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moondirti · 19 hours

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ghoap x nanny! reader / 18+ / previous ft. surveillance. handjobs. voyeurism. mild s/m. dirty talk.

They check up on you when they can.

Price wasn't exaggerating when he doled out the mission details. It's a tough one. Grueling. The type that necessitates four flights a week and days of little to no sleep, the men fuelled on nothing but a snow-balling urgency to get it done. The target is a slippery fuck, with connections that transport him across the globe at the first sign of conflict. They come close to apprehending him only once, and nothing comes of it but the exacerbated threat of nuclear war as the bastard starts to squeak like a cornered mouse. Gaz has a near constant migraine. Soap stops being fun around the two week mark, exhaustion slowing his tongue. Ghost grows more unhinged with his kills, punching blades through the throats of anyone who dares get in their way.

But still, they check on you.

Isla occupies a quarter of their headspace at all times; half when they don't have to dedicate their focus to the operation. It's the longest they've ever spent away from their girl, the withdrawals hitting them like a bag of bricks. They do whatever's necessary, then, to tune into the nanny cams they have set up around the house, lest Johnny cries about the way her hands dimple when she uncurls a fist again. Or worse – before Simon forgets what tethers him to humanity.

They find the two of you are always doing something.

Which isn't a surprise. You had mentioned your background in early childhood education; they just thought that it'd been a device to impress them. But it's clear that you're eager to put your degree to use when they see you setting up yet another enrichment activity for their daughter and encouraging her to engage.

The first time, they had just arrived on base. It'd been five hours since they've seen you last and already, Johnny had pulled his phone to log onto the monitoring app he had installed.

Sure enough, you were in the same overalls they saw you in last, Isla changed into a fresh pair of pyjamas after her bath. You had her set on her play mat, but replaced the dangling toys for newer, more colourful ones. As she reached for them, you would sound out the shade in a high-pitched voice and grin excitedly when she'd babble back, as if aaaah! meant green.

He felt his heart tug something fierce, caught between endearment and unease at missing out, before getting dressed for debrief.

The third time, you let them know you could tell when the nanny cam is in active use. Not accusatorially, of course – it unfolded in a way too innocent to be anything but a whammy on their part.

They were in a humvee on exfil after being ambushed by the local army – soldiers with blood money lining their pockets, tasked with dispatching the bloodhounds that keep sniffing their patron's trail. Simon had watched a little boy get caught in the crossfire and decided it was imperative to check if Isla was okay, despite her being hundreds of miles away and off anyone's radar.

You're the first thing he saw, carrying the weight of a huge plastic storage container filled with water. In it, there were several rubber animals that inspired a fit of squeals somewhere off screen. You had laughed, a little out of breath, and he remembers the relief that flooded his chest at the dual sounds. Like the cold lick of waves across scorching sand.

As you'd passed by the camera, you stopped and crouched so your face would be in view.

"Isla likes splashing around in the water. I'm thinking of getting her a paddling pool." And you lifted the container as if you would ever need to justify the way you take of their daughter. "Hope you guys are well."

Johnny murmured from beside him. "Forgot aboot th' status light."

The seventh– ninth– maybe twelfth time (having lost count), it was just in time to catch you on your way out with Isla in tow.

They'd tuckered down in a shitty motel, awaiting the next word from Laswell, all four of them in one room. Gaz had been given the bed as consolation for the torn tendon in his knee, and Price had claimed the couch with nothing more than a growl about his back needing it. Thus, Ghost and Soap found themselves on the floor, the latter man tucked under his partner's arm, the other occupied with checking in on the porch feed. The time difference made it so that it was midday where you were.

You were dressed – and Simon recalls it as clearly as the day you met – in a green wrap skirt and tulip hat, their darling girl in a shade of pink that complimented its petals, sat on your hip as you struggled with her buggy. They forgot to give you the run down on unfolding it before they left, too overwhelmed with everything else to pay mind to the little things.

Johnny had jumped for the two-way talk function immediately, tapping on the little mic before clearing his throat.

"There's a latch under th' left arm. Flip it 'n' it shuid unfold automatically."

You jumped, pausing to face the porch cam with wide eyes. "Oh– Oh my god. Haha," Following his directions, you were able to get it open with little fuss. "that is so embarrassing. Pretend you never saw that."

Simon had his balaclava on, uncomfortable with going bare-faced in an unfamiliar room, but Johnny still felt the soft smile splitting his cheeks. Its warmth was unmistakable.

"Nonsense, lass. 'twas cute."

You bloomed at that, wiggling a little in place. Though the flustered moment hadn't lasted long, for Isla's mouth fell open at the recognition of her father's voice, chubby hand reaching out in its direction.

"Bldha! Pffffpp."

"That's right, baby! That's Da." You waddled closer to have her inspect the strange contraption hooked above their mailbox, turning your attention back to them. "We're going on a narration walk! Isla's gotten so good at recognising animals because of them. But it was so nice to hear from you. Isn't that right, sweetheart?"

"Gah!"

Simon locked the phone when neither of them could muster a response, emotion rushing their throats like white-river rapids. Hot tears seep into his side, a pair of misty eyes buried in his ribs.

"I know. I know, Johnny. S'alright. We'll see 'er again soon."

Now, he's made good on his promise.

All three rogue missiles located and dismantled in record time, meaning their slimy target could no longer use them as a shield. He'd been in shackles within the next day, wrangled somewhere in Istanbul and shipped off to a maximum security prison in The Hague. The task force left no loose thread untugged, which took an extra day but will be worth it in the long run. Price promises to reward them with a round, on him.

They're on their way back to base when Johnny tunes in a final time.

He's sure that Isla is asleep by now, confirmed by the baby monitor that focuses on the sprawled form in her cot. It would be best to exit the app and doze off like the other men – lord knows he needs it – but he can't help the itch to look for you too. To click through every channel, his curiosity unquenched, until–

Ah. There.

On the couch, bare legs stretched out along its length. A throw blanket tangled between them, one bent at the knee to support the book you're currently fingering through. The sight alone is enough to make him salivate.

But then he notices the thin material of your top.

Practically translucent. No doubt made for bed. You aren't wearing a bra, either, and the darker shade of your nipples practically flaunts itself through the fabric. They're too soft to protrude and cast a shadow on your breasts, but he's still able to get a good impression of what you would look like nude. Some part of him wilts with guilt at the shameless voyeurism he's subjecting you to.

Another part sends blood to the weight between his legs.

"Bleedin' Christ."

"Hm?" Simon grunts, disturbed by the restless pace of Johnny's heart. His head lifts off his shoulder, blinking warily to clear the silky gossamer of sleep threading his eyelids, before focusing on the grainy footage on his partner's screen.

"Ghost." He whines, hips bucking in desperation when the larger man does nothing. They haven't had the chance to relieve themselves since that night at the motel, and even then it had been a messy frotting as they tried not to disturb their sleeping comrades.

"A'right. Off to the bathroom with you, then."

He doesn't turn off of the live feed even as they cram into the compact space. Though he should. He needs to. Not because you're aware of their surveillance – you're far too engrossed in your book to pay mind to the blinking red light on the nanny cam. But because only depraved men gets off to unsuspecting hens, especially the ones they hired in good faith to take care of their child while they're away.

It's a dirty, dirty thrill that roars through him as Simon wraps an arm around his waist, palming his hard-on through his trousers. And it's a dirty thrill he wants no part of.

"Practically leakin' in your pants, boy. First time you see a pair of tits?" In the small mirror before him, he watches his pants get pulled down past his ass, underwear stained a deeper swatch of blue where his tip spits prespend.

It might as well be the first time, way he's humping Simon's hand like an over-eager mutt. Though he can't manage to choke it out through the rough groans pressing his vocal chords. Instead, what escapes him is a pathetic mess of trembling letters. "S'not... fookin, not– not–"

"Shhh, it's okay. She's jus' so pretty, yeah? Can't help but chub up and beg me to rub your aching cock, wishing it was her darlin' hand wrapped 'round you instead. I know."

"Nn, nae, Sim- Si– I wouid never... Ah!"

It's dry. A little raw. He makes no effort to lube his calloused palm to help it glide easier along Johnny's length, but he knows his boy better than he knows himself sometimes. That he needs pain when he's doing something bad like this, or else he'll lose himself to the guilt. A little bit of penance for the Catholic.

"Don' lie to me. Y'can't. But tha's alright," He pulls the foreskin off the head of his uncut mass, kneading a bit into his frenulum to watch the way white oozes against red. "I think about it too."

"A-Aye?"

"Hm. Think 'bout ya swallowing my cock while I sit 'er on my face. Bet she tastes sweet, like nectar. Jus' look at the thing." Which he does. You're seated a bit differently than you had been before. Less liberal. Wound up tight, with your nose buried in your book and your toes curled beneath your feet. Surely captured by some tense plot line or the other. "Would make you clean her cunt after I pump 'er full. Or vice versa, if she's into tha'."

"Yer a-aff yer heid... Fuck, I cannae–"

"That's it, Johnny. Let go, boy." Simon's strokes keep at the top, tugging in short, rough movements over the phone. The blanket now covers you fully, but it's no matter. The image of your breasts are now seared into both their minds, an array of fantasies unfurling before them, each nastier than the last. "Jus' like that."

Thick ropes of cum streak over the screen and sink countertop. It's weeks worth of pent up frustration, a culmination of despair and desire as a stuttered moan claws up Johnny's throat. The hand leaves his cock only when he starts shooting blanks, clenching tight at the overstimulation.

Simon makes him lick the mess off his palm.

(And unbeknownst to them, they'd hit the mic on their way to the bathroom.

You'd heard the whole thing.)

#oops!#my finger slipped #ghoap x reader #ghoap #simon ghost riley x reader x johnny soap mactavish #fic ༄ miss magic #call of duty #ghost x soap #simon riley x reader x john mactavish #ghost x reader x soap #simon riley x john mactavish #simon ghost riley x johnny soap mactavish #simon 'ghost' riley x reader x johnny 'soap' mactavish #simon 'ghost' riley x johnny 'soap' mactavish #x female reader

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jacaerysgf · 2 days

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Unexpected Surprise

Summary: While attempting to gain the support of the vale, jeyne arryn has plans of her own for the prince.

r.q: Everyone forgets house Arryn😔🤘🏻 baddies of the vale Can you write something w Jace and an Arryn maybe lady Jayne’s little sister or daughter or something? Not a totally unreasonable alliance !! They have the coolest castle and knights also Ms Aemma Arryn ™️ like hello!! (I’m impatient as hell for more Vale coverage in season 2)

w.c: 900+

c.w: baela and jacaerys are not betrothed, arryn!reader jenye’s daughter, FLUFF, just a very cute fic, drabble, not proofread

a.n: IVE HAD THIS DONE SITTING IN MY DRAFTS FOR NO REASON OMGGGG but with the recent jeyne content i felt inspired to write this !! just something super simple <3 HOPE YOU ENJOY !! LOVE UUUU GUYS

masterlist - requests open

“Im sorry, what my lady?”

“I wish for you to marry my daughter.”

This is not how jacaerys thought this would go. When he arrived in the vale he thought he thought he would have to make simple small talk, present some of the benefits, hells even throw some complements her way in order to convince her. This however had not been in his cards.

“I'm sorry my lady i do not understand.”

“My daughter, y/n remains unmarried, around your age, a sweet girl, agree to wed her and me and my men will bend the knee.”

He blinks. He has no clue what to say to her. Jeyne stands after a moment, “I shall go fetch her.” He watches as one of the guards tries to stop her and tells her he will go retrieve the girl but Jeyne seems determined to go herself and he moves letting her leave. Jacaerys stands awkwardly in the middle of the room unsure of what to do.

He is not too sure he can just flat out agree to a proposal without his mother position, it is not like he is a second son, he is the heir to the queen. The next king, his wife to be the next queen. Yet when he sees you walking into the room, wearing a long dress in your house colors with your mother trialing behind with a pleased look on her face he finds himself wanting to agree to the marriage right away.

You are stunning. Easily the most beautiful women he’s ever seen, sure he hasn’t seen that many women but it doesn’t matter. He watches as you bow and mindlessly nods in acknowledgment, unable to take his eyes off you.

Jeyne looks between the two of you with a satisfied look. “Why don’t you show the prince around?” She gives you a pointed look to which you nod, “Of course i would be happy to.”

He walks over and offers you his arm with a smile on his face and you graceful take it before you begin to walk off with him. Jeyne stays behind and smiles to herself.

“My mother is very forward i apologize to you.” He simply shakes his head, he finds himself look at you instead of the halls he’s supposed to be looking at. “It is not an issue my lady, I rather appreciate it.” You look at him curiously but turn away once you notice he is already looking at you. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Many people speak in riddles, not saying what they mean or truly want, your mother is a rare gem.” You smile at the praise of your mother, “She truly is.”

You lead him outside and begin to tell him about the different plants and different sculptures around the courtyards. He is so charmed by you. The way you light up when you spot something and you begin to tell him of a memory you have, like how your mother scolded you for jumping around in the fountain, or when you almost fell out of one of the window's when you fell asleep.

“You truly love this place.” He can tell. The way you smile at the guards as they walk by or the way you know every detail about everything in the walls. But he sees the way you falter slightly at his words, “Am i wrong?”

You shake your head vigorously, “no no i do, its just i have never been away from here. My mother is a very protective woman, she waves away any suitors, she never even lets me leave the eyrie it is ridiculous!” You realize you're letting your emotions show too much and bow your head, “i am sorry that was out of line.”

He grabs your hands and you look at him with wide eyes. “I understand my lady, my mother is similar, i have truly never traveled to far, i wish to explore, once my mother has her rightful throne i believe i will take the time to see westeros a little bit,” He pauses before he speaks again, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly, “I could take you with me? if that is what you wish my lady.”

He watches as your eyes begin to glow and you beam at him, “truly? oh nothing would make me happier.” He nods and grips your hands tighter, “I shall take you everywhere.”

He does not expect you to throw your hands around his neck and pull him into a hug. He wraps his hands around your lower back, pushing his head into your neck and breathing in your scent. “I will accept your mothers propsal at once. You will fly with me to winterfell.” You pull back and give him an eager look. “Winterfell? Truly?” He nods, “I am to go meet lord cregan stark.”

You can barely contain your excitement at the thought of seeing something that was not the eyrie, especially a place as grand as winterfell.

Jeyne watched you two smile at one another from a window above with a small smile on her face. She does not hear the guard approaching her from behind, “You seem pleased my lady.” She says nothing to him for a moment, simply continuing to stare at the two of you. “Tell my men to ready themselves for war. It seems he will accept my proposal.”

perm jacaerys taglist <3

@tyronesien @itsbookworm987 @cruelworldlana @smurfelle @ireneispunk @hxtd @venmondiese @urmomsgirlfriend1 @aegonswife

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bun-z-bakery · 2 days

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Can we have some moments of Dogday acting like a dog please?

Of course! Order up ^^

Dogday x GN! Reader

Your obedient companion

Growling

While on a walk, a sound from further in the woods caught your attention.

DogDay lets out a low but terrifying growl as he uses his body to cover you from any dangers.

“I think we're ok.”

You whisper to him, but his growls become louder.

“GRRRRRR”

The sound of rustling signaled that whatever was lurking about was now gone.

“I think it's gone now.”

You chuckle as you attempt to push him off, he lets out a sigh of relief before rising and helping you up.

“Youre safe with me, my angel.”

Biting

“Angellll~”

DogDay sang as he tried to get your attention. He meant well when he offered to help cook, but instead he accidentally spilled the pot of food you worked oh so hard on, which meant you had to make another batch.

He knows you have every right to be upset, but the silent treatment? Surely you'll forgive the poor guy, right?

“Angel, please talk to me… I apologize…”

You continue to type away on your computer, completely ignoring his presence.

He sighs and decides that drastic times call for drastic measures.

“OW!”

You yelp in pain once he bit down on your arm. It wasn't hard but enough to cause a bit of pain. You rip off your headphones and stand up from your desk, preparing to scold him.

Before you can get a word out, he gasps and wraps you in a bear hug.

“I'msosorryIdidn'tknowyoucouldn'thearme!”

Pacing

“It's been 3 hours!”

DogDay paces around the entrance as Kissy and Poppy watch in concern. DogDay has been pacing without a break since he noticed you're late. The two can only keep him calm for so long.

“DogDay I'm sure they're ok! Just relax! You're going to make a hole in the floor!”

Poppy attempts to be the voice of reason once again. She sighs once DogDay finally stands to a halt.

“Trust me they–"

“What if… Angel is… dead?”

He whispered as he fell to the ground, he was on the verge of tears as terrible thoughts filled his head.

“What if they died alone?!”

“DogDay…”

“What if someone hurt them?!”

“DogDay…”

“WHAT IF–”

“RICH THEY JUST PULLED INTO THE DRIVEWAY!”

Poppy finally snaps.

DogDay rushed to greet you at the door as if he didn't just have a breakdown from your absence.

"ANGEL!"

Sniffing

“I'm homeeee!”

You call out as you take off your boots and coat, preparing to be greeted by everyone.

“Hey Y/N! How was work?”

Poppy asks as she climbs the couch to get a better view of you.

“Oh it was busy! Are you guys hungry?”

“ANGEL!”

DogDay rushes to you, entrapping you in one of his tight hugs reserved just for his angel.

His tail that was once wagging now stopped as he began to… Sniff you?

“Uh, is everything ok?”

Confusion is written all over your face, Poppy gives you the same look and Kissy tilts her head just as confused.

“That's a new scent…”

He mutters once he's done interrogating your day through his nose.

“Who have you been around?”

He tilts his head and places his hands on his hips.

“Sunshine?"

"Angel?"

"You do realize I work with people... Right?"

You laugh at how ridiculous he was acting, he snickers and places one of his hands on your head, blocking your view.

“I apologize, but I prefer my angel's scent.”

"Mhm, sure we'll just say that."

You pat his chest before you head to change out of your work clothes. As much as he tries to play it off, everyone knows his reasons are just an excuse.

#Dogday x reader #dogday x y/n #sunnyangel #dogday #poppy playtime #poppy playtime x reader #Smiling critters dogday #bun z writes #anon ask #bun z receipt

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mattluvsmarni · 2 days

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Fishing

Matt sturniolo x reader

warnings & a/n: suggestive(??), cursing. I don’t think there’s any warnings really just something short and sweet💗

Matt chuckles at your sour face as he holds his hand out waiting for you to take it. "Come on it will be a good experience, this one was your idea anyways."

you hate the noise your every step causes, but you're just relieved to finally be under shade.

You and Matt had created a bucket list during the summer and it was your pick to do one thing the other has never done before. So when Matt found out you've never been fishing before. He decided to take matters into his own hands and to teach you how to fish.

"OW" he yelped, that's when you noticed you went from gripping just the material of his shirt to digging your nails into his skin out of fear. "i've got you, you can chill''

"sorry" you say, smoothing your hand down the spot.

"isn't this where leeches and things like that are" you ask as you carefully start to scan the trail with your eyes.

"yeah..." he stops, pulling you back. "Wait I think..." he trails off staring into a spot, pretending he's seen something.

"Quit fooling around and take us where we need to go" you insist, tugging on his arm to move him.

After Matt's assured you that he's 99% sure leeches or any of these little bugs wouldn't get into your things, you start to set them down.

"WAIT I GOT ONE" he exclaims, hooking and reeling it back quickly

He looks back to see if you’re watching from your squatted position only to lose it just as quickly "fuckk" he huffs out clicking his tounge “I almost had it too”

You break out into a fit of laughter at his genuine disappointment. He had the goal of catching 5 to the thought of just 1 being a maybe.

he acts out a walk of shame towards you

“no i saw it, don't worry” you try to encourage even if you can’t help the small laughs you let out.

“Hahah funny” his voice monotone, but his face deceives him because it’s evident that he’s holding back the biggest smile

“Okay let’s see what you’ve got” he says motioning you to go over to him

“Hopefully a lot better than whatever’s got you” you remark, as you walk towards him

Chuckling, he hooks an arm around your waist pulling you closer.

“You’re gonna press this button as you pull it back” he steps aside to demonstrate. “And let it go as soon as it hits the water, alright?”

“Okay I think I’ve got” you say, but more so to yourself. Mirroring his exact actions, you press the button, pull the rod back, and pull it down towards the water.

"nice cast!" he says, his face beaming. Your just as surprised that it actually landed instead of it getting stuck in your hair when you pulled back

“Now reel it in” he reaches in beneath your arms and positions your hands correctly. “Nice and steady” he instructs, you can feel his hot breath on your neck brushing his fingers over yours as he hold them in place

“A little more speed so we don’t get hung up at the bottom” he leans in closer towards you as you subconsciously, but slightly tilt your head back. “But slow enough so that a fish can catch on.” His body is pressed directly behind your own, his leg in between yours for balance and you can feel your heart beating faster

You liked the way he made you feel, like you could do anything. Things you’ve never thought of doing and still end up enjoying it.

“Good girl, you’re already a natural” he whispers in your ear and you smiled as you took your bottom lip between your teeth

“You think so?” You ask looking up at him

“I know so” he’s smirking, until something starts tugging on the rod

"OKAY LOOK I think we got it!””look!” He says, practically shouting at you

"i'm looking!” You shout back

He places his hand on yours helping you reel it back. You’d think this was a whale by how hard it is to pull it out

"yeahh" you say smiling wide as you finally see the medium sized fish that fell for the bait

He unhooks the fish from the rod "oh my god a long time coming fish"

"can i hold him"

"yeah here" pulling it off his finger for it to latch onto yours

"im holding it, im holding it" you say, giggling, as you hold the fish inches away from yourself.

He laughs finding your excitement amusing

“Nice” he praises, taking it to throw it back into the water

You go to squat next to him as you both watch it swim away.

#matt sturniolo x you #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo x reade #Sturniolo triplets x reader #matt sturniolo

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thalialunacy · 2 days

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[for the @calaisreno May Promptnation, which is turning out to be like NaNo but with way less stress]

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) 10: choice

Their lives have never been predictable. Which, in some ways, has made them very predictable, John thinks as he stops Sherlock in the hallway with a hand on the sleeve of his dressing gown. 'Hey,' he says, voice quiet. 'Come here.'

Sherlock raises an eyebrow, but doesn't hesitate to lean down and let John kiss him, thoroughly. Maybe even twice.

'Great, thanks,' John says roughly afterwards, backing away. 'I've got work now.'

He really should have known, from the start, that they'd have to steal moments for this out of the chaos they live in.

'Not your babysitter,' Mrs Hudson sings the next day as she holds Rosie's hands down the stairs. 'But I've got applesauce jelly with her name on it. And I'll change her nappy while I'm at it, won't I?' The last is said to Rosie, obviously, who is very focused on the stairs.

John, in turn, is focused somewhere else as well. 'We've got ten minutes,' he says, already out of his chair.

'Eight and a half,' Sherlock corrects, pulling John to him and capturing his mouth easily. John is tempted, so tempted, to let it go too far, but his prefrontal cortex is fully developed now, unlike the last time he felt this sort of heady gut-lust.

Maybe it's because Sherlock is a man, but he hasn't experienced a sense of newness this acute since being in school. And he'd thought, because he knows Sherlock in every other way it is possible to know a person, that this added dimension would feel--normal. Comfortingly similar. Would slot into their lives unnoticeably.

Decidedly not, John accepts some days and a solved case later, just before his backside hits the kitchen table. They've got a few more stolen moments while Rosie's napping on the sofa, and he's determined to make the most of them.

At Sherlock's urging, he lifts himself up onto the table's cluttered surface, then grabs at Sherlock's face to bring him back into the kiss. He spreads his knees without a thought and feels enveloped by heat as Sherlock moves further in between them. He fits around Sherlock perfectly, and it feels like--

It feels like lacing his fingers together with the other thumb in front, or crossing his arms with the other hand dominant. It feels like his own body still, yes, his skin heating up and his lungs pressing for air, but from a literal whole new perspective.

And he wants more of it. 'Do you think,' he murmurs in between kisses, 'that you'd want to be the one--' He pauses as Sherlock bites at his jaw. 'The one in charge?'

Sherlock pulls back enough to give him a look. 'Are you struggling through your English modesty to ask me if I'd like to top?'

John's neck flushes further, and he's pretty sure now it's both from arousal and embarrassment. Which is also new; he's said plenty more graphic things to women without hesitation, but apparently all bets are off when it comes to Sherlock. 'Yeah,' he says firmly. 'Yes.'

'I'd assumed you'd want to be the one doing that.'

'Wait, though-- you've done this before…?'

Sherlock's mouth quirks up. 'Subtle as always, John. Yes, I have. But not with you, do you understand? I want whatever you want. Quite literally.'

John swallows. 'And vice versa. I'm not new-- I mean, to the whole idea--'

'I'm very aware,' Sherlock retorts. And of course he is, aware of both John's various partners over the years and also of his, well, solo habits.

'Alright,' John says dryly. 'Rein it in, detective.' He sobers, hoping he doesn't have to go into detail. 'But this feels… different. And I want you to--to show me everything, to do everything you want.'

Sherlock, as he should have expected, takes this as a sort of delightful challenge. 'Well, then, we are at a bit of a stalemate, aren't we?'

John smirks, relief seeping through. 'Flip a coin?' he says, tightening his thighs, ready to dip back into Sherlock's mouth.

But Rosie, naturally, chooses that moment to wake up, and to do so loudly. She's almost got Sherlock's name down, and she definitely can yell for John like she's getting paid for it.

John groans and leans his forehead against Sherlock's momentarily, or at least intending for it to be momentary but shortly hearing the sound of his daughter shuffling into the kitchen, dragging her favourite garishly plaid blanket behind her.

'Perhaps we'll cut a deck of cards?' Sherlock suggests to him as they untangle.

Then the detective reaches down for Rosie, who is looking back and forth between them. 'Cards?' she repeats once she's in his arms, her tiny person pronunciation still simultaneously hilarious and brilliant.

'Yes,' Sherlock answers matter-of-factly. 'Your father and I are trying to decide…' He looks at John, a glint in his eye John shouldn't like at all. '...who gets to have the first ginger nut.'

John chokes on his tea, the sting going into his nostrils. 'Unfair,' he says.

His daughter seems interested, which is not surprising considering she shares Sherlock's predilection for the biscuit. 'Ginger nut!' she says. 'Me too?'

'Of course,' Sherlock says amenably. 'It's time for tea, anyhow.'

John tamps down a smile, then goes in for the assist, relieving Sherlock of Rosie so the detective can rummage around in the fridge. In their current arrangement, Sherlock is in charge of keeping edible and non-edible items separated. It's a dealbreaker, John had said when they'd moved back in. And Sherlock had complied without too much fuss, much to John's continued surprise.

Though, to be honest, he half expects Rosie would be delighted to find fingers in the crisper.

When everything's on the table and Rosie's in her booster seat, John digs in his pocket and pulls out a 50p coin, flipping it over to Sherlock without warning.

Sherlock catches it, regards it, then raises an eyebrow. 'I can rig this, you know.'

'Yes, but you won't, because my daughter is impressionable and worships you. And while you have many fine attributes, casual cheating is not one I'm interested in her inheriting.'

'Or, erm,' Sherlock starts, fingers casually playing with the coin. 'Any.' It's not a question, but suddenly he's looking intently at John, forehead wrinkled.

John's heart squeezes as he clocks what Sherlock's actually trying to get at. 'Sherlock. Bloody hell. Of course.' He inhales harshly. 'I know I'm not-- not exactly trustworthy any more, in that arena.'

But Sherlock cuts off his self-flagellation. 'Poppycock.'

'Beg pardon?'

Sherlock shakes his head. 'You were seduced by a person who could talk someone into murder with the snap of her fingers. She is literally the most brilliant manipulator in the world, and though I hold you in high regard you in no way had the capacity to overcome that.'

The anxiety slowly eases, though he suspects he'll never fully be free of it. 'You're admitting you're not the cleverest?'

He thinks Sherlock will counter in good humour, but instead he's a bit thoughtful. 'I think that, at that level, one is somewhere in the stratosphere, separated from everyone below. I find I rather like it down here.' He smiles crookedly, genuinely, at John. 'In certain company, at least.'

John's heart twinges. 'Well. That's.' He clears his throat. 'That's good. We rather like you down here. Most of the time.'

He breaks eye contact, instead looking at Rosie, who is happily getting banana all over her hands. He hopes the words will be sufficient. 'But I mean it.'

Sherlock's voice is quiet, fond and no-nonsense at the same time. 'I know. I know you, John Watson.'

John feels a smile slowly cross his face. 'Yeah, that's right, you'd catch me out instantly anyway. How I ended up with the one person I literally will not ever be able to keep a secret from, I've no idea. Birthdays and anniversaries are going to be very, very boring.'

Sherlock's smirk gives no doubt as to where his mind has immediately gone. 'Oh, I doubt that.'

John can tell his skin is starting to flush again. 'Speaking of… Coin flip is right out, so…?'

'Paper scissors stone?'

'No!'

'Why not?'

'Because you'd definitely cheat at that.'

'True. Magic 8 Ball?'

'You know what a Magic 8 Ball is?'

'Had a case where it was the murder weapon.'

'What? Really?'

'Yes.' Sherlock leans in, clearly ready to share the tale while assisting Rosie with her cheerios.

And John wants to remember this, this exact feeling of this exact moment, forever.

[❤️]

#It's gonna be MAY 2024 #May Prompts 2024 #MayPrompts2024 #BBC Sherlock #i guess i should tag for #frank discussions of sex #and mild-to-moderate snogging #oh and mentions of Eurus and cheating

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saintmeghanmarkle · 2 days

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Meghan Markle's ancestors owned slaves by u/PolishedWoodTable

First of all I have to clarify that I've never commented on here before, but I've been approved to post because of the research I have to share.

So it's been well established that Meghan Markle is descended from Captain Christopher Hussey through her dad's side (https://www.townandcountrymag.com/society/tradition/a13810014/prince-harry-meghan-markle-ancestor-execution-study/). Captain Christopher Hussey was a rich colonialist. I was talking about it to my mom and she wondered if they owned slaves, because most rich colonialists did.

Genealogy is my hobby and I decided to do some digging. Guess what? They did!

Here's a quick family tree to show you how these people relate to Meghan:

And now some info about her ancestors:

Establishing that Stephen is the son of Christopher Hussey (Source: Genealogical and Family History of the State of New Hampshire)

Stephen was a powerful man, huge landowner, slaveholder, and by most accounts an all-round-jerk.

Stephen probably got his slaves from the West Indies. (Source: A Branch of the Hussey Family in America)

Stephen was the biggest landowner of his day. (3 houses!! No wonder he wanted slaves...) (Source: Nantucket Lands and Land Owners)

And here's the part proving Stephen was a slaveholder:

Stephen Hussey's will, leaving his slaves like property to his family (Source: Quaint Nantucket)

I don't have any ultra strong feelings on Meghan but considering like everything that she and Harry have said and done this really shocked me. I know Stephen isn't her direct ancestor, but still ultra weird.

And that's not even the part that shocked me the most...Meghan's director ancestors sold their land to Stephen and so directly profited from his landholding, slaveholding empire. Like...what?? Here are the images:

This ones shows that Huldah Hussey, Meghan's direct ancestor, married John Smith (Source: History of the Town of Hampton of New Hampshire)

And here is John Smith, Huldah's husband, selling his land to Stephen Hussey... (Source: The Pioneers of Maine & New Hampshire)

Aaaaand her director ancestor Christopher Hussey did the same. (Source: Nantucket Lands and Landowners)

I found all this in local New England history books. I can upload all the books somewhere so people can read them for themselves, and on top of the link at the beginning of the post, I also have all the records showing that Meghan IS descended from Christopher Hussey, but there are so many records I'm not sure where to start...whatever anyone wants me to upload just ask.

So...the big question is, does Meghan know this? It seems like a really big deal to me considering the HUGE conversation that's surrounded Meghan's background since she joined the Royal Family.

EDIT to say 2 things:

1. I don't think that your ancestry should have any bearing on who you are and how you're judged. In any normal honest context, it shouldn't ever be considered relevant and every human being should be judged by who they are and what they do, not by what their ancestors did. I for one know that some of my ancestors had slaves. That doesn't make me a racist, and any implication that it did would be totally unfair.

And that's exactly why I created this post -- because that's exactly what Meghan did about the British nation. She has implied from the start that she was rejected by the British ppl -- not just the RF, but everyone -- because of her race. She crafted a narrative that said the British ppl weren't ready to accept a black princess because of post-colonial feeling. She branded an entire nation as being racist simply because of who their ancestors are.

So I created this post to show just how hypocritical that narrative is.

2. Thanks so much for all the compliments from everybody for the work I put into this post, it means a lot!

📌 post link

📌 Post archive link

📌Link to digital format files for referencing

author: PolishedWoodTable

submitted: May 10, 2024 at 12:41PM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit

disclaimer: all views + opinions expressed by the author of this post, as well as any comments and reblogs, are solely the author's own; they do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator of this Tumblr blog. For entertainment only.

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vickyvicarious · 1 day

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Yeah Dracula is actually a thorough planner. Once I interpreted Dracula's careening final leg of the journey to England as a careless oversight on his part; one where he over-indulged by eating the entire crew and unskillfully brought the ship into Whitby by chance. BUT he's been planning Whitby from the start. I think how he ends up getting into Lucy's house at the end is also the result of careful research and planning. He even has a plan for turning the rest of those who tried to thwart him, not needing to do it all directly.

Strategizing and laying down the maps for his steps is another trait he shares with Mina, come to think of it. The latter doesn't underestimate her foes to "toy" with them, however.

I agree. I actually made a graph showing when Dracula picks off the various crew members, and when you look at it over time it looks much more intentional to me. I believe he always wanted to land on a dead ship, and picked them off gradually so that enough would be alive to get the ship close to shore where he could take over. (Also, to maximize the horror it would inflict on those still alive, because he loves that sort of thing.) Only the Captain's final stand on the wheel made steering it in to shore himself harder to do. Even then though, I wonder if he might have always intended to crash it ashore, so that he could get off the ship without crossing running water. Otherwise, his original plan would have been to hide in one of his boxes and get carried ashore when they unload the ship, but there could be a chance then of one heavier box getting noticed/opened.

I'm a little less certain about Lucy's house, simply because I'm not sure how he would have had access to Mrs. Westenra's will. But I suppose that brings up the question of law. Would the house count as Lucy's before the will is read out to her, even if she were the one to inherit? After all, Dracula doesn't exactly need Arthur's permission to enter once Mrs. Westenra dies. But maybe Lucy's sense of ownership as someone who resides there would be enough to fill that gap before she legally has confirmation that it's hers too. Arthur neither lives there nor even knew he was going to inherit it at the time. Regardless, the way he drugs the maids certainly suggests planning ahead of time: he'd need to know about the laudanum she was taking in order to use it on them. So either he was doing research when he wasn't there, or maybe he was able to find out some information by spying through windows at night, or maybe he got Lucy to tell him some things while she was mesmerized/asleep (probably the least likely, because we don't see that done elsewhere and also I think he was in bat form pretty much all the time he drank from her in London, until the day he came into the house). Regardless, he still lets his temper get to him enough that he gives up on subtlety when he goes for the "yeet the wolf" approach, but that doesn't mean there is no planning happening there.

Yeah, he's definitely strategic. He's been planning this for a while. And it's something he certainly shares in common with Mina. But, as you say, she gets right down to business. She analyzes the paths to achieve a goal and heads right for it without any of the same toying around. She also is good at estimating threats, at thinking cautiously in order to ensure success, at figuring out how people tick and how to oppose them. She definitely does not underestimate like Dracula does, and she doesn't get caught up in her own emotions (rage, pride, whatever) the same way either. The closest she comes is right after her assault but she's able to work through her grief and guilt and anger much more cool-headedly usually.

#dracula daily #dracula daily spoilers #count dracula #mina murray #anonymous #replies

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