’t mean you’re a coward. You’re tough, sweetheart. But y’ain’t a killer.”

“I am, though,” you whisper. 

“Stop. Yes, you killed that man today. But you had to. It was him or you. You’re a survivor. But I’m going to make damn sure you don’t have to be anymore, alright? We’re safe here, now.”

You let out a ragged sigh and try to relax back into the pillow. “Okay,” you agree. You can tell he needs it. How scared he was. 

At least for now, you’ll let him protect you from this.

*title from "Death For My Birthday" by Say Anything

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #jackson!joel #joel miller fic #the last of us fic #joel miller smut #the last of us smut #fic: you know you never stood a chance #fuck it we'll call this a surprise deleted scene lmao #febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday10

[clickbait-official]

Pericardium

prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting - "I love you. That's why I have to leave." "Well, I love you too and that's why you have to stay."

Thranduil brainrot is GETTING ME its GETTING ME

masterlist

~~~

This was getting unbearable, I thought to myself. Climbing the stairs leading to the gardens was not what I was referring to, though they were rather tiring.

The unbearable part was having to live like my heart wasn't beating.

Let me explain.

I moved into Mirkwood years ago, under the request of Lord Elrond of Rivendell. Assumedly, he'd thought that my experience with growing plants might be helpful in a place actively combating giant spiders.

He was right, as he normally is, but not for the reason he thought.

Instead, I'd found myself the right-hand of the Elven King himself. For no apparent reason at all - no background in diplomacy or in royal affairs helped rationalize just how I got here.

But that is not why you're here, is it?

Over the years by the King's side, I'd grown close to him. We shared hopes and heartbreaks, dreams and despairs. It felt healing, I suppose.

That closeness breached professionalism at times. It scared me.

Once that line was breached, there was no going back.

I had not even earned my position here. I was not a native to Mirkwood. How in Middle-Earth would Mirkwood's elves ever agree to such a union?

They would not, I decided. It made what I was about to do much easier.

I could not stop my heart from beating for long. I had to leave, quickly, before the traitorous thing choose to turn against logic yet again.

Surely Lord Elrond would welcome me back to Rivendell if I explained my situation, right?

The thought of leaving Mirkwood, the place I call home, as well as the king who rules it, forces my heart to skip a beat.

I must learn to live without a heart, I think. If only to curb the pain to come.

Rushing to the stables, I see my horse at the far end. My heart begins contracting in my chest. That is my cue to hurry the hell up, as the humans say.

One step after another. All to take me further away from here.

I clutch at my horse's hair. She dips her head down in recognition, letting me freely hug her close. My closest companion, now that I'm leaving.

It feels a little bit like burning at stake. Not that I know how that feels, but it's the most similar thing, I suppose.

My heart is being cooked in the flames of love.

I close my eyes to center myself for a minute. And like a good pie, I savor the moment.

Sighing, I open my eyes. "Let's get going, starlight."

"Go where?"

The sudden intrusion is startling, and I turn to look behind me.

Thranduil.

He looks stunning as always, like a star that's descended from the heavens. His eyes, the color of a clear sky, zeroed in on me.

"Well?" He tilts his head slightly. Every day I forget how speechless he makes me.

"I... I was just planning on taking a short ride around, my King."

To this he lifts an eyebrow. And smirks, damn him.

"Oh? May I accompany you, then?" He knows I can't deny him.

Not wanting him to know my true intent, I nod at him, "Certainly."

The slight smile gracing his face made everything else disappear. For a single moment, all I could see was him.

It took a minute to prepare, then we were off. Into the beautiful forest we call home.

~~~

I was busy admiring the tall grey-brown bark of the trees we were riding past when he broke the silence.

"Do you like it here?"

The question surprises me. Both in its suddenness and in its intimacy.

"Of course, my King. Why do you ask?"

I can feel his eyes on me, studying the map of my face. I can feel the blood pumping in my veins.

"If that's so, why does Elanor speak of your mentioning departure from Mirkwood?"

To this I advert my gaze. Caught.

He continues. "You seem to be more and more distant than usual. I can't help but wonder why."'

"Because I'm in love with you" My heart screams. I stay silent.

Thranduil notices this, and both his eyes and voice turn sharp.

"What are you hiding?"

I sigh softly. "My king, I must return to Rivendell."

He studies me, not believing a word.

"And I must leave soon. I did not want to cause any more burden to your shoulders, my King. That is why I did not tell you."

"You were never a burden. And did you not think of the panic your disappearance would cause in the palace? The panic you would cause me? You cannot just leave like that. Not without a proper reason." He gets more and more animated as he speaks, and I feel my temper rising to match his.

"I need to leave-"

"No you don't!"

"And go to Rivendell and-"

"Not without a reason! You can't just leave! I forbid it!"

His voice echoes in the forest. Mine follows suit.

"I love you! That's why I have to go!"

Ruined. That's what this friendship is.

He, for once, falls silent. His hair shifts as he turns to look at me, truly look at me. His eyes, once cold, are now softer.

"I love you too. And that's why you have to stay."

...What.

~~~

Brainrot is real because its happening to me

#lotr #x reader #lotr x reader #the hobbit #the hobbit x reader #thranduil x reader #thranduil #thranduil oropherion #tolkien

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Fireleaf (Part Seven)

Lucien Vanserra x Reader

A lot of @greeneyedivy and I gif swapping and having interesting discussions brought this chapter about! Hope you enjoy it 👀

So sorry if the writing is a bit iffy and there's some mistakes in this part...this day has been so busy and my eyes are BLEEDING (not literally. I'm fine. Just dramatic). But thank you for all your support thus far, I love this story so much!

Warnings: SMUT! 🌶️🌶️🌶️

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

Lucien was avoiding you, and that was fine.

You’d only been aware of his return to the estate two days later, when his horse reappeared in the stables. Where he’d been for those two days, you weren’t sure. And you didn’t let yourself think about it. He would keep out of your way, and you would keep out of his.

And you…you were avoiding Dion, somewhat.

You weren’t ready to talk to him yet — to face his disregard for the victims of the fire. It had jarred you, to see that side of the male you’d come to consider your…your friend. Never mind the fact that you were supposed to be marrying him. The fact that he had complied with Beron’s callousness was so at odds with the Dion you’d actually become quite fond of — and that hurt, more than you expected it to. So you weren’t ready to talk, and you put every effort you could muster into keeping yourself busy. Into avoiding being alone with him, no matter how many times he offered you a stroll around the garden or a private lunch on the veranda.

And thus began what was probably your loneliest week at the Vanserra Estate so far.

Your eyes stared, unseeing, out of the tearoom window, not really focusing on anything from the swaying blood-red trees to the gardeners milling around. You’d become prone to these long stretches of zoning out, of your innermost thoughts trying to coax you to them.

“It’s tradition, in our family, to have orange chrysanthemums at weddings,” The Lady of Autumn spoke gently beside you, a huge florilegium book open on the round table you sat at. “Such a beautiful colour, don’t you think?”

Even if she wasn’t the quiet, soft-spoken female you’d come to know her as, you doubted you would have heard her over the roaring in your head. The warring. Such a battle waged in your mind, it was a wonder she couldn’t hear it. But her words went through one ear and out the other as you stared, and stared and stared and stared, at that insignificant spot on the flawless lawn.

“Y/N?” A delicate hand touched your arm. “What do you think?”

You tore your gaze from the window, dropped it to the open page in front of you. You blinked a few times, clearing your throat. “Yes—sorry—beautiful.”

Your mother-in-law-to-be stared at you, those warm, brown eyes somehow softening even more. She shut the book and pushed it away from her, angling herself towards you.

“Don’t worry, love,” She reached out, cupping your cheek. “The High Lord isn’t angry anymore — not really.”

You blinked at her, not quite understanding her words. The direction her mind had gone in.

“I know he shouted, but…” Her eyes dipped to the table. “Well, we never had daughters, and he’s still getting himself used to having a young female like you to look out for. He was concerned, more than angry…he just struggles with how to channel it.”

Studying her, your already-splintered heart seemed to twist even more inside you. She was so kind, so gentle, that you didn’t have the heart to tell her that you didn’t give two honey-roasted fucks whether Beron was angry with you or not. Didn’t have the heart to ask if it was concern that had her husband so often spitting venomous words at her, or injuring her so badly that even her fae healing took a few days to rid of the bruises.

“I know what it’s like, to feel…stifled.” She admitted quietly. “But it will get easier. And Dion is a good male. I’m not just saying that as his mother, I assure you. He’ll take good care of you.”

She was trying — the Mother knew, she was trying so hard, in an environment where she so rarely got to speak her own words, to soothe you. Reassure you. And you weren’t ready to talk to Dion yet, to smooth things over, but you could at least honour the time that the Lady of Autumn spared you. At least show some interest in this wedding planning, even if you had to fake it.

So you forced your shoulders to relax. Forced yourself to smile. Dragged the book back towards you.

“Show me the chrysanthemums again,” You said.

⤲

Two days later, you still couldn’t bring yourself to face Dion.

Not that he was around much. Beron seemed to be running him ragged, and you’d received only a soft goodbye that morning before he’d taken off on his horse to attend to business. Whatever the hell that meant.

With no wedding planning arranged for that day, you spent it trying to busy yourself, to do anything but sink into your thoughts and face the fact that you were homesick. You missed your old life, the way things used to be; missed looking forward to your training sessions and workouts with Linden, to meeting Willow for picnics by the stream near your estate, to just living how you wanted to live. Without yours and Dion’s rapport to distract you, it was harder to face the reality. The changes.

It just…bothered you, a lot, that Dion hadn’t shown more concern for those in need – for people who were literally watching their livelihoods burn before their eyes. You knew it was a terse situation, that it wasn’t easy to go against his father’s word. But if Lucien had managed to do so…

You shook your head to yourself, curling up on the bench in the garden that you’d taken to sitting on the last few nights, watching the stars. Dion hadn’t yet returned from his day of work, and the estate was pressingly quiet. Too quiet. Your loneliness lurked on the outskirts of your mind, threatening to consume you.

You stared forward in deep thought, toying with the single little braid you always wore in your hair – something you’d started because of Linden. You’d always loved his braids, the way they swayed with his movement when they were down, or splayed randomly if he tied them back. It had been on a particularly bad day early-on in your training that you’d broken in front of him, told him you were scared of being weak, of being nothing. He’d sat with you and listened, and then – to your surprise – had taken a few strands of your hair between his fingers and braided them together.

“Whenever I feel weak, or scared, or like I am nothing,” He’d told you, “I imagine myself to be like one of my braids. The strands of hair are strength, and determination, and bravery, all weaved together in one pattern. And that is why I always wear my hair braided. Not just because it’s convenient,” He’d grinned at you then, “but because they remind me that having bad days doesn’t mean that the strength, the determination and the bravery are not still weaved into me. One or two bad days does not make the braid come undone. Does not mean you’re weak.”

Such a Linden thing to say, and yet it had hit its mark. You’d worn that braid in your hair every single day since, and had no longer seen the bad days as an undoing, as the hard work you’d put in being for nothing. You were strong, and determined, and brave.

And Gods above, did you miss Linden. You couldn’t help wondering, as you sat there, pinching your hair between your fingers, what he might be doing right then. Whether he missed you just as fiercely. You wished you could write to him, but…you had absolutely no clue where he was.

The bench suddenly creaked under the weight of a second person, and only then did you become aware of hot, salty tears rolling down your cheeks. You quickly wiped them away, glancing up to find that Eris had joined you.

His amber eyes met yours, and he angled his body towards you. Held out a small, rectangular object wrapped in paper packaging.

You frowned, slowly accepting it. “...What’s this?”

Eris tucked his legs beneath him, facing you properly. His short hair was tousled, the top buttons of his shirt undone. “Chocolate.”

You glanced down. Sure enough, you held a thick bar of chocolate in your hands – an expensive brand, you knew, from one of the artisan chocolatiers that sold their products in the high-end sweet shops all over Prythian.

You thumbed the paper packaging, your brow still furrowed. “Why are you giving me chocolate?”

“Because you’re sad.” Eris shrugged. “It’s from my secret stash. Not just anyone gets to have some, you know.”

You managed a watery smile. “And why do I get the honour?”

“Like I said – you’re sad. It’s been a rough week for you. And chocolate always makes me feel better. Just don’t tell any of the others. They’re not allowed any.”

That drew a genuine laugh from you – even if it was short-lived. You smiled down at the chocolate bar, peeling back the paper. Eris watched you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked.

You’d never heard his voice so…gentle. Of your future brothers-in-law, Eris was certainly the one you’d developed the best rapport with. Even though he was quick-witted and swaggering and smirking most of the time, you’d found your sense of humour to be greatly similar to his. There was more to him, than just an eldest son waiting to be High Lord, and you sensed that a great many people underestimated what truly lay beneath the surface.

You tore into the foil around the chocolate, breaking a square off and popping it into your mouth. “Things with Dion are just…strained, right now.”

Eris tilted his head – and also nabbed a square of chocolate. He placed it on his tongue, sucking on it for a moment, before he surmised, “You didn’t agree with his decision not to help with the fire.”

“No,” You shook your head. “I didn’t. And I didn’t understand the decision, either. And don’t get me wrong…I know that you were given orders from the High Lord, but…”

“But Lucien happily went against those orders. Right?”

You begged your cheeks not to heat, begged your scent not to change, at the mere mention of his name. “Right.”

“And you went against them, too. You and Lucien.”

Your eyes flicked up, meeting Eris’s gaze. It was often hard, with him, to tell whether his words held double meaning. Whether he was merely making a solid statement, or insinuating something else within it. He stared back at you, eyes smouldering, and you…you could have sworn he was trying to clamp down on a smile.

“I considered it the right thing to do,” You quickly said – didn’t give him the chance to throw you a witty remark. “To help those people. I’d like to think that…that if I were in such a dire situation, there would be someone who wouldn’t hesitate to come for me.”

Were you in a dire situation? By sheer definition, you supposed not. You were living in the lap of luxury, had people waiting on you hand-and-foot. You were a lady, someone who would garner respect by default, whether you’d earned it or not, just because of who your soon-to-be husband was — and it would be that way for the rest of your life. That easy.

And yet none of it felt easy. None of it felt luxurious. It felt like…like drowning. And you didn’t know how much longer you could last before your lungs gave out entirely.

Eris seemed to read every one of those thoughts on your face. There was nothing of the smirking, cock-sure male as he studied you, his eyes softening.

“You have a kind heart, Y/N,” He said quietly. “…And I know this must be an adjustment. A difficult one.”

You nodded, eyes dipping down. “Very.”

“But just…just try…to go a bit easier on Dion. Because he also has a kind heart…and it wasn’t easy for him to sit back and do nothing while those people lost everything.”

“But Lucien—”

“Lucien defies our father on a weekly basis.” He reached down, breaking off another square of chocolate. “Everyone’s come to expect it of him, and nobody really cares — because Lucien has nothing to prove. But Dion?” He popped the chocolate into his mouth. Chewed. “Well, Dion is the spare, isn’t he?”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

“As the eldest son, I’m expected to succeed my father as High Lord. And if anything were to happen to me, Dion, as the second-eldest, would be expected to take my place. Which is why he and I receive the same rigorous training as one another. Why he and I have more pressure on us than the other three. We don’t have the luxury or freedom to go gallivanting around fields and making daisy chains, or whatever it is that Lucien does in his spare time.”

You couldn’t help it — you snorted, fighting not to choke on the piece of chocolate you’d been swallowing. You didn’t think you’d be doing Lucien any favours by correcting Eris, telling him that he did, in actual fact, read poetry in the woods, leant against huge, mammoth trees.

And perhaps you liked the visual a little too much to destroy it — of Lucien’s intricate hands weaving daisies together. Tucking them into his red hair—

You cleared your throat, your smile fading — and jolted when Eris suddenly grabbed your chin.

“No,” He said seriously, eyes boring into yours. “No more looking sad. Your smile reminds me of sunrise. It’s too brilliant to be hidden.”

You balked at him — waited for a smirk, for some indication that he was being facetious. But his face was utterly serious and unflinching as he reached for another square of chocolate.

“Excuse me,” You pulled the bar out of his reach, swatting him, “did you bring the chocolate for me, or for yourself?”

He grinned, pulling his hands back. “I brought it for you, lady. But perhaps you could give me something in return.”

“I’m not sucking your cock.”

His hair rippled as he threw his head back and barked a laugh, so loud that it echoed through the night. You pressed your lips together, fighting a smile.

“Not what I was angling for, but thank you for making that clear,” He snorted. “What I was asking for was a promise — that you’ll smooth things over with Dion when he returns.”

Part of you wanted to scowl at the sensible suggestion, but…you could only study Eris, tilting your head. You hadn’t known, when you’d first come here, what to make of the eldest Vanserra brother. You’d heard things about him, of course — that he was cocky and flippant and brilliant at playing the part of a courtier. What you never would have anticipated was the…the tenderness. The clear concern for those around him, that he had no qualms about showing. That he longed for their happiness as much as his own.

And Dion was just the same. Just as kind. Just as tightly-bound with duty.

It was what had you giving a relenting nod. “Okay,” You agreed, “I promise.”

Something like pride seemed to shine in Eris’s eyes. It squeezed at your heart, made you feel…less alone. You’d never had a brother, but this — him — you imagined, was exactly what it would be like.

Especially as he quickly grabbed the chocolate bar from your hand, stole one more piece, and rose to his feet.

“Asshole,” You scowled, but you were smiling.

“That’s me,” He smirked, handing the bar back to you. “You can finish the rest.”

Any sarcastic retort got lodged in your throat as he leaned down, pressing a single kiss to the top of your head. And then without a word, he was turning on his feet, strolling back towards the glass doors.

“Eris,” You blurted, and he glanced over his shoulder. You swallowed your lump of emotion. “…You have a kind heart, too.”

And the words…they seemed to stun him, like nobody had ever said such a thing before. He blinked at you, his shoulders seeming to tense for a moment, before they relaxed once more.

“I can name a few people who would disagree with that declarative.” He said, his tone laced with something that made your heart pinch. “I’ve done many things I regret, Y/N. But I’m trying, now, to be better. To put things right. I only hope that I one day can.”

Once more, he turned, and he didn’t offer another word as he disappeared inside.

You could only stare after him, sit amongst the heaviness that his words had left behind. Clearly, Eris Vanserra had some demons of his own to work through.

But if he could try harder…try to be better…surely you could, too.

You bit down on another square of chocolate and stared up at the sky.

Tomorrow. You’d make things up with Dion tomorrow.

⤲

Dion didn’t return until the following evening.

You were reading in your room when you heard his voice float up from outside. It seemed strange, that such nerves stirred in the pit of your stomach, and yet you found yourself making excuses to put off your conversation for as long as possible. You remained in your quarters as he returned his horse to the stables, and whilst he took a late, solitary dinner in the dining room. You didn’t know where the best place was to even have such a conversation…to smooth things over without the risk of Beron overhearing…but when you finally mustered the courage to leave your room and go in search of him, fate had you quite literally running into him as you turned a corner on the upper hallway.

“Y/N.” Dion blinked, his eyes taking in the sight of you; your unbound hair and nightgown. “I—I didn’t expect you to be awake.”

“I heard you return,” You nervously twisted your hands. “I wanted to check you were alright…”

The hope that alighted his eyes made your heart pinch uncomfortably. Had you truly been so awful to him?

“I know it’s late,” You quickly cleared your throat. “But I was hoping we could talk.”

His gaze met yours, and whatever he read there had him giving a determined nod. “Perhaps in my room? We’ll have more privacy.”

So he sensed, at least, that it was a conversation you’d rather didn’t get back to Beron. You nodded, and followed as Dion brushed past you. You tried not to think too hard about how it may look as you filed through the bedroom door he held open for you. Late at night. In just your nightgown.

Only when the door was firmly shut did you round on him. It seemed both of you were wondering who would speak first.

“Dion—”

“I know you must think me a total wretch.” He released a long, staggered breath. Like he’d been holding it since you’d last spoken to him.

And there — that pinch in your heart again. Because Dion Vanserra was the furthest thing from a wretch. That you’d judged him without considering the complexities of his situation had utter shame stinging you.

“Actually,” You glanced down, “I wanted to apologise.”

Dion blinked. “Why?”

Chewing your lip, you crossed the room, perching on the chair tucked into his desk. He watched you carefully, slowly taking a seat on the edge of the huge bed.

“I’m…ashamed…that I didn’t stop to consider how much pressure there is on your shoulders.” You admitted quietly. “I know that there’s more at stake for you. That you don’t have as much freedom as…some of the others. I should have considered that before judging you when you didn’t join me at the hamlet.”

Dion’s head dipped. “I cannot tell you how difficult it was to sit back and do nothing.”

“I understand that now. And I’m sorry…that I didn’t before, I just…” Slowly, you shook your head. “I didn’t think. I suppose I felt…hurt…that I’d come to you for help, and you didn’t seem willing. Because I think you may be my only true friend here…”

You stared at him. And he stared back. That word — friend — hung in the air between you. A subject that needed broaching; that neither of you could dance around any longer.

“Perhaps we should discuss that, as well…” Dion shifted. “I wasn’t sure if…I mean…this connection between us, is—”

“Platonic.” You finished. “I know. I agree.”

Dion’s shoulders seem to slump — in pure, unguarded relief. Clearly he’d been worrying, too…about trying to forge a connection. About trying so damn hard to turn it into something more than it was. But he couldn’t. And neither could you. You were friends and nothing more, and the fact that you were on the same page allowed you at least a little pinch of relief.

“I’ve been thinking it for a while, now.” You said. “But…I think that as hard as we’ve both tried…we’re friends. Nothing more.”

He nodded resolutely. “…you know, though, right? That it makes no difference…”

You did. Gods, you did. It had only kept you awake most nights, reminding you that however you and Dion felt was irrelevant. That the fact that you were on the same page was a small mercy — but it didn’t change anything.

“Regardless of what we feel…” Dion said, pursing his lips. “We’ll still be expected to marry. To consummate that marriage. To have children…”

You knew. And yet you still felt your shoulders tense. Still felt that familiar cold slithering through you. The thought of sharing those things with Dion…and without love…

“There’s truly no way around it?” You asked quietly.

He shook his head. “The only thing even my father wouldn’t have the power to overrule is a mating bond. Don’t suppose you have a secret mate lurking around here that I don’t know about?”

You snorted. “I’m afraid not.”

He nodded, such…such bleakness on his face. You’d been so wrapped up in your own turmoil since you’d arrived at the Vanserra Estate, you hadn’t stopped to think what this might be like for him. What he was giving up.

“Maybe…maybe this marriage doesn’t have to be the be all and end all.” You said, and he glanced up through worried eyes. “Even if we have no choice about the marriage itself…perhaps we can have our own choices within it. Discrete choices, just between you and I…that offer us both happiness.”

Those weary eyes of his studied your face, and you let him see your thoughts. Let him see some optimism, even if it was hard for you to drag it up from amongst the roiling darkness inside you.

“You mean…”

“I mean,” you said, “that as husband and wife, we can have an agreement between us. That we honour what’s expected of us, but…if you or I find connections elsewhere…that’s okay, too. We’ll support one another. And it’d be between us — no one needs to find out about it.”

It was a relief — to see a little glimmer of hope flicker in his eyes. That you were open-minded about this. About finding a way for both of you to be happy.

You smiled softly. “Are we agreed? That first and foremost, we’re friends. We’ll support whatever the other needs.”

“Agreed,” Dion sat up. “Gods, yes, agreed. You’ll always have a friend in me. I’ll support you however I can.”

And you knew he would. That he was completely serious. That he cared. Perhaps you didn’t understand the true weight of the little bit of freedom you’d just offered him. Perhaps he didn’t understand what it meant for you, either. But that was okay.

“You’ll always have a friend in me, too, Dion. We’ll find a way to make this work.”

He reached out, grabbing your hand and pressing a single kiss to it. And such gratitude shone in his eyes that you couldn’t help wondering, couldn’t help prying…

“…Even if you don’t have a mate…” You said quietly, “is there someone you’re interested in?”

The immediate dusting of pink that coloured his cheeks was all the confirmation you needed. He shifted, like…like he was embarrassed, or something. Pressed his lips together.

“There is.” You grinned. “That’s good.”

“It’s early days.” He quickly said. “…But I feel as strongly for her as she does for me. I should have told you sooner.”

You could hardly feel bitter about it…not with your antics, as of late. And you were happy for him. He was a good male — a male deserving of a connection that went beyond friendship.

“It wouldn’t exactly have been easy for you to bring it up, now would it?” You laughed softly.

He dipped his chin, a soft smile playing on his lips. “And…what of you? Is there…I mean…do you have a connection with anyone?”

The laughter faded from your face. A simple question, and yet…it did nothing but churn you up inside. You could hardly call the mess with Lucien a connection. There was just…a fine line between hate and lust. And that line had been temporarily blurred.

“No,” You shook your head. “I don’t—I have no one.”

Those words sounded aloud as pathetic as they felt inside. And yet so achingly true. It felt…vulnerable. Raw. Empty.

“…you have me.” Dion said softly. “Your friend.”

He squeezed your hand, and it took a surprising amount of effort not to succumb to the tears that threatened you. You cleared your throat, standing from the chair.

“I should…get back to my room…before anyone works out we’re in here together.” You forced a laugh. “We don’t need a scandal on our hands.”

Dion chuckled gently. “No, we certainly don’t.”

“Goodnight, then.”

With a smile, you turned, your eyes mindlessly grazing the room as you stepped towards the door.

And then stopped.

Turned back to his desk.

Dion watched you.

The parchment had been sat in front of you throughout the entire conversation, and yet…yet for some reason, the familiar handwriting had flown completely over your head.

Until then. Until it suddenly clicked — the looping scrawl, the whorls.

The way Willow dotted every “i” with a tiny little star.

You pulled the parchment towards you, and still Dion watched. He’d gone so stiff, so still, on the bed.

“…You’ve written to Willow?” You murmured. “I didn’t know…”

“…Y/N…”

Just flitting briefly over the words, the content of the letter seemed much like the ones Willow wrote to you. Descriptions of books she was reading, a beautiful piece of music she’d heard, what she planned to do with her week—

Until you got to the bottom. Every part of you stiffened.

I think about you every minute of every day. Tell me I can see you soon. I’m sick from missing you. All my love. Willow.

“Y/N…” Dion murmured again. “Listen—”

“My sister?” You rounded on him. “My married sister?”

You didn’t know why your heart was thudding so erratically. Why you felt sick to your stomach. The hypocrisy wasn’t lost on you, after what you’d done, but—

But Willow was married. Your married little sister, who had been such a saving grace for you in your first couple of weeks at the estate, who had—

Who had sought out Dion at any chance she’d got. Who’d spoken to him for hours on end, laughed with him. Who had seen his kindness first-hand.

“Listen, Y/N,” Dion stood up quickly, striding over to you. “I didn’t plan for this to happen—”

“You kissed me at that fucking masquerade only a fortnight ago!”

His eyes shuttered. “I know.”

“And…what? You were pining after my sister the entire time? What am I, some kind of temporary replacement because you can’t have her?”

“No! Of course not!. Let’s just…talk about this—”

“No.” You gritted your teeth as you stepped aside — and so did he, “Move, Dion.”

“Y/N—”

He didn’t stop you, this time, when you pushed past him. Every part of you was trembling; from anger or from hurt or both…you didn’t even know. Nor did you know why you felt those things. Perhaps because Willow was one of your only friends, the sister you were closest to. Perhaps because you’d thought Dion felt just as lonely in this arrangement as you did…and he’d been secretly corresponding with your sister about their feelings for each other.

You heard him curse under his breath as you ripped the door open. And you didn’t care who might see as you stormed from his room, hurrying back to yours.

But you were far too incensed to sleep, or to read. If you laid and stared at the ceiling, you’d cry. Or scream.

Before you knew what you were doing, you ripped off your nightgown and blindly tore some clothes from your armoire, shucking them on. It was far too cold for just a tunic and a pair of breeches, but you didn’t fucking care.

You wanted to feel the fresh air on your skin, biting at it painfully. You wanted to breathe in the frost and chimney smoke. You needed to go somewhere. To do something.

You yanked your boots on. And you ran.

⤲

You walked for what felt like hours, just trawling the estate until your feet hurt. Wending through the trees and keeping yourself hidden, the air was brisk and cutting – a pleasant slicing against your exposed skin, but it did nothing to abate the wrenching roaring in your head.

You needed…something. Something to pour your frustration, your hurt, into. And you knew how hypocritical it made you to even feel such things, but…if this…thing…between Dion and Willow had started during the festival…it had begun long before that one night of fleeting passion with Lucien. And had been going on right under your nose, without him saying a single word.

You just…just wished one of them had at least had the decency to say something.

Across the estate, you heard the manor’s huge grandfather clock chiming two o’clock in the morning. It was silent all around, besides the whisper of wildlife. You knew you should go back – get some rest and face the situation with a cooler head.

But you found yourself storming over to the armoury.

You were far too wound up to care if anyone noticed the light on and came to investigate. The roiling in your brain and heart and veins needed an outlet, and this – this was the best way. The way Linden had taught you.

You felt like you were merely watching from outside of your body as you grabbed a training sword and went to work. Never had you sliced at the air so ferociously, your movements flowing like wind, cutting like ice. Every angered thought that arose in your mind became nothing but a manoeuvre, a strike. You were lithe, and fluid, and dangerous.

And hurt.

Lonely.

Before you knew you it, the cold in your bones had been replaced by the heat and sweat of your exertion. You needed to stop, before you lost it completely. Before you became so riled up that you smashed the armoury to pieces.

You threw the sword down, spinning on your feet to grip the edges of the nearby table. You’d barely taken a breath before something moved in your periphery, and your head snapped up fast as lightning.

Just like before, Lucien leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. His expression was unreadable as he took in the sight of you, hunched over and panting, a fire no doubt still burning in your eyes. And you stared back at him. Didn’t say a word. Didn’t know what to say, considering the last time you’d looked at that face, he’d been deep inside you.

“I saw the light was on.” He said – seemingly his way of explaining his presence.

You stared at him, your breaths still heaving. “Right.”

With a terse nod, he glanced at the sword on the floor. Then back to you. “Bit of a weird time to be getting some training in.”

“Bit of a weird time to be watching me.”

Those russet eyes dipped, and he released a sigh. Like your attitude was puzzling to him. Like he hadn’t fucked you and taken off and avoided you ever since.

“Listen–”

“Just to clarify,” You cut in sharply. “Are you talking to me now?”

He rolled his eyes. “I think it would be a good idea for us to talk, yes.”

“You’ve done a fine job of avoiding me this week. Why bother now?”

You didn’t miss the way a muscle in his jaw ticked – like he was trying so, so hard to bite down on a whole host of colourful retorts. Because this was what he’d been avoiding. This run-in with you.

Having to face the mistake he’d made.

“To clear things up after—”

“After you fucked me and left?”

“Look,” He gritted his teeth. “I’m sorry for ignoring you. But I think we can both agree that what happened absolutely shouldn’t have.”

So that was the game he was going to play.

And…fine. That was utterly fine. Because you were lonely and hurt and churned up and you wanted to go head-to-head with him. To bait him. It was about the only thing you had to cling onto right now.

So you narrowed your eyes. Cocked your head at him. “You know,” You barked a sharp laugh, “You’re acting mighty unaffected, for someone who moaned so desperately while being buried inside me.”

Not what he’d expected you to say – that much was obvious when he blinked. Straightened himself out. He seemed to quickly glance behind him, like he was looking for prying eyes and ears, before he slipped further into the armoury and pushed the door shut behind him.

And you…you approached him. You weren’t unlike a predator approaching its prey as you stepped towards him in slow, careful movements. He studied every single one of those movements like he was committing them to memory, his eyes scanning your sweat-slick skin, the slight curl of your unbound hair–

His gaze snagged on your braid, and he swallowed. He was stiff as a board as you stopped in front of him, a mere hair’s-breadth away. A shared breath would have your bodies brushing.

And when those deep, unending eyes of his moved from your braid, flickering to your lips – you knew. You had him exactly where you wanted him. You had to suppress the smirk that wanted to tug at your lips.

“One would think, Lucien,” You hummed, your breath fanning his face, “That you didn’t enjoy yourself that night.”

“I didn’t say that.” He blurted immediately, the words seeming to just fall from his mouth, out of his control. He seemed to frown at himself, to search for some way to retract the statement–

But those thoughts eddied straight from his mind as you hummed a quiet, pensive noise. And sunk to your knees before him.

“Tell me,” Your head fell into a tilt, your hands brushing up his legs, up and up to the laces of his breeches, “would you have preferred if it hadn’t happened?”

He merely blinked down at you. Like he didn’t know what you were saying, didn’t know that you’d even asked a question. His throat worked on a hard swallow, and his tongue dipped out to swipe over his bottom lip.

And as your fingers began to brush those laces on his breeches…to pull on them…the hardness that awaited you beneath was answer enough.

Your knuckles were a feather-light brush against his stomach, and you heard the slightest, tiniest intake of breath. You couldn’t help smiling triumphantly as you tugged and tugged, the laces loosening, the front flap of his breeches parting.

And when you pulled those breeches down, allowing his cock to spring free, it was pure, steeled determination not to melt into a puddle at the sight of it. To think of how it had been inside you, thrusting into you, giving you the most mouthwatering release–

Lucien just watched, his lips slightly parted, his pupils blown. And at the first brush of your hand over his cock, his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

You allowed the pads of your fingers to explore the long, hard length of him, and his breath hitched in his throat as you took your time with teasing brushes and touches, tracing over the throbbing vein, learning what he felt like as you wrapped your palm around him and moved your thumb up to brush over the head.

And then you leaned forward. Stared up at him. His head was tilted back, his teeth digging into his bottom lip.

You smiled. Took the head of his cock into your mouth. His hips immediately jerked.

His head fell forward once more, and he stared down at you, a noise akin to a whimper leaving his throat. But you didn’t move – didn’t slide your lips any further onto him. You held the head in your mouth, swirling your tongue around, noting every dip and indentation.

“...Holy Gods…” He gritted out, his voice deep and guttural. And then he was sliding a hand into your hair. His fingers immediately found your braid.

You gripped onto the backs of his sculpted legs as you brought more of him into your mouth, sliding down. And down. And down. A choked, wordless moan was all Lucien could manage as you went to work on his cock.

You wrapped a hand around the base, allowing your tongue to drag slowly, sensuously, over the velvety skin as you pulled him out of your mouth. You pumped him a couple of times, watching every minuscule expression pass across his face. The way his brow furrowed and his lips parted. The way he kept alternating between tipping his head back and wanting to watch you.

“It would seem to me,” You murmured, blowing on the head and causing his hips to jerk, “that you don’t wish it hadn’t happened.”

There was no chance for him to muster a response as you took him into your mouth again. Nothing but pure thrill charged through you as you bobbed your head, licking him, sucking him, the head of his cock damn near touching the back of your throat.

You wanted to feel every bit of it, even as your jaw ached, and you were breathing heavily through your nose. The burn was brilliant — satisfying. And better than anything else, it quieted the warring inside your head.

“Fuck.” Lucien gasped out. You could feel him tightening inside your mouth, feel him growing close. You wanted him spurting on your tongue.

His hands pulled on your hair to near-pain, and you smirked around him. Steadied yourself. Reached one hand up to cup his balls.

As you bobbed, and bobbed, and bobbed, licked and sucked and squeezed his balls and dug your fingernails into his leg, the low growls in his throat became guttural, feral. He wouldn’t last much longer, wouldn’t be able to resist—

He gripped your head, holding you still as his hips stuttered to a stop. And a deep, gasping groan escaped him as he came inside your mouth, spilling all over your tongue, down your throat.

And you swallowed every last drop. Embraced the taste of him, the warmth of him. Licked and pumped him through his release, until he was no more but a spent, whimpering mess.

You allowed him to come down from the high. Allowed him to catch his breath. But as soon as awareness returned to his eyes, replacing the glazed pleasure with a keen sense of knowing, you rose to your feet.

Lucien stared at you, his golden cheeks flushed. His chest still heaving slightly.

And you…you met his eyes. Smiled. Swiped a tongue over your lips and wiped the corners of your mouth with a single finger. His eyes tracked every single movement wordlessly.

“Thought so.” Was all you said, a smile tugging your lips. “Goodnight.”

You brushed past him, not even glancing back to see if he tucked himself back into his breeches, or just stood there, stunned.

Let him see how it felt to be walked away from. To be treated like a mistake.

You strode out of the armoury like the taste of him wasn’t still lingering on your tongue, and crossed the quiet estate, back into the manor.

And when you reached your bedroom and fell between the sheets, the turmoil in your head was easier to tune out.

And you slept.

⤲

You spent the following morning thinking. Reflecting. Nobody came to bother you.

You curled up on the windowsill, your head pressed against the glass as you watched the many staff and servants pass by on their errands. Saw the odd flash of red hair come and go.

It was one person you found yourself keeping an eye out for in particular. Dion.

It surprised you, to wake up and find that your overriding emotion was guilt.

Guilt over your reaction. Over how you’d dealt with it.

Because…because why shouldn’t Dion have feelings for Willow? It wasn’t as though the connection between the two of you was anything besides platonic. Betrothed you may be, but that was out of both of your control. You didn’t have feelings for him. He didn’t have feelings for you.

And Willow may have been married, but…hopefully not for much longer. Not to a beast like Isaac.

She’d be much better off with Dion, that was for sure.

Willow and Dion were both good. Both caring. And if they’d found a connection…who were you to be upset about that? Especially with your own antics…

You weren’t angry with them. Perhaps a little hurt that they’d not shared it with you, but…you realised, now, that you’d wildly overreacted. Kind of been an asshole.

You needed to apologise — again. If for no other reason than that you selfishly needed Dion’s friendship. And wanted it, too. You would be very lonely here, very miserable, without it.

You were just pushing to your feet when the knock fell on your door.

You dragged in a slow, deep breath, ignoring the ache of your muscles as you trudged to the door and inched it open.

Long red hair was the first thing you saw. And for a second, you thought maybe…maybe Lucien—

No. Dion stood there, looking terrible. Like he hadn’t slept. His skin was paler than usual, and dark smudges sat beneath his eyes.

He took in the sight of you, dragging a hand through his hair. “…please can we talk?”

Without any hesitation, you nodded, stepping aside. Dion’s footsteps were heavy, loaded, as he dragged his feet in and turned to face you.

“I’m sorry.” You blurted.

Dion went still, his shoulders tensing. “Wait—what?”

“I’m sorry,” You repeated, slumping onto the bed. “Like…really, really sorry. How I reacted last night…I had no right.” Never mind the fact that you’d then sucked his brother’s cock.

“Y/N—”

“Wait—before you say anything,” You twisted your hands anxiously in your lap. “I slept on it. And I’ve thought about it. And I’m…I’m not angry. I’d have preferred not to find out like that, but…as for you and Willow…”

Dion’s eyes dipped down. “We’d already discussed, before you saw that letter, that I should try and figure out my feelings with you, first…considering you’re to be my wife. I’m sorry that you had to find out that way.”

You studied him. Took in how utterly downtrodden he looked. And if you weren’t so worried that Lucien’s scent still lingered on you — even after bathing and brushing your teeth twice — you would have reached out and hugged him.

He’d done nothing but surprise you since you’d come to the estate. Impress you. With his kind nature, his thoughtfulness…the intricate workings of his brain. He’d become your friend for a reason. You wanted him to be happy. Willow, too.

“Having the title of your wife isn’t going to make you fall in love with me,” You said quietly. “And vice versa. We’re friends, Dion. And I haven’t worked out, yet, how we’re going to make this work, but…we both know there’s nothing between us. I would never expect you to be alone for the rest of your life because of me.”

“I know. And nor would I expect it of you, either,” he strode closer. “But Willow and I…it wasn’t intentional. I want you to know that.”

“Perhaps it wasn’t.” You shrugged. “But intentional or not…why shouldn’t you be each other’s happiness?”

He blinked, studying you. “I…are you saying…”

“I’m saying…we’ll figure this out somehow. Together. Because Willow is my sister, and you’re my friend. You both deserve to be happy. And Mother above, she needs out of that marriage with Isaac.”

The way Dion clenched his jaw told you everything you could possibly need to know about how he felt. That it was killing him, just as much as you, that Willow was where she was. With who she was with.

“I think if Willow were to have you, she’d be a very lucky person.” You said earnestly. “And if you wish to secretly court her while we figure things…you have my blessing. Hell, I’ll even help you. Especially to get her out of that damn marriage.”

Poor, poor Dion looked seconds from tears. And despite all your qualms about the…scent…that may still linger on you, you stood up. Wrapped your arms around him.

“I’ve never had a friend like you before.” He whispered, resting his chin atop of your head. “If there’s anyone that you are interested in–”

“There isn’t,” You cut in quickly, frowning to yourself, “But…thank you.”

He pulled back, studying you with eyes so soft, you couldn’t bear to meet them. “You’ll find someone, you know. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

All you could manage was a smile in response. There was no way you were ready to delve into such a subject – not when you weren’t quite sure what you would blurt out.

So you thanked him. Hugged him again. Your husband-to-be and friend.

Smoothing things over hadn’t quite taken the edge off of the loneliness, though.

You weren’t sure anything could.

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

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[1d1195]

Normal People V

I'm sorry this took so long. You can read the rest of it here: Normal People

I got one more part of this for sure, in my head. Just got to put everything together. I think this part is kind of all over the place, but I kind of like it. I hope you do too.

She looked at the guy that broke her heart more times than she could ever count. The brown curls and the perfect dimples. She thought back to the time she used her own finger to pretend Harry was tracing her face. It seemed like a lifetime ago...a whole different person ago. Harry was the only one that ever managed to make her feel whole...then and now.

Harry remembered the first time he saw her smiling and laughing with the guy beside her that obviously adored her—he looked much more than nice towards her. He looked like he would do anything to make her smile. But she said he didn’t really do anything for her—she was too independent. Of course, she was...that was Harry’s fault...and probably everyone else at school.

She gave a wave in Harry’s direction once while they were at the same café one morning. Her boyfriend turned to glance at Harry and then he murmured something to her. Whatever she responded with, she gave Harry a wink and smile as she spoke. He nodded and waved as well, finally. She wrapped her arm around his and they turned back to wait for their drinks before heading out the door.

Harry thought about how she said it wouldn’t go anywhere—he clung to that idea because all he could imagine was her being with him. His arm wrapped with hers while they got coffee each morning. It hurt Harry to think about how badly he blew things with her. He remembered saying to Mum that she shouldn’t forgive him...he meant that; he didn’t deserve her forgiveness, but all of this was so much for his heart, and he just wanted to be with her—he wouldn’t be stupid anymore.

*

It's in the library that he finds her when he was looking for a book for one of his classes. He had been hanging out at the library a lot since he was hiding from himself, his emotions, and Niall with his personal questions. He hadn’t seen her since the café but it all sort of worked out well—he was getting his schoolwork done a lot faster without the distractions. Yet here she was with tears in her eyes, and he immediately wanted to murder someone.

Harry was used to being the cause of her sadness but now that he knows he had hardly spoken to her recently, he felt okay assuming it wasn’t his fault this time. “Oh, love,” he cooed softly sitting beside her quickly and offering her a tissue from his backpack. Gemma had given him the tip: “either your allergies would act up or classes would make you cry...or maybe you’ll see some girl crying over a guy in the dining hall.” Gem was close enough and it made Harry sad that she was right. The poor girl sniffled.

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

They didn’t speak for a few moments and Harry awkwardly reached out to rest his hand just below the back of her neck. Gently, he rubbed a circle over her shirt as he tried to soothe her. He didn’t want her to say anything if she didn’t want to. He would be there for her. It wasn’t his job to judge or comment. He had no right to tell her anything he thought or assumed about her relationship. As far as Harry knew that guy treated her better than—

“I miss my mom,” she whispered. Harry couldn’t imagine life without his mum, so he just nodded. He was hopeful the tears were about her mother and not the guy in her life. He could comfort her a lot more reasonably. Again, he didn’t understand her grief fully, so he just stayed quiet, waiting for her to continue if she wanted. “She wouldn’t let me date him,” she said knowingly.

Harry sighed. It was about him. Harry had no high horse. He wasn’t any better than this guy that made her cry. “Isn’t that enough?” He asked. “Jus’ knowing?”

She shrugged then shook her head. “It’s different.” He didn’t want to argue with her because of course he didn’t know, and he would never ask her to put something so vulnerable into words. He believed her implicitly. She knew her best because no one else had ever gotten close enough to know her. “Do you remember seeing us at the café a few weeks ago?” Harry thought about it every day, so he nodded a few times silently remembering how much he hated the guy beside her because he wasn’t him. “I told him you were my best friend,” she whispered. Harry felt a lightness in his heart that he didn’t know could exist. His hand fell from her body and the words couldn’t form in his mouth if he tried. “I’m sorry,” she apologized and now Harry couldn’t not speak.

“Sorry for what, kitten?” He asked quietly.

“I-I know you don’t want to be my best friend.”

“Oh, for fucks sake,” he hissed under his breath. “Kitten, I...” he rubbed a hand over his face. “You are my best friend.”

Harry would hate himself for the rest of his life. Regardless of if he ever did end up marrying her. The relief on her face was so tragically beautiful, Harry wanted to take back what he said only so she would stop looking so happy for such a shitty best friend like him. In actuality, Harry would never take that sentence back—because she was his best friend despite everything.

But Harry hated the way the relief looked on her face. He didn’t deserve it. Not after all those days he spent hiding from her. All the days he ignored her and didn’t protect her from his “friends.” It wasn’t fair that she looked at him like he was a life vest when he was drowning in guilt. He wished she knew how strong she was without him—without anyone really.

“I am?” She whispered.

“Love, you are the best person,” he said softly.

Smiling through a bunch of tears she sighed out an anxious breath. “That’s good.”

Harry couldn’t tell you why he was at the library anymore. It felt like his only purpose was to sit next to this beautiful girl and chat with her until they were all caught up and said a lot of things that they hid from one another until that point so that Harry really, truly could confidently say that she was his best friend.

*

“I think there’s something wrong with men,” she said as she entered Harry’s room. He heard her say hello to Niall as she got there so he was anticipating her arrival the moment his door opened. Without saying hi to him, or breaking stride, she flopped down on Harry’s bed.

He smirked at her. “M’sorry,” he said. “On behalf of the lot of us.”

She shrugged. “You’re alright,” she mumbled and then rolled onto her stomach to shove her face in the pillow. After a few moments she turned her head to the side so she could look at him. “I let him manipulate me,” she said softly.

Harry was in the middle of composing a song; one that he had been writing for years but never letting it breach his subconscious. But he stopped trying to force it down and let it flow out of him.

Up until this moment where she was being manipulated by some man that didn’t deserve her. Harry didn’t deserve her either, but he would be damned if he didn’t spend the rest of his days protecting her the way he should have for the last fifteen or so years. “What d’you mean?”

“Just...” she sighed. Harry turned in his seat and waited patiently but it felt agonizing. He wanted her to skip to the part where she told him where he was so he could kill him. “I bring it on myself, I think.”

Harry shook his head. “Can y’clarify what y’mean, kitten?”

She bit her lip and stared at the ceiling. It was easier to look at the white paint than Harry at this moment. “I do things for him. He gets mad. But I tell him it’s easier for me than for him. And I don’t mind. Then he just lets me do them. He doesn’t help.”

“So why don’t y’stop doing things?”

She was quiet for a few moments. “Because I think if I don’t do things for people they’ll leave me,” she explained.

Harry could feel the sadness seep from her all the way across the room to him. He wanted to cry. He made a vow to himself that he would never let her lift a finger on his behalf. She would never have to. Not while he was around. “M’sorry, love,” he didn’t know what else to say. “I know s’not the same...but...y’don’t have t’do anything for me...I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

Again, silence for a few moments. “Can I ask you to do something, and can it not be a thing?” She asked. Harry thought about how she was constantly surprising him. She was always her own person and never hid or shied away from Harry and her own personality. But Harry usually led all the make out sessions and tended to lead the direction of their conversations because she seemed nervous to say the wrong thing. Harry was so proud of how she would ask him anything, say anything to him now, and she didn’t bat an eyelash. He had no right to be proud because any functioning adult relationship and conversation was composed of those attributes. He solely took the blame for her shitty school experiences, and he was grateful she was in his life now and doing well despite his shitty friends and his lack of help.

Harry still hoped she would ask him to punch himself in the face to make up for all the damage he caused. He thought about the day she asked him to leave her alone a lot. “Course,” he hummed.

“C’mere,” she said and gently patted the mattress beside her as she scooted back to the wall and laid on her side. Harry felt his heart rapidly speed up and thunder against his ribs. He got up and sat on the edge of his bed unsure that this was the best idea. “I don’t bite,” she promised. He chuckled with slight relief at her teasing, and he settled down to lie facing her. She smiled sweetly and then scooted forward so her face was tucked into his chest. She had one arm beneath the pillow and the other lazily looped over his waist. His arm slid beside the crook of her neck and the other he rested at her hip. “Thanks,” she whispered and her warm breath penetrated his t-shirt, through his skin, and touched his rapidly beating heart.

*

It was just a regular old day between the two of them. She was lying on his bed. He was at his desk. But suddenly it wasn’t a regular day. Suddenly she was about to change one of their regular old days into something entirely new and different. “When was the last time we kissed, you think?”

Harry felt his face warm, and he swallowed the lump in his throat. He had been counting the minutes since he last kissed her. It was much too long. “Fourteen and a half months.”

“I think that should be corrected, no?” She said moving from lying to sitting.

“You want to kiss me?” He asked near breathlessly.

“I take my teaching very seriously and don’t want you out of practice,” her smile was so mischievous, Harry wanted to kiss every inch of her body.

“Are you drunk?”

“I don’t like the insinuation that I would only kiss you while drunk.”

“Kitten.”

“You know how I feel about you calling me that.”

Now his brain felt tired. That didn’t make any sense. “You want t’kiss me, but I can’t call y’kitten?”

She sighed. Folded her hands in her lap and looked away from him. “I can’t get attached to you again...not like that,” she whispered. “But I really liked kissing you and being around you and it’s not fair you just pulled yourself away from me...so I can’t take that—"

Harry melted. Fully, totally. He dropped to his knees in front of her on his bed. He placed his hands on the bed outside her thighs. He didn’t want to touch her if she didn’t want it. “Kitten,” he practically cooed.

“Harry—”

His lips pressed against hers. Just like the first time he kissed her, she pulled back quickly; surprised and nervous at the touch of his soft lips. She put a finger to her lips and Harry watched the way her grown maturity and strength faltered behind her eyes. Harry hated that he was the cause of it. “Kitten, I won’t be going anywhere. I want to kiss you a lot. And I want to call you kitten.”

Her eyes looked so distrustful. But she had never trusted anyone but Harry before. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. “Do we have to have any rules or—”

“No, no, love. No rules. Just you and me.”

She nodded, still seeming unsure. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Harry would do anything to take the distrust from her.

Another nod. “Kiss me again...please.”

Smiling, he bobbed his head up and down quickly. His face felt warm again. It had only been two minutes since the last kiss, but Harry was desperate after all the time he spent not kissing her, all the same as those fourteen and half months. The time spent not holding her seemed overwhelming. He wondered if she felt the same way. “Yes, love,” his fingers snaked through the hair at the back of her head. Inching her back on his bed, he slid in beside her and pressed his lips over hers.

“Harry!” Niall shouted, causing Harry to fall off his bed with a loud thud.

It took Harry a moment to realize he was asleep, the kiss, the bed, all of it was unreal. At least the last few moments. She was still there beside him on the bed. But now he was groaning as she giggled where she looked over the edge at him grumbling on the floor. It seemed so cruel after what he thought he was doing on the bed with her. “Sorry, Ni, he was asleep,” she called back sleepily. It occurred to him they were actually taking a nap together.

“Lazy bones,” Niall called back.

“You okay, Harry?” She asked softly. She was rubbing her eye of the sleep and Harry thought he’d never be okay if she was going to look so adorable and cute like that fresh out of a nap. “Sorry for hogging the bed,” she murmured, and she maneuvered to the floor beside him and rubbed his head. He leaned into her hand a bit. It wasn’t her fault, and it wasn’t that serious. Harry had a small bed and when he dreamed, he was always dreaming of her.

He shook his head and sighed. “What d’you want Ni?”

“Do you and the missus wanna come out tonight?”

Harry looked at her peripherally to see how her cheek pinked at the nickname, her hair fell in front of her face as she gazed forward in an attempt to hide from Harry how she was affected by Niall calling her the missus. Harry liked it a lot, but he had to be casual.

“D’you wanna go out?” He asked quietly.

She shrugged. “Maybe for a little while.”

“We’ll be down in a bit,” he called back to him.

*

“Does he mind y’being here all the time?” He wondered. It had been nearly a month since she started coming over regularly. Niall kept joking she would have to pay rent soon. She told him she would bake something for him.

“Don’t joke with me like that, kitten,” Niall said seriously.

Harry rolled his eyes and ushered her upstairs as quickly as he could. “Does who mind? Niall? I think he made that clear—”

“No,” he shook his head ignoring her joke. It suddenly seemed serious. As much as Harry hated the guy and thought no one deserved her, if she stayed with him, there were reasons. Reasons he didn’t want to understand but he didn’t get to judge. She put the book down that she was reading, and she sat up against the wall of his bed. She tilted her head at Harry. “Your boyfriend.”

“What boyfriend?” She asked without any emotion in her voice.

Harry stared at her, blinked at the abruptness. “Did I miss something?”

“Harry, we broke up.”

It felt like the world was no longer spinning. How did he miss that? Was she crying? No...no way. Not here. He hadn’t seen her cry since the library. “Kitten, I didn’t know.”

“I try not to advertise my heartache as much as possible.”

“M’so sorry, love,” and he was sorry. He meant it seriously. “I...I wish y’told me, I would have—”

“Harry, I came over the day we broke up,” she said. “I told you I had a bad day and you put on a movie I used to watch as a child, you got me my favorite coffee, and we laid here all afternoon while it rained.” Harry thought that sounded like a regular old day to him...at least now that she was so prominent in his life.

“M’still really sorry.”

She shrugged. “I told you I didn’t think it was going to work out.”

He nodded in agreement. “I hoped it would, for you...he seemed like a nice enough guy despite...” he didn’t really believe that. He didn’t think she was worthy of anyone. But for a moment in time, he made her happy. That’s all Harry wanted for her. “Well...can I get y’something now that I actually know?” He wondered.

She looked at the guy that broke her heart more times than she could ever count. The brown curls and the perfect dimples. She thought back to the time she used her own finger to pretend Harry was tracing her face. It seemed like a lifetime ago...a whole different person ago. Harry was the only one that ever managed to make her feel whole...then and now.

She thought about asking him to make out again. But she didn’t think Harry liked her like that anymore. Of course, they shared a bed a lot of afternoons and he called her kitten a lot. He confessed he loved her one time after she saw him for the first time in college. But once more she repelled him away and told him he didn’t. It was nearly forgotten...maybe it was the alcohol talking and she could push the idea away that the guy she had loved for so many years loved her back.

She thought about that moment a lot. Thought about how easy it would be to fall more in love with Harry. Especially this new Harry that was so gentle and sweet to her. She wondered if her heart could take it. The idea of him not being in her life now seemed horrendous. Her current idea was just bottling up her feelings until he married some other girl that didn’t love him as much as she did.

“Wanna watch a movie?”

“Whatever y’want, kitten.”

--

taglist: @feestyles @sunshinemoonsposts @matildasatellite @reveriehs @asmilinghopefullromantic @macy-tpwk If you no longer want to be tagged lmk, no hard feelings!

#harry #harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles imagine #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles sad #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #one direction #one direction writing #harry styles writing #normal people

[immajustvibehere]

Low honour Arthur "not too fast. I ain't had a good look at ya"

Captured & Captivated

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader

oneshot: low honor Arthur, bounty hunting

warnings: nudity, suggestive, mentions of sexual themes

summary: You get caught by a bounty hunter. After some consideration, he is ready to grant you your freedom...in exchange for a little strip show.

2700 words, 15 minutes reading time

The moment you heard some twigs break you knew it was too late. No matter how fast you tried to jump up and draw, the cold grip of someone's gun hit your temple with such force that you barely caught the shadow of the man who had ambushed you. You were out even before your body slumped to the ground. As consciousness and the events that had caused you to lose it slowly started to return to you, you not only felt your throbbing head but also a dull nausea that left you wondering what you had gotten yourself into. You opened your eyes to find yourself thrown over the back of a horse, your head dangerously dangling around with your gaze on the floor. Uncomfortably close to two very strong, brown hindlegs of a stallion. Having a visual to pair with the sickening motion of a trot didn't help at all, you feared of losing balance and slipping off. The realisation that your hands and legs were tied didn't do anything to relief this anxiety.

"Good. Yer awake", a voice drawled almost enthusiastically. "That you?", the man who you couldn't quite see – since turning your head so far up would definitely lead to you falling off the horse – asked, before he dangled a bounty poster in front of your face.

"No", you spit, almost chocking on your lie.

"Huh", the piece of paper disappeared from your field of view, "Looks an awful lot like ya though. Guess it's close enough to fool the law, don'tcha think?" The man was clearly amused. And he was right. The drawing had a striking similarity to you. Well, it was you after all. They hadn’t even bothered to draw a worse picture, no. It had every little detail of your goddamn face. You'd pay decent money to just have it changed magically right now. But you had bigger problems now, though your head with a pretty sum on it was the reason you were having those problems in the first place.  

"Sir? Can we stop?", you pleaded after the horse had crossed a rocky path. You felt sick. Certainly, you would throw up any second now and you weren't so sure if this gentleman would take kindly to you throwing up all over his horse. However, you waited in vain for an answer.

"Sir, I'm going to be sick!", you tried to announce. He only clicked his tongue and took his time to think of a reply. "We won't stop." "I'm not kidding. I feel real sick and I'd hate to get my lunch on your horse just in case it decides to throw me of if I do so if we could just-", you babbled on quickly in the hopes it would annoy the man enough to finally stop. Instead, you just heard him mumble a "Shut up" before his flat hand met your face and you were unconscious yet again.

You woke up to the crackling of a fire and its warmth on your face. Ropes cut into your skin as you became aware that bark was uncomfortably pressing itself into your back. You were tied to a tree, right opposite of a campfire. Finally, your eyes had adjusted to the dark of the night and you could look at the man who you had to thank for the ordeal. He sat only a few feet away from you, some sort of notebook open on his one thigh, the other one was momentarily used as a table for a can of beans which he slowly spooned into his mouth.

"You're no bounty hunter, sir, are you?", you asked after a couple of moments passed without the man noticing your waking up.

"Not normally, no", he answered without looking up.

"Why not letting me go? Twenty dollars sure aren't worth the trouble", you tried your sweetest voice. You knew that pretty much anybody would go through a hell lot of trouble for twenty dollars, but you were ready to try every trick in the book to get out of this. You'd cry and beg and promise because any humiliation would be better than rotting in jail.

"Seein' as you threw up all over my horse, I'd like to have those 20 dollars", the man stated, now finally looking up. His expression was cold. You could tell he wasn't having a good time.

"I'm sorry. But I did warn you", you tried a desperate smile.

The man considered you for a while. He simply sat there, looking you up and down like he was searching for something specific, yet, he didn't seem to know what exactly it was he was looking for. Then he fumbled with a pack of cigarettes, fiddling one out.

"What did ya do anyway? Ya got a pretty face for a criminal, too pretty if yer ask me", he mumbled, rolling the cigarette between his fingers before he put it to his mouth, now searching his pockets for some matches.

"Did do nothing. I was framed for stealing though", you said. Your feet awkwardly shuffled in the dry earth; your position was rather uncomfortable.  

"So...", the man started with a deep voice, pausing to light his cigarette, "What would you offer me if I let ya go?"

There was this look again. While he was lazily smoking, he had leant back until his back touched the fallen trunk that was behind him, his eyes roaming your body like it was his - in a sense it very much was at the moment. Now it was your move to offer something for your freedom. You didn't have much, that's for sure. Your belongings were barely worth twenty dollars and you carried nothing on you that was of significant value. You sighed. Not because you didn't have anything materialistic to offer, but because you knew that's not what he was after.

"What are you suggesting, sir?", you asked, uncertainty and insecurity in your voice spurring on the cowboy in front of you.

"Strip for me and I'll let ya go", his eye-contact was making your knees tremble. (Or was it just due to the unbeneficial position he had tied you to the tree?). It didn't sound like a suggestion or offer, rather like a threat. And yet, you released a breath…you had expected worse. When you formed the words "What?" he simply clicked with his tongue and grumbled a "Ya heard me girl."

You nodded. At first a bit hesitantly, then strongly. To hell with it, stripping was better than hanging. "Okay. Okay yeah, I'll do it", you hoped that your nervousness wasn't too obvious. You felt like it made you fragile, like you exposed your weakness. Striping? No problem?! You'll get off some clothes. Don't even have to pretend that there's someone there looking. It'll be fine. Better than rotting in jail. Still, you swallowed huge when the man stood up and approached you. He appeared so determined, looking down on you like you were a scared rabbit.

With a sharp knife he sliced clean through the ropes. You looked down to your wrist in which the rope had painfully cut, the man still in front of you, when the knife was suddenly pushed into the bark next to your head. It made you yelp, you couldn't help it.

"If ya try to run, yer dead. Understood?", he warned, leaving the knife where it was, turning his back towards you and walking back to his spot. It was just for a second that you looked to the knife next to your head, just for a moment that you considered just taking it and...maybe attack him? It was stupid the longer you thought about it, you had no chance against a brawny fellow like that. Also, when you looked at him again, he sat there, his revolver resting on his thigh, pointing towards you. You knew he had read your thoughts.

A bit hurriedly you got out of your boots and started to unbutton your blouse when his voice made you pause. "Slow down, girl. Take yer time. Ya better make it worth the twenty bucks", he took a long drag from his cigarette after he had finished his command. Your face dropped. In no way was simply stripping off your clothes worth twenty bucks, and for sure this gentleman wouldn't be pleased with your body...not twenty dollars like pleased. Ugly was not one of the attributes you would use to describe yourself, but neither was particularly pretty or even...worth paying for to see naked. When the man in front of you saw you pondering, something in his expression shifted. It was only for a mere second that he slightly scrunched his nose and raised his eyebrows, only an inch that he moved his suddenly restless body on the ground. But you caught it. Caught this short moment where it honestly looked like he was stressing about having expressed some doubts about the way you look. Like he hadn't been ignorantly staring at you most of the time you were out, like he hadn't given your appearance a whole side in his journal.

"I'm not good at this kinda stuff, mister", you admitted anxiously, your hands still on your buttons where they had been when he had urged you to slow down.

His voice suddenly was raspy, not like the low growl and drawl from before, but as if he had choked on his own saliva. "Don' worry, darlin'. I'm easily satisfied", he smiled. Warmly. The second he saw you gaining back just a bit of your confidence, his warmth was all gone. He shifted, leaning back on the trunk and watched you like a hawk, his eyes yet again cold with not a hint of a smile on his face. But for you, that was fine. You realised that he is a human too, even though he might not seem very happy about exposing himself.

Your eyes fell on an opened bottle of whiskey. You nodded towards it: "I might perform better after a drink", you suggested sweetly. "Sure", the man shrugged, back with his low Southern drawl. He didn't care if you drank some of his whiskey, he'd invite you to chuck down the whole thing, as long as he could stare at you doing so, especially with the few top buttons of your blouse open.

When you bent forward you had already decided to make this into a game for you. The gun was still pointing in your direction and a man twice your size was watching you like a prison guard, so you might as well try your best to secure your freedom. Bending down, you exposed a bit more of your cleavage and taking up the bottle carefully, you let a drop of alcohol escape your mouth just to catch it with your finger and lick it off. This earned you an audible grunt from the gentleman in front of you.

With a smile you turned around, showing him your back and steadily exposing your shoulders. You unbuttoned the rest of the blouse, letting it slide to the ground. The cold night air hit your skin and made your hair stand up. For a second, you thought you'd shiver, but a step closer to the fire prevented you from cooling down too much. You turned around again, watching the face of the man as he gawked at you slowly raising your skirt. Firstly, you only showed an ankle, then you raised it more until almost all of your lower leg was exposed. The man in front of you was transfixed on the little patch of skin on your leg, so he hadn't realised that your other hand had been busy with loosening the strings of your skirt and when it suddenly completely dropped into the dirt you could see his surprise.

The cowboy took a deep breath. One of his hands wandered towards the pistol, gripping it until his knuckles went white, maybe to divert your attention away from the bulge that was growing in his crotch, which he palmed with his other hand.

"You want me to-", you started.

"Sure", came his answer.

As slowly as you could possibly managed you got out of your tank top. Just like that, you were left half-naked and feeling a bit awkward. You began walking towards the man, keeping your distance, and circling him twice. You felt ridiculous, telling yourself this wasn’t exactly seductive, but he seemed to like it. His eyes never left you. This time, without asking, you got out of your panties.

A quiet whistle of appreciation came from the man and it conjured a smile to your face. For a second you had forgotten that you were stripping for your life, it felt strangely wholesome and safe. But when a gust of wind hit you, it made you shiver violently.

"Sir- May I-"

"Not too fast. I ain't had a good look at ya", his voice was low and considering. So you remained still a moment, before you took up the bottle again, deciding to let the alcohol warm you from inside.

"Mhh, gimme that, would ya?", with his pistol he pointed at your blouse and tank top. You were a bit confused but picked it up and brought it to him. Approaching, he didn't even bother trying to look you in the eye when there was so much else to be looked at. You handed him your clothes, which he took and after a second of hesitation threw into the fire.

Your cry got stuck in your throat. The warm chuckle of the man and the crackle of your clothes burning was all that could be heard.

"Alright, then...", the man announced, flicking his cigarette away, "yer free to go."

"Wai- what? You just....you just burned my clothes? What do you mean I'm free to go? How am I supposed to go? Naked?!"

"Yer still got yer skirt."

"Yes but?!"

Suddenly, the man stood up. The figure you had looked down to for the last five minutes grew in front of you like a mountain.  

"Go. I give ya yer freedom. Walk off! And look pretty doin' it", with his head he nodded towards the dark outline of the open country. There was nothing out there except a chilly night, wild animals and starvation.

"You're kidding, right?", you asked, "I'm gonna die out there. I'm like…a served table, easy food”, you heard him whisper a 'that's for sure' under his breath "and not just for the animals! I'm gonna freeze to death."

"Not my problem, darlin'", he smiled dismissingly, turning away from you to stir the fire, "Thanks for the show, though."

You stormed off, quickly slipping into your underwear and skirt, crossing your arms in front of your naked breast and walking off. You didn't walk far, just behind some trees where the light of his fire wouldn't reach you. You should just wait until he falls asleep, rob him, maybe kill him, take his horse and ride of like nothing ever happened. You were still mulling over your plan, trying to keep feeling in your hands by blowing hot air into your palm when you heard his raised voice from the fire.

"Ya know, ya can always come back and join me by the fire. I'll keep ya warm. If...yer not havin' some funny business on your mind...", he offered.

No way he knew you were still there. And yet…what were your options? If he knew you were close, he wouldn't go to sleep any time soon and you'd freeze and...god damn it. With tilt head he watched you leaving the shadows. He hadn't seen you for maybe a couple of minutes but the joy he felt when his eyes found your bare skin again was indescribable. You didn't hesitate to sit as closely to the fire as possible, right next to the whiskey bottle.

"Have any plans so I won't freeze to death? Got any spare clothes?"

"I'm sure we'll think of s'mthin'", he teased.  

#arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redemption community #rdr2 #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr #rdr fanfiction

[saintsir4n]

1

___

1914

EDEN Dawkins was never the type that liked nature, instead, she preferred to be at home, reading or even at the Garrison to have a quick drink, especially after a long day nursing concussions, illness or even bruises and cut lips from the local bandits. She steered away from horses because her mother inspired a fear of them in her from a young age. But here she was, in Charlie Strong's yard, wearing her worst outfit, trousers, a thick shirt and riding boots that she brought for cheap and mended them.

When she met the icy pair of eyes that were beaming at the sight of her she tutted.

"I have a man Mr Shelby and he wouldn't want someone like you around me."

"And what am I like then eh?" Tommy asked, staring across his uncle's yard at her.

She shrugged, "A gangster, typa man to pull a gun on someone for looking at him wrong."

"He's got that right, I would. But he's missed something," he paused, coming closer to her, dodging the copious amounts of horse manure and loose hay he no doubt will have to sweep up.

"And what's that?" she withheld a smile when he appeared in front of her.

"I would pull the trigger if they looked at my woman wrong as well."

He caught the glimmer of happiness swimming in her brown pools as he inhaled the faint scent of cedar wood (his favourite smell) and alcohol, which she used as an anaesthetic at work earlier today. Breathing in, all she could sense was the whiskey, cigarettes and aftershave, Tommy's natural musk. She was sure that he would add the stench of a barrel to that as well.

"Oh really?" she teased, dodging his kiss by pressing a hand to his chest,  "We shouldn't, I'm taken."

He rolled his eyes, "This man can't be too good if he lets you around me."

She hummed, "Suppose you're right, he's not the tallest."

"Oi." he would've thrown her over his shoulders then and there but he knew Curly was around somewhere and hated seeing him being rough with Eden, even if it was a joke.

"Or the sharpest tool in the shed."

"Thinking of our Arthur are ya?"

She tapped her chin, "Perhaps but the prettiest one of you boys is definitely Johnny."

"Watch it," she could hear the amusement in his tone.

A smile tugged at her lips, "Only messing, now can I get a kiss?"

He blinked at her, "Want one from the smallest, ugliest Shelby?"

"Half of that is true...alright I'll stop, you're the most dashing man I've ever seen," she gushed, running her hands over his patchy jacket and up to his neck.

Fighting off the blush breaching his cheeks, he said, "And you're not too bad you're self."

"Leaving," Her smile dropped as she tried stepping around him, but his hands caught her waist.

"Calm yourself down, you know how many times I've had to fight someone off for hearing what they've said about you and your looks? I feel like I'm punching every man in Small Heath for underselling your beauty. Pretty don't do you, Justice, so I'll kiss you until I think of a word that does."

And with that, she melted into the kiss he'd been trying to steal.

Tommy and Eden had been dating for a couple of months and it hadn't been easy. Glares were thrown her way more than usual and jaws clenched around the couple like they had something to say but never did.

During this time, the quaint betting shop the Shelbys owned was drawing much more traction, more customers came in to put down money for whatever horse they believed would win and even though the family sometimes lost out money, they were still happy with their winnings. Considering it had been two years since they'd opened the shop, four since Arthur Sr left and five years had passed since Mara Shelby took her own life; their family was doing well.

"Not yet Thomas," she said when he suggested that she should come and see the new horse he'd been training.

"Thomas? You mad at me?" he asked, racking his brain for when he last pissed her off and god knows it was a lot.

"No, I just don't think I'm ready and you said it yourself, he gets scared if you breathe 'round him."

"I said that months ago," he tugged her over to an old haystack that was hidden around the back of the barn where the wild Mustang he had taken a liking to resided, "Y'know I'll be next to you when I show him off."

"Still doesn't have a name?" he saw through her oblivion's deflection.

Taking her hand in his, he stared at her, making her gulp slightly.

Tommy always had the ability to look through her, like he was seeing her soul, his gaze was the most powerful thing she felt and yet she loved it as much as she hated it. His stare was suffocating and only when he decided to let go was when she could breathe again.

Deciding not to press the matter, because he was cautious of how anxious she became he glanced down, trailing his callous finger over the back of her hand. He did it whenever he couldn't find the right words to say. He adored her hands, so delicate to the touch, often growing envious of the patients she had to treat because they would feel these nimble and gentle things all over them.

Eden could see there was something on his mind and she didn't know what it was, for the past couple of times she'd seen him, he tended to randomly stop talking which confused her as his voice was both his defence and attack. Without meaning to, it was also his instrument that he could play and manipulate to his bidding only when he decided to tune it properly.

"What's wrong, have you gone mute?" her tone was soft, yet impatient, but that didn't stop him from playing with her hands.

He huffed out a chuckle, "No."

"Oh, Tom have you got something to say to me? Just spit it out..."

What she didn't know was how many people kept approaching him about how close she and Lorenzo Changretta were and despite knowing they were best friends, he hated it.

"Those fuckin' eyes."

"What about 'em?"

He took off his cap, "Can't say no to you when I stare into 'em."

"I–" she glanced down, furious about how easily his charm worked on her, "I didn't ask you anything other than for you to say what's on that mind of yours."

Tommy wanted some whiskey, no, needed it to calm his nerves and no he wasn't a nervous man, Polly thought that emotion skipped him. Any drink would calm him, Christ, if only his brothers brought him some, but he knew they were tucked away in the snug getting so drunk they properly couldn't walk home. He didn't know why, but he always hated being vulnerable about Eden, even after all these months, even when Freddie said, 'She's your woman, just tell her, Women are more loyal than men nowadays'. Eden was loyal, she was more than that, she was his His Eden. His little safe haven. Although religion never sat right with him, he believed she was sent to save him.

There was something that he wanted to tell her, something that she deserved to know since they were together and had been for more than any other relationship he'd been in.

But instead, he kissed her like a starved man, for which she was the forbidden fruit that was dangling right before him and he would be damned if anyone would prevent him from taking a bite.

Cupping the back of her head with one hand and using the other to guide her backwards, he poured the passion he felt into her, lapping her tongue with his and feeling up and down her sides. When she moaned his hand only drifted lower, yearning to rip the clothing from the skin he craved to touch.

But their intimacy had some bounds.

She pushed him off before he could leave her indecent.

"We can do it here, Tommy, you wouldn't risk anyone seeing me would ya? I know how jealous you get," she breathed out, still appearing flustered when he stared at her, licking his lips. Almost a minute went by before he let go of her. Her grin faded when he tugged her forward, so she felt his hardened state and whimpered, "Tom."

He dropped his gaze to her chest, "Just wanted you to know that your actions have fuckin' consequences."

"Alright fuck off."

A voice interrupted them, "Yes nephew, you better not knock her up Tom, I don't wanna have to deal with Pol."

The couple immediately snapped their heads to the side to see Charlie standing there, with combs and brushes in hand and a grimace on his face.

When Eden went to jump away from Tommy, he pulled her even closer.

"We were about to look at the fuckin' horse," he stated.

Charlie shot him a sarcastic look, "Oh is that what they call it nowadays?"

Eden averted her gaze, feeling severely embarrassed as the two men spoke Rokker, judging from Tommy's face he hasn't too happy, but Charlie continued to tease him.

Shortly after Curly appeared, the stableman was in his element whenever it involved horses, Tommy believed he was one of the best horsemen in England. Eden thought he was cute, and much easier to talk to than Charlie, perhaps it was because he didn't have much to say at all. 

"Eden... Tom, Tommy, we're almost finished setting up the new boy, he's a bit scared, just have to be nice to him," he mustered out.

Eden timidly smiled at him and Tommy noticed how nervous she was.

"We'll be there soon," he said, taking her hand.

Charlie frowned, "Don't be too long, it's Sunday, can't be missin’ out on Sunday dinners can we?"

"Alright alright."

And with that, the two men disappeared back into the barn.

Tommy reached into his pocket and withdraw his cigarette tin, all while Eden started playing with his cap, analysing the razor she and Polly spent a while stitching into his, Arthur and John's caps. The blade was peeking through too much and it was only a matter of time before she had to fix it.

She felt him place a cigarette between her lips, then lit it. They would always light each other's smokes, ever since they began courting it was a thing that had going on, small intimacies. Taking another drag she grabbed his chin, then blew the smoke into his parted chapped lips.

She was mesmerised when he exhaled.

But he honestly thought she looked even more beautiful with a smoke in hand, watching her cheeks suck in, showcasing the beauty spots that decorated her face. He counted every single one over and over again as he found solace in the tobacco. You have more smoke comin' out of you than a fuckin' train, Eden always joked, despite being the one to light them for him.

He smoked more than trains and she judged more than the police, he believed.

"What?" she asked.

They'd been sitting there for a few minutes, in silence, just listening to the sound of the trees blowing in the wind, the trimmed grass sway and the sounds of the horse's neigh. The drop in temperature had her shivering and Tommy wouldn't let that slide, so he took off his jacket and rested it on her shoulders, leaving him in a thick jumper with his shirt collars peeking through.

"You ready?" he asked, standing up and stubbing out the cigarette.

Eden scrunched up her face, "Do I have to go?"

He pulled her up, "Everyone looks more powerful sitting on a horse."

She scoffed, "Who said I was riding it?"

"Who said I weren't referrin' to myself?"

She groaned and shoved him to the side, he mimicked her groan, further aggravating her. Tommy and his impressions would be the death of her.

She gasped when they turned the corner, coming into the barn and seeing the dark brown trembling horse.

Curly and Charlie were nowhere in sight, it was only her, Tommy and the horse.

Oh fuck.

Tommy stepped closer, holding his hands up when the horse caught his movements.

Eden could hear the little cooling words Tommy spoke and she smiled, never seeing him in such a way. It was like she wasn't there, only him and the wild horse.

Gently grabbing the bridle, Tommy continued to whisper, rubbing its forehead down to his muzzle.

He cast a look to Eden holding out his hand, encouraging her to slowly walk towards them.

It was as if the horse could feel her nervousness and started stomping on the grassy floor, creating dents with his heavy hooves, driving her to a halt.

"Eden..." he whispered to the horse, "you're not scared of a pretty girl are ya, boy?" he motioned her to walk which she did, realising how big the horse was almost the same size as them which drove her nerves up the wall, "she's not gonna hurt you. You're not gonna hurt her."

Eden gulped when Tommy took her hand and carefully placed it on the horse's side, she was almost as apprehensive as the animal.

"See... there you go."

She heard Tommy's words as she kept touching the horse.

He smiled when her shoulder's dropped all the tension, though the look in her eyes told her that her fear wasn't gone, after all, it had been less than a few bloody minutes. He never had to search her eyes for meaning for too long.

Eden's eyes doubled in size when she realised that Tommy had let go of her hand and taken a few steps back.

"Gosh Tommy," she whispered, "Look."

A smile graced his lips at her excitement.

"I can see darlin'."

"Have you decided on a name yet?"

"I talked to Curly and Charlie...Curly wasn't too happy but he's lettin' you name him."

She gasped softly, not wanting to scare the animal that wasn't shaking as much any more.

"Really?"

"Yeah," he said, smiling and coming back to them and rubbing down its back. "You're a natural, not even freakin' out anymore."

"Shut up, I didn't freak out."

"Oh really? The bit of piss on that haystack over there –"

She gasped and extended her leg to kick him.

He dodged her attempts, softly chuckling at the glare in her eyes.

"Y'know, he never likes to be out during the day," Tommy commented, remembering when the horse acted as if the sun burnt him whenever it touched its skin.

Eden hummed, and then something came to mind, "Shadow, he should be called Shadow."

"Shadow, and why that?"

"He hides from the sun, ain't that what shadow means?"

He didn't really know or care, he just loved how she looked, whispering to the horse she claimed to be afraid of, only took a few months, and he promised that he would change that and did, well only a little bit.

"Whatever you say, love, whatever you say."

—

The day was coming to an end and the moon would soon be in their sights, no doubt her mother would send Isaiah to look for her since it was a Sunday, she couldn't be missing Sunday dinners, Polly was the same.

The couple left Charlie's yard after Tommy told her the time.

Walking along the cobble streets she was still slightly in shock.

It was the first time she'd been anywhere near a horse, let alone touched one. Sure she saw the Shelbys throughout the years ride them through the streets, but it stunned her to see how large they were up close.

"Are you gonna tell me what's going on in your head? You seem off," she asked, walking along the lane.

"Nothing was wrong."

"Sure?"

"I'm sure, just wanted to spend time with you, is that a crime?"

"It is, if I was out for another hour, mum would've killed you," she said, coming to her front door.

They only lived a few houses apart.

"You said she loves me."

"Sometimes."

She laughed when he nervously ran a hand through his raven hair, it was fuller on the sides and needed to cut it off soon.

"So... since you say you ain't mine, some random toff's girl, can I still steal another kiss?"

"A toff? You think that low of me?"

"Never."

She pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, drawing a smirk from him.

His fingers trailed over them, remembering how they felt against hers. 

"Until we meet again love."

"Yeah yeah, get lost before my dad comes out with a shotgun," she said, taking off the jacket on her shoulders and giving it back to him, even though he believed it looked better on her.

"Wouldn't want his only daughter being led astray by a gypsy would he?"

"Too late for that now."

As soon as she shut the door behind her, she smiled to herself and took off her shoes, placing them by her parents.

She could hear them faintly as she walked in.

"Still saving lives?" she heard her dad say to her mum.

"Still making things?" her mum joked.

Nurse and carpenter they were and have been for 19 years. Celestine and Cecil Dawkins had been happily married for 20 years, the same couldn't be said for half the city.

"I'm home!" Eden screamed on purpose, startling her parents, her mother almost dropped the plate of mash over her father who was sitting at the table.

"And now the whole street knows that," Celestine remarked, then received a kiss on the cheek from her daughter.

Cecil chuckled, "No doubt Mrs Granberry across town can."

Eden rolled her eyes, "Mrs Granberry can get fuc–"

"Watch it," her mother warned, just as Cecil laughed with his daughter, who pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Cecil was a tall and tough man who would do just about anything for his girls, his darker skin would lead him to trouble which he never caused, the same couldn't be said for Celestine who was a lighter complexion than her daughter, the woman wasn't much taller than Eden, and looked great for forty.

Cecil turned to his daughter, "How was work sweetheart? Still savin'–"

"--Lives? No Dad, a patient succumbed to his wounds today," Eden admitted, taking a seat and not looking at her parents who were sending her pitiful looks.

"Sorry to 'ere that," her dad reached over and grabbed her hand, "why don't ya give our girl an extra piece of lamb," he asked Celestine who nodded.

"Here you go, need you to be in better spirits for tomorrow. Don't fret my girl, it happens to the best of us," Celestine remembered all the times when she couldn't save a patient, it occasionally took a toll on her.

"Thanks, mum," Eden forced a smile, then went to eat, but her mum slapped her hand as well as Cecil's.

"Ay, you may not come to church or even say your daily prays but you will wait to say grace at this table before you start stuffing those bellies of yours." 

"Sorry mum," she muttered.

Cecil winced, "Sorry, love."

"And you young lady, where were you? I expected you to help me prepare the table," Celestine pointed the sharp knife at her, making her inch back in her seat.

"Next time I won't be late I promise," Eden spoke, avoiding her mum's piercing look.

"And since you grabbed for your fork first, you're saying grace."

Eden groaned, "Mum."

"Did I stutter?

Grabbing ahold of her parent's hands she sighed, "Alright alright. Dear God..."

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

a/n:

just to reiterate, tommy is 22 and eden is 20. the shelby business had only been running for 2 years (i searched up when it started but it wasn't clear online, so I'll make it headcanon for this story). also, tommy might seem much more smilely and open and less cold and that's because he hadn't been to war just yet, none of them have, so everything in this story is much lighter, but that doesn't mean there aren't any future problems, because tommy's jealousy is a mean thing.

you'll meet more oc's throughout the next couple of chapters and even the other canon characters as well. hoped you enjoyed the first chapter guys.

also imma include as much horse terminology as i can, (tryna remember my saddle club days). also since i'm writing about the roma/ romani culture please correct me on anything (beliefs, sayings and more)

tommy and eden ship name?

#wattpad #fanfic #black girl #black reader #edendawkins #Tommy and Eden #tommyshelby and edendawkins #tommyshelby story #Tommyshelbyxblackreader

[pokemonwaffle]

Welcome to the time loop/past lives au! This is the first chapter of the first arc of the story. This probably won't be completely ready for a while, considering I have had a lot going on in my life recently, but regardless, I hope you enjoy!

[This will be Scarian centric]

Chapter 1

He glances up, the wind curling through his brown hair as his stede runs through the cobbled streets. Above him is the castle, dark and looming, although the inhabitants are anything but. The clouds are dark surrounding the tall pyres, it's dark to light gradient almost lost in the colors of the setting sun. The branch like structure nestled between two mountains is a beacon of hope for the kingdom surrounding it.

Around him are stone houses and shops. Merchants selling meats, fruits, vegetables, trinkets, and many more desirable things. Such a peaceful scene disrupted by the noise of the guards' horses rushing through the city.

Bdubs gives a quick glance back at his partner and their men. They know what he is trying to convey. Hurry. Bdubs digs his heel into the side of his horse, and without hesitation she quickens her pace.

No time to waste.

At the gates Etho pulls his horse to the side, presumably to notify the guards on watch. After a few moments, as they continue their stride, Bdubs hears the deafening alarm of the bells. Muffled but still audible, he can hear the guards shouting to one another as they hurry to close the gates.

Bdubs urges his horse to rush through the vast courtyard and to the steps of the stairs. In one swift movement he discounts his horse and is rushing up the stairs. His adrenaline is racing through his body as he makes his way through the castle. He asks several guards about the whereabouts of the prince, many aren't sure.

"Bdubs!" A gleeful voice chirps behind him.

He glances back, meeting eyes with Cleo. "Cleo, where is the prince?" His voice is urgent and hoarse.

"Ah, I think he and Grian are in the library. Why is everything alright?" Her face contorted in worry. She's stepping closer to Bdubs, though he steps back and bolts down the hall, not before offering her an apologetic look.

He feels bad not answering her but he has no time to waste. He has to reach the prince.

—

"-And that is the constellation Orion." Scar has a bright smile as he points to the painting in the book.

Grian traces his finger over the picture, a soft smile evident as he glances over the man sitting beside him.

Grian is thankful for moments like these. Serene and quiet, just enjoying his majesty's company. He feels he must be the luckiest being In the kingdom, just to sit here and never worry about a thing. Just to aid his prince, to guard him.

And in one fell swoop his peace-their peace- is shattered. The door to the library opens at such velocity that the papers around Scar's desk are gusted up into the air. Grian, in an instant, has his sword in his grasp.

Bdubs, the queen's personal guard, is standing in the doorway. His face is pale, a disheartening feature compared to the rest of his stance. He is bent over, attempting to catch his breath.

Scar stands quickly, grabbing the glass of water at his desk. He is quick to be at the guards side, offering him the glass. Bdubs takes the offering with shaky hands.

"It's ok, just breathe." Scar rests a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry your majesty…" He speaks after a moment, his voice just as hoarse as when he questioned Cleo.

Bdubs dares to glance up at the prince. Grian is now at his other side. He offers both an apologetic and sorrowful glance.

It's now that Grian notices the wounds and torn clothing. His heart skips a beat before he looks towards the prince. He hasn't seemed to put the pieces together yet.

"The Queen-oh God's-" his voice breaks, something close to a sob "the Queen and king are dead."

Grian watches as the prince's face pales. He watches as the man's world shatters. All he can do is watch. His heart breaks for Scar. All he's wanted to do is protect him, and in this moment he feels as though somehow he's failed. He doesn't want to just protect the man from physical threats, he realizes at that moment. He also wants to protect him from whatever this is.

Oh Scar.

"How?" The prince's face is downturned to the floor. A darkness painting his features that Grian had never seen from the man.

"Dogwarts, the peace treaty turned out to be a trap. Etho and I were sent as messengers, a few others escaped as well…many were lost to defending them." Bdubs has regained most of his composure and is turned to Scar.

Grian has a hand on his mouth. The shock sent different signals to his brain. He found it hard to move, hard to speak.

"My king." Bdubs knelt in front of Scar. It was a reminder, a formality of sorts. It caused Scar to grimace.

His gaze finally met Grian's. He started to kneel as well but was met with a hand on his shoulder half way through the gesture.

"No." Was all he said to his knight.

Grian looked up at him and nodded, regaining his posture.

"Thank you General." Scars voice is solemn.

He walks out of the room, Grian following closely behind. As the avian glances back he notices Bdubs staring at them, sympathy painfully evident.

He knows he's grieving as well. He was close to the Queen.

The halls are quiet oddly enough. Everyone seems to stay clear from the prince's path as he makes his way to the council hall.

The council has already been called, everyone is already seated and chatting amongst themselves. Grian glances around, seeing several friends. Scott is making small talk with a blonde avian servant that Grian knew in passing as Jimmy. Tango, a fire elf, sat across from them, eyes locked on Jimmy. Cleo sat close to the end of the table along with Mumbo, the King's advisor.

Scar made it to the head of the table, peering down at the chair as if it would burn him. Grian could see that he felt it was wrong. It felt wrong to take his father's seat. He shot a glance back at Grian who offered a small smile and nod. You've got this.

He took the seat after a moment more of hesitation. Grian taking his place to stand slightly behind the chair.

"Does everyone know why we have gathered?" Grian does his best not to show how surprised he is at Scars voice, it's as dark as embers. He is angry. It's only now that he can feel the heat pouring off of the new king.

Everyone looks just as startled, though it's soon replaced with sympathetic stares.

Cleo is the first to speak. "Yes, my king, and we await your instruction."

Scar looks around, expecting eyes meeting his. He looks scared. The usually happy and cheerful elf looks terrified in this moment. It was a fear that the avian had only seen on the day they met.

"Bdubs had told me that the peace treaty had fallen through with Dogwarts and they attacked. What is our stance with the kingdom? Are we at war?"

"That-...that is currently unclear. Certainly the assassination is grounds enough for war, but we're unsure of how the fight took place, wether it was intentional of the king or of the people's doing." It's Scott that speaks now.

"If I may," Etho calls from his place along the wall. "I was at the kings side, this was the kings doing."

Cleo glares at the general. "Is there anything else you would like to share about the attack?"

Etho walks forwards, facing the king and keeping his composure under Cleo's stare. "It started decently, the King and Queen were given a tour of the kingdom before the peace treaty discussions. King Ren showed no sign of disdain, although his Hand I had caught with a few nasty glares. Peace treaty discussions took the entire day. Right when they were about to sign the papers Rem stood up along with his hand and before we knew it we were ambushed. Ren sent me and Bdubs back to send a message. We found a few survivors and rode back. He means war."

Grian's blood ran cold. He glanced at the king who had resigned to resting his head on his folded hands.

"Then were at war." The kings voice was barely over a whisper.

#trafficblr #gtws #desert duo #hermitshipping #scarian #grian #life series #third life smp

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Great Hunt! Chapter 13: From Stone to Stone

Yeah it's been awhile but I guess I should get back into the groove. As usual there's going to be nothing but spoilers until the end of the whole series, so people who are just starting reading the books because of the show probably should skip this.

And about the rim, the trees stood blackened and twisted as if a firestorm had roared through them. Everything seemed paler than it should be, just like the sun, more subdued, as if seen through mist. Only there was no mist. Just the three of them and the horses appeared truly solid.

And so we take our first step into a larger multiworld. Jordan's mirror worlds aren't quite the usual take on many worlds theory, and so right away we're confronted with the fact that everything in this "what if" is a lot less real than stuff from the prime reality. Though things get complicated when we add T'A'R to the mix, but thankfully I don't have to worry about that this book so let's not!

Something about the steps caught his eye, the different colors, seven rising from blue to red. “One for each Ajah,” he said.

This is by far the weirdest, most incongruous detail about the portal stones. They predate the modern Ajah system by a great deal, and yet "one for each Ajah"... I've seen two reasonable explanations for it:

In the early Third Age, the Tower channelers came and marked as many Portal Stones as they could with the Ajah colors as a way of saying, "This belongs to the Tower", since unlike the usual objects of Power the Stones can't be moved.

The seven colors don't actually match Ajah colors and are just a generic rainbow which Rand mistakenly conflates with Ajah colors because blue, green, yellow and red are present (and possibly orange seeming to be brown).

A third I'm realizing just now relates to color terms and languages. Basic color terms show up in human languages in a set order: every language distinguishes between white and black (well, warm-bright and cold-dark but still), then red is added, then green or yellow but definitely both if there's five basic terms, then blue (east Asian languages are well-known examples of those that stopped before blue).

After that you usually get brown added, and then other terms like gray. While you can easily end up with languages that have basic terms for purple and orange but not gray, it may well be that both portal stones and Ajahs were decorated for the seven non-Shadow color terms used in the Old Tongue and thus converged naturally.

“Yet even if Aes Sedai can use them, or could, we had no Aes Sedai with us to channel the Power, so I don’t see how it can be.”

Loial is very book smart but he's not exactly a detective, is he?

‘If a woman go left, or right, does Time’s flow divide? Does the Wheel then weave two Patterns? A thousand, for each of her turnings? As many as the stars? Is one real, the others merely shadows and reflections?’

He's also not very good at non-lecture material, since he's pretty baffled by this. I like to think that there were once very plain textbooks but that the only one that survived was "The Tao of World-Hopping" just to make sure that every Third Ager was as confused as possible.

“My Lord Rand, you’ll get us back, won’t you? Back where we belong? I’ve a wife, my Lord, and children. Melia’d take it bad enough, me dying, but if she doesn’t even have my body to give to the mother’s embrace, she’ll grieve to the end of her days. You understand, my Lord. I can’t leave her not knowing. You’ll get us back. And if I die, if you can’t take her my body, you’ll let her know, so she has that, at least.” He was no longer questioning at the end. A note of confidence had crept into his voice.

Poor Hurin. He really doesn't deserve to be tossed into Rand's drama. And he's very brainwashed by feudalism.

Suddenly he knew he could not tell the man again that he was not a lord. All that was holding the sniffer together was his belief in a lord, and he could not take that away, not now. Not here. “No bowing,” he finished awkwardly.“ As you say, Lord Rand.” Hurin’s grin was almost as wide as when Rand first met him.

Seriously, Hurin seems specifically designed by the Wheel to punish Rand and Perrin for their reluctance as much as possible. He should have stuck around Perrin to keep that boy on track.

He reached for it—he was not sure how he reached, but it was something, a movement, a stretching toward the light, toward saidin—and caught nothing, as if running his hands through water. It felt like a slimy pond, scum floating atop clean water below, but he could not scoop up any of the water. Time and again it trickled through his fingers, not even droplets of the water remaining, only the slick scum, making his skin crawl.

So Rand is having some typical Wilder difficulties with channeling and they expose exactly how dangerous the taint on saidin really is. Once the trained male Aes Sedai blew up, the Wilders had no resources to learn to channel effectively so many probably had a lot of experiences like Rand where they reached out and got a double dipping of taint with no actual Source to at least make up for it. There is no safe way for men to channel in this Age.

Loial had a different look, a slightly puzzled frown, but his eyes were on Rand, too. Rand wondered what he was thinking.

Loial is probably trying to come up with a theory that doesn't involve Rand being a channeler because that's just awkward for him.

If Fain and the Darkfriends were here—wherever here was—they might know how to get back. They had to, if they had reached here in the first place. And they had the Horn, and the dagger. Mat had to have that dagger. For that if for nothing else, he had to find them. What finally decided him, he was ashamed to realize, was that he was afraid to try again. Afraid to try channeling the Power. He was less afraid of confronting Darkfriends and Trollocs with only Hurin and Loial than he was of that.

This paragraph is absolutely devastating for Cauthor fans. But seriously, Fain and the dagger versus more Taint sucking is an absolutely horrible choice. Neither option is all that good.

“Rand, that fragment said the Stones came from an older Age than the Age of Legends, and even the Aes Sedai then did not understand them, though they used them, some of the truly powerful did. They used them with the One Power, Rand. How did you think to use this Stone to take us back? Or any other Stone we find?” For a moment Rand could only stare at the Ogier, thinking faster than he ever had in his life. “If they are older than the Age of Legends, maybe the people who built them didn’t use the Power...”

Honestly this detail about Portal Stones is even worse. We certainly aren't about to build Portal Stones in real life and yet we are apparently due to do so in the next couple years before we nuke each other into magic mutations. We can barely manage quantum computers and frankly even if we did they wouldn't last for the requisite thousands of years. Frankly as far as I'm concerned, the book Loial read is wrong and what with stuff like war and famine getting forgotten, people forgot that the Portal Stones were the result of early AoL projects with the power.

Worst of all, though, the land seemed to twist the eye. What was close at hand looked all right, and what was seen straight ahead in the distance. But whenever Rand turned his head, things that appeared distant when seen from the corner of his eye seemed to rush toward him, to be nearer when he stared straight at them. It made for dizziness; even the horses whickered nervously and rolled their eyes. He tried moving his head slowly; the apparent movement of things that should have been fixed was still there, but it seemed to help a little.

This Mirror World seems to be particularly hyperbolic in its geometry, which is confusing to think about (how do you even map the sphere that is the Earth to a hyperbolic geometry and why do I suspect that the best answer means "the north and/or south poles do not actually exist here"). We'll get more into why it's weird further on though, in a chapter or two. For now just hold onto the image of a hyperbolic infinity being overlaid on the closed geometries of T'A'R and the prime timeline and make sure you're picturing it in four dimensions so you have room for the Ways, Ogier-home, and Sindhol, all of which intersect the prime reality in tangential ways.

You can picture four dimensional non-Euclidean geometries, can't you?

#let's read #wheel of time #wot #robert jordan #wheel of time spoilers #wot spoilers #rand al'thor #loial #hurin

[honeydots]

"of course i’m here. where else would i be?" for Xanlow?

"Of course I'm here. Where else would I be?" 1k, xanlow from this ask game

“Laslow?”

Xander is sitting atop his horse, taking a short trip around the riding grounds. He couldn’t stand the sight of his chambers anymore, of an empty bed and an unfilled silence. He took to his horse, not for comfort or relief, but only to make himself move forward.

Xander hasn’t slept. Exhaustion stings the back of his eyes and aches through his jaw. He wasn’t sober in the nighttime, though he is now, and he figures he ought to stay this way. He’s never had the time or luxury for grief. He only wishes his body would cooperate.

Laslow left him yesterday. He always said he might, that he has a home which expects him—but that it’s also a one-way trek. And it’s never been Xander’s intention to keep Laslow captive, and he’s told himself it may be better this way. But still, the warmth of Laslow’s hands have long left Xander’s skin, and there is nothing but void to replace it.

He didn’t leave in so many words. But it was unmistakably a farewell, one still fresh in Xander's mind. It hasn’t yet been long enough for him to recognize any regrets, even. Though he’s begun to feel them take form, brewing coldly in the back of his thoughts.

And as such, when Xander ran into Laslow while he was riding, he thought he was mistaken. A cruel but hopeful trick his imagination played, already longing for what’s far out of reach. Xander almost simply rode past—but as Laslow’s figure became more clear in the dark, Xander slowed his horse to a stop.

And sure enough, when Laslow turns around to the sound of Xander’s voice, those wide brown eyes are unmistakably his.

“Oh,” Laslow says, sitting on one of the low stone walls that outline the riding grounds. He twists farther around, swinging his legs to the inward side. “Milord. I—um. I was just trying to work up the nerve to go inside. But I—well. I can’t shake these jelly knees.”

Xander climbs down from his horse, not letting himself feel any relief. He wouldn't be able bear the weight of getting his hopes up, not now. And even if something begins to work its way into his throat, he calmly swallows it away. “You’re still here?”

Laslow gives a weak grin, if you could even call it that. It's hardly an upwards twitch of his features. “Of course I’m here,” he says feebly. “Where else would I be?”

Xander, now closer, can see the red in Laslow’s eyes. Not still wet, but bearing clear evidence of tears. “You don’t fool me,” Xander says flatly with a frown. “That was a goodbye, yesterday. What are you doing?”

“Ah.” Guilt creeps up Laslow’s expression. He shuffles his feet awkwardly in the dirt and grips the top of the stony wall tightly. And as his silence persists, Xander goes on.

“Why… Are you back?” Xander asks. Laslow’s face tightens, and he slowly begins to stand.

“I should go, shouldn’t I. I’m sorry, I—”

Xander strides to him and plants his hands on Laslow’s shoulders, sitting him back down before he may even stretch his legs. “That isn’t what I’m asking for,” Xander says, and Laslow shrugs into himself under the pressure of Xander’s palms. “Tell me—why did you return here. What happened?

Laslow licks his lips. And he stares down at one of Xander’s hands, still holding him steady.

“I… Threw my way home into a lake,” he says, with only a slight waver in his voice. “So. Unless it begins to drain, you may be stuck with me.”

Xander stares. He loosens his grip on Laslow, moving his hands from his shoulders down to his arms. “What?”

“Odin and Selena left. We were supposed to go together,” Laslow continues. He scowls down at his feet. “We had magic to use, you understand. Crystals to travel with, one use only. But I—well, I hesitated right at the last moment.” He gnaws the inside of his cheek with an irritation, eyes still away. “But they left. And I—I panicked, and I got frustrated, I was alone and I didn’t think. So… I threw mine into the lake we were by. Because I’m stupid. And—it seems I have a pretty good arm.”

Laslow’s distress looms over him like a blanket. Xander releases his grip and goes to sit beside him instead. “…Oh.”

Laslow nods. “I hope it’s okay I’m here. I don’t know where else I’d go.” He folds his arms tightly, closing himself off further. “You don’t have to take me back.”

Xander wraps an arm around Laslow regardless. They sit, for a moment, in silence. Holding him now, it truly begins to register in Xander that Laslow is here again. “You said you hesitated?”

Something begins to spill, and tears bulge over Laslow’s eyes. He gulps, and an ache comes out in his voice. “I… I kept thinking, um. Of you,” he begins, pinching his arms. “I didn’t know if I—if I was going to be able to love someone like I love you. If the way I’d love them would be anything compared to how I loved you. Love you.”

Laslow sucks in a breath, staring down at his knees. He sniffs, and some tears do begin to fall, dully wetting fabric and dotting his thighs.

“And I think—I’m more of a lover than anything else.”

Xander leans down and kisses him. Feels the warmth of his breath and the angular point of his chin as he presses back. Xander tries to savor every moment, in ways he never did before. And when he pulls away, Laslow lingers close.

“I’m sorry for saying goodbye,” Laslow says, just above a whisper. “Would it—would it be okay if I said hello, now?”

Xander gives a low and short hum. His kisses Laslow’s forehead, trying to relax into him, trying to take not a single moment of his presence for granted. He grazes his arm up Laslow’s back and rests on his neck, petting the hair on his nape.

“Hello,” Xander says, voice just as quiet. “Stay.”

#thank you for the ask!!! #this was fun c: #reqs are still very much open i just write sorta slow. i was impressed i got this done #'drabble' i said. *writes 1k* #oh well! i like how this turned out #thank you againnnn!!! #ghostlydragonpainter #dots writing games #dots answers asks

[saltygilmores]

Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls, Season 2, Episode 10, "The Bracebridge Dinner" Part 1

You can read my previous reviews here.

Brace-Bridge Din-Ner Brace-Bridge Din-ner Brace-Bridge Din-Ner YEAH!!!

Motivational Plaque: In a Sea of Run Away Little Boy's, be a Bracebridge Dinner. This is my third favorite episode after "They Shoot Gilmores Don't They"?" and "Lorelai's Graduation Day"! (I know I said it was #2 in my previous post but I somehow forgot about LGD). I can watch it over and over!

It's a beautiful winter's day in Star Hollow. There's a crisp chill in the air, the unemployed townies are hard at work building snowmen, Taylor Doose has assembled yet another front for his financial crimes ("The Stars Hollow Winter Festival", not to be confused with "The Stars Hollow Winter Carnival") and somewhere in North Carolina, Diet Logan is getting hazed at Military School. Ahhhhh. *breathes in* All is right in the world. For now. Lorelai and Rory are complaining that Snow's mouth is crooked and Rory says she has "stroke mouth" which is not a very nice thing to say, and all I could think about is poor Milo.

Me when Dean shows up in a few minutes (but at least he mostly stays in his lane and manages to not completely ruin this episode for once).

No, no, no, no. CHRISTOPHER is in this flawless episode? How did I black him out of my memory?

Jackson's like, "Uh, come again Sookie?"

Uh oh is right. Of course he has a sign that says OBEY. with a giant creepy eye. GTFO out of my 3rd Favorite Episode, what are you doing here you fucklenut? "I know Rory has a school break coming up and I'd like her to come and visit for a few days." How CONVENIENT. Summary: Crusty:Ask Rory if she wants to visit me. Lorelai: Okay will do. ANNYWAAAY Does anyone else wonder where Jess is whenever he isn't around? Just me? Okay..

Have I ever mentioned how fascinated I am by the offscreen, unseen world of the Rory-less life at Stars Hollow High School? Yeah, I know, several times. I admit it's kind of weird that I'm obsssed with an imaginary world where Dean would be a main character.

PUT ON A COAT SWEETIE YOU'RE GONNA CATCH PNEUMONIA!

I am Jess Mariano's defense lawyer, and whatever this Chuck Presby did, I'm sure he deserved it.

Those curly curls. "You saw it was me Jess, why did you keep punching?" *shrugs* "I had momentum." Valid defense. Free my client he is innocent.

Thiiiin lips! Oh he mad. "Luke's coming to the dinner with Jess." "I'll put Jess in a room with Miss Patty." "There will be no Jess left in the morning." I'm starting to think Miss Patty is on a sex offender registry.

Me to anyone who doesn't like my commentary.

Who let Crustypher have a dog? Where is the dog? Should I call the ASPCA?

An appearance by Babette makes any episode better.

Clara is me. I am Clara.

Is this the debut of Jess' Ugly Oversized Vomit Brown Coat? What wretched church donation bin did Liz find this thing in? The only inanimate object I despise more than the Stars Hollow Bridge is this coat.

Hi.

Dean: He better not do that all night. Do what all night? Wave at people? Shut the fuck up.

Hi.

(portrait of the author watching this scene)

Jess & Luke reacting to "there are horse drawn sleighs outside and everyone gets a ride." Lorelai: There's something so magical about Stars Hollow this time of year. Luke: Yeah, there's the magical plumbing supply store where I bought a magical toilet float last year. Listen up everybody! Luke Danes has learned the secret of parenting and he's going to tell us what it is! Luke: I learned that sometimes you gotta lie to your kid to spare them a lot of hurt. Liz knew that Jess had some time off from school, but she never called, so I lied to him and told him his Mom wanted him to come home but since he was still adjusting here that I thought he should stay, and that his Mom was really upset by that but I insisted he stay here. He bought it hook, line and sinker. Heh heh. What?

Also. Like Liz Danes would be sober enough to know or care that he was on winter break.

Jess, sweetheart, my love, my darling traumatized baby boy, my little cupcake sweetymuffin cutiecookie with precious sprinkles on top, here's my credit card, go buy yourself a new coat. You deserve a treat after all you've been through. #BurnThatCoat

I just think it's reaaaal shifty that they bought Liz into the show as a regular character and they made her surface level cute and quirky! Look at the goofy hippy making bracelets for the renaissance faire! Teehee! Did they think I would forget shit like this? NO. I HATE HER.

Now, I think I should get something important out of the way in regards to these reviews. If it seems like I'm not saying much about Jess or Jess&Rory, it's not beacuse I don't absolutely adore the ever loving shit out of him. But everything that can ever be said about Jess and Rory has been said at this point. They have been analyzed, dramatized, scrutinized, gificized, lyricized, TaylorSwifticzed, FanficiSized and picked apart like a herd of hyenas going to town on an antelope. i don't think any other couple in the history of television whose tenuous and let's face it, quite unhappy relationship only lasted less than one season has been dissected as much as Literati. So if I don't put every little interaction, every line, every breath they take under a microscope and gloss over some things, don't hold it against me. Never you fret. Jess Mariano is always on my mind. Besides, my style is more about cynical mockery, searching for Millennial references, picking apart the things no one else cares about, coming up with new and creative ways for Dean Forrester to die, searching the background for misspelled signs, and begging Jess to buy a new coat. So yes I am intently watching the cute scene with Jess and Rory in the sleigh. I promise. With that out of the way...let's continue.

'The gang's all here. So nice. Ran out of room, part 2 in another post, you know the drill.

#gilmore girls #rory gilmore #lorelai gilmore #luke danes #jess mariano #literati #gilmore girls season 2 #The Bracebridge Dinner #Denise Rewatches Gilmore Girls #Ugly Vomit Coat

[sezija]

Hello! I recently saw your art of Ghali, Drephl and Rleiph, and decided to finally try out making wiki pages! I plan on making all three of them before adding them, but I have a few questions on about them. (Im pretty sure that you wrote the fic, but please correct me if I’m wrong)

first off, the fic is AMAZING, I cried multiple times while reading it, and everything goes together so perfectly there’s too much to talk about so I’ll stop here before it gets too long.

1) On Ghali, I wanted to double check that she took the last name Shims, because at some point it refers to the family as “the shims”

2) on Frihl, does he keep the last name Shims, or take his husband’s name?

3) can I say that Rleiph has pale speckles in her physical description?

4) could you give me more insight on Ghali’s , Drephl’s and Rleiph’s personalities? I personally struggle with describing those myself.

5) are there names for Drephl and Frihl’s parents, as I would like for them to be in the relationships category.

6) same for Rleiph’s girlfriend. Also, does she have a physical appearance? I’d love to draw the two of them together.

7) WEREWOLF CENTAUR. Amazing idea. What does the kid look like? I know that they’re described as a foal, but WHAT IS THEY JUST HAD A WOLF HALF INSTEAD OF A HORSE HALF, OR A WOLF HALF DURING FULL MOONS. I would love to know things like their skin tones and hair color too. (And coat) also thank you for all these centaurs, there isn’t even a catagory on the wiki for them yet.

8) what kind of clothes does everyone wear?

9) I know that Drephl and Ghali probably just went to a courtroom and signed some papers, but I really want to draw Drephl standing on a stool with her under an arch, where they just hug. This is also so I can mess around with possible wedding traditional clothing during that time period.

10) what is the name of Drephl and Ghali’s grandchild? The werewolf one?

Thank you for this amazing fic! Loved the art you made, and this will be very embarrassing if you didn’t write the fic!



Putting this under read more;;

Ok first of all. omg??? that's so cool what the hell!!! i'm so happy you liked my fic so much???

1) Yeah, she becomes a Shims

2) I think he takes his husband's name (which i don't have yet)

3) I forgot to give her some white in her coat in the art lol, but i decided to work that in; she's born with just a brown coat, but some white speckles start appearing as she grows older :3

4) They honestly don't have much, yet; the style i wrote in makes it really hard to add Character and Personality other than just stated facts like "she likes hiking" and "she's a computer programmer", sorry

5) Not yet, sorry

6)

7/10) I want to give them at least 2-3 kids so i can actually make them all different, though i imagine they probably have 5-8 year age differences cus raising just one is chaotic and hard enough lol. someone made really good art of their kid!!! (i've come up w the names Phil, Lei, and Majil so far) (j pronounced like (consonant) y)

8) currently i've just been drawing them in some clothes from our time cus i haven't had the motivation&energy necessary to figure out the Fashion of their time, but i can say that the blanket??? dress?? things the centaurs wear is like. actual clothing they wear in their time period&place

9) I love that so much. also, it honestly makes a lot of sense for them to hold an actual celebration; your wedding is basically the only time in your life where you have an excuse to gather every single person you're close to in one place for a big party (aside from your funeral but uh. yeah.) their marriage was meant as the point where they no longer cared what anyone else thought bc they were so secure in their meaning to each other, so i love the idea of them going all out and then just hugging.

also behold! look what i found from way back when i was writing the fic :)

#sezijasks #this is. whattttttt i didnt know ppl cared abt my fic ??? #i was like "oo ive got a new tablet maybe ill finally draw the Fam'' #and then out of the floorboards oozed fanart and asks and reblogs of excitement and i was like !?!?!?!??! #its made me write some additional scenes to flesh out their personalities #idk if i'll release them yet they're just lil blurps but who knows #asks #i named zir 'nail' and it took me like 10 minutes to realize thats an actual english word lmao. its pronounced more.. finnish-like #put 'najiil' in finnish google translate and make it sound it out and uve got it #(the 'j' is less pronounced but if its not there it does it like english so)

[countrymusiclover]

1 - Harsh Winter Nights

Part 2

Love in the Wild West

@hcwthewestwaswcn Co author

Spencer’s POV

The front door got quickly closed seeing my uncle Jacob who hung his hat on the wall with a heavy sigh. Tonight there was supposed to be a bad storm so he had been getting the ranch ready since last night. "The winds are picking up. Everyone I know is looking for cover."

"Jacob, Y/n mother said her daughter hasn't come home yet. She complains that she almost has the mind of a wild horse." Aunt Cara entered the room looking worried.

Y/n has been a part of my family my whole life. Almost like a sibling to me. Looking my head up from the couch I figured where she was at. Grabbing my hat I went out the door heading for the barn seeing her ride in on one of our horses. Her hair was a mess and her brown hat almost fell off her head. She's the craziest girl I have ever met at age 14. "What on earth are you doing, darling?"

"I needed one last ride in before we got boxed in, Spencer." She replied dismounting her horse before I took my jacket off putting it over her since she was only wearing a thin looking shirt and pants.

Taking her hand in mine I dragged her from the barn knowing aunt Cara would be worried sick for her parents if they thought she was in trouble. "Let's get you inside or Aunt Cara will have my head. You're scaring the crap out of your parents."

"You don't have to worry about me all the time, Spence." I lightly blushed hearing her use the nickname she hadn't called me since we were five years old.

Y/n's Pov

Y/N looked at him, her eyes trained him as they walked inside the house where Jacob and Cara were currently standing as she spoke softly “Hello Mr and Mrs Dutton, I apologize if I made you worry about me and I will call my mama but I can't go home tonight. They’ve been fighting more than anything, and last time they fought wasn’t good because my daddy had tanned my hide with his leather belt”

Having the bruises from the belt since it happened a few days and they were still fresh from her lashing as she walked to Spencer and hugged him tightly as she had removed his jacket to hang it on the rack as she yawned “I think i’m gonna get a warm bath, and then turn in for the night since it’s late.”

Her body ached from the daily lashings and beatings as she wrapped her arms around her body as she walked into the bathroom where a bath was setting as she warmed the water by boiling it and making sure it wasn’t scalding hot as she stripped her pants and shirt off before. She stepped into the bath and relaxed instantly because she was sore and hurting.

Cara's POV

Entering the bathroom I saw the poor girl covered in bruises. It wasn't right that such a sweet girl had to deal with parents who bicker a lot. Leaning in the doorway I cleared my throat. "The guest bedroom is all set up for you. Since I figured you would be staying."

"Thank you, Mrs. Dutton." She mumbled her eyes focused on mine.

"Call me Cara dear. You spend enough time over here you should call me by my name." She nodded at my words figuring I had more to say. "Dear about your parents , I just want to say they shouldn't treat you like that. So you will always have a home here. No matter what."

"Thanks Cara." She replied, slipping on one of my spare nightgowns before I helped her into bed hearing the wind howling loudly against the house.

Spencer’s POV

Laying in my bed on my back it frustrated me to see Y/n so harmed like that. She didn't deserve that to happen to her. The harsh storm outside shook the house. Moving my eyes over to the hook on the wall my hat was on I watched it fall knowing it was much worse outdoors. "Spence?" I heard her faint voice call out to me.

"Hey, darling. Everything okay?" Sitting up in my bed I could see her peeking her head through the doorway slightly shivered.

She takes a few steps into my room trying to be quiet and not wake the others. My room was the closest to the one she was staying in. "I'm still cold and I can't sleep because of the storm. Can I bunk with you?"

Aunt Cara would probably advise against it since we weren't married but I didn't care. "Sure come on in." Scooting over I threw the covers back watching her rush over snuggling into my warmth.

"Thanks, Spencer." She whispered head laying on my chest falling asleep.

"You're welcome Y/n." I responded back falling asleep quickly with her in my arms.

Y/n's Pov - two years later

Y/n had been there for two years as she walked out of the cabin and started on her morning chores as she hummed softly while she took care of the animals that were on the ranch as she saw Cara there. “Good morning Cara, how are you feeling” She says, it had been two years since Spencer left for Africa claiming that he had to get away from the ranch.

But that left their relationship unfinished until something unexpected brings him home from Africa since he had been gone so long as she remembered their last night together which lead to them kissing and confessing feelings but little did they know, things were going to change after their night of passion that happened when everyone else was asleep in their rooms respectably.

Spencer’s POV - 2 years ago

"So that's it. You get drafted for war and you think you can just leave without saying goodbye. I thought we were closer than that Spencer!" Y/n threw her hands up at me, clearly upset.

It wasn't like I wanted to leave but someone in this family had to fight and I was the only one. Gently grabbing her hands in mine, my eyes trained down to her. "I don't want to leave darling but I don't have a choice-" She cuts me off, crashing her lips onto mine where I'm taken back a little bit. I never thought she felt the same way that I do for her.

Wrapping my arms around her waist she broke the kiss running one hand through my hair making it a mess. "If you have to go then make tonight last. Because I care about you Spence. So make love to me please."

"You're completely sure?" She nodded yes before I crashed my lips onto hers falling back onto the bed. We both slowly removed the other's clothes hoping to make the night last. Never expecting the result we got.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

#love in the wild west #spencer dutton #spencer dutton x reader #brandon sklenar #1923 series #1923 yellowstone #1923 spoilers #1923 #yellowstone 1923 #yellowstone tv #yellowstone fanfic #yellowstone series #yellowstone #cara dutton #jacob dutton #jack dutton #wattpad fanfiction #ask box is open for feedback #comments really appreciated

[thetrashbagswasteland]

15 questions for 15 friends

tagged by @korblez

ARE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?: that's a very good question but I believe not for my birth name and the name I intend to go by someday is the masc/gn version of that but also an homage to a great long tradition of pretentious french authors

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED?: however many weeks ago it was that I had a breakdown thinking one of my horses was going to die, I don't cry a lot

DO YOU HAVE KIDS?: I'd genuinely rather die than have human children

WHAT SPORTS DO YOU PLAY/HAVE YOU PLAYED?: Horse riding is my main one but in the past I was on a local team for basketball and younger I played a LOT of field hockey + did both XC running and sprint.

DO YOU USE SARCASM?: Never, obviously.

WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE?: I'm both faceblind and have a shit memory I simply do not notice anything about people aside from if they own horses in which case what I notice is the horse's everything + maybe there's a human attached to them. The same goes with dogs and cats but less severely.

WHAT'S YOUR EYE COLOUR?: Brown as muck!

SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS?: I'm a wuss so happy endings.

ANY TALENTS?: Warmblood (horse) pedigree nut, I can identify a Quidam descendent at 20 paces.

WHERE WERE YOU BORN?: SE England

WHAT ARE YOUR HOBBIES?: Writing, stressing, fishkeeping/aquascaping, stressing, sometimes bookbinding. I'm getting into crochet too for keeping my hands busy.

DO YOU HAVE ANY PETS?: 4/5 horses, 2/3 cats, sometimes a dog (masquerading as a wet floor mat), a handful of fowl and a cockatiel

HOW TALL ARE YOU?: Under 5ft, alas

FAVOURITE SUBJECT IN SCHOOL?: Languages

DREAM JOB?: absolutely no idea, not what I'm doing now, that's for sure tagging anyone who wants to be tagged and hasn't yet - here's your carte blanche to play!

#ask meme

[ruthlesslistener]

not to come into your house after asking an incredibly basic question, but your response is very interesting to me? Interesting feels like the wrong word but it's also v late for me. Most thoughts I hear about the gerudo are either just in it for the Ganondorf lore and thus gloss over other things about them, or only have positive things to say in a way that feels kinda oblivious? Or on rare occasions, people thoroughly tearing them apart. So, seeing your response aknowledge the things people usually tear into nintendo for but still come away liking them pretty wholesale was interesting in a good way! Like a breath of fresh air that hadn't occurred to me. anyway, thanks for sharing your thoughts, if you can't tell already they kinda tipped the way I think about the gerudo pretty topsy-turvy in a way I'll examine later when it's not midnight. sorry if this is overstepping or smthn after starting with a two sentence ask. I'd love to hear more of your thoughts on them when both of us have more brain power.

Glad that it got you thinking about things! I don't think you're overstepping, but I do want to point out that I really don't have much experience with the nuances of the Zelda franchise, so I might not have very insightful commentary on it. I've never played the games myself, I only watched BOTW, Twilight Princess, and Wind Waker playthroughs/speedruns and am partially through smallant's TOTK 100% vods.

The way I think about it, though (and this applies to anything except Harry Potter), is that you can acknowledge the flaws in a piece of media while also enjoying aspects of it that are not flawed, because nuance is a thing and what matters most is not internalizing the bigoted shit you might see and allowing it to influence how you treat/write others. Additionally, it can help you learn about the pitfalls that other writers might fall into, and whether or not it was intentional or not, because different sterotypes/problematic troupes will crop up in different ways in different cultures, and intention makes all the difference between deliberate propaganda and yet another cultural oversight that needs to be addressed, but can be corrected later on. Stories are written by human beings and human beings are inherently flawed entities, so dismissing any and all enjoyment you might find in a story simply because it has problems just isn't reasonable (though blindly defending it isn't great, either).

(The reason why HP is an exception is, of course, because the author directly benefits from its publicity and uses that benefit to actively harm minority groups, so there really is no ethical way of engaging with that shit)

The Gerudo are very much a flawed concept drawing off of the fallacies of Middle Eastern stereotypes, and there's much to be said about the imperialist undertones that run through TOTK with the kingdom of Hylia and its expansion to other territories (though this might not be intentional- Japan is notorious for being pro-imperialist and glossing over all the horrors of imperialism or their past crimes with it. Then again, America is just as bad, if not worse, so I'm hardly on a moral high horse here). There certainly is a lot more to be said about the racism inherent to making the Big Bad Evil of the series a brown man, and then trying to mask that by turning his skintone green, or black, or just generally trying to dehumanize him. Not to mention the fact that a man is born to the Gerudo once every hundred years, and that he automatically becomes their king for whatever reason (with Ganon, I can see it's because he's power-hungry, but still). But you can also enjoy the flashy decor of the Gerudo, the buff warrior woman society with their codes of honour, and the badassery of their chieftans that can call down lightning, because at the same time, the Gerudo are so fantastical that they end up being just that...fantastical.

So while I'm sure there's a lot of nuance that I'm missing given that I'm more of an observer of new games in the Zelda series than anything else, imo I think its fine to enjoy them while still being aware of the racist elements to their story, because while the racism isn't great they're also so different from like, actual irl human beings that it's not too bad. It's more that they were spawned from racist stereotypes that is the direct issue, if that makes any sense

#anon #reply #again! i only really know botw canon so i am missing a whole lotta context #but yeah i think you can enjoy something while also knowing that its got shitty elements to it