#realized I hadn’t drawn any of the women

[sinsirellaxx]

Five times the Rogue Prince made you cry

Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Warning: Daemon being Daemon, mentions of dubcon, angst and heartbreak?

Also: Not proofread – as always. Are we even surprised at this point?

The first time he had made you cry; was the second time you had met him. The first time you had met him was at a celebration at the Red Keep, his eyes had been glued to you the moment they had come across you. You weren’t sure what had drawn him to you, because you and everyone else were aware of his preferences – and you were nothing like the ideal woman that he was surely after. What you were sure of, however, was the feeling of discomfort and dread wash over you as his eyes burned into your skin. You had excused yourself early and parted from your friends and family before he had the chance to approach you.

After that, you saw him as he was invading your city, causing havoc and brutally cutting down everyone that came across him. Your wide teary eyes, filled with grief and hatred, had met his wicked ones before you turned around and ran. Ran until your legs burned – begging you to stop and rest. But you couldn’t. The sound of him hot on your tail haunting you and forcing you to push your muscles beyond their limits, scared of what he might do to you if he caught you.

The only thing that saved you that night was you jumping off a cliff and into the deep dark sea – lucky that you hadn’t hit your head on a stone upon breaching through the water surface. Before the Rogue Prince could reach the waters, you had managed to run into the woods and hide.

The second time he had made you cry was in the free city of Braavos. After having escaped that horrible night, you had not returned home to look for any remaining family – in fear of running across the Rogue Prince and having to face the reality of losing your family. Instead, you had traveled to Braavos to start a new life and to find the faceless men, for the world was not kind to helpless girls or women – you needed to learn how to fend for yourself. After weeks of trying to coax your way into the guild you finally made it into it. Moons pass by, before you cross paths with the Rogue Prince again. You don’t see him until he is just a few feet away from you, his hand reaching out towards you, his eyes filled with the same electric excitement as that night. You turned around just in time, stumbling back a few steps when your brain registered his Targaryen features. When you finally realized you turned around and ran, the blonde prince right behind you.

You felt a wave of nausea hit you at the Déjà vu, the situation so ironic that it made you want to laugh. You were thankful that you had spent a good amount of time exploring the city as you maneuvered through narrow alleys, pushing random objects to the floor behind you to slow the prince down.

Why was he here? Had he been searching for you? If so, why?

When you spotted the temple of the Faceless-Men your eyes lit up, but before you could relax the thought of luring a stranger to the guild to the temple would be fatal. You’d be in trouble with the Faceless-Men, and it was never wise to show your hideout to your enemy. Which is why you took a sharp turn, stumbling in the process. Fuck. Fear consumed your body when a hand shot out, grasping the back of your shirt with inhuman strength, pulling you back into the hard chest of your captor. You had lost. His strong arms wrapped around you, caging you in.

“I finally got you, little bird.” He chuckled into your ear, his hot breath fanning over your cheek like dragon fire, leaving a burning sensation in its wake. You had started thrashing around immediately; kicking your legs, pushing your elbow into his sides but nothing seemed to help – his grip was like iron around you. His embrace would be your personal birdcage from then on. The more you seemed to put up a fight, the wider the smirk on his face grew. As impatient as Daemon was, he quickly grew tired of your tantrum, the elbow that had managed to hit him in the face was the last straw. He quickly turned you around before bending down to throw you over his shoulder, his arm wrapping tightly around your thighs. He wouldn’t take any more chances. He would not lose you again. After walking across the whole city, he had stopped in the middle of nowhere. When you heard the screech of his Dragon you felt tears burn behind your eyes. You truly had lost.

When he heaved you up onto the dragon, a lone tear rolled down your cheek. When he climbed up behind you, his arms immediately wrapping around you possessively the rest of your tears followed.

“Let’s go home, riñītsos.”

The third time he had made you cry was shortly after the second time. Instead of King’s Landing he had taken you to Dragonstone, locking you into one of the rooms before disappearing for a few days. The maids had been the only people you had seen over those days. They had washed you, dressed you and fed you, before disappearing again. On the fifth day, the Maids had entered your room in a rush, carrying a beautiful gown into your chambers before ushering you into the bathroom. A weird feeling had spread through your body; the gown looked like a wedding-gown, the feeling of nausea rushed over you, weakening your knees and if you hadn’t been seated in the hot water you would have surely fainted. The urge to throw up had grown worse when you were seated in front of the vanity, the maids working on your hair and applying some kohl and tint onto your trembling lips. Afterwards you were forced into the beautiful gown, the corset was tied tightly, and you had wished for the corset to completely cut of your airstream and suffocate you. The maids had left you after that, but you hadn’t been left alone for long as the Rogue Prince entered your chambers with a wide grin on his face.

“Gods – you look beautiful, riñītsos. Have you missed me?” He came to stand behind you, his chest touching your back as he pressed his nose into your hair, taking in your scent.

When you had stepped away from him, he tutted his tongue, pulling you towards him again. You had tried your best to avoid looking him in the eyes, but you couldn’t help but look up when you felt the feeling of cold metal on your neck and chest. Your hand flew up to touch the necklace, looking down too the beautiful ruby gemstones encased by dragon claws. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” He whispered as you examined it silently. “It’s my wedding gift.”

At the word wedding your whole body tensed up again. You had immediately started protesting, your hands frantically trying to unclasp the necklace, but the prince had only chuckled at your pathetic attempt. “No? What do you think will happen, if you start running again, little bird? Do you really think that you can escape me? Escape from Dragonstone?” The silence that had followed was loud, followed by a low, haunting chuckle. He had been right. You couldn’t escape.

That day you had cried in front of the sept as you were bounded to the man you feared most in front of his gods. That day you had cried yourself to sleep after he had defiled you – after he had greedily taken everything from you until you exhaustion finally took over you.

The fourth time he had made you cry was when Daemon had stormed into your chambers, an unreadable look on his face as he approached you with big steps. You had been scared, your body still sore from the previous night but instead of bending you over as he liked to do most of the nights, he had kneeled in front of you – hugging your body and pressing his face into your stomach.

“My little dragon. Thank you, ābrazȳrys.” He had said, before pressing soft kisses onto your stomach, his hands squeezing your bottom as he took in a deep breath. “The maester informed me you’re with child, little bird.”

His words had made your heart skip a bit, the feeling of anxiety threatening to consume your nerve as your eyes had widened in shock. You were pregnant with his child.

“You are mine forever, riñītsos.”

The fifth time you had cried was when you caught him kiss his niece in a dark corridor – the pregnancy hormones had messed with your feelings you had told yourself as you had run back to the safety of the room. You had cried and cried, clutching onto the front of your dress at your heart’s betrayal. You had fallen for your captor. And your captor had cheated on you.

#hotd daemon #prince daemon targaryen #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #the rogue prince #a song of ice and fire #house of the dragon #dark!daemon

[beckyblah]

Eda doodle

#toh #the owl house #toh fanart #the owl house fanart #eda clawthorne #eda clawthorne fanart #eda the owl lady #toh edalyn #toh eda #realized i hadn’t drawn any hot women in a while and it’s time #my art

[golden1u5t]

Can you do one with aaron where the reader suffers from vaginismus (the body's automatic reaction to the fear of some or all types of vaginal penetration; causing tightness and pain) and she’s scared to tell Aaron bc she doesn’t know what he’ll think of her sexually and he assures her he’ll take all the time she needs and he’s really sweet and slow with her

ꨄ pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

ꨄ genre: fluff + smut

ꨄ summary: reader tells aaron about suffering from vaginismus right before having sex and she’s expecting a bad reaction but instead aaron comforts her and tells her that he’ll take his time.

“i don’t think i can do this.” you blurt out right before aaron can get your pants unbuttoned, your hands tight around his wrist to make sure his hands didn’t keep moving.

aaron pulled his hands back and nodded, he moved off of you and opted to lay beside you instead. he wrapped one arm around your waist and propped himself up using the other. “that’s okay, we can just cuddle instead.”

you turned to face him with your eyebrows drawn together and a frown on your lips, you weren't expecting him to be so calm about you backing out. every other guy you've ever tried to be with always got upset over it because they weren't patient enough to wait for you.

though, you knew aaron was different than any other man you've every met but still, it was shocking to you. often times you'd sit and wonder how you managed to attract aaron, how he was attracted to you out of all the women lining up to be with him.

"you’re not mad at me?" now it was aarons turn to frown, he realized that you weren't used to someone being so understanding and patient with you.

"why would i be mad at you? it's okay that you're not ready, i won't force you into doing something you don't want to do. there’s no rush, sweetheart." he moved his arm from around you and started to get off of the bed. you caught his arm before he could fully stand up and pulled him back down.

“i do want to do this. i want to be able to have sex like a normal person and i don’t want you to leave me just because i can’t have sex. it’s just- i have this thing and it’s so stupid!” you let go of his arm and pulled your knees to your chest. aaron reached out for you and pulled you into his arms again. he wasn’t sure what to think about your confession, he would never leave you over something as silly as sex.

he could hardly believe that the thought even crossed your mind. aaron twisted you around so you were facing him, he spent a moment to admire you before opening his mouth to speak

“what do you mean you have this thing?”

there was a moment of silence, you both just staring at each other while you mustered up the courage to explain to him why you couldn't have sex. eventually you let out a sigh and pulled away from him, you swung your legs over his and slid off of the bed.

aaron watched as you walked back and forth in front of the bed. pacing was something you did only when you were extremely nervous so aaron knew it had to be something you'd been keeping from him for a while.

you stopped and turned to him, opening your mouth before closing it again and started back pacing. you groaned and bit down on your lip.

“i have this thing called vaginismus and that’s why i can’t have sex with you.” you blurted, turning around to face the bathroom so you didn’t have to look at him. a moment of silence passed and when you realized that aaron hadn’t said anything you start up again. “i’m-i’m not crazy, aaron. trust me, i’ve heard great things about sex and i would love to experience it with you. i’m sure you’re great in bed, i mean i’ve felt you up before-“

you hadn’t even heard aaron get off of the bed, too caught up in your rambling. aaron placed his hands on your shoulders, causing you to startle. he turned you around and walked you both back to the bed and placed you in his lap.

"would you like me to help you? we could ease into it until you're ready to go all the way." he noticed the way you were hesitant to the idea so he stood up and carefully laid you on the bed. his fingers looped into the waistband of your shorts but he looked up at you before he did anything. "can i?"

you nodded your head and lifted your hips so aaron could get your shorts down your legs. he laid down between your legs and put his arms around your thighs so he could keep them open.

"i'm going to put my mouth on you, is that okay?" aaron looked up at you and waited until he heard you voice your permission. he started by placing a gentle kiss on your clothed clit, to which your hips jerked upward.

aaron pulled your panties to the side and placed another kiss to your clit before running his tongue through your slit. your body tensed as you felt his tongue touch your entrance.

"relax, sweetheart. i won't do anything without asking you, okay?"

"okay." you breathed, doing your best to relax back into the bed and letting your hands fist the sheets. he looked up at you to make sure you were fine before letting his tongue trace over your clit. your hands found their way into his hair as pleasure rushed through your body from the way his tongue moved over your clit.

aaron continued his ministrations on your clit until your whines and moans become louder and your grip on his hair tightened. he pulled back and replaced his tongue with his thumb, rubbing over your slick clit just how he did with his tongue.

“can i try to put a finger inside of you?” your eyes shot open and your thighs tried to close around his head, your heart starting to race again at the thought of anything going inside of you. though, you knew that if you didn't try then you would never get over the fear so you let out a barely audible 'yes'.

although you have him permission, aaron didn’t make a move yet. he didn’t want you to be expecting it so he continued to play with your clit until he felt that you were back to being relaxed.

when you were least expecting it aaron eased his finger into your entrance. but with the pleasure already coursing through your body from his tongue on your clit, you hardly felt it when he did push his finger in.

“you’re doing so good, angel.” he mumbled, slowly dragging his finger out of your cunt and pushed back in. your head dell back and your eyes fluttered close, a soft moan falling from your lips. you realized that it wasn't so bad, vaginal penetration, and you're glad that it's aaron you're experiencing it with.

aaron eased a second finger in and that's when you felt the pain, your eyes squeezed shut and you let go of his hair to grip the sheets instead. a few moments passed and the pain eventually subsided, pleasure invading your senses once again.

you didn't think you'd cum so quickly but aaron knew all the right spots to touch. your thighs closed around his head and you gripped his hair to pull him closer. aaron eventually pulled back, careful not to overstimulate you on your first time.

aaron sat up and leaned over you, he stared down at you lovingly before pressing his lips to yours. "you did so good." he muttered before moving off of you, getting ready to head to the bathroom to grab a warm cloth to clean you up but you stopped him by pulling him back to you. he didn't need you to say anything, he laid back down with you and pulled you into his chest.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch smut #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x fem!reader fluff #aaron hotchner x fem!reader smut #aaron hotchner x fem!reader

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

HCs of Alfie with a younger wife? Like in her mid 20s 💕

Hello my darling!!! I’m sorry this took forever! But I am back!!! Please enjoy this little nugget. Also y’all HCs are so fun!!!! Maybe I should do more.

He wasn’t planning on marrying a younger woman. Let’s be honest he wasn’t planning on getting married PERIOD.

But then you blustered in…

You came in. Full of wisdom so far beyond your age. Full of confidence that came from the knowledge that you were the best you you could be. Full of light that he thought would flee from a man like him.

He immediately was drawn to you. Your soothing voice that brought down his rage, which so quickly could come full force against him when he got too brash and foolish, reminding him that there’s no need to destroy what was not yet broken.

Despite the incurable draw to you, he said he would stay away. Be respectful. Be a respectful old man.

You would have none of it. Because truthfully he wasn’t that old. He was just snippy and preferred his habits. He hadn’t been a young man ever since the war. Regardless what his birth certificate said.

In truth it didn’t take too much to get him to relent. He’s just a man in front of a beautifully infuriating woman. And after a screaming match ending with you laughing at his reddening ears and hoarse voice, he let himself finally say it, “Right then. Now only my woman gets to screech at me like you do. So I’ll see you tomorrow night? Take you to the pictures and maybe dinner?”

And soon enough he asked for your hand, rumors and shaking heads be damned. He needed you more than air, and for some reason you loved him just as much.

Alfie expected his life would change once you were moved into his home. Was only natural. But he didn’t expect to change THIS much.

Or that he would like it. That he would feel like a chasm he didn’t realize he had was finally sealed up and healed with the first morning he woke up to you next to him.

Younger yes. Unorganized you were not. And very quickly upon your arrival did you see the bachelor pad state and work your magic to rectify. To turn this dragon’s cave into an actual home. Curtains and windows finally opened to let in fresh air. Ledgers and letters were filed away. The garden in the back finally being tended to to indicate actual humans lived and loved on the premises.

Remember that Alfie has been a bachelor the majority of his life. Any pretty women which came into his life were quickly shoo’d away. So to say he was puzzled by your… womanly… tools?? Weapons??… was putting it lightly.

“My dove now what the fuck are these? They look like tiny dinner rolls.”

“They’re rollers Alfie! For my hair! Gives it the wave.”

“Right right hair wave rollers yes of course. Now what about these… powders and things?”

“My rouge and lipstick darling.”

He didn’t get it at all.

Though Alfie is partial to opera and the absolute classics, he adores the new music you bring home. His family in Boston adore you immensely and have taken to mailing you the newest records in America.

If you’re extra sweet, you can usually coax him to dance with you, spinning yourself around him in a tizzy. By the end of your evenings he’s drunk without even a single sip of rum.

He’s never been so happy. So care free. But there is this nagging feeling in his stomach. One that won’t go away. That maybe you’re not truly happy. That you’re secretly wishing to be back out with the young people. To go out dancing in pretty dresses instead of in the living room in your dressing gown. To be fawned over in illustrious restaurants instead of cooking dinner together most nights. Had he robbed you of your youth simply because he’s selfish?

He never tells you this. No being a man means keeping your feelings inside and not letting your woman see you less than perfectly confident. (His words not mine)

But you read him so easily. It’s easy when you love someone so completely. Especially if your lover gets the deepest scowl on his face when he’s troubled, staring deep into space.

When you finally coax him out of him, he merely grumbled like a shifting mountain, trying to brush it off.

But oh how he wished he told you sooner. You assure him that you never really enjoyed the clubs and high society outings. You much preferred to stay home with your friends and other loved ones. What could possibly be out there that could even come close to what you have in the house.

When you do manage to get out of the house, either to the cinema, walking Cyril, venturing out for dinner, or because you insisted that walking is good for him, he is fully aware of the stares.

Some are… disapproving. As much as they can be towards the King of Camden. But the ones he is most irritated by are the love sick stares of the young men who trail after you. Clearly covetous and stupid enough to be blind to the beast that walks close beside you.

He is shocked you don’t notice. When he brings it up to you, you merely laugh, “Why would I be noticing men staring? The only man I’m concerned with is you.”

That comment makes him smirk wickedly, grasping firmly to your waist as you laughed brightly, swatting his chest playfully when he growls in your ear.

For all your ferocity and fiery eyes, Alfie still dotes on you and frets over you. Little presents are common. He insists on you bundling at the slightest drop of temperature or precipitation. And begrudgingly “permits” you to attend to errands on your own (you and everyone else knows he would never forbid you unless it was truly dangerous. But he loves to rile you up and tease).

You’ll never want for anything being his bride. Nothing is off limits for you. Even if he does make a show of pulling out bank notes, groaning about how his bank account suffers. Even when he’s the one that insists on buying you new things.

He may be the older one, but you are some how so much more wiser and practical. Anchoring him to the present when the nightmares come. Secretly convening with his doctors to heal the deep aches and malaise. He insists you’re magic.

To some it’s unconventional. Your love doesn’t make sense. But to those who truly know, you’re a match made in heaven.

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x y/n #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders #alfie solomons thoughts #Alfie Solomon’s hcs

[beyondthesefourwalls]

Rooster, angst, sand and “Who did this?”💕

Ooooh I loved this one SO much. I may just have to revisit it in the future..

Hope you like it!

----

warnings: angst, physical violence against women, gross men

One Call Away

Bradley throws open the door to the Bronco, nearly tripping over himself as he jumps out of the vehicle. He’s taking off out of the parking lot and down the hill to where you said you were before the door is even done slamming behind him. You had texted him an SOS along with a pin of your location nearly 20 minutes ago, and hadn’t answered your phone when he had called you almost immediately after receiving it. You hadn’t responded to any of his follow up texts either, and he had broken every speed limit on the way here. He didn’t know what was going on, but you needed him, so he had to get to you. You had been his best friend for longer than you hadn’t, and he had been in love with you for nearly just as long, even if you were oblivious to that. He would always come when you called. 

The beach is dark and empty of other people, but he spots your figure near the shore line almost instantly; he never had issues finding you, even in the most crowded of rooms. You’re sitting with your arms wrapped around your drawn up knees and Bradley doesn’t slow down until he’s close enough to hear you crying and see that you’re trembling. You're in nothing but a thinly strapped dress and while it’s not cold, the ocean air isn’t as warm as it could be, either. He’s slipping his Hawaiian shirt off his shoulders and settling it over yours without a second thought. 

“Hey,” he says softly. Your shoulders tense in a way they never really have due to his presence alone, and Bradley is immediately on edge again. He sits down beside you in the sand slowly, so as not to startle you. He’s not oblivious to the fact that you haven’t looked at him yet. “What are you doing out here by yourself?” 

You borrow your face further into your knees. Bradley scoots a little bit closer, his body near flush against yours. “Can you look at me? Please?” 

Slowly, almost as if in slow motion, you raise your head to fulfill his request and look at him. Finally seeing your pretty eyes eases some of the tension he had been feeling at first, but then it returns tenfold. 

Bradley feels bile in his throat and fury immediately flood his veins when he sees the cut on your lip and bruise on your eye. But he can see how shattered you look, how scared and small you feel, and he does his best to keep his anger masked. He raises a hand slowly, making sure you can track every movement, and gently lays a hand on your cheek. “Oh, sweetheart. Who did this to you?” 

“I had a date tonight,” you tell him. You wince as you try to send him a sarcastic smile. “It…didn’t go very well.” 

“A guy did this to you?” he asks. A tear slips down your cheek when you nod. 

“I told him I wanted to leave,” you say, whimpering when he ghosts his thumb over the darkening bruise at your eye, checking to make sure nothing was broken. He apologizes immediately. “And he got handsy. He paid for dinner, so I ‘owed’ him.” 

Several feelings go through him at once, each one worse than the last. He swallows past the lump forming in his throat, knowing he needs to ask. “Did he…did he go any further?” 

You understand what he’s asking and he lets out a sigh of relief when you shake your head. When you tell him you kneed him in the crotch and punched him back and made a run for it before he could take it any further, he feels pride swell through him. That’s his girl. 

“I just kind of ran. Then I realized how far away from home I was. And I didn’t…I didn’t want to call an uber or something because I had already met my quota of creepy men for the night, and I-” your voice cracks, and it’s like the emotions you had been pushing down, however futilly, bubble out of you. Sobs wrack your body and Bradley is pulling you close to him, enclosing you in his arms. Some of the tension he had been holding falls away when you don’t flinch or hesitate to wrap your arms tight around him. He lets you cry against him for as long as you need. When you apologize for disrupting his night, he’s shushing you immediately. 

“I’ll always come when you call me,” he promises with a kiss to your hair. “I don’t care where I am or what I’m doing. I could be across the damn ocean, but I don’t care. I will always be here when you call. Okay?” 

You nod, and for a few minutes you simply exist together sitting in the cold sand, your cheek pressed to his chest and his resting against the top of your head. 

“I need his name, sweetheart,” he tells you, and when you go to protest, he shakes his head. “No man gets to put his hands on you and get away with it. His name. Please.” 

With a sigh, you utter a first and a last name. Bradley tenses for a moment when it’s one he recognizes from Top Gun. A steely determination fills him and he files it away, pressing another kiss to your hair. 

“I’ll take care of it. Come on, let’s get you home, okay?”

word count: 920

#alli's tgm mix and match blurb party #alli's tgm blurb party #alli writes #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster fanfic #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x y/n

[juniperskye]

Until I Found You

***Potential spoilers of The Rookie***

Pairing: John Nolan x Fem Reader

Sneak Peek: After his breakup with Bailey, John is convinced he will never fall in love again…that is until he found you. (This is taking place pre TO Nolan) Reader owns a Café (food truck).

Fluff/Angst

Word count: 2851

Warnings: Reader has kind of spooky vibes, no use of y/n, Implied age gap, mention of food and eating (no explicit details), brief mention of crime (no explicit details), mention of past relationships, mention of unhealthy relationships, mention of getting ready for a date (details are feminine leaning – shaving, makeup, nails, hairstyling), developing strong feelings quickly, one teeny tiny kiss.

Not edited - please be kind.

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

After his breakup with Bailey, John was convinced he wouldn’t find love again. How would it be fair for him to have had love with Sarah, Lucy, Jessica, Grace, Bailey and for him to expect it again. His love with each of those women differed from one another, but they all had played a very important role in his life. For the last few months John had really just been going through the motions; sleep, work, eat, repeat.

Today had been a particularly slow day on the job for John, very unusual for the LAPD. He had been riding alone today which was honestly making the day drag on even more so. He was counting down the minutes until lunch – at least then he would get to socialize with his fellow officers.

Two speeding tickets, one robbery and a stolen car later, it was finally time for lunch. Heading to their usual spot, John notices that there is a new food truck parked, black with orange script on the side spelling out “Hallowed Grounds” alongside little white painted bats. John’s eyes were drawn to this truck not because it is new, or that the line was at least fifteen people long, but because of the beautiful person running the window.

It was Lucy who had ultimately broken John out of the trance he was in.

“Hey, you okay? You were spaced out there for a second.” Lucy questioned.

“Huh? Yeah, I’m okay. What’s with the new truck?” John wanted to see how much Lucy knew without giving away the attraction he was feeling towards this stranger.

“Oh! It is all over social media, Hallowed Grounds, it is mostly coffee, but the pastries are to die for! I mean literally that is their slogan!” Lucy laughed.

“The line is pretty long, so it must be good. Should we check it out?”

“Sounds good to me!”

With that, John and Lucy made their way to the line. Lucy was talking John’s ear off about some new social media drama, but honestly John wasn’t listening, he was far too distracted by your beauty and the honey sweet tone of your voice. You had this way about you that was breathtaking, moving with grace and just so patient and kind to all the patrons who had been waiting in line. They were finally nearing the front of the line, and John had realized he hadn’t even looked at the menu.

“Hi there! What can I get for you?” You smiled at him.

“Hi, can I get a medium caramel latte and a lemon blueberry scone?” Lucy ordered with no hesitation.

“Of course! And for you?” You looked expectantly at John.

“I um, can I just get a black coffee and, no that’s all.” John stuttered.

Lucy looked over at him confused as she paid, and they walked over to stand near the pickup window. John took note of you disappearing from the window and a young man taking your place.

“Okay, I know that we did not just stand in that long line just for you to order a black coffee. What is up with you?” Lucy questioned John. “OH MY GOD! You think she’s cute, don’t you?”

“Okay, hush! I’d rather not scare the girl off before I even get a chance to talk to her.”

“Okay sorry! I’m just happy for you. You’ve been sulking ever since you and Bailey broke things off.”

“I have not been sulking…okay maybe I have. But I really thought she was it for me.”

“John and Lucy?” You called.

They made their way up to the window to pick up their orders.

“Alright Lucy, a caramel latte and a lemon blueberry scone, and for John a black coffee and a chocolate croissant.” I hope you guys have a wonderful day and stay safe!”

“Oh, I didn’t…” John started.

“Thank you so much, you have a wonderful day too!” Lucy cut John off and began to drag him away from the truck.

The two of them went to sit at a table with Tim, Aaron and Nyla for the rest of their lunch. They were all hoping it wouldn’t be cut short by a call coming in.

“Alright Nolan!” Aaron exclaimed as John sat down.

“What? What did I do?”

“The bag. The barista gave you her number!”

John turned the bag around and sure enough your name and phone number had been neatly printed along with a little heart. John looked at Tim, then Nyla and finally to Lucy. He hadn’t been expecting you to give him your number, especially not after he had made a complete fool of himself in front of you just moments before.

Just as Lucy was about to encourage him to text you, a call came ringing in over the radios. Everyone was quick to get up and head to their respective shops. John heard Tim and Lucy radio that they were responding, and that Nyla and Aaron were acting as backup. He figured they had it covered, and he would continue to patrol, but not before adding you into his contacts.

Three days.

It was three days before John had gathered the courage to text you. He hadn’t seen you either, since he’d worked through lunch one of the days, had a pretty big drug bust on the second day, and was assigned to the front desk on the third day. Today though, he had the day off and now was his time to text you and see if you would want to go on a date with him.

John: Hey, this is John. From the other day.

You: Hi! I was beginning to think that maybe I was too forward.

John: Oh, no, not at all! I’m sorry, things have just been really busy with work. I finally have a day off.

You: Okay, good! I’m sorry work has been keeping you busy. Hopefully you’ve been able to stay safe.

John: I have. Nothing too out of the ordinary this week. How have you been?

You: I’ve been good! I have been testing some new recipes and trying to figure out what to swap in for the fall season.

You: Speaking of which…would you like to be a taste tester for me? I could really use a customer’s perspective!

John: I would love to! By the way, that croissant was incredible. I was actually texting you to ask you to dinner.

You: Yeah, dinner and then we can go back to mine to try these desserts?

You: Wow that was also very forward…I’m not usually like this by the way!

John: No worries. I won’t read into it I promise. So tonight, can I pick you up at 7?

You: 7 is perfect, see you then John!

After confirming your plans with John, you kicked it into high gear. It was 10:07 a.m. and you had a lot to do before you’d be ready to go. You really needed to get your nails done, you needed to finish the 6 different pastries you’d been working on, and you’d really need to shower before you could get ready.

After doing some quick math in your head, you figured that you would have just enough time to get everything done provided you shower while some things were baking in the oven. With that, you place the pre-cut cookie dough into the freezer (these would be easy enough to pull out and bake later when you and John go back), you placed the muffins and two different loaves of bread in the oven. That just left the cake that you were actively frosting and the pie that was cooling. Once the cake was thoroughly iced, you threw the dishes in the dishwasher and headed towards the shower, not without checking your timer to make sure you’d have ample time.

You were sure to go through all the steps of what you’d consider a full shower, washing and conditioning your hair, washing your body with your best smelling body wash, and shaving essentially every inch of your body. You weren’t anticipating that anything would happen tonight, but you wanted to be prepared nonetheless and you’d make sure at the very least that you smelled good.

After drying off and throwing on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, you made way for the kitchen just in time to pull out the muffins and the bread. You set them out on the cooling rack, turned the oven off and then you headed to your favorite nail salon. They were able to get you in right away seeing as it was 12:00 p.m. on a Thursday.

Your nail appointment ended at about 1:30 p.m., which gave you enough time to head over and check on your staff and the truck. Upon arrival you noticed there were a few police cruisers parked along the curb. You knew John was off today, but you still found yourself scanning the crowd for him.  

“He’s not here.” Your staff, Ezra, had called over to you.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” You tried to hide your blush, embarrassed about getting caught looking for John. Ezra was the one who had encouraged you to give him your number in the first place, having seen how smitten you were with John when you’d met him the other day. Ezra and you had been friends for years, he could read you better than anyone.

“Mmhmm, sure thing. It was a different group this time around. What are you up to? Aren’t you supposed to be off testing new pastries?” Ezra questioned you.

“I was doing exactly that when John texted me and asked me out! I went and got my nails done and figured I would stop by and see how things were going before I went back home and got ready for my date.”

“OH MY GOD! See I told you that if you gave him your number, he’d ask you out. There were definite vibes the other day, he was so enamored by you that he forgot to look at the menu!” Ezra gushed.

“Okay, fine. You were right. I’m kind of nervous, he’s taking me to dinner, then we’re going back to my place so he can taste the new desserts and give me his opinions on them.”

“Girl, you are going to be fine! He seems nice and you are an amazing person, no reason to be nervous. Plus, what have you got to lose?” Ezra had always been your voice of reason in times of need.

“Okay, yeah. I should probably get going then so I can get ready.”

“Okay babe, have a great night! OH and you should wear the outfit you wore to our opening party, it screams you and its hot!”

“Oh, that was a good outfit, I don’t know where he’s taking me yet, but it should be dressy enough.”

You said your goodbyes to Ezra and made your way back home. It was nearing 3:30 p.m. and you knew you should probably start getting ready. You grabbed a glass of water and then got to styling your hair. You curled your hair and applied some natural looking makeup and went to get dressed. To pair with the faux leather skirt and starry mesh top, you slid on some black tights, comfy socks and your Doc Martens. Looking over at your alarm clock you see 6:45p.m. glowing red and you decide to switch to a smaller purse in the time you have left before your date…your usual everyday tote bag not exactly matching this outfit choice. You’d opted for a small leather handbag, with gold accents, it matched your outfit perfectly and was better suited for the occasion. As soon as you organized everything into the purse a knock sounded at the door. You took a deep breath then walked to answer it.

“Hi!” You greeted John as you opened the door.

“Wow, you look incredible.” John was awestruck, you had such a different style than the women he had previously dated, but he was really loving it. You were so confident in your own skin, and you just had this glow about you.

“Thank you, you look very handsome.”

“Shall we?” John gestured to his truck.

You nodded and the two of you walked around to the passenger side. John opened the door for you then offered his hand to assist you into the truck.

“Such a gentleman.”

John blushed at the compliment, he tried to shake it off as he started the truck and pulled out of your driveway. You made small talk on your way to the restaurant, which ended up being a very nice steakhouse.

John parked and looked over to you, he made note of the way you were inspecting the sign, and immediately panicked.

“I probably should have asked and made sure you weren’t a vegetarian!”

“I’m not! I love a good steak; my dad is a self-proclaimed grill master!” You laughed.

John laughed with you and let out a sigh of relief. He once again opened your door for you and reached to help you out of the truck. He was so different form the men you had dated before, so polite and caring. He listened to what you had to say and even asked you questions to learn more about you. It was so refreshing to be around someone like him. Truth is, you had dated some pretty terrible people in the past and that was the main reason you were single now. You’d decided to take a break from dating and focus on yourself and your career, which is how you’d gotten to the point of owning a very successful food truck. You had explained to John that your end goal is to have a brick-and-mortar location of Hallowed Grounds that was a café/bookstore. You wanted to create a cozy space for people to hangout while they enjoyed good food.

John just sat and smiled, he loved how you lit up when you spoke about it. Seeing you so passionate about something was honestly inspiring. He hadn’t expected the feelings for you to be so immediate, so strong, just crashing to the surface as the night went on. John could feel himself growing concerned about whether or not you were feeling as strongly for him as he was for you. The two of you had just clicked and it was so effortless.

What John didn’t know is you were currently battling the same demons. Was it really possible to be this comfortable with someone after such a short time?

Dinner had passed far too quickly for either of your likings, you were honestly just glad that you had already planned to continue this evening. You weren’t ready to say goodnight to John just yet. As John drove you back to your place, he took a risk by reaching for your hand to hold, you were quick to slide your hand into his and you couldn’t help but blush. John couldn’t believe how soft your hand was and it made him think about how rough his must be from his years as a contractor, he shook the thought away as you gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

You made it back to your place relatively quickly and John once again made sure to assist you on the passenger side, only this time instead of offering you his hand, he was a little bolder. He’d placed his hands on your waist and slowly helped you out of the truck. You stood there, chest to chest, your breath hitching from the proximity. Your gazes danced over one another’s face, shifting from eyes to lips back to eyes, silently asking for permission. When you slightly tilted your head, John understood and reached his right hand up to cup your jaw as he brought you in for a kiss. The kiss lasted for what felt like forever but ended far too soon. You wanted to exist in this moment infinitely.

You and John held hands once again as you staggered to the door. You made quick work of the lock and invited him in, guiding him to the kitchen.

“You ready to try some desserts?” You asked.

“Absolutely!” John replied.

You blushed, realizing the double entendre and moved to get all the desserts plated up. You explained to John that you’d need to throw the cookies in the oven, but they only took about 10 minutes to cook. He nodded and asked if you needed any help with anything, which you declined and encouraged him to relax.

John watched as you worked in the kitchen, this had been your element and it was like a well-choreographed dance, the way you moved. He couldn’t help but smile to himself, picturing the two of you like this, years down the road. He knew that you had only just met, but after tonight he couldn’t deny the connection. He realized he had been wrong when he said he would never fall in love again. That was true, until he met you.

#the rookie #john nolan #tim bradford #lucy chen #nyla harper #aaron thorsen #wade grey #angela lopez #wesley evers #john nolan x reader #john nolan x y/n #john nolan x you #the rookie fic #the rookie fanfic #the rookie fandom #tim bradford x reader #john x reader #john x y/n #john x you #the rookie one shot #john nolan one shot #john nolan fanfic #jackson west

[assumptionprime]

My Favorite Games I Played in 2023

(with no regard to when they came out. I don’t care. I played them this year)

Tears of the Kingdom

Breath of the Wild is my favorite game. Period. All time. And while Tears of the Kingdom didn’t dethrone it, it’s largely more of that same game I love so damn much. I don’t think any open world game has crafted a world I just love running around and doing whatever I want as much as these. It’s all so exactly my shit.

Bomb Rush Cyberfunk

This game filled a Jet Set Radio Future shaped hole I didn’t realize was in my heart. It’s kind of funny that Sega announced a new JSR game after an indie dev put out the best one. Great music, great throwback art-style, and simple gameplay that just hooked me in. Skating around the city hunting for secrets and stringing together combos is so damned fun. It’s just fun.

Slay the Princess

You’re on a path in the woods. And at the end of that path is a cabin. And in the basement of that cabin is the best visual novel I’ve ever played. It’s just excellent on every front: gorgeous hand-drawn art, a perfectly moody soundtrack, and a great script delivered with excellent performances. Slay the Princess is brutal, creepy, surprising, and sweet. It is, after all, a love story.

Tunic

If you somehow haven’t played it yet (as I hadn’t) Tunic is 2D Zelda crossed with a dash of Dark Souls and a whole lot of mystery. Despite an unassuming start, Tunic surprised me over and over. I’ve never seen a game handle information about itself like Tunic does. When I play through it a second time it will, it must, be a completely different experience because I know the game now. That’s kind of true about any game, but it’s especially true here.

Signalis

I don’t like horror. Movies, shows, games, whatever. I’m a big giant baby who doesn’t like being scared. And I absolutely loved Signalis. It’s Resident Evil gameplay crossed with Silent Hill style but then it’s set in space and 90% of the characters are android women. I heard a lot of strong recommendations, and decided to give it a shot. I set the combat to casual (and turned the brightness up a little after the first time an enemy screamed and surprised me from a dark corner) and got through. Signalis is dense with themes and imagery. The first thing I did after beating the game was watch multiple video essays discussing the story, and disagree with them. I’m gonna be thinking about it for a long time.

[darethshirl]

It was only after Astarion had finished the kill—after the gut-deep slash, the satisfying spurt of blood—that he realized he was being watched.

He looked over his shoulder. Cassiopeia stood in the midst of all the post-battle carnage, bright-eyed and slightly out-of-breath, a single streak of soot marring her forehead. The remnants of her magic still surrounded her, the tingling scents of ash and ozone tainting the air. The corpses of her enemies were spread out in a semi-circle around her, but she paid them no mind. Her attention was focused entirely on Astarion, her gaze sharp, appraising, and approving.

“You weren’t lying,” she said, a pleased curl to her lips as she approached him. “You really are stronger when you feed.”

Astarion let a smirk grace his face, making a bow that was so theatrical it wrapped back around to mocking. “Nature’s perfect killing machine, at your service.” He looked up from under his eyelashes, teeth sharp on his lips. “Aren’t you glad you kept me around, now?”

Cassiopeia’s smile twitched wider, though whether that was from amusement or some other hidden thought Astarion couldn’t tell. “We should make it a regular occurrence,” she said, ignoring his question. “You feeding on me, I mean.”

Astarion paused. He flicked a careful glance at her, shaking the blood off his dagger with a practiced motion. “Is that what you want?” he asked, then made his expression sweeten into something flirtatious. “All that delicious blood running through your veins—surely we shouldn’t squander it, hmm? It wouldn’t do to tire you out too much, darling.”

“I have blood enough,” Cassiopeia said, with all the supreme unconcern of the truly confident, “and I have power enough. The point is, why shouldn’t you be the strongest version of yourself? This is an advantage. We’d be fools to ignore it.“ She tilted her head then, her brow slightly furrowed, and for the first time since this conversation had started she looked less than perfectly certain. “I thought you’d want this.”

Astarion laughed darkly, hunger and resentment swirling in his belly. “Oh, I do.”

“Well, then.” Cassiopeia gave him a nod, graceful in her decisiveness. It seemed that, in her eyes, the conclusion was foregone. “Tonight.”

Later that day Astarion repaid her by observing her just as closely, keeping to the shadows of his tent as he hunted for her weak points. She and Gale lounged in the middle of the camp like highborn aristocrats, as if the wilderness around them was not mere trees and grass but Baldur’s Gate’s most fashionable parlor. Gale was leaning forward with his elbows on his thighs, his grand gestures animated by the strength of his own convictions. Cassiopeia sprawled back on her seat of stone and moss, loose and indolent like the elven nobility she in truth was. She stayed mostly quiet during Gale’s onslaught of words, with her chin resting carelessly on her palm and an air of indulgence to her silence, until—there: Astarion caught the moment where her smile turned from polite to haughty, the way her gaze flickered, just once, with benign contempt. 

Her breathtaking arrogance, her effortless superiority—it all tickled a memory buried deep inside Astarion’s mind, farther back than Cazador’s first cruelties. Far back in his misty, half-forgotten youth, Astarion had rubbed elbows with the same-such nobles, and he’d been drawn exactly to that type: men and women who wielded power like a deadly scalpel, their every smile a disdainful caress that sliced through skin. Astarion had thrilled at the challenge of catching their attention, posturing and flittering and pushing past boundaries like a suicidal moth diving straight into the flame. He hadn’t managed to conquer any of those untouchable beings—he hadn’t had the time—but the remembered warmth of his occasional victories still glowed within him. His flirtations had drawn blood in their own right. Once upon a time, he’d held influence too.

He’d been lost in reverie for too long; Cassiopeia caught his gaze from across the camp and kept it, staring back with no outward sign of discomfort, focused and nonchalant at the same time. Her expression was inscrutable, too polished for cracks or flaws.

Astarion scowled, and pushed all thoughts away.

(Keep reading on ao3)

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion x tav #tavstarion #my writing #sorry im too lazy to put tags and stuff this time ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[navibluebees]

Someone to be Proud of (Recom Quaritch x Female Human Reader)

Please read before interacting.

When I saw The Way of Water, I was not expecting Recom Quaritch to be so attractive. Completely unfair. I hope you enjoy this! Smut with a bit of fluff~ Minors DNI, this is not for your eyeballs.

You tip- toed down the hall and crept past each door, making sure not to make any noise. You finally got to his door and pressed your ear to it. Hmm. Nothing. You pulled away and started to turn, thinking maybe you’d get to run into him later. You both had eyed each other from across the room earlier and he’d dipped his head to you, scanning down your body while continuing his conversation with one of his soldiers. You’d flushed so extremely that you had to leave the room, missing him watching as you walked away. His body reacted and he fought the feeling away, so unfamiliar in this new self. 

Lost in thought, you hadn’t realized someone had stepped right up behind you and when you turned, your face was inches away from a towel-clad waist. Afraid to look up, your wide eyes darted to the floor. 

“Can I help you with anything?” The familiar drawl sent a shiver through your whole body and you shook your head, not making a sound. His body lowered, kneeling on one knee, his face right above eye level now. You continued staring down, focused on his clavicle now. A single drop of water slid down his chest and you averted your eyes again, feeling the fiery blush make its way across your neck and chest. He leaned in, mouth right next to your ear. He sniffed your hair and said, “Mmm.. Shy, are we?”

Your knees buckled and you started to fall. His arm came around your waist and spun you, your back to his chest, him bracing you against his knee. You could feel his cock through the towel against the back of your thigh and tried not to react. “Woah! There you go. You’re alright. Do you want to come in?”

~~~

A few minutes later, you were sitting on his bed, eyes covered with your hands while he gathered his clothes to put on. He turned at one point and chuckled quietly at how cute you looked trying to give him privacy. He might have held the memories of his former self, but he could tell something was different aside from just the body. He had been with women before, but now he felt so awkward and unsure and your mere presence made him so nervous, he could barely stand it. 

The bed dipped beside you and you shifted with the weight falling against him. You dropped your hands and scrambled to right yourself, ended up grabbing his thigh, his arm braced behind you. Your hand flinched and you started to pull away. “Leave it,” he commanded softly. “I saw you looking at me earlier.”

You became bold with his direct assessment. “You only know because you were looking, too.” Your eyes slowly rose to meet his. Daring to stare into them, he grinned cheekily at you.

“I sure was, darlin’. I hope I wasn’t bothering you.”

A nervous giggle escaped and his ears turned toward you, coming out a bit more on the sides. The end of his tail peeked out from the towel and twitched anxiously. He was drawn in by your sweet nature. You had come on the ship that the recoms were on and had been helpful when the team had any questions about equipment or locations on the ship. He was always hovering near your desk, hoping to interact with you, just desperately craving a moment of your attention.

The past week, he risked watching you more closely, hoping you would look back. Today, he got his wish. You had been sitting, tapping a pencil against your desk as you stared at reports that never seemed to have the answers you needed. Dropping the pencil, you started to rifle through papers, finally finding what you were searching for. “Aha!” You immediately dropped your head down to your desk muttering, “Sorry,” to the heads that turned your way. You missed him leaning against another desk, smiling crookedly at you while Wainfleet chattered away.

“You weren’t bothering me, honestly I thought I might have been the one bothering you.. you’re just nice to look at.”

“Agh,” he scoffed. “Only nice?”

You opened your mouth, afraid you had offended him and looked up to see him pursing his lips to avoid laughing. Brow furrowing and face heating in embarrassment, you pushed him weakly in the chest and avoided his eyes. His hand came up and covered yours and he leaned down, his cheek barely an inch from yours. “I’m just riling you up; I don’t mean anything by it.”

Feeling a bit bashful, you leaned in to his side and his arm moved to curl around you. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” You shook your head no and snuggled a bit closer to his warmth. His arm was so long that his hand was resting beside your thigh. You pulled your hand from his chest and picked his hand up in both of yours, marveling at his fingers and palm, placing yours against his. With a quick motion, he interlocked your fingers and you laughed at the sheer size difference. Another quick motion later and he’d moved you to straddle him, lifting you up to resting on your knees, he cupped your ass in one hand and reached his other hand to your neck, grasping at your hair. 

You whined, and he marveled at your sweet smile. He rested his forehead against your chest and your arms wound around his neck, gently massaging the back of his shoulders. A hand drifted up and you rubbed behind his ear. He shuddered and started purring then jerked back, pulling you with him on the bed. He looked ruffled and immediately started to apologize, but you gently kissed his cheek. “It’s alright, Colonel. You didn’t hurt me.”

“Um.. if you could, I’d really like to be called Miles. I just didn’t know I could do that.”

“Hmm. It was cute.” You flashed a grin and his eyes brightened, smiling back at you. “My name’s Y/N.”

“You think I didn’t already know that?” He asked with a smirk.

He rolled onto his side, moving you to your back. He propped himself up with an elbow and looked down at you, enjoying the company of another person who had no expectations of him. Someone he could just relax with. His towel slipped down and he blushed, reaching down to adjust it and pull it up.

“Don’t worry,” you said. “I’ve got it.”

His body tensed as you traced a gentle finger down his stomach. He shook when you moved the finger under the towel and pulled gently at where it was folded. “Is this alright, Miles?”

His eyes widened at the intimate use of his name and he nodded. Your hand pulled harder at the towel, tugging his hips closer. You were already wet and he sniffed, suddenly able to smell it. He nearly groaned out loud but tried to keep it in, aware his new size was intimidating. You finally worked the towel off and his cock sprang out, coming up between the two of you. He looked almost shy when you glanced back up at him so you shot him a reassuring smile. Your hand gripped him at the base, your finger tips not even meeting, he was so big. Your hand pumped gently, adjusting to his size and easing him into it. He rolled onto his back and you followed him, moving between his legs. You played with his cock, watching his eyes roll back and how hard he fought whines. You nipped gently at the inside of his leg and he jumped. “You don’t have to keep your noises quiet, Miles. Let me hear you.”

Your mouth wrapped around his tip and a sharp hiss came out of him as he clawed at the sheets, trying to resist grabbing your hair. You were getting so wet hearing him moan your name, watching him try to hold back. You licked carefully and teasingly all over him, leading to him eyeing you earnestly. “If you’re going to do it, just get to it already!”

Shocked, you pulled back and he winced, “Sorry, too mean?”

A laugh burst from you and you crawled back up his body, squeezing his sides with your thighs. He gripped your waist tightly as you leaned down and kissed him softly. “No, not too mean, Miles. You’re fine.” His fangs poked your lip as he bit down softly. He kissed you back, gently, almost afraid to hurt you. He nudged your chin up with his nose and kissed down your neck and whined, pulling at your clothes. You sat up, pulling your shirt over your head. He eyed you hungrily, watching your breasts move with the motion of it. You were already braless, having gotten ready for bed before you went to see if he was in his room. You maneuvered your shorts off and paused. “Hey, Miles.. Are you seeing anyone right now?”

He tugged you down to him and rolled to his side, your chests pressing together and tapped your nose. “Nope. Nobody but the pretty lady I’m looking at right now. You blushed and ducked your head, arms coming up to cross over your chest in a shy moment. He brought his hand up and tugged your arms down. “Don’t hide from me. Please.” His eyes were pleading as they gazed into yours.

“Sorry.. I’ve just never done this before. I mean not with one of the Avatars.”

He laughed deeply and said, “Me either, hun. We can learn together.”

Smiling sweetly at him, he grinned toothily and rolled on top of you. His weight pressed you into the mattress, but he held himself up enough to not crush you. His length rested on your stomach and his balls were down between your legs, brushing against your sensitive folds. You whimpered for him, making him more eager to please. He kissed down your neck and chest, cupping a breast in his huge hand. He licked at your nipples and sucked, tugging softly with his teeth. Your body writhed under his and he groaned from the friction of his cock rubbing on the blankets. He continued with his mouth and reached between the two of you, running the tip of a giant finger between your folds to the edge of your pussy. He slid it in slowly, pulling back to watch while you whined and gripped his arms. He worked that finger in and out carefully, indulging in the feel of you around a part of him.

He started to add another finger and you tightened sharply, startling him. “Oof. Damn. It’s alright, doll. I’ve got you. Just relax.”

You looked up to his concerned eyes. He smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead, then curled his fingers and pulled them slowly toward him. Your body trembled around his and he almost lost it right there. His tail flicked and wrapped around your calf, keeping you close as possible. He worked his fingers in and out, making sure you were wet. “You ready for me?”

You nodded and caressed his cheek. “Yes, Miles. Please, I need you.” 

He took his cock in hand, still shocked by how large he was compared to you. He rubbed himself teasingly between your folds, gently tapping it against you. He found your opening and pressed experimentally, trying to see if he would fit well. You whined and moved against him. He rubbed between your folds again, hesitant to hurt you. “Damn, Miles if you’re going to do it, just get to it already!” 

He snarled playfully at you for throwing his words back at him. He pulled your legs up around his waist and pressed in harder. It was so difficult to take him, but he talked you through it. “You’ve got it. Just a little more. Nnn. Oh!” He gasped as his head popped in and you were linked. He paused a moment, checking on you and then pushed more. He gave a gentle thrust that rocked your body with his. He thrusted again, working a bit deeper. He continued small thrusts in and out until he was almost fully seated. “Just a bit more. Almost there, darlin’.” He looked for permission and you nodded, breathless. He thrust once more, harder this time. He groaned loudly when you clenched tightly, bracing a hand on the wall above you. Tears slid from the corners of your eyes and you sniffled quietly. When he returned to himself and saw your face, he panicked. “Oh. Oh, no. No no sweetheart. Are you alright? I’m so sorry.” He started to pull away and you tightened your legs. 

“Don’t move, Miles. I just need a minute.” He nodded and stayed still, hovering over you, wincing at each squeeze of you around him. Finally, he felt your hips roll against his, and he glanced down seeing you grinning impishly at him. 

“Why, you little..” He thrust roughly into you and you moaned his name and clutched to him. He thrust again and you writhed against him. Sensing your pleasure, he continued his rhythm and watched you come undone underneath him. His balls slapped your ass loudly and you marveled at him moving above you. At one point, you met each others eyes again. Sweat slid down your chests as you grinned at each other. He lifted your hips suddenly, working you with a different angle.

“Y/N.” Your eyes snapped to his in question. “Touch yourself. Now.”

You gaped at him and didn’t move, aroused by this side of his personality.

“Y/N. Did I stutter? I’ll be nice once. Then I won’t.”

Deciding to save his threat for another day, you reached between your legs, his pace relentless and stroked your clit, finding a rhythm that matched his movement. Your legs shook around his sides and he gripped a thigh with his hand that wasn’t braced on the wall. He started to thrust erratically. “Damn. “Nnnn. Y/N. I won’t.. I can’t make it much longer. Cum. With me. Now.”

Your movements picked up slightly, rubbing yourself while you watched his face. Vulnerability showed in his eyes so you offered a smile. He was so weak for you. “Let go, Miles.”

He growled as he shot his cum inside you, saying your name like a prayer, jerking when you came and squeezed around him. You moved your hand and pulled him down to you, face buried in his chest, breathing heavily. He got ready to move and you hugged him close with your thighs again, causing a low rumble of a chuckle to move through his chest. “I won’t leave ya, sweetheart. I’m staying right here.” Reluctantly, you loosened your grip and he grunted, pulling out. You felt dampness on your thighs as it slid out of you. He sat back between your legs and gently cleaned you with the towel. He pulled the blankets down, lifting you easily so he could pull them up and over to cover you. You protested weakly. 

He grinned, swatting your hands away. “Stay with me tonight. I don’t want to let you go.” He rolled to his back and you gave in with only an unconvincing protest as argument. “Uh, huh. That was very believable.” He rolled onto his back and pulled you close. You were curled up on your side and he curled an arm protectively around you and pulled your top leg across his hips. You snuggled in closer in his embrace, the happiest you’d been in a long time. He laid quietly for a while. Hoping he could find it in him to be good. Hoping there was some part of him that wasn’t who he was programmed to be and maybe that he’d learn more about soon. Someone you could be proud of.

#miles quaritch #recom quaritch #avatar way of water #avatar fanfiction #avatar movie #avatar smut #miles quaritch smut

[eeblouissant]

maybe you have done it before but if not/if it's sth you'd like to do (again :D) what about young versions of Blanche and Rose? I mean we see Dorothy as a young woman but not the other two. I keep thinking about how I would design them & keep realizing that I would have to research a bit of fashion history first to get them right. I absolutely think it would be an interesting challenge (& maybe I'll find the time myself at some point) ✨

here they areee !!! i hadn’t drawn them all next to each other yet so I thought I’d use this ask as an excuse to :D

I had a few Dorothy thoughts while drawing so I’m putting them here (I don’t want to lose them) (it was basically all just how Dorothy would have reacted had they met younger & attempted to be friendly, kinda sorta. They got a little off topic but you get the idea 😭)

Dorothy would be so painfully envious, for obvious reasons. To a point that it would just have been too mentally straining for her to have found their friendship at any other time in her life. In my head younger Dorothy was a very bitter person & it was a product of her situation. She was (& continues to be sometimes, although much less-so in current-canon) severely depressed & in survival mode. she dealt with dissociation, & wasn’t really all there (sometimes she prayed for it) through most of the 38 years she was married to Stan. It began as a stress response out of her control, & was triggered initially by the wedding, that she’d eventually learned to “manipulate”. So – any time she’d see women her age getting excited to discuss the idea of children with their husbands while she had a four & two year old on her hip, or go off & live their lives with nothing tying them down, other college students just out enjoying their world - where hers had been ruined before it could have even begun - she becomes cruel. It’s internal mostly, & she never makes it known. But knowing that she will never have that, that she was forced to give it up for someone that wasn’t even worth it in the end - all of it leaves her a numb kind of angry. I think she dealt with some kind of anticipatory grief, assuming no change in her future. I could write an essay on Dorothy & dissociation (& how living with Rose & Blanche finally helped her come to one morning, out of no where) but I’ll spare you for now. There’s just no other way her body & mind could have possibly reacted oh my god she needs a hug. SHE WAS SO YOUNG?!!

Anyways - basically, they would have never lasted had they met during Dorothy’s marriage to Stan, because Dorothy would have removed herself from them very quickly.

#the golden girls #i love drawing Dorothy in the most obnoxious poses #she’s got silly posture to me #<- the Stress™️ #she’s just lanky & it’s fun to draw #she’s supposed to be leaning on something. pretend she’s leaning on something #anyways aghh young rose seriously has my heart here #dorothy zbornak #blanche devereaux #rose nylund #golden wives #art #artist #asks

[tiredcowpoke]

A BETTER EVENING

Pairing: Molly O'Shea x Fem!Reader Request: Anon sent “Hey! I was wondering if you’d ever consider writing Molly? Something about an angsty molly/f!reader just makes me 😩. An “I can treat you so much better” type situation and both are aware there’s feelings there? (one-sided or otherwise! however it comes to you!). Smut if you are up to it, but no pressure at all!“ Warnings: Cheating (emotional, at least), pretty Dutch critical, angst, pining. Note: I'm upset I had to take forever with this, but I'm always down to write something with Molly. lol Thank you for requesting, anon, and I hope this at least lives up to your expectations? Regardless, I hope you all enjoy.

She disappeared down the shoreline again, fists clenched and arms swinging at her sides as if she was going to punch whoever might appear at the end of her march.

A part of you, not born out of frustration toward her or her situation, almost wished that she’d just keep going. You had seen and heard her issues with Dutch, that she had taken a punch from Karen a day or so back for some sort of fight between the two of them, and you knew she would fare better if she just left. Yet, you knew she wouldn’t. She was loyal to Dutch, she loved Dutch, and you could see her trying to win his affections back.

Given how he’d been acting around Mary-Beth, who was unwillingly dragged into this mess without wanting to be, you had found yourself biting your tongue a few times from making a comment or two to him about everything. Yet, you knew your time would be better spent giving Molly your time. Things had been good between you two–you had been warned by the other women a few times about her temperament and how Molly kept her distance. You still found a way to get her to talk with you–it wasn’t hard, back in Horseshoe. Spirits were high, or better than they had been since Colter, but now things felt…different.

Molly was distancing herself. Didn’t really want to talk with you for too long, and her anger was rearing its head a lot more since the gang had moved camps. With her and Dutch going head-to-head most days, you couldn’t blame her for the foul moods.

Still, you wanted to try. Even if it was a small conversation or she would brush you off.

Upon seeing her sit down on a rock just out of eyesight from most of the camp, you started to make your way over toward her. There was some apprehension to your movements–at most, you just didn’t want to ruin her day more than it already has been. It wasn’t even midday yet and she was sitting out on her own again after another shouting match. You knew you would have to tread carefully, at least.

“Molly?” you asked once you came within a couple steps of her.

She glanced toward you, eyes sharp but you could tell from the puffiness that she was holding back the tears. Seeing her like this, it pulled at something in your chest–sympathy, but also anger toward Dutch. You realized you were about to give her the apology that he wouldn’t.

“That was horrible…” you started, “I’m sorry. I know things aren’t good with you, but I just wanted to check on you.”

“I’m fine,” she stated, voice tight. You didn’t believe that for a second, but you didn’t press as you gestured toward the space beside her.

“You mind if I sit?”

“Go ahead,” she replied shortly.

With a small exhale, you finally crossed the space between you two and sat down beside her. You looked out at the river, the islands across from you that were still shrouded in the morning mist. Even with the tension, you didn’t want to speak. To push Molly into talking when she didn’t want to. Yet, you just…wanted her to know you were there, you supposed. You had wanted that more than you cared to admit, and not just within situations like your current one.

You knew you were just putting yourself into more pain in the end, but it was hard not to feel drawn to her. Yet, you knew you couldn’t act on it. As far as you were aware, Molly hadn’t made any signals that she returned your sentiments, and you knew trying to pursue the woman who was with your gang’s leader was just asking for trouble. Reason pointed largely toward why it was a bad idea, but you couldn’t seem to help yourself.

You had wanted to see her smile. See her laugh. Anything other than the shouting and crying that you had seen out of her as of late.

“I don’t know what to do,” Molly admitted, pulling you out of your thoughts as you glanced toward her. Her voice was shaky and tired, her Irish accent thick with the tears you could hear she was holding back.

“I know you’re all watchin’ me, too,” she continued, the venom in her voice taking you aback somewhat, “Just waitin’ for the next show–well, I’m sure you’ll all keep gettin’ it.”

“I’m not finding any amusement,” you said, tone even despite the anger that clearly sat her own. “You’re one of the first people I got close to in this camp. I care about you.”

Molly turned to glance over at you, then. While she didn’t say anything, you could see her expression shift. The sharp gaze she gave you when you first approached fell away to something a little softer, though you could clearly see the hurt in her eyes before she turned to look away from you. This place was draining her–clearly. You could see that, and you knew others did too. Yet, you had the feeling that you might be one of the few, if not the only one, to try to talk to her directly about it.

“Let’s get out of here,” you said, the words slipping out without much thought, as much as you knew an idea had been forming in your head.

“What?”

“Just for a while,” you continued, “I know a quiet place that would be nice for the afternoon. I…well, I think we both could use some time away from here.”

“I…I don’t know,” Molly replied after a pause, looking conflicted. You raised your hands somewhat in a placating gesture–you didn’t want to stress her out, but you thought that maybe it would be nice for her. You knew nobody else was going to, anyway.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought I would offer. I can lead my horse around, you won’t even have to explain it to anybody else. It’s not like I’m asking you to rob a bank with me or anything.”

Molly seemed to debate that for a few moments–in that time, though, you had noticed a change in her body language. Even if it was just a suddenness of the offer, she seemed to perk up somewhat at the idea, even if she hadn’t voiced it out loud just yet.

“…Not for too long,” she settled on, making a small grin appear on your face.

***

You appreciated the shift in temperature from Lymone into New Hanover.

Perhaps more than you did when the gang had been staying in Horseshoe, but the current camp was stifling in more ways than just the tension you had noticed in places. While it wasn’t a major drop in temperature, you didn’t want to go too far out, it felt like you could breathe a little easier. Well, as much as you could in the current situation.

Honestly, you were a little nervous as your horse trotted along at an easy pace, you being all too aware of the passenger you had behind you on the horse. Molly’s hands rested on your hips, the two of you not really talking much on the journey toward a little spot you knew from a while ago. A place you took off to from time to time to be alone with your thoughts, or when camplife got to you a little too much. It was quiet, isolated, and sometimes it felt like you were separated from reality for a while. Little peaceful places like that, you had learned to appreciate where you could.

You didn’t know if Molly would get the same experience, but you hoped so. At the end of the day, you were just hoping that perhaps it would give her a chance to relax. To get away from the camp, Dutch, and all the rest. (As much as a small part of you did wish that it’d be your company that would help her do that, but you didn’t want to put her in that position. As much as your mind tormented you with the idea from time to time.)

“I haven’t done this in a long while, you know,” Molly said suddenly, pulling you from your thoughts as you turned your head toward her somewhat over your shoulder. “Dutch used to take me on rides like this before, but…not so much anymore.”

“…He’s busy these days. You know how he is,” you offered in reply, though your tone betrayed the fact that you didn’t put much heart into your defense of Dutch. It kind of felt like a knee-jerk reaction, sometimes. You cleared your throat somewhat, perking up a little. “Though, I’m happy to take you out for a bit. It’s not too far now, I think.”

“Ya don’t have to defend him to me, you know,” she said, “He…I just want someone to tell me that they see what I do.”

“What do you see?” you asked after a pause.

“That he’s…different, now,” Molly said, you feeling her hands tighten a bit on your hips as she shifted on the back of your horse as you steered down toward a familiar patch of trees.

“A lot of things have changed lately, haven’t they?” you asked, “Not to dismiss your concerns…”

“Yes, but…” Molly trailed off, sounding a little frustrated but you were glad that at least she wasn’t bottling it all up. “Even before Blackwater, you saw how he was. I thought things were getting better in Horseshoe, but now he has no time for me. Can’t help but resent the man.”

“I can’t say I know him that well,” you said, “I’ve only been around for…maybe half a year? Yet…well, I’ve seen the way you two yell at each other now, so I can’t say I haven’t noticed a change.”

“Mortifyin’, that’s what that is,” Molly muttered, “I just don’t want to sit there and take it. I just want him to listen.”

“I know,” you replied, reaching a hand back to grasp at her own where she was gripping your shirt, “Dutch…he…Don’t tell anybody I said this, but it feels like doesn’t listen to anybody unless they are agreeing with him. From what I’ve seen, anyway. He may change. Come to his senses or something…”

God, listening to yourself say those last couple of sentences didn’t make you believe you believed what you were saying. Molly didn’t say anything in return–you couldn’t blame her. You wanted to respect her relationship with him; and for all you had to say, Dutch did help you out. Yet, you really didn’t want to force yourself to defend the man you saw hurting someone you cared about, day after day. You knew Molly hurled her own share back at him, but after seeing what happened with Mary-Beth and her discomfort, you couldn’t help but want to stand with Molly.

It wasn't your place to get involved, anyway. Not directly, at least. You could just offer her things like this, you supposed.

Finally, after making sure to take a path into the clearing that wouldn’t get you both smacked by tree branches, you arrived at the little clearing. The little stream, some rabbits running off into the bushes on the other side and the early evening sunlight giving you plenty of shade. You steered your horse to a stop near a tree, slipping out of the saddle first before offering your hands out to Molly for some help down with a somewhat awkward chuckle.

She took your offered help, slipping off the side of your horse with your assistance, gripping onto your hands as she glanced around herself. You couldn’t help but notice the freckles that dotted her cheeks, a few strands of her red hair resting against her shoulders as you still gripped her hands in your own. Your heart was beating hard, both worried about her reaction and the fact that you were still standing like you were.

Finally, you dropped your hands to your sides as you looked around yourself before giving Molly a small grin.

“Like I said, it’s not a gala or anything, but it’s nice.”

“I don’t think I could handle anythin’ more than this,” Molly said, “It’s…quiet.”

You made a sound of agreement, moving toward one of the trees to rest under as you gave Molly the option to follow. Really, you couldn’t say you had many hobbies that you could do in a place like this, but just taking in the relative quiet was enough for you. Though, you noticed Molly walking over to join you after a few moments, lowering herself down to sit next to you as you glanced toward her.

She pulled her legs up to her chest somewhat, crossing her arms on her knees as she looked off at the treeline across from you both. It was probably the most casual you had seen her.

“I used to look for places like this to write poetry,” Molly commented, making you raise your eyebrows at her somewhat.

“You’re a poet?”

She chuckled lightly at that, the sound pulling at your heart a little. “I appreciate the flattery, but I wouldn’t say that. I don’t write nearly enough.”

“You could always pick it up again,” you encouraged, “I’ve seen Arthur with his journal many times, Sean and his whittling. Javier and his guitar, even Uncle with the banjo…”

“I know, but…” Molly started with a small shrug of her shoulders, “I don’t think I could write the same. About nature, love, folktales…things have changed too much.”

“I don’t think that means you should stop…” you replied, “Not to pressure you. Just…well, I know Mary-Beth writes romance, but I doubt Arthur’s journal is sunshine and rainbows. It’s a way to express yourself, I guess.”

“I never took you for the creative sort,” Molly commented in some mild amusement, which made you huff.

“I just think I’m overcompensating for the fact that I don’t have a creative bone in my body.”

“Well…I don’t think many people have encouraged my poetry in a long while,” Molly admitted after a few moments, “Thank you.”

“Of course,” you said with a nod, glancing down at the tips of your shoes, “You deserve to have people supporting you.”

“You…always do that,” Molly said after another pause, which had you glancing back toward her, “Since we’ve met. You go out of your way to lift my spirits. I know I don’t appreciate that enough.”

“I just…” you started, squeezing your hands together, “I want to help. I like you–your company. I think you deserve better than a passing greeting or…” Dutch, you wanted to say. You deserve better than Dutch. “I know you appreciate it. You don’t have to say it.”

“…Why me?” Molly asked, the question taking you a little off guard. “You’re friendly with others, but you go out of your way for me…”

“I…It’s…” you said, trying not to stammer as you could feel your heart in your throat, “I mean…you have to know by now, right? I appreciate your company and friendship a lot, and I shouldn’t even say anything more, but…I’m sweet on you.”

“You’re sweet on me?” Molly asked, her tone not quite as shocked and put-off as you had been expecting. “That…makes sense, I just never thought…”

“You don’t have to say or do anything,” you said, meeting her gaze with your serious one, “I just know that you deserve better than Dutch. I know you love him, but I’d hate to see you chasing after someone who isn’t there anymore. The idea of him, at least. I don’t want to say I’d be the one who would be better for you, but…I just think you deserve better than to be brushed off and ignored. Certainly better than being condescended to and yelled at.”

Your gaze had dropped as you spoke, feeling like you were saying too much and should stop while you were ahead. Yet, it was all true. You knew you had felt some sort of way toward her for a while now, and to see her and Dutch had taken on a particular sting. Especially with how things had been lately. Still, it wasn’t your place. You were expecting to be told off or something along those lines, and you’d understand that.

So, you were surprised when she leaned into you, her head resting against your shoulder as she wrapped her arms around your middle. You returned the embrace, holding onto her as she didn’t say anything. You knew it was a lot to take in, and you were concerned that you had ruined things, but this reaction was a bit of a relief. You rubbed your hand over her shoulder lightly in a small, soothing gesture.

“Regardless of how you feel about this now or later, I just wanted you to hear that from somebody,” you muttered, Molly nodding before she pulled back somewhat.

It looked like she might say something for a few moments, but instead she just reached out for your arm again as she leaned her head against your shoulder. You sighed, turning your head and pressed a small kiss to her hairline before pulling back to look across the clearing where some rabbits had returned to graze.

“I know,” you muttered.

#my writing. #molly o'shea x reader

[27dragons]

New Year Countdown: Dec 23

In theory, this is a steampunk AU, but I don't know how well I achieved that. Steampunk was tisfan's thing, mostly. I did amuse myself with how I fit the prompt into it, though, so that's something. :D

Dec 23 - Geraskier - Steampunk AU - Jingle Bells

Geralt watched the giant dirigible descend with a near-tangible sense of dread. “Do I have to do this?”

“You owe me,” Jaskier returned. He latched his leather sailing coat closed and gave the gear several turns to ensure it stayed fastened snugly in the brisk winds of the upper atmosphere, his sleeves jingling merrily as they moved. “It’s only a party, Geralt. No need to look so glum.”

“I’ve every reason to look glum,” Geralt grumbled, but he managed to fasten his own coat without fumbling too much, or setting off the bedamned bells on his own sleeves any more than was necessary. He didn’t wear this sort of thing often, preferring to keep his feet on the ground whenever possible. When it wasn’t, he’d rather be wearing leathers, not a nobleman’s unnecessarily complicated clothing. And definitely not the latest fashion for putting miniature bells on the extremities of the clothing to jangle and tinkle with every tiny motion. “I look like a fool.”

“You look extremely delectable,” Jaskier corrected, fussing with his collar.

Jaskier would think that; he had supplied the clothing after demanding that Geralt accompany him to the event. Popinjay that the bard was, Geralt supposed it probably looked acceptable, or more precisely, would look acceptable on anyone other than Geralt. Jaskier had at least dressed Geralt in relatively dark colors -- probably to ensure that his own garish things drew even more attention, but Geralt couldn’t help but be grateful for it, nonetheless.

The dirigible finished docking, and Geralt followed Jaskier toward the boarding gondola. “Whose wife did you sleep with this time?” he wondered.

Jaskier turned an offended look his way that was entirely manufactured and not the result of any actual offense. “How could you say such a thing?”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Daughter?”

Jaskier pressed his hand to his chest. “On my word of honor!”

Geralt raised an eyebrow.

Jaskier grinned and nudged Geralt toward the gondola. “It was Lady Dorester’s husband, actually,” he murmured.

Geralt did not turn to stare at Jaskier, but he startled badly enough to make his bells give out a muted silvery jangle. He hadn’t realized Jaskier slept with men. Geralt had only seen the bard with women whenever they were together.

If he’d known, he might have said something. Well, no, he probably wouldn’t have. But he might have said something. He might have done something.

On board the dirigible, phlogiston lamps gave the decorated ballroom a bright glow, and some enterprising alchemist had found a way to make it snow over the dance floor.

A server offered drinks; Geralt took one without really noticing it, he was so preoccupied with the sudden shift in his world view.

“Lady Dorester’s husband?” he repeated, wanting to make sure he’d heard it correctly.

“Not so loud!” Jaskier looked slightly flustered, which he never did when recounting his shameless exploits with women. “She’s terrifying. So if she tries to talk to me, you should ask her to dance. No one would be able to turn you down, not looking like that.” He waved a hand at Geralt illustratively.

“No one?” Geralt wondered softly. Jaskier didn’t hear, having been drawn into conversation with another guest.

While Jaskier wasn’t paying attention, Geralt carefully snapped the bells off his sleeves. For Jaskier’s sake, he didn’t mind looking like a jester, but he was damned if he was going to sound like one.

And if he was going to dance tonight, it certainly wouldn’t be with Lady Dorester.

#my writing #countdown to 2024 #the witcher #geraskier #steampunk au

[lieutenantwilliamrusso]

It Will Come Back 5

Warnings: Stalking, Masturbation (m/f), 18+ minors DNI

A/N: Poor sleepy Billy

Billy Russo is a millionaire. A CEO. He’s got a wine cooler full of hundred-dollar bottles and a freezer full of hundred-dollar steaks. He can travel anywhere he wants and buy anything he’s ever needed. But he’s sitting on your kitchen floor crunching on dog kibble because of the way your lips quirk into a pout when you realize he doesn’t like it.

When you had gone out on Friday night, Billy had turned right away, following you and your friends to the bar you’d gone to the first time he had seen you. It had blown him away, as he’d ordered a beer and stuck to the crowded corners of the room, how much he’d come to need you in only a week. He’d get agitated if he couldn’t see you, morose when your scent faded from his clothes as he brushed shoulders with the crowd.

He’d observed you closely as you’d pounded drink after drink, wondering if he’d have to come over as a concerned bystander to help carry you home. But soon enough, you were piling into an Uber behind your friends and he was turning to run through the park and beat your home.

When you’d arrived, just a few minutes after him, he could smell the alcohol on you. And while Billy didn’t mind being petted by four attractive women, he’d just wanted to be alone with you, to make sure you were okay.

When your friends finally left, giving him their final scratches and pats, he’d tracked your movements closely, eyeing your stumbles and trips. He’d curled up next to you in bed, listening in case you’d needed to be sick.

After you were fast asleep, Billy had turned again, cleaning the pace up and leaving you some water. You’d definitely be needing it. He’d then laid beside you, naked apart from the collar he’d been too worried about you to remove, and watched you sleep. You’d looked calm, unbothered as your perfect chest had risen and fallen. Your sweet lips parted just slightly, and Billy hadn’t been able to help wondering what they’d feel like wrapped around his cock, getting redder and wetter with each thrust between them. He’d grown hard almost instantly, but he’d ignored it in favor of kissing your head, and wrapping his arms around you as you’d slept. You had wriggled a bit, pressing back into him and Billy knew in that moment he’d never regret any of this, as long as he could hold you. - The routine the two of you create continues as the next week begins and crawls on, the last dregs of summer swirling down the drain. Billy doesn’t give kibble any more tries, and you don’t make him. He also realizes he can’t make Frank do his job any longer, and Billy returns to work Tuesday morning, arriving soon after you leave for your own job. He knows you have to go grocery shopping after work, so he’s got some extra time to get home without looking suspicious.

He narrowly avoids Frank all day, not really into talking about anything that isn’t you. When 5pm rolls around, he finishes the last of the paperwork on his desk and packs up to leave when there’s a knock on his door. So close.

“Come in!” Billy calls.

“Hey, man,” Frank replies, entering Billy’s office and taking a seat. “Where you been?”

“Everywhere,” Billy chuckles. “A real busy weekend.”

If only Frank knew.

“Sure.” Frank replies, the glint in his eye saying he doesn’t buy Billy’s bullshit at all.

Billy sighs and leans back in his leather chair, hands folding across his stomach.

“What can I do for you, Frankie?”

“Why don’t you tell me what’s really goin’ on?” Frank shoots back.

Billy knows better than to lie, Frank can probably smell the dishonestly rolling off Billy in waves.

“There’s…a girl,” Billy begins.

Frank grins, but stays cool, only replying, “Ok..”

“And…I- my wolf, me, we’re drawn to her. Her smell is like nothing I’ve ever experienced Frank, I can’t stay away from her.” Billy says, leaving out the way he’s been fucking living in your apartment without you knowing.

Frank ponders Billy’s words, schooling his expression before he answers.

“You know they say, when you meet your mate, they smell better than anything. It’s how you know you’re biologically compatible, have a better chance at…reproducing.”

Huh. Billy hadn’t known. He’d been born a wolf, but he’d had no one to teach him how to be one, what it really means for him. He’d spent his childhood sneaking out of group homes on the full moons, returning quietly in the morning, exhausted from running in the woods. That is, until he’d met Frank. Frank had parents, people to show him how to harness that part of himself. Frank had passed in onto Billy, but there was still so much he didn’t know.

“I see,” Billy finally answers. “But…what do I do, Frank? I can’t stay away from her.”

“Don’t,” Frank replies. “There’s no need to. Let her get to know you, build some trust. Then you gotta tell her, or it’ll eat you up inside, man.”

Billy nods, deep in thought. This would have been a good conversation to have last week. Before…the stalking.

“Let me know how it goes, but stop fucking skipping out on work, you hear me?” Frank says, getting up from his seat.

“Yeah, yeah…” Billy replies noncommittally.

-

When you get home that night, Billy’s in your bed, already prepared with the burger he’d had for dinner on the walk back to your place, just in case. He’d napped peacefully, content to just wait for you. He meets you at the front door like he always does after he hears it open, his nose pressing into your hand or side to let a little of your scent stick to him.

You feed him dinner, more chicken tonight, and change into your comfy clothes to take him for a walk. The two of you wind through the park, the evening breeze carrying your scent right to him. It’s quiet for a while, just you and Billy, until the sound of a voice echoes past and you turn, while Billy scans for threats.

“Excuse me!” Is what you both hear as a man comes up behind you, smiling softly.

He doesn’t get too close, eyes staying locked with yours.

“Uh, hi.” You reply.

“I’m sorry, I- uh I’m Harry. I saw you walking earlier, and I just wanted to say I think you’re stunning, and I’d love to take you for coffee sometime?”

He stands in front of you awkwardly, probably worried he’s come on too strong.

He’s got dark hair, not unlike Billy’s, and his blue eyes sparkle as he speaks to you. Billy wants to tear his face off. He’s going to ask you out? Right fucking here?

“I’m Y/N,” You reply, smiling back, sweet as ever.

Harry reaches out to shake your hand and Billy’s had enough. He growls, snapping at his outstretched fingers. Harry jolts back and you gasp.

“I’m so sorry! He’s never done that before!” You placate, pulling Billy’s leash as he struggles against you, trying to stay between you and Harry. “Hey, no worries, it happens. He’s cute, what’s his name?”

You still look a bit worried as you reply, “I don’t know. I’m just keeping him until I can find his family. I found him here a few days ago.”

Harry grins, clearly taken with you. Well, if he kept going Billy was going to be taking his hands off.

“That’s sweet of you.” Harry says.

“Thank you,” You grin. “And about that coffee, sure, that’d be nice, if my dog hasn’t scared you off.”

No, no, no, no this was not happening. Billy sulks while you exchange numbers with dickhead and then you’re off, Billy practically dragging you home. He’s going to have to move quickly, or risk losing you to some jackass who’d followed you in the park like a freak.

-

You’ve got a cute little smile on your face for the next few days as you text Harry. You’d apparently been getting along, as you’d even called your friends to tell them about him, much to Billy’s dismay. Apparently you have a date Friday night, but what you don't realize was that it won't be happening. Poor Harry would be standing you up and ghosting you afterwards, and you’d come home and hold Billy until you’d fall asleep. Easy money.

Until you come home from work Thursday afternoon with a box of condoms. Fuck. No. When you go to shower, he chews them up, leaving cardboard and plastic strewn across the living room as a warning.

If he were human, he’d remind you who you belong to. Maybe he’d bend you over the couch, or take you right there on the floor in the mess he’d made.

But that’s the problem, isn’t it? You don’t know you’re his, not yet.

When you come back to see the mess, you scold him and for the first time since you’d found him, you make him sleep in the living room, alone. It makes him sick, not being near you, not seeing the slow rise and fall of your chest, not feeling the way your fingers twitch in his fur as you dream. Tomorrow, he’d deal with Harry, then this wouldn’t happen anymore. You’d be his.

When Friday rolls around Billy is exhausted. He’s been juggling Anvil and being your dog for over a week, and all the running around is catching up to him. On top of that, he’s never turned so much in his life, making the change at least once a day, where before it was once or twice a month.

He leaves work early to tail Harry, following the loser as he plays golf with the tech bros he’s friends with. It’s fucking forever until he’s done, and then Billy’s following him into the men’s room. Harry heads towards the showers, but before he can reach for the door, Billy has the back of his neck in an iron grip.

Harry struggles immediately and opens his mouth to scream. Billy slaps a hand over his mouth.

“Now, what you’re not gonna do is struggle, asshole, or this’ll hurt even more.”

-

It’s 9PM and you’re on the couch, pretty blue sundress falling off your shoulders. There are tears in your eyes when it finally sinks in that Harry’s ghosted you, and Billy can’t help but feel a little bad. He fucking hates hurting you, but it’s for your own good. Harry in the picture would make things more complicated, and Billy isn’t in the business of sharing what’s his.

You wipe at your face and Billy nuzzles your hand with his own face, letting you know he’s there if you need him. You slide to the floor next to him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“At least I have my vibrator, huh?” You chuckle sadly.

Billy flattens his ears. At least you have him, you should be saying.

You turn to him suddenly, eyes bright.

“You know what? I’m gonna keep you. I don’t know if you really have another family but if you do? They should have held on to you better.”

He licks your face, tail wagging. Yes! You have him!

“You won’t leave me, right?” You say, the tears returning.

Billy nudges closer, trying to convey his promise.

You were never getting rid of him. Never.

-

As one week bleeds into the next, the full moon gets closer and Billy’s nerves fray a little more each day. He’s got two weeks to win you over before he has to leave for the full moon, and so far he’s only accomplished half the job. You like his wolf, but what about him? The guy who beats up your dates, who’s killed people? Would you be scared of him? Disgusted? It haunts him as he sleeps beside you at night, as he follows you to and from work.

He’s been studying up on you. He’s got a whole file on you locked in his desk at work, your whole life on paper for him to look at any time he misses you throughout the day. He memorizes the perfume you wear, the foods you like, your shoe size. He’s got a list on his phone of all the shows you watch, all the music you listen to as you cook him dinner or shower. You hate carrots but you love broccoli. There’s always a pint of chocolate peanut-butter ice cream in your fridge and you always smile when you see him. It keeps him going, knowing you.

You don’t cry over Harry again and he doesn’t try to text you. Instead, you occupy your days with buying Billy all kinds of cute dog supplies, and trying to pick a name for him. You buy him a dark blue leash, claiming it brings out his eyes, and a brown leather collar to pair with it. He’s got real food and water bowls and the biggest plush dog bed you could find.

If this is any indication of what it's like to be loved by you, cared for by you? Billy's addicted, so much it makes his heart ache.

-

It’s Tuesday night and you’re lying on the couch, one hand flopped over the side, where your fingers make little shapes on the top of Billy’s head.

“What am I gonna call you?”

Billy wishes he could tell you.

“How about…Bruno? No, never mind. King? That’s basic. Oh! Oh! I got it. How’s Duke? That’s cool right?”

Billy doesn’t hate it. He wags his tail.

“Ok, great. Welcome home, Duke.”

Home.

- Billy is so tired. He’s been running training exercises all week, waking up early to spend time with you, and staying up after you fall asleep to finish paperwork and send emails. He’s running on fumes, desperately holding on for the approaching weekend. One more day, and he’s free to sleep as long as he wants. Frank and Curtis are blowing up his phone, wondering when he’s coming out with them again, and Billy can only hedge them off for so long.

He trudges home after work, narrowly missing you coming in. Your evening routine goes as normal, until you lock him out of the bedroom. In a second he’s wide awake, listening closely for any sign of distress from you. That’s when he hears it. The click of a button and the quiet hum that signals the use of your vibrator.

Billy’s human in a second, on his knees outside of your bedroom door, ear pressed to the dark wood. The second your breath picks up and the smell of your arousal seeps under the crack below the door, Billy’s hand is on his cock, pumping in time with your breathing. His hand is slick with pre-cum as images of what you might be doing dance behind his eyelids. He imagines you writhing on the sheets, sweat glistening on your skin as you spread your pussy open, showing him the tight little hole inside. He wants to taste, lick striped up to your clit until his beard is soaked so much it hurts him, and he just barely stifles a groan as you finally let out a quiet moan. He can hear the sheets rustle, hear your breathing pick up and he knows you’re already close. He’s practically fucking his fist now, trying to keep up with you.

Billy is dying to know what you’re thinking about, if there’s someone or something that turns you on more than anything else. The sugary scent of your arousal coats every breath he takes. After a few more seconds he hears you moan once more, the sound extended as you come. He follows a second after, trying to catch as much in his hands as possible.

Billy slumps against the door frame as you heave breaths in and out, coming down just like him. He has to move, has to turn again before you come looking for him, but he can’t bring himself to move just yet, basking in the closeness. You’re only on the other side of the wall, close enough to touch if he were to open the door.

You stir, cleaning up, and Billy has to move, rinsing off his hands in the sink and turning before you leave your bedroom. He’s hit with a wave of fatigue, and is grateful when you come to get him for bed. He starts to drift quickly, wrapped in your scent and pressed against your side. You fall asleep before him, and he’s so tempted to turn, just for a few minutes, to hold you against him until he’s too tired to stay awake. He does, wrapping an arm around your waist and tucking his nose into your hair. You press back into him like you’ve done it a thousand times, soaking in his warmth. Billy knows he’s made it to heaven, can’t imagine anything feeling better, save for what it must feel like to be inside you. He holds you, feeling nothing but grateful. Just for a few minutes, he’ll turn in a few minutes.

He’s out like a light a second later.

#billy russo x reader #billy russo #monster!billy russo #my fics

[renegade-skywalker]

Ghost in the Machine

Summary: The Jedi Exile discovers and decides to fix up the clearly-tampered-with HK found in her cargo hold to less-than-stellar results, and to further find that she is forever haunted by Revan's ghost.

Rating: T Word Count: 3,875

~~~

“Not bad, Exile!” Brianna applauded, miming clapping her hands together though the Echani did nothing of the sort. “No really, please try harder.”

“Damn, I didn’t realize you were also a professional insult comic,” Eden breathed, still winded from Brianna’s surprise roundhouse kick to the face. “But sure, I’ll try again.”

Eden fell into formation, trying not to relish in the smile threatening to spread across the Last Handmaiden’s face as she fell into stance across from her. The cargo bay was the perfect place to spar, so it was no wonder Brianna had found refuge here. Aside from it being the last claimed space on this tiny freighter, the room was spacious enough to roam and not feel boxed in, whether you were fighting real or imagined opponents. Or simply just trying to sleep. 

Eden remembered the sad excuse of a room Brianna had tucked away in Atris’ secret academy, and though Brianna hadn’t adorned or claimed the cargo hold in any way other than by sleeping in it, it still felt more lived-in and homey than whatever the girl had back on Telos. 

“Alright, promise not to go lightly on me, okay?” Eden pleaded. “I really want to learn. I mean it .”

“If you say so,” Brianna shrugged, the pleasure clear in her eyes even if she had the discipline to control her expression. The Echani immediately feinted left and jabbed right, high then low. Eden caught both jabs but fumbled on the second, losing her footing by the time Brianna grabbed the arm Eden meant to block with, intending to upend her center of gravity. But this time, Eden countered by shifting her weight, disorienting the Echani enough to catch her off guard. 

“An improvement, certainly,” Brianna said, even-keeled. Eden was already out of breath and wanted to laugh. “But there’s one thing you haven’t considered--”

Just as Brianna moved to knock Eden down again, the Hawk jostled, sending both women against the far wall and onto the floor in a painful heap.

“Okay, now that, I didn’t do,” Eden said, grunting.

“I’m going to kill that pilot of ours,” Brianna seethed as she peeled herself off of Eden, gravity still forcing them downwards even as they struggled to right themselves. “That idiot doesn’t know how to-”

Eden was about to laugh despite how much her ribs hurt when a flickering on the wall above her alighted in her peripheral vision. 

“Wait a tic,” Eden interrupted, now pushing Brianna off her with more force than intended. With a half-hearted sorry, Eden stood and, fighting gravity as the ship’s g-force stabilized again, approached the flickering wall with great interest.

“I shouldn’t be surprised that moron damaged something,” Brianna said, setting herself upright beside Eden and dusting herself off. “Wait, is that supposed to do that?”

Eden was fidgeting with the wall now, which she quickly realized was a panel. She rushed across the room to her pile of clothes, finding her hydrospanner within seconds, and with a little prodding the loose panel soon became an entire secret compartment, now no longer hidden.

“Is that-?”

Before Brianna could finish her thought, both women had fetched their weapons from across the room and had them drawn, at the ready, aimed at an opponent they quickly realized was--

“I think it’s deactivated.” Eden said tentatively into the tense silence that followed. Brianna shook her head, unsure, keeping her staff poised towards the dilapidated HK that slumped in the now-open access hatch behind the secret panel. Eden tip-toed forward, hand extended half-expecting to be vaporized before she got a chance to truly examine the thing. 

“Are you certain?” Brianna asked, her voice a cautious whisper, as if the droid might overhear them. “These machines have been hunting you across the galaxy. Seems a bit of a coincidence one turns up hidden on the very ship you stole as a getaway. I think it’s a trap.”

Brianna held her quarterstaff aimed at the HK’s half-collapsed intelligence module, but Eden deactivated her lightsaber as she stepped closer. Switching out her saber for a blaster pistol, its nose edging toward the droid, Eden’s eyes scanned the entirety of the HK, keen on finding any signs of life.

“Key components are missing,” Eden said, her voice faraway, her mind racing. For a moment, Eden felt as if she were back on Tatooine again, inspecting a shipment of junk dumped on her doorstep by either a dehydrated scavenger eager for credits or a bargain-hungry Jawa, their glowing eyes alight like a used landspeeder salesman keen for a good trade. Part of her was comfortable, an old self settling into new skin like a fond memory. But another part of her knew Brianna was right. “Someone dismantled this thing, deliberately.”

It wasn’t the usual pieces that were missing, not the parts someone might grab for when in a tussle. The vocabulator, control cluster, droid processor and the chassis were all missing. Either someone needed a lot of credits, and badly. These parts didn’t come cheap, but they also weren’t easy to access. Especially for an older model, by the looks of it. Only someone with a lot of time - and a lot of know-how - would think to pilfer these parts over other chunks of the bronze plating that were much easier to get to and easier to fence. Or, whoever did this didn’t want the droid to be restored at all, short of destroying it entirely, knowing the parts would be hard to find.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Eden whispered, frustration already washing over her as the cargo door swooshed open. 

Brianna swung around, her quarterstaff still aimed at the HK but revealing a small knife from her boot to point at the door yelling excuse me! just as Atton’s head poked inside, his mouth opening and then promptly closing upon taking in the scene as well as Brianna’s and Eden’s attire. Or lack thereof.

“I’ll just… see myself out,” he said, his face turning red, but before he could disappear, Brianna had wrangled the pilot into the room with her knife-laden hand and pointed him towards the dilapidated droid.

“I’ll forgive you for your inane maneuver a moment ago if you can tell us anything about that !” The Last Handmaiden hissed as Atton was thrust into the room, his face growing redder by the second. Before his eyes could roam too freely across any part of Eden as they had back on Peragus, Atton’s gaze fell on the droid, and as if under the same spell drew out his blaster and nearly fired before Eden placed a hand on his wrist, setting his aim askew before he could do any potential damage. 

“He wouldn’t know anything about this, Brianna,” Eden said, never taking her eyes off the HK. It was familiar, but not in a way that was remarkable enough for a specific memory to return to her. The HK’s that had open fired on her on Telos had been of the same make, and even if the rest had been silver -- HK-50’s -- something about this particular HK-47 did not sit well with her.

“Brianna?” Atton balked, blaster still poised as he spun around to look at the Last Handmaiden, “Your name is Brianna ?”

“Really? That’s what you’re taking away from all this?” Brianna snapped, her knife-hand now planted on her naked hip, annoyance radiating off her in waves of heat and undulating rage. “You just had to say my true name in his presence, didn’t you?” This last jab Brianna aimed at Eden, her voice softer now, as if not only to relay the difference in her brand of annoyance but also in the hopes that Atton might be too stupid to pick up on it despite standing right there. 

“Atton, how fast can you get us back to Onderon?” Eden asked, ignoring Atton and Brianna’s usual back-and-forth as her memory raced, recalling every merchant they’d encountered and their respective inventory.

“We’re already on course to head back to Dantooine,” Atton said after gawking between both women, unsure of where to keep his eyes and who to respond to. “Why do you want to go back to Onderon?”

“I need to buy something.” 

“Buy--?” Atton echoed before connecting the dots. “Oh.”

“Do you think this wise?” Brianna asked, the consternation still clear on her face as well as in her voice. Despite Atton’s confusion as to what was going on otherwise, his expression changed to match the Last Handmaiden’s.

“Yeah, what if this droid takes a shot at you the first chance it gets?” Atton said, gesturing with his blaster. “That’s what they’ve all done so far.”

“Not the one on Peragus,” Eden mused. “Besides, if I can get one of them to talk, maybe I can figure out who’s been sending them after me in the first place.”

Atton and Brianna exchanged looks, ultimately shrugging in unison before eventually relinquishing their weapons. 

“If you say so,” Atton resigned, leaving the room before heading back to the cockpit to adjust the Hawk’s coordinates. Without a word, Eden began shouldering on her clothes again, but Brianna just watched.

“It’s more than that,” she surmised, Brianna’s eyes reading into every minute action Eden’s muscles made as if it might betray some clue. “It’s not just about the assassin droids, is it?”

Eden only smiled, knowing the expression did not meet her eyes. 

“No. No it’s not.”

~~~

“You never did tell me exactly where you got this ship,” Eden pressed, her elbow leaning heavily into the door frame leading into Kreia’s quarters as Atton so affectionately called everyone else’s haunts aboard the Hawk. “But you didn’t know about the secret compartment, did you?”

“It’s no wonder it’s there,” Kreia admitted, though no emotion betrayed itself over her placid face. Her exposed mouth remained still beneath her lowered hood, the old woman’s head barely moving as she acknowledged Eden’s otherwise unannounced entrance. “We learned it belonged to a one crime lord, Davik Kang, did we not?”

“That we did,” Eden sighed, already annoyed. Her gaze bored into the upper part of Kreia’s hood, where she knew the woman’s eyes were, dormant in the dark, wondering if she could see her through the Force as Visas did. “But you didn’t examine the thing before taking off? There was no sign that you might not have been alone?”

Kreia shook her head. There were plenty of times where Eden was not sure if Kreia was lying or not, or at least sheathing the truth beneath a veneer of half-truths and vague notions. This time, she felt it. The woman was earnest in her ignorance. In fact, Kreia hated it. A wave of unease radiated off of the woman as Eden thought it, validating her claim as well as resenting it, sensing both Eden’s accusation as well as her attestation in one fell swoop.

“Perhaps it is the doing of the HK that bested us both aboard the Harbinger,” Kreia offered with an air of corroboration, though Eden still sensed the ire in the old woman’s words. “That machine was full of secrets and subterfuge, far more advanced than the others we’ve encountered.”

“True,” Eden agreed, pushing off from the door frame and crossing her arms over her chest. “So, that’s it then -- you know nothing?”

Kreia almost sneered, but she hardly had to. Eden felt her disdain through the Force, a ripple of apprehension fluttering towards her in the open room, before dissolving into tired calm as Kreia inhaled and exhaled with purpose.

“To my displeasure, yes.”

“Understood,” Eden said, taking her leave, meaning it but also not. She knew the woman was keeping something from her still, but her surprise at the news of the droid hidden in the cargo bay was enough to tell Eden that at least Kreia had no knowledge of its presence before being told moments ago. The woman knew something, and was hiding it. Just… not that.

Eden did not know if it made her feel better or worse.

~~~

“Was this really worth the effort?” Bao asked slowly, his voice even softer than usual at Eden’s side as she slid the chassis into place, the final piece of the HK puzzle. 

His question wasn’t so much about his own curiosity as much as it was an observation, his uncanny knack for speaking Eden’s deeper thoughts into existence despite her denial at the reality of it all. While Bao rarely spoke of his own inner world, he was always gently coaxing Eden out of her own, knowing full well the tumult that stormed within -- even if he was not ready to let her do the same for him. At least not yet.

The module clicked , satisfying some baser part of Eden, at least enough to soothe her nerves before the anticipation simply ate away at her to nothing. 

“It delayed us quite a bit, nearly costing us the situation on Onderon,” she admitted. “So it better be worth it. Have your saber at the ready.”

Bao nodded. Eden swallowed, nodding back at him, and turned to the HK. Its eyes were vacant, dark, but once she flipped the switch they grew from hollow brown to bright amber. It awoke.

“Diagnostic: HK-47 activated. Running checks through primary systems,” the droid began in a low gurgle, its voice modulator growing smoother with each syllable. A low hum began in the belly of the thing, eventually encompassing the entire workspace as circuits lit up and several sparks snapped as old wiring finally came to life. Eden and Bao exchanged looks, only this time Eden enacted her lightsaber so it glowed a deep molten orange, setting the HK’s bronze plating aglow.

“Assessment: It appears I have suffered considerable damage and dismemberment. I can feel all the cracks in my motivators,” the HK drawled incredulously. “And my control cluster seems to have taken several repeating blaster shots at close range. How crude.”

Something about this HK was… off . Much like the HK-50 that tried to shuttle her off of Peragus at the expense of everything else living on the station, this model had the same brand of snobbish superiority. The other HK’s they’d encountered were frank, sure, but none had this much personality right off the bat. Most of them just had a single quip ready for her before opening fire, but like the one that had managed to hold Eden hostage, this droid had quite a tongue.

“Why were you in our storage hold?” Eden asked, her voice more timid than she’d intended. Her brain was too busy making calculations to cast her voice more commandingly, but she cringed nonetheless. 

“Answer: I do not know, Master-” Don’t call me that, Eden hissed before the droid rambled on, “It is curious I was here - although this place does seem familiar.”

The droid’s intelligence module spun about, its eyes flashing as if taking in the scene like a person awakening from a coma.

“Extrapolation: Perhaps someone was already in the process of rebuilding me. It may be that I was needed for some task.”

Eden’s mind swam with so many questions but there was only one that made its way to her mouth. 

“Are you… okay?” she asked, her eyes still pausing over the droid’s exposed bits and rusted portions of its outer shell. There was evidence of blasterfire but Eden wasn’t convinced that was the machine’s cause of death, so to speak.

“Answer: If by ‘okay’ you mean the loss of almost all my existing assassination protocols, then no, I am not okay. Furthermore, I seem to have no discretionary control over my vocabulator, causing me to reveal my true function as an assassin droid of unrivaled sophistication.”

Eden crossed her arms over her chest, though she sensed Bao bristling at her side. “You look a lot like a series of droids that have attacked me. Anything to say about that?”

“Answer: Oh that is impossible, Master. If I were out to kill you, you would not be speaking.” Eden shot Bao-Dur a pointed glance, not that she was happy or proud about the fact just relayed to them both. Bao held his weapon ready nonetheless. “And regardless, I am a unique model. Why, to think that there would be other versions of me would be unacceptable. 

“Well, there’s at least four other now-defunct versions of you in the galaxy.” Eden huffed a laugh, to which the droid only balked.

“Master, I must inform you that your attempts at humor are wasted on such a droid as I. As I have expressed, I am unique .”

“I can just blast him, General,” Bao whispered sidelong to her. “By rifle or by my arm, we can be rid of the thing sooner than you can say the word.”

Eden appreciated the offer but shook her head, hoping the sentiment translated as Bao unwittingly backed down yet again.

“Trust me, there’s a series of HK-50 units sharing your model and function that we have encountered on multiple occasions,” Eden said deadpan, though the suspicion did not leave her voice. The droid perked up at that, either noting her observation for future personal investigation or taking it as an affront.

“Very well, Master,” the droid drawled, “Though please know that this discovery is also causing me some degree of anger. And humiliation.”

“ Are you alright?” Eden echoed from before, this time not stopping Bao-Dur as he took another step closer to the droid, his right hovering over his blaster as his left hovered precariously over the button of his lightsaber.

“Mockery: Am I alright? Oh yes, Master, why, I am fine,” the droid groaned, looking at Bao’s display as if it were merely an inconvenience and not a direct provocation. “Statement: I mean, I have only just been re-activated, only to find that there are sub-standard duplicates of me running around all over the galaxy, corroding my good name. But if they are in fact hunting you, then I look forward to the opportunity to meet these units - and educate them in proper assassination protocols!”

If the HK could huff in indignation, Eden imagined the droid would have.

“Conclusion: So it seems I need you - for the time being.”

“So it’s true?” Eden pressed. “You’re an assassin droid?”

“Recitation: Yes , as I said, I am an assassin droid. It is my primary function to burn holes through meatbags that you wish removed from the galaxy… Master .”

“What did you say?” Eden asked, her voice a husk of a whisper now.

“Master,” the HK repeated. “Oh, how I hate that term.”

“No not that, Maker never say Master again,” Eden said, finally disabling her saber and slumping to what was eventually to the floor. Bao-Dur moved to catch her, but Eden preferred this, the ground, as ridiculous as it was. “The… the other thing.”

“Query: Meatbag?”

Eden nodded, though her head felt detached from the rest of her body as she did so. Bao-Dur moved awkwardly beside her, still hovering as if he might catch her though she’d already descended to the floor and made a temporary home there, so after bending and unbending, Bao finally decided to crouch by her side and place a hand on her shoulder, anchoring her to the present if anything. 

“Hey did you manage to--?” Atton’s voice spirited into the room, cutting the silence like a knife. Eden’s eyes darted up towards the garage entrance just as Bao’s did, the droid spinning around on its core hinges to face Atton directly at the intrusion. Atton’s eyes widened to disks as he took in the scene. “Uh… activate the droid?”

“What does it look like?” Bao-Dur asked, his voice even though Eden sensed the bite in his words beneath every syllable.

Atton swallowed as he entered the room proper, looking as if he wanted to do the opposite despite taking a few steps closer. “I’ll take all of whatever’s going on here as an uncertain but unmistakable yes.”

The HK extended an arm, as if a blaster were attached though no such thing was equipped, and instead held an empty socket aloft in Atton’s direction. 

“Offer: I can dispense of this meatbag if you wish,” the HK suggested, “Just give the order--”

“No!” Eden hissed, shooting to her feet. “No and no.”

“Affirmation: As you wish,” the droid surrendered, sounding thoroughly disappointed as it turned back to Eden.

“Did you find out who’s been sending these things after you?” Atton asked, taking a step back as if the droid might rescind its offer to spare his life for now. Eden shook her head.

“It’s not one of them,” Eden said. Bao spun around to look at her now, just confused as Atton was.

“How do you know that?” Bao-Dur pressed, careful to ensure that his inactive saber was still facing the droid just in case it became a threat. “You asked the machine no such thing.”

“I know because I remember this HK unit specifically,” Eden said. She glanced at Atton this time, making sure she caught his eye before adding, “Unlike the one on Peragus.”

“What does that mean?” Atton asked.

“I modded this droid, twelve years ago,” she began, her voice hitching as the memory returned to her in full. Don’t call me meatbag, Alek had seethed. Eden had merely laughed, but it was the last thing she wanted to do now, despite the howl building in her throat at the irony of it all. “For Revan.”

“Revan?!” Bao-Dur and Atton both repeated at varying volumes and levels of surprise.

“Attestation: Revan, yes, that name does ring familiar,” the droid said in what Eden could almost call fond recollection.

“Just because you modded this droid to kill for Revan doesn’t mean she didn’t specifically want this droid to kill you, no?” Atton asked, eyes blazing as he reached for his blaster.

“For once, I agree with Atton,” Bao said as he enacted his saber, while Atton mouthed a despaired Hey! “I knew her as well as you, and after the way she set us up at Malachor? I wouldn’t doubt she meant for us all to perish on that moon.”

Bao-Dur’s lightsaber raged a silent sapphire in the din of the garage, and for once so far the HK was speechless.

“You may be right,” Eden sighed, her hand thrumming the button of her own saber but failing to flip the switch. “It can’t be a coincidence that a series of other HK’s were modded to assassinate in the wake of this one.”

Whoever did this knew me personally, Eden thought, the idea still too new, and too painful, to consider out loud. Or Revan.

“Admission: I recall Revan, but I do not recognize your face, Master. Despite my referring to you by such a title. I can call you something else if you wish.”

The droid almost sounded apologetic, but Eden knew it was only her perception. Or wishful thinking. 

“You can call me Eden,” she sighed. The HK nodded, its eyes blinking once before verbally confirming her request.

“Confirmation: I shall call you Eden,” it echoed. 

She should have felt relieved, but Eden only felt hollow, forever haunted by Revan’s ghost and cursed to follow her memory no matter what she did. 

~~~

Notes: I posted this to AO3 in 2022 but never posted it here. I still rather like it writing-wise, but like a lot of stuff I write/post for kotor 2 this is a future snippet from my ongoing novel-length fic Out of the Abyss that can be read/enjoyed without the greater context of that retelling.

#kotor 2 #star wars #the jedi exile #hk-47 #atton rand #bao-dur #brianna the handmaiden #kreia #and revan haunting the narrative like always #my writing

[longeyelashedtragedy]

decided to write different scenarios in different styles etc to see what sticks

He wakes up with a hangover like a bloody teenager and a headache so bad it takes his vision a few seconds to kick back in.

Everything’s blurry–well of course, he needs his glasses and then he can sort it all out.  He can find the things in the dark with his hands tied, but his glasses aren’t there because–something’s not right.  The table next to the bed isn’t right.  It’s not his.

He’s too old to be kidnapped, too old, too dusty, the opposite of his old best friend Harry who’d probably get himself kidnapped and then charm the fucker into taking him right back home.  There has to be a normal explanation, so he feels around on the strange table, slapping his hand on things.  Pills stick to his hand.  He’s sweaty and they’re all over the table.

His hand hits a bottle of something, nails bouncing off with a clanging noise, and thank God, he feels his glasses next to it, and now his hangover's still there but the world is back.

There’s a lot to take in:

The shameful blue pills scattered all over the table that isn’t his.

His name printed right there on the open container.  He’d asked them if they could prescribe the damn things without his name on it.  He doesn't have that kind of power.

The bottle is one of his bottles of good whiskey.  The cap’s off.  It’s empty.

The bed isn’t his.  Too small.

It’s sunny–too fucking sunny for a hangover like this one–and he hears the familiar birds chirping outside.  He hears the shower.  Someone’s showering in his empty house. The sound is on the wrong side of the wall.

And there on the wall opposite him: paint chipping where things have been removed, but something’s still there.  An old card; someone’s drawn a football on the front of it, and the ink is faded but the words are clear enough.  Happy birthday, Frankie!

Another paper, also faded.  Brentwood School Latin Award, 1993–

When he realizes it, it hits harder than the hangover.  

What in God’s name is wrong with me?

Birds, shower, something buzzing on the floor over and over.  He rolls over to grab it, to shut the fucking thing off.  Rolling over makes his head pound.  It’s someone else’s phone.

Messages are pouring in on the screen and each one feels like it’s inside his head, kicking his skull.  He can’t see what they say, only who they’re from.  Frankie.  Frankie.  Frankie.  Frankie.  Frankie.  Frankie.  Frankie.  Frankie.

A pale neck, head thrown back to finish his good whiskey without asking.

You’re a terrible fucking person.  But you know that, don’t you?  You act like you know.  You’re disgusting.

And you’re a real bitch, a real fucking bitch is what you are, sweetheart.

Is that all you’ve got?  All that and those pills?  I see worse on the internet every week. There’s whole forums with jealous women talking about me.

What’s a forum?

Jesus.  What’s a forum.  Have you got any more whiskey? 

The shower turns off.

Frankie

Missed call

He wonders if he should pick up next time.  Now you want my attention?  Well, now you’ve got it.

Footsteps in the hall.

Are you happy ? I'm drunk enough to say fuck it. I know this is what you’ve wanted.  You’ve never shut up about it.

Well, she wasn’t wrong.  She’d always been smarter than Frankie’s last one–but stupid enough to ignore the poor kid this morning.  Frankie Frankie

Frankie

Missed call

He hopes he hadn’t gotten drunk enough to run his mouth.  Tell her the reasons.

The footsteps get closer.

He puts his head under Frankie’s old, yellowed pillow.  He’s always been a fucking coward. 

#wish this guy were american lol #i'd love almost a horror/dread vibe to whatever this will be #don't know if i know how to create that? but it may come to me #My Envied Lady #fic saga #@new-berry hahaha #it looks better in my googledocs font 😭 (always garamond)

[lookbluesoup]

Lyrha knew men -- ok spill, I want all the details. or excerpts. or both hehehe

HAHAHA thank you for asking! (Folks can send asks about my WIP list here if you'd like!)

This is a fic about the first time Lyrha and X'rhun sleep together. Despite her promiscuous pirate past, Lyrha... didn't actually know women could orgasm. Though she's "been around", she's only been around the kind of men who, well, didn't didn't know how to or else care very much about making sure their partner enjoyed it. No sex-ed on the slaver ships, unfortunately.

So Lyrha isn't expecting to really enjoy the sex part of the romance, but she is in love with X'rhun at this point and happy to be able to offer him satisfaction.

X'rhun, of course, actually knows what he's doing. And he's as invested in pleasing her as she is in pleasing him. Lyrha learns a lot of new things about herself that night.

And then kind of freaks out afterward because nobody has ever touched her with that much affection before and holy shit, what does she think she's doing with a guy like this? We'll... see where that goes. I won't spoil the whole thing.

I will share a little excerpt. Note this is very NSFW and contains references to rough/unsatisfying sex, read below the cut at your peril.

When she was little, she’d wondered at stories of brave Tias fighting for the right to name themselves Nunh. Heard songs of lovers missing their seamen far across foreign shores, or lost them, never to reunite, and the grief of a cold bed.

Warm sheets, she could now agree with. But the rest…

Sex just wasn’t all that impressive. Not for a woman. Sometimes it felt nice, certainly. But her lovers seemed to find a height of ecstasy denied her. 

The first man to bed her had thrown her onto the sheets and stabbed her with his cock and drawn blood. He’d been happy. Happier still to realize the red bloom of her maidenhood belonged to him. She ached for days afterward which also did not seem as rosy as the ballads claimed.

Sahagin took him into their god’s thrall some weeks later. Bloody business. But she hadn’t pined for him, or mourned his loss in any serious fashion. 

Songs made it sound like a night of passion sealed a man in your heart forever. 

To be honest, she couldn’t even remember his name, now.

Lyrha had confided her displeasure to a sailor’s wife. She claimed it would hurt less after the first. Lyrha tried again. A captain this time, with a smaller cock. And true, the pain wasn’t as severe as before, but he grabbed a fistful of her hair and rutted her from behind until he found release, and asked her was it not the best she’d ever had. 

Yes, she’d told him. Though that didn’t seem to be saying a lot. 

He was pleased as a peafowl nonetheless. A handful of attempts later, with others who had no qualms pulling her where they wanted her, touching her where they wanted to, or instructing her how best to perform, and Lyrha was forced to conclude men enjoyed mating in a way women simply did not. 

Which seemed rather unfair. 

But she knew sex by then; she could at least admire that some pet her hair and kissed her more sweetly than others. There could be comfort lying beside a warm body, falling asleep to their heartbeat, knowing she was desired, sought after, significant. 

She could be content with as much. And it was only these simple comforts she wanted from X’rhun. In return she was happy to gift him the relief of her body.

#ffxiv #wip #my wip #nsftumblr