#eh I've seen worse

[water-scum]

"the paralyzing touches from your greatest nemesis"

[nanairomelette]

drew this cutie from tonegawa tousen

[robotsafari]

i hated reading xtra and the only thing of merit i really found in this hellhole was this millia rage cameo. this is so fucking funny to me.

[nocofamilyau]

welp I guess im making THIS a thing,, it’s been eating away at me for almost a month now...

asks are open,, this'll be part ask and part my own stuff, nothing too serious we’re just having a bit of fun here for more total drama shit go to my main -> @tooblindtizzy

[feanorianethicsdepartment]

watched the first episode of the show with the parents, and got talking about the Deep Tolkien Lore™ with mum afterwards. was telling her about my favourite faction in the silmarillion, galadriel’s evil mafia cousins, and mentioned that i didn’t think they were likely to show up on account of them all being dead by this point, ‘except for that one guy on the beach,’ to which my mum replied ‘what, sipping piña coladas and taking it easy?’ and on further thought we don’t really know that’s not what he’s doing, do we

[agirlcandream84]

Neighbor!Frank is a MAJOR Daddy When When You Come Home Drunk (part 2)

This is the much-requested second part of this and when I tell you that this is literally my favorite thing that I've written, I ain't kiddin'. Like this is pure protector, daddy, comfort, HOT, sdjfnsdkjnfdsklj.

Neighbor!Frank x {drunk}Reader

Word Count: 1320 (6 min read)

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

Uh oh, you were definitely gonna throw up.

"Use the bucket sweetheart," Frank shouts from the kitchen where he's preparing you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Had you said that out loud?

"Yes," responds back, setting the peanut butter and jelly in front of you and handing you the bucket he had placed there after plopping you on his couch five minutes ago.

And so you do, throwing up in a bucket in Frank's living room, him expertly gathering back your hair and ready with a napkin to clean your face.

"Sorry," you mumble, tears in your eyes (throwing up always made you cry for some reason). Frank dabs gently at your chin while his eyes find yours, those tiny crinkles forming in the corner when he smiles just a bit.

"Eh it's alright doll, seen a lot worse," he responds, standing to flush the contents of the bucket down the toilet.

He walks back into the living room and reaches to gently lift and guide you by the shoulders, eventually looping an arm around your waist. He starts walking you down his hall when you ask "where we goin'? I liked the couch."

"I bet you did but you got some on your pretty dress there so we gotta get ya' cleaned up sweetheart," he replies, guiding you to his bedroom where he seats you on his bed and rummages through his dresser to fish out a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt.

He places them on the bed beside you and lands his hands on his hips, assessing your inebriation with squinted eyes before asking "You alright to get yourself changed honey?"

Your eyes are heavy-lidded and now The Tiredness™️ has set in but you give Frank a slow nod and a thumbs up. He waits a beat to ensure you are, in fact, capable and you use the moment to slump sideways on Frank's warm bed and close your eyes with a smile.

"Sweetheart," he gently nudges.

"Ssshhhhhhh," you tell him, your finger landing on your pursed lips like a librarian.

"Ok, come on honey, up up. Can't sleep in that dress," he says while his hands scoop into the pit of your arms and he sits you upright. Your head lolls forward while you let out a indecipherable whine.

"Need you to look at me doll" he says, his hands on either side of your face while he squats low in front of the bed so he's eye-level with you. You will your eyes to open and concentrate on Frank's molten brown ones with every ounce of concentration you have. You take a moment to boop Frank's broad nose while he's inches in front of your face.

Stifling a laugh he explains, "I'm gonna help, alright, but ya' gotta listen." You again give him an understanding nod as you feel him put his hands on your hips and gently tug you to a standing position. "Alright, arms up honey," he instructs you. You comply and feel Frank gently grab the fabric of your dress skimming your thighs to shimmy it up your body, past your shoulders, and slowly over your head. His fingers are respectful but the tips tickle the underside of your arms and you jolt your arm down at the sensation.

"Eh eh, arms up," he reminds you again before finishing the task. Even intoxicated you can sense Frank's respectful restraint, his eyes never landing long on any one spot of your body and instead almost always on your face, a small smile at his lips. Standing before him in your bra and underwear, Frank reaches past you for the pants folded on the bed.

"Hands on my shoulders sweetheart," he murmurs a little quieter this time, squatting low in front of you, arms outstretched with the pants. And again you comply, your hands landing on the broad, warm expanse of his shoulders, feeling the shift of his taut muscles beneath your palms as you steady yourself. He holds the pants out just in front of you and you know to step in, the way a five year might when getting dressed with a parent. He tugs the pants up your body, his hands running the length of your silhouette before the pants land on the curve of your hips. He tugs the drawstrings to tie a quick knot, his deft fingers tickling the skin of your stomach before he lets his hands land briefly on your hips.

"Doin' ok?" he rumbles, and suddenly the air in the room is warm and all you hear is your own breathing. You nod in confirmation, afraid if you speak the moment will evaporate into a poof of air.

He takes the T-shirt from the bed and his hands find the hole for the head as he tugs it over your head, his hands guiding each arm into the holes of the shirt. The rest of the shirt pools over your body, landing nearly at mid-thigh. His hands find your face again, gently brushing the hair out of your eyes.

"All better sweetheart?" he asks with his brows furrowed, like the clothes were a balm to a wound and he was a paramedic. Again you nod, your eyes locked to his in a way that felt critical to keep breathing.

"M'gonna get you a glass of water ok? Want you to drink some before bed," he says, his eyes boring into yours over his low brows, awaiting a confirmation from you. You offer a meek "ok," before he walks out of the room and you still find it spinning in front of you.

While Frank putters in the kitchen you fumble to reach the clasp of your bra, desperate for the unmatched comfort of removing it before you plan to faceplant in Frank's bed. You find the clasp impossible to navigate in your current state, your fingers uncooperative as sleep claimed to take you entirely.

Frank returns and places the water on the small bedside table before turning to you, confusion crossing his face at your hunched position, arms wound behind your back. "you alright honey?" he says gently, rounding his way to you.

"Um.. can you... sorry," you mumble, sleep so fucking close, so desperate to just get in the fucking bed. "Nevermind," you mumble, exasperated and ready to melt into the bed, bra or not.

"Uh, yeah, c'mere honey," he offers, sheepishness barely detectible in his tone as he steps behind you. His fingers are barely a whisper on your back as his hands slip up into the T-shirt and deftly unclasp your bra. He tugs the item gently down the length of your arms, his wrist just grazing the side of your breast as you let out a small huff of air from your lungs. With the bra off, he gently tugs the T-shirt back down your from and runs a smooth hand down your back. "That better?" he asks, his voice barely audible, like rocks tumbling, as he turns you to find your eyes again.

You nod and offer a "thank you," more air than sound. He waits a beat, looking you over once to make sure he didn't overstep and when he knows you're ok he says, "Alright, let's get you in bed."

You dutifully climb into the bed and collapse onto the pillow, inhaling deeply and smelling laundry detergent and "Frank." You let out a small mmmmm before your eyes close of their own accord. Frank flips off the lights and rustles on the ground below, arranging a makeshift bed on the ground beside you, staying close by in case you were sick in the night.

You muster just enough remaining energy to open one eye, your face smashed into his pillow, and mumble "not the floor, please Frankie." Your eyes close and the last thing you hear is "I'm here sweetheart," as the bed dips beside you and sleep takes you completely.

[harunayuuka2060]

MC: Fiancé~ *hugging Riddle from behind*

MC: Did you enjoy the holiday~?

Riddle: *blushing* We're in school. So stop hugging me, senpai!

MC: "Senpai"~? Haven't you called me "dear" already~? *giggles*

Riddle: That was a mistake. Forget it.

Floyd: Sharky~! Goldfishy~! *running towards them*

MC: Floyd~! *lets go of Riddle to hug Floyd*

Floyd: I missed you so much, Sharky~.

MC: You too, Floyd~.

Riddle: ...

Azul and Jade: *approaching*

Azul: Oh don't be jealous now, Riddle.

Jade: Floyd is more of a sibling. Nothing else.

Riddle: I'm not being jealous.

Azul: Oh? Didn't you burst out in anger when MC-senpai was claimed by a phantom princess?

Riddle: That was different.

Jade: Don't tease him now, Azul. Their relationship hasn't been more than a month.

Jade: Oh. Of course, we're not saying that your relationship is weak.

Riddle: WHO ARE YOU TO COMMENT ABOUT OUR RELATIONSHIP?!

Floyd: Sharky~ Goldfishy is getting mad~.

MC: Azul~.

Azul: ...

Azul: Alright, we'll stop.

*In the housewarden meeting*

Malleus: Oh dear- You're back.

Idia: Lol. Why are you acting disappointed?

Vil: You missed your friend, Malleus. Stop being in denial.

Malleus: I'm not.

MC: Should I grab your horns so you'll be honest~?

Malleus: You do that and I'll cut your hands off.

Riddle: Please do. They have been quite a hugger.

Leona: We're not here to listen about your relationship struggles, Riddle.

Riddle: What-

Kalim: I've seen your photos, Riddle! You and MC looked so sweet together!

Azul: There was even a wedding photoshoot, wasn't there?

Riddle: *his face red*

MC: When Riddle gets taller~ I will marry him~.

Riddle: I'm going to kill you.

Leona: Hahaha!

Vil, Azul, and Idia: *containing their laughter*

The Ramshackle students: HOUSEWARDEN!!!! WELCOME BACK!!!!!!

MC: Eh~

The Ramshackle students: It's been a while, housewarden!

MC: So~ How was everything~?

The Ramshackle students: IT WAS GREAT, HOUSEWARDEN!

MC: Including Grim~?

Grim: *appears to have grown a little* Yes! *flies to them*

MC: *giggles* That's great~.

MC: As I've said before~.

MC: We're going to face even worse tortures.

[cheeekycharchar]

The Forbidden Fruit, Choices and Fear

[A GOOD OMENS META ANALYSIS OF AZIRAPHALE POST S2] I know everyone is still upset about that gut punch of an ending to GO S2.. and many are also extra upset at Aziraphale.. I'm in so much pain over it too but.. I have to rationalize that damned "I forgive you" line that broke all our hearts to comfort me until we get S3.. I basically overanalyze our favorite cocoa loving Angel to explain his reaction to the kiss and why we all need to be a lil kinder to him.

2500 BC in the Land of Uz.. Aziraphale, the Angel of the Eastern Gate, had the fear of God put into him. And this affected the rest of his immortal life up until that kiss.

Angels, after the Fall and the great war between Heaven and Hell, had the fear of the Almighty's wrath put into them. They all fell in line and stayed in line. Or else they'd end up like their fallen brethren.. or worse. But there was one lil Angel that had since toed that line..

"Didn't you have a flaming sword? Yeah, it was flaming like anything." "…Gaveitaway.." "You what?" "I gave it away!" As far as we've seen, this is the first time Aziraphale did something "bad". And he's already feeling the pressure. The guilt. The fear. He didn't follow the rules. He didn't do exactly as he was told. And suddenly, here's a Demon slithering up next to him and making him doubt his choice even more. The same Demon that snuck past the guardians of Eden and tempted the first human's into eating the apple, breaking the rules and getting them kicked out of paradise on Earth.

"Bit of an over reaction if you ask me. First offence and everything. I can't see what's so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil anyway. "Well, it must be bad.. [..] Otherwise.. you wouldn't have tempted them into it." "Not very subtle of the Almighty, though. Fruit tree in the middle of a garden with a 'Don't Touch' sign. Makes you wonder what God's really planning." "Best not to speculate. It's all part of the Great Plan. It's not for us to understand. It's ineffable. It is beyond understand and incapable of being put into words."

Already the seeds of doubt are tinkering in his mind. Stay in line. No more questioning the Almighty's plans. That's what got all the bad Angels thrown out of Heaven and then Adam and Eve exiled too.

"I do hope I didn't do the wrong thing." "Oh, you're an angel. I don't think you can do the wrong thing." "Oh, thank you. It's been bothering me." "I've been worrying, too. What if I did the right thing with the whole 'eat the apple' business? A demon can get into a lot of trouble for doing the right thing. It'd be funny if we both got it wrong, eh? If I did the good thing and you did the bad one." *chuckles* "..No. It wouldn't be funny at all!"

And then we get to season two's opening reveal. Crowley and Aziraphale had actually met before the wall of Eden.

"But that's idiocy!" {…} "It's not our job to advise the Almighty on the details of creation." "Well, then whose job is it?" {…} "Well, if I was the one running it all, I'd like it if someone asked questions. Fresh point of view."

And thanks to Aziraphale mentioning the Great Plan to Angel Crowley.. it put seeds of doubt into his mind. Making him question the Almighty's plans.

".. I'd hate to see you getting into any trouble." "Thanks for your help. And thanks for your advice. I wouldn't worry though. How much trouble can I get into just for asking a few questions?"

And then 10 million Angels fell. Kicked out of Heaven and marked as evil, unforgivable, and without God's love for eternity. Then we get the flashback to the story of a a prosperous man of outstanding piety named Job and how his life was destroyed because of a bet between God and Satan to test his faith even in adversity.

"What did he [Job] do? "Job? Nothing. Job's the nicest man in the world. That's why he's so perfect for the bet. You see, God was saying how righteous Job was and how much Job loved God. And Satan pointed out-- that maybe that was just 'cause God's been so nice to him. ..God's letting Satan destroy everything Job has. And then we'll see."

Now remember, the great flood wasn't too long ago. Where the Almighty wiped out nearly all of the human race with a big storm cause they were tetchy aka simply irritable, bad-tempered and annoyed. So this time, Aziraphale actually questions Heaven about this bet when he finds out that Job's children will be killed.

"Trust in God's plan, Aziraphale. Always." "Of course. So, once Job's trials are over, everything is restored to him?" "Even better than that. God will reward him with twice as much as he had before." {…} "I think they quite like the old ones [Job's children].. And if.. we kill them-" "-Aziraphale… we are the good guys. We're not killing anyone. What we are doing is simply not stopping hell. What they do is up to them."

His faith is wavering. He can hardly believe that Heaven would actually destroy a good man's family without truly understanding the fragility and consequences of human life/death; all to test him on a bet.

"Are we sure that Sitis wants to give birth four more times?"

Furthermore, they would be forcing Job's wife to give birth 7 more times despite Aziraphale's warning of them loving their original 3 children and that Sitis may not actually want to give birth to more children at her age. Hence taking away her choice. But thankfully, good ol' Crowley is the worst demon ever and is secretly protecting Job's children and goats. Something they're keeping between the two of them. And then during this deception… Crowley tempts Aziraphale with his first bite of food.

"Have an ox rib." "Are you trying to tempt me?" "Not at all. Angels can't be tempted, can you?" "Certainly not." "Well, there you are then. You're free to try the food."

A temptation he quickly falls into. A choice to eat the food and enjoy it to gluttony. Another sin under his belt. In the end, Virtuous Job passed his test but had the shit reward in return. Except Crowley and Aziraphale secretly saved the children.. which lead to Aziraphale lying straight to Heaven.. again.

And this is where he finally falls apart.

"I'm ready to go." "Go where?" "To Hell." {….} "But you have to. I'm like you now.. A demon.." "You think you're a demon?" "I'm a fallen angel! I lied.. To thwart the will of God." "Well yeah, you did, but I'm not gonna tell anybody. ..Are you?" *shakes head no* "No. Then nothing has to change, does it?" "…But what am I?" "You're just an angel who goes along with Heaven as far as he can." "That sounds um.." "Lonely?" "Yeah. But you said it wasn't." "I'm a demon. I lied."

As Crowley always tells him- Demons lie. And Aziraphale lied. Again. And now they're keeping this huge secret between the two of them. To never be spoken of or else possibly face the wrath of God. THIS scene right in this minisode here is SUCH an important part of Aziraphale's character and his future choices. And that's what it's all about, isn't it? Choices? The ability to choose between good and evil.

"Look, I am good. You, I'm afraid, are evil. But people get a choice. You know, they cannot be truly holy unless they also get the opportunity to be wicked." "Yeah, that only works if you start everyone off equal. You can't start someone off like that and expect her to do as well as someone born in a castle." "Ah, but no, no. That's the good bit. The lower you start, the more opportunities you have."

What we learn from this wee Scottish body snatching story is that something can be seen as evil but could actually be a good deed from a different perspective. And that Aziraphale truly believed that the lower you start, the more opportunities you could have. But he also believes in divine punishment. Punishment that can be dealt at any time for any thing. Big or small. From a few questions that make you lose God's love to selling corpses for survival money and accidentally getting your best friend killed or just having too much faith in God could destroy everything in your life for a bet. All of which he has witnessed with someone good (Crowley, Job, Elspeth, etc) losing everything that's important to them in the most horribly way. But Aziraphale remembers the hard lessons he learned; of inequality and responsibility of your actions and the choices you make.

Someone born into poverty doesn't get as much out of life as someone born into a rich lifestyle. Or.. a lowly snake and a lowly principality falling in love and being forgiven may not be as easily dismissed as a Duke of Hell and Archangel finding love in one another and simply being allowed to run away to the stars together without any punishment. It's all of these moments, these lessons that Aziraphale learns throughout the years that change his view on life but he still remembers the wrath of God throughout existence. Something as little as a question could get you kicked out of Heaven, eating an apple could get you banished from paradise or you could be the most faithful perfect and loved person and still have your entire life destroyed over a bet. What does he know most about the Almighty? They're "tetchy" and unpredictable.

"Aziraphale, Angel of the Eastern Gate. Where is the flaming sword I gave you, Aziraphale, to guard the Gate of Eden?"

He then conceals the truth to God themselves of the choice he made to give humanity a fighting chance of survival by giving his holy sword away. And is left alone without another word. Forced to walk on egg shells for the rest of his existence out of fear.

"So, giving the mortals a flaming sword. How did that work out for you?" "The Almighty has never actually mentioned it again.." "Probably a good thing."

That fear of the unknown consequences to his past actions.. his lies.. for good or for bad.. he could fall at any moment or lose everything he holds precious (aka his Angel-ness and Crowley).

"I'm not an idiot, Crowley. Do you know what trouble I'd be in if.. if they knew I'd been fraternizing? It's completely out of the question." "Fraternizing?!" "Well, whatever you wish to call it. I do not think there is any point in discussing it further."

So what does he always do? Deflects.. to protect himself. To protect Crowley. Not saying the real truth out loud. Keeping the reality of their relationship an unsaid secret like always.

But sometimes, actions speak louder than words.

"Should I say thank you?" "Better not."

Yet again, he breaks the rules. Doesn't even want to hear a thank you. Again, it must all go unsaid.

"You go too fast for me."

Crowley has always been one step ahead of him. Asking questions, falling, breaking the rules, etc. Aziraphale isn't ready yet. He's not ready to lose everything he holds dear to him by admitting out loud all of his sinful choices or else face the punishment he's been fearing for thousands of years.

"Go off together?" "How long have we been friends? Six thousand years."

Aziraphale starts panicking here. Crowley is saying too much out loud. Deny deny deny.

"Friends? We're not friends. We are an angel and a demon. We have nothing whatsoever in common. I don't even like you."

This bandstand breakup was literally Aziraphale freaking out about doing too many bad things dealing with the whole anti-Christ situation and Crowley getting too close to saying what they truly are to each other. But the fear is too much and he lies again. But this time to himself. Aziraphale has only ever wanted to do the good thing. To make the correct choices. To be on the right side. But he's always faltered. Made choices that he was sure were the bad ones. Lied on occasion. Kept secrets from Heaven and God. Given into temptations. And has always had this fear of God's Almighty wrath hanging over his head for millennia. Always waiting for the other shoe to drop. At any moment, everything will be taken away. But what could be the last straw? The straw that finally breaks the camel's back? To garner God's attention and punishment. It has to be something big. The biggest and most important part of his life. Something that matters to him more than anything in the world. His relationship with the Demon, Crowley. But he's learned. If you don't say it out loud.. if you keep it to yourself. Then you won't be punished. It's worked out for him so far. So why should he think otherwise? And then in the end of S2E6, Metatron gives him the opportunity to make a change to the Heavenly system. His chance to restore his best friend to his former holy glory. A chance to relieve all the suffering he's seen throughout history. A chance to make a difference. Despite all his secret sins, he's being given an unbelievable opportunity- one that proves that maybe he isn't as bad as he always thought he was. He's actually seen as worthy. But then Crowley gets angry about all this. He's against it all. He doesn't want that. He doesn't want to be an Angel again. He doesn't want to return to Heaven. He just wants to be with Aziraphale. And he finally says their best kept, unsaid secret out loud. With a love confession and a passionate kiss.

"You idiot. We could have been… us."

Aziraphale wants this more than anything but every instinct inside of him is screaming to stop it, to not let anyone see, to not let anyone know the truth. This final temptation. His one and true forbidden fruit that is the Demon Crowley.. and it's the one he knows he must resist at all costs.

The fear is overpowering. And the only words that come from his lips…

"I forgive you."

I forgive you for letting our unsaid secret out. I forgive you for trying to tempt me. I forgive you for refusing to join me in Heaven as a renewed Angel. But can he ever truly forgive himself for the choice he just made? Remember, in the end, Aziraphale is just afraid. Afraid to lose everything. Afraid to lose Crowley. Fear of punishment can be traumatizing after all. And it will all be fixed in S3. ;) HAVE FAITH IN GAIMAN!

..Sorry this was so long and drawn out but… I NEED SEASON 3 ALREADY.. (everyone! keep re-watching GO2 on Prime! and no more threats to the creators plz ^-^) Honestly, this was very cathartic to write and help me come to terms with the most heart wrenching painful TV kiss of all time D: But I need to see how their story unfolds. I need to see Aziraphale allow himself to make the choice to be with Crowley without fear of punishment. I NEED MY INEFFIBLE HUSBANDS. TOGETHER. T^T

PS. Literally as I was finishing writing this, I saw Neil Gaiman himself say this on his Tumblr, "But the story of Job is pretty central to the whole Good Omens conversation, including Aziraphale's bit of it." OMG I KNEW IT lololol

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

Note: requested by an anon!

Warnings: the sickness????

pairing: Sihtric x you (x Finan)

summary: keeping your pregnancy a secret during the sickness did not go as planned

wordcount: 1,1k

Masterlist

'I hump my wife whenever I want, yes.'

'What are you looking for, Finan?' Osferth asked.

'Bodies!' Finan answered, cutting through the tall grass while covering his mouth and nose with a cloth.

You, Sihtric and Osferth glanced at each other as you relaxed and laid back in the grass.

'Eh?' Osferth said for all of you.

'Bodies!' Finan shouted again, 'I know the sickness is close!'

'Why are you shitting yourself?' Sihtric taunts. 

You snort at your husband's remark, who gives you a proud smirk.

'I've seen men as strong as bears at breakfast time,' Finan said, 'gurgling blood and pus by supper time! You little runt!' he snarled.

'Hey!' you gave Finan a disapproving look, but then grinned at Sihtric, loving how easy it was to rile the Irish man up right now.

You had been feeling a little under the weather yourself the past week. You knew if you told Finan, he would completely freak out, which could be funny, as you knew you weren't truly sick. But for Finan's own health, you decided against it.

Your travel continued, by foot. You and Sihtric walked with your fingers laced, and he kept you close at all times. Your husband noticed you hadn't been eating as well as usual, but to not freak Finan out, he decided to not bring it up yet, unless it would get worse or you would show signs of being ill.

Finan was the only one to hear you vomit one morning, near the river, and he stared at you, deadpan.

'The… the sickness,' he whispered with big eyes, pointing his sword's edge towards you from a safe distance.

'Finan,' you sighed and wiped your mouth, 'it's not the sickness, trust me,' you said and got up from your knees.

But as you set a step closer to Finan, the Irish man immediately took a step back. And so the dance began.

'Finan, don't be ridiculous!' you hissed, 'trust me, I'm fine.'

'Aye,' Finan said, 'and then catch the sickness myself, lady? I don't think so.'

You tried to walk back to camp but Finan blocked your way, from a safe distance still.

'Excuse me?' Your eyebrow raised so high, it almost hurt.

'You can't go back to the others,' Finan said firmly.

'Finan, you will let me go to my husband, right now, or I will cough in your face when you sleep!' you snarled.

Finan grimaced and took several steps back, allowing your passage back to camp, back to Sihtric.

Finan kept a close eye on you as the days progressed, and he was the only one aware of your early morning sickness. He did find it interesting no one else seemed to get sick like you, and he was especially puzzled that Sihtric didn't catch the sickness, knowing you and him were all over each other the whole day. Which kind of made Finan feel sick, but in a whole different way.

Unfortunately, Finan became more paranoid after the events earlier that day. You and the group you travelled with had been cornered, the only seemingly safe way out was through a river, which was filled with dead bodies, all victims of the horrible sickness. And it all spooked Finan even more.

'We can swim through!' your husband, the oaf, had blurted out, which you told him off for later, in private.

'Sihtric, why are you so reckless?' you asked.

'I am not!' Sihtric retorted, 'I just wanted everyone to get to safety.'

'By suggesting to swim through waters in which dead bodies lay? My love,' you sighed and rubbed your hands over your face. 

You absolutely loved Sihtric, but sometimes you wondered how he was still alive, being the way he is.

Sihtric didn't reply. Looking back, he knew he had been reckless, and he felt bad.

'You know I meant well,' he mumbled.

'I do,' you took his hands, 'but, Sihtric, you have to promise me to try and be more careful. Because I really need you here, with me,' you kissed his cheek, 'alive and well.'

'Did you wash your hands?' Finan asked you when you were making their dinner later that day.

'Yes. I washed them in that river, with the bodies!' you offered Finan a mean glare, and he returned the same face.

He went to sit at a safe distance while keeping his eyes on you. Sihtric was resting under a tree, several paces away from you, while the others were scouting the surrounding lands.

'You will kill us all,' Finan whispered, 'all of us, lady.'

'Will you shut up!' you hissed, glancing over your shoulder to make sure Sihtric wasn't catching any of this.

'Does Sihtric know? That you're dying?'

'Finan, will you shut your mouth?' you groaned, 'I am not dying! I do not have the sickness!'

'Aye, that's exactly what someone would say who is dying, because of the sickness!'

'Okay, listen,' you said as you had enough, 'don't tell anyone else, okay? But I am not sick. I am pregnant.'

Finan stared at you.

'Pregnant?!' He then blurted out loud.

You tried to hush him, but it was already too late. When you looked back over your shoulder, you saw your husband awake and alert, sitting up in the grass.

'You… you and Sihtric have been fooling around during the sickness?' Finan grimaced.

'Oh, I'm sorry. Just because your cock stops working when someone sneezes, doesn't mean that goes for everyone else!' you hissed.

Finan flared his nostrils. 'Lady, my co-'

'My love?' Sihtric frowned at the heated interaction as he walked over, 'what is going on?'

'You humped your wife while the sickness is going around?' Finan asked, stunned.

Sihtric shrugged and gave Finan a proud smile, 'I hump my wife whenever I want, yes.'

'And you got her pregnant?!'

'Finan, no!' you yelled. 

But it was too late. Sihtric's jaw had already dropped and his eyes were big, fixated on you.

'Is that… is that true?' he asked as he took your hands, 'darling are you… are we…'

'It's true,' you smiled, 'I carry your pup. And I couldn't be happier. I really wanted to tell you myself,' you said, 'and not like this. But the Irish loud mouth had to ruin it,' you glared at Finan.

Sihtric teared up and even Finan softened now, when he finally realised you weren't a threat to his health.

'Lady,' Finan said as he finally approached you, 'I owe you an apology.'

'Apology?' Sihtric frowned as he pulled you in his arms, 'what did he do, darling?'

'Your friend here has been harassing me for days,' you hissed at Finan, 'he heard me vomit one morning, you know, morning sickness, but he thought I caught the sickness.'

'I did,' Finan admitted, 'and I was wrong. I am sorry.'

'Is that why you're not eating as much lately?' Sihtric asked you, 'I noticed it but as you seemed fine otherwise, I didn't want to scare anyone else.'

'Yes,' you admitted, 'I hoped you wouldn't pick up on it, my love. But I've passed those days already,' you smiled, 'I am feeling good now. Just, maybe, a little worried about the pup, you know? Of course the sickness worries me too.'

'Lady,' Finan said, 'I promise I will look out for you,' he looked at Sihtric, 'I promise, mate. We have to keep your woman safe.'

'I know,' Sihtric swallowed hard, still trying to grasp that he was becoming a father, 'I… I will.'

'We will,' Finan said, 'aye? We will keep her safe.'

taglist: @clairacassidy @finanmoghra @uunotheangel @hb8301 @bathedinheat @neonhairspray @anaeve @bubblyabs @travelingmypassion @sylas-the-grim @bubbles-for-all-of-us @andakth @bel-bottoms @willowbrookesblog @lady-targaryens-world @skyofficialxx @diosademuerte @elle4404 @alexagirlie @sweetxime @solango @gemini-mama @cheyennep3107 @little-diable @jennifer0305 @drwstarkeyy @mrsarnasdelicious

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

A Little Bit More

25/12: Promise & Phone Sex - Billy Washington Word Count: 1.6k~ | Warnings: phone sex, dirty talk, masturbation (f and m) A/N: this exists in the Every Little Bit universe!

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

He always knew it was coming around, and yet he always hated it.

Her dad’s birthday was in between Christmas and New Year, that weird time where you don’t know what day it is, never seem to have enough food in and where you’re so disorientated in the post-Christmas haze that it’s like coming down from a sugar high.

It was the few times of year where she went away by herself, wanting to spare Billy from the absolute torture of being around her parents for a few days as she made excuse after excuse as to why they weren’t married yet.

Not that he minded, there was only so much of her mum Billy could take.

He’d seen her off at the train station, her duffel bag looking very much as big as her in the cutest way possible as she skipped off to the platform in her winter overcoat and scarf, the chill nipping at her cheeks.

It was only a few days. It was only a few days. He had to keep reminding himself. 

Billy sighed, tapping the remote control against his knee, only half-watching whatever terrible Friday night tele graced his flat. The pizza box was closed shut on the coffee table, having tried to cheer himself up with a takeaway.

His phone buzzed, and he couldn't help the smile that rose to his face, seeing her name in bright white letters on the face of it.

She'd promised to ring 9 o’clock on the dot, after all.

“Hiya, ya alright?” he answered, his voice sounding perkier already, his muscles relaxing once he heard her voice.

“Hey, you sound happy”, she replied low down the phone, and he could tell she was smiling by the way she said it.

“I am now,” he grinned, “just finished a 12 inch on my own.”

She groaned over the line, “Billy.”

“I'm joking, it's because I've heard your voice again.”

“Better,” she laughed breathily, “what you up to? Other than missing me, of course.”

He sighs, “Being a sad cunt, staying in with a beer watching whatever shite is on Channel 4.”

“Ooh dear,” she says unenthusiastically, “sounds dull, babe.”

Billy hummed in agreement, “What about you? What you up to?”

It was her turn to sigh, “fuck all, really. Mum and Dad went to go and see Mum's mate Jill, you know Jill don't you?”

“Yes, babe.”

“Yeah, well they left at five and are yet to be back. Convinced she's got them tied up in the basement.”

Billy laughed through his nose, “That actually sounds better than what she might actually be doing, chatting their bloody ears off.”

“Poor buggers, eh,” she laughed, “so I'm sat here on my tod.”

“What a shame you've got me to talk to then.”

He could hear her smile, “could be worse. You missing me?”

The alcohol had offered him a kind of confidence, and he sucked his teeth, holding back a grin, “You could say that. Missing something anyway.”

He heard her mischievous tone even over the crackle of the phone.

“Are you now?”

The line went quiet for a while, before a notification buzzed and Billy turned her on loudspeaker for a moment as he pulled his phone from his ear to check.

…has sent an image.

With one flick of his thumb, his jaw dropped, the depths of his gut becoming tight and hot by the picture she'd sent him. It was her figure reflected in a mirror, wearing clearly nothing but a large t-shirt (his, he noted) and pulling the spare fabric to one side to show her curves as well as her pebbled nipples beneath it.

“Jesus..”

She giggled over the phone, “is that a good ‘jesus’?”

“I-fuck, yes…”

Another one arrived, with her pulling up the hem of her shirt over her hips and expanse of her stomach, just beneath the shadow of her breasts.

“Christ, babe, what are you doing to me?”

She hummed, “sorry, you said you were missing me.”

Billy sighed looking at the photos, every now and then closing his eyes to will the feeling of her skin onto his fingertips, the warmth of her, the sounds she'd make for him. 

His breathing grew shallow as he reached into his jeans, wrapping one hand around his length, to softly pump himself, already half-hard since the moment the first picture arrived.

“Are you enjoying them?” she asked, a teasing lilt to her voice.

“Mmhm..” he murmured.

Another few arrived, in various stages. One where the shirt was fully over her breasts, one where she was wearing nothing at all leaning back to show her full naked torso, and one sat on the bed, the lines appearing where her hips met her thighs.

“Oh fuck…”

Over the phone, she could hear the clinking of his belt as he pleasured himself, “are you touching yourself, baby?”

He could only make a sound in confirmation, his throat closing as he fisted himself to the photos of her.

She sighed, as if her touching herself was expelling a deeply rooted desire, her hands sliding between her legs, the other holding the phone to her ear, “Mm…wish you were here…”

“-ffuck-me too, baby-”

His strained voice was enough to coax some slick between her fingers, using it to pleasure herself, laid back on the bed.

“are you on the sofa?...”

He swallowed, breathlessly replying, “yeah..”

“Do you remember before I left…” she started, and the memory nearly made Billy dizzy.

He was sat right where he is right now, legs apart to accommodate her kneeling there. She'd been annoyed that he was playing Xbox, and so, in an effort to make him lose his game, had knelt in front of him, pulled his sweatpants over his hips and eagerly took his length between her lips.

She'd gotten what she wanted. Before long, his controller was long forgotten and instead, his fingers were threaded through her hair, guiding her pace on him.

He can feel his stomach tightening at the memory of the sensation.

“Do you remember, baby?”

“Yes…”

“Hm..” she hummed, over the phone, while in her own bed began to hasten the pace of her self-pleasure.

"If I were there...do you know what I'd do?"

"What..." he breathed, his hold on his phone so tight without realising.

"I'd get up...off my knees...on top of you..." she muses, sighing at the feeling herself beginning to crest, "...maybe tease you a bit..."

"Fuck-no, baby, don't tease me-"

She let out a breathy laugh, "but why not? It's so much fun."

Her hips canted towards her own touch, her eyes fluttering shut as she held the phone loosely as the pressure tightened in her gut.

"What would you do, baby? If I was right there on top of you..."

His voice came strained, every stroke of his length in his fist drawing him close to fulfilment.

"I would - I'd fuckin' pull you down..."

She could tell he was close by the tone of his voice, and she bit back a smile, knowing he was much too far gone to even form a coherent thought.

"I'd let you fuck me...right there...be your little fuck toy..." She mused in a sort of whisper, "...you could cum inside me...as many times as you want, baby..."

Billy's lips parted, not even realising how his movements had become rapid, needy and quick.

"Oh fuck-"

On the other side she was close herself, and then she heard the prompt and pulled the phone away from her ear to see a request to switch to video call. She accepted without thinking and felt her gut twist at what she saw.

His jeans were pushed around his zipper barely, only enough to free his cock as he pumped it quickly. She was entranced as Billy pleasured himself in real time, her face growing warm at the effect she'd clearly had on him.

And then she heard it, a long shuddered whimper of her name, followed by, "Oh baby-"

She felt her thighs tremble as she came, warmth rushing beneath her hips and a tingling sensation rushing from her toes all the way up her spine, as Billy groaned deeply and spilled all over his fingers for her to see.

Her hand has slowed, overstimulation gnawing as she touched herself with Billy's languid thrusts into his hand continuing to pull a deep arousal from her.

Over the video she heard his laboured breaths, gulping for air.

When the video turned off she smiled tiredly and pulled her phone back to her ear, hearing his tired, exhausted voice.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he breathed. She could imagine him, all spent and limp on the sofa, and the thought made her smirk and press her thighs together with want.

"Mm, you're telling me. Do you feel better now?" She asked demurely.

"Fuck you," he teased, "fuck, I can't wait for you to get back..."

She gave a short laugh, "Oh yeah? What you gonna do when I am?"

He was quiet for so long she wondered if he'd heard her, her brows furrowed in confusion, lips parted to ask him if he was still there.

But realistically, on the other end, a wide smile graced his face, his blue eyes all aglimmer with mischief.

And what he said had the power to shut her right up. Excitement made her stomach flip, wondering what version of Billy she seems to have unleashed. Gone was the shy, unconfident Billy she'd found. Her efforts in getting him to...unwind somewhat shocking even her.

"How did you put it, hm?" he laughed, with a smile so bright like he'd just opened a present, "My little fuck toy?"

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @virtualsweetsqueen @watercolorskyy @fan-goddess

[halfagone]

Let Gotham Be Terrifying

I've seen many different takes and versions of Gotham, but I would love to play into the fact that Gotham is the second most crime-ridden city in America. That's right- Gotham, for all its horrible cruelty, still does not compare to Blüdhaven. But that doesn't make it any less terrifying, especially to newcomers.

I know a lot of people say that Amity Parkers would be desensitized to the Rogue attacks, because of the ghosts that constantly haunt the streets. But I think they would actually be more horrified of Gotham because of the ghosts.

Because here's the thing about Danny's Rogues Gallery. For all intents and purposes, they don't actually want to hurt people. The ghosts might not be harmless, but neither are they expressly malicious.

The Box Ghost? Give him some of your leftover cardboard from when you were moving apartments, he'll appreciate them and leave you alone for a while as a thank you. If you catch him at the right time, he might even be willing to lend a helping hand. With the promise of the boxes afterwards, he doesn't do work for free after all.

Lunch Lady? You'll see her at the soup kitchens or the food banks lending a helping hand; sometimes she even gets invited to the soccer games to act as hostess and she makes the best main dishes. And her dessert? People have made remarks that they're to die for, which is more than a little insensitive but hey, still true.

Ember McLain? Phantom's made a deal with her: so long as she keeps her mind control out of her music, she can play however much she wants. They hold weekly concerts in the park, you just gotta make sure everyone scatters by the time the Fentons arrive, and don't say shit to the GIW when they come around asking, and everyone comes out of this happy.

Kitty and Johnny? Sure, their arguments always cause a ruckus, and it can be more than a little awkward to watch a couple scream at each other in public. But if you're willing to lend a kind ear to Kitty when she's upset, she's far less likely to lash out and hurt people as a result. As for Johnny, let him do a couple laps around town and he'll get his head on straight. If the Red Huntress doesn't do it for him, of course. And when they're on good terms, you'll sometimes see them walking about town, holding hands and just having fun. Sometimes they'll buy some ice cream or other treats from stores. No one really knows where they got the money, but it's legit and no one feels the need to turn them away, if they're respectful about private property.

Youngblood? He's a bit brash and immature, but sometimes you'll catch him hanging out with Phantom playing astronauts. Sometimes you'll even see him hanging out with that girl Phantom playing cowboys. He likes to play at the parks and playgrounds with the other kids his age. And yeah, sometimes he hogs the toys a little too long, but he's the best storyteller the kids on the yard have ever seen. He's a great playmate once you get the hang of it.

As for Skulker... eh, he and Phantom have their fights but honestly, it's the collateral damage that causes more problems than the ghosts themselves. The morning commute should not take this long.

Spectra got ran out of town forever ago and at this point, people can recognize her on sight. If your mental health has taken a startling downturn, contact one of the helplines and if worse comes to worst, reach out to Phantom to make sure she's not sticking her nose where no one wants her.

Desiree- watch your mouth and stop saying the word 'wish' and you're set for life. She can be petty sometimes, but again, that's why you watch your mouth.

For 7 out of the 9 cases here, the ghosts don't actually mean much harm. Other, more powerful ghosts like Vortex or Nocturn don't come around often. They might think Phantom is a little bitch, but they respect his territory. They would do the same if they were in his place. Predator acknowledging predator, as I like to say.

But that's the distinct difference. The ghosts can be bargained with, reasoned with. If you give them some other outlet, more often than not they're willing to take it and don't bother anyone first.

The Gotham Rogues on the other hand? There is no indulging the Joker or Black Mask or Scarecrow. In some cases, even when Mr. Freeze's wife is cured or he's finally let her go, he still keeps to his life of crime. What about Harvey Dent? Zsasz? Manbat? A lot of these Rogues cannot be reasoned with.

And this isn't even including the drug dealers and the muggers and the traffickers. This isn't even including the corrupt police and the even more corrupt local government. This isn't even including the likes of the Court of Owls and the rich and elite that run the show. This isn't even including the League of Assassins, who've always had a vested interest in the city.

And isn't that sad? Doesn't that say something when the living are crueler than the dead?

So give me a Danny or a Jazz or a Tucker or a Sam- any Amity Park citizen you want- that is disturbed by the thoughtless destruction and murders. Give me a Jazz that takes one look at the Arkham Asylum patients and is unnerved by their incapability to change. Give me a Danny that visits Gotham one time to lend a hand, and by the end of it, he turns to Batman and he says, "I don't know how you do it."

Because this is a family of vigilantes, who all besides one, do not have powers. They have to cover a city filled with millions of people, watch over them every night, and try to stop any possible terrible atrocities. Because even if every single member of Batman's Rogues Gallery suddenly dropped dead, Gotham has far deeper issues than just them. That is why Batman's crusade is endless. That's why it's not as simple as flicking a switch.

Gotham is terrifying. And what does it say when the Batman can put the fear of god into a city like that?

Batman is terrifying, and I think sometimes that can be a reminder to us all.

[peakyltd]

Shadows

John Shelby x female reader

A/N: It's been a loooong long while but I'm back and actually wrote a little something, inspired by the gif below. I hope you guys like it!

Warnings: Angst, grief

Word count: 1242

The sun softly crept trough the window, projecting the shadows of the textured curtains of Johns’s old Watery Lane bedroom on both his and (Y/N)'s faces as they peeked trough the side of them. The streets were eerily quiet and the tension of the ongoing vendetta was palpable.

"How long have you been in here?" John asked while he kept his eyes on the street. "Since last night, orders of your brother." (Y/N) answered. "I'm not allowed to leave under any circumstances. Probably until they say it's safe." She sighed as her eyes fell on John's relaxed frame. His trousers were smoothly ironed, a white undershirt covered his upper body and his hair was neatly combed, a sight that she hadn't seen in a while. "I wonder if it ever will be." She added softly.

"You know he wouldn't do this for fun, love." John replied as he moved his eyes from the streets to meet hers. "Probably for the better, eh?" She shrugged at his question that somehow sounded more like a statement. "I'm not too sure about that."

They held each others gaze for a while until she looked down at the floor, resting her body against the wall. He had noticed the dark circles under her eyes, the stress laced into the beautiful features of her face and the sparkle that was still missing from her eyes. He stepped closer, reaching for her hand and pulling her into his chest, safely wrapping his arms around her back. “I got you, you know that.” He mumbled against her hair before he pressed a kiss to the side of her head. He felt her arms find their way around his waist while she let her head rest against his chest, a soft sigh escaping from her lips.

“I missed you so much.” She whispered, her hands resting on his back. He kept quiet for a moment, feeling a pang of sadness in his chest from her words. "I missed you too." He replied, the tip of his fingers running up and down her back. "I'm tired, John." She confessed quietly. “I know, darlin’ but you’ll get trough this. I know you will.” He tried to encourage her, trying to stay positive in a situation that seemed endless.

“Can you please tell me about your day?” She quietly asked, longing for something quite normal in their turbulent lives. “Well…” He started. “I went home because I hoped I’d find you there but I didn’t. Then went to visit Polly to ask her but she seemed too busy. After that I came here.” He chuckled, the sound vibrating trough his chest, making her feel at ease.

“I haven’t been home in a while.” She disclosed, her hands grabbing onto his shirt. “Couldn’t settle anymore.” She felt his fingers gently run trough her hair while he pressed another kiss on her head. “I’m so sorry.” A wave of guilt washed over him.

“No, please, you shouldn’t be sorry.” She assured him as she closed her eyes for a moment. He held her close while his eyes wandered around the room. Memories of the past years slowly entering his mind one by one. “Do you remember the time we were caught stealing from the bakery a few streets away?” He asked, trying to lighten up her mood. She lifted her head to look at him, a small smile visible on her lips. “Excuse me? We? It was you who did it and I got caught while I was innocent.” She chuckled softly, getting a grin back from John in response. “It was even worse when my parents found out.”

He chuckled. “Hadn’t seen you in weeks after that.” He remarked, a smirk on his face. “I just accepted my fate and didn’t want to snitch on you.” She smiled at him. “Ah see, that’s when I knew you were the one. The most loyal woman I've ever known.” He winked at her before pressing a soft kiss against her lips. She gently cupped his face in her hands as her eyes scanned his face.

A few minutes in silence went by until she spoke up. “Do you think this will end well?” She asked, bringing up the vendetta again. “Of course it will.” He spoke up, not too sure if it would but not wanting to fuel her worries more. “We will win.”

His words caused a cold shiver to run down her spine, she held his gaze before slowly shaking her head. “We’ve already lost.” Her voice was quiet, almost too scared to speak the words out loud. Her hands dropped down to hold onto his waist. John took a deep breath while he put a strand of hair behind her ear. “You did not. You have to keep going.” His soft blue eyes tried to assure her.

“It wasn’t supposed to end like this. It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair, John. It could be anyone but they took you… like it was nothing.” She looked away, feeling the tears burning in her eyes but trying to blink them away. John grabbed both of her hands when he spoke up. “Look at me.” She bit her lip, trying to avoid his stare. "(Y/N)... look at me."

She looked up at him, her teary eyes reflected the sadness that had took over her body. "Listen love, people like us don’t get to decide when we’re done.” John confided calmly, knowing his fate was laid in somebody else's hands the very moment he decided to follow his brothers' footsteps.

“People like you? You're a good man John, you deserved better. You never belonged in this life.” Her voice trembled as she put her hand on his chest. “Your heart was way too good for that.” His eyes were locked on hers, not knowing what to say. "We were supposed to be happy. Together." She added as she felt a tear run down her cheek. She remembered how he bravely protected her when they attacked him, at their own home. Brave, fearless and strong, putting up a tough fight but it wasn't enough.

She remembered how she saw him fall, hit by bullet after bullet. She remembered the agonizing screams that left her mouth and the light that left his blue eyes. She did what she could but there was nothing that could've saved him.

“You have to remember that I’m always with you, even when you don’t see me.” He interrupted her thoughts while he gently cupped her cheek, slowly stroking her skin with his thumb. She sighed, the familiar touch giving her the feeling of security she so desperately needed. “Promise me that you keep going, yeah? Do the things you always wanted to do.” He gave her a smile. “It makes no sense doing them without you.” She quietly spoke.

“You’re not doing them without me.”

She wrapped her arms around him again, hiding her face in his chest as she took a deep breath. The feeling of his strong arms around her made her forget about the harsh reality for a moment. “I have to go.” He whispered. “Will I see you soon?” She wondered, slightly hopeful. He was quiet for a moment, a bit unsure of what to say. “You will.”

She slowly let go of him, taking in the sight of him again. “Wait for, me, will you?” A small smile appeared on his face. “I will, love. I promise.”

Tagging some people who might like it, obviously no pressure to read it if it's not your cup of tea! @brummiereader @call-sign-shark @peakyswritings @zablife @emotionalcadaver @runnning-outof-time @raincoffeeandfandoms

[wolfjackle-creates]

How about Tim Drake and Danny Fenton with 7 and/ 54!

7. Trapped in a room/closet/elevator

54. Kidnapping

Well, doesn't that just give ideas. I'm going with Tim POV on this one.

Word Count: 1.6k

-----

Tim came back to awareness with the feeling of ropes cutting into his wrists and ankles and the absence of a mask on his face. He was tied to a very uncomfortable chair.

His head hurt, but more like a hangover than physical trauma so he must've been drugged. Where had he been?

The museum, that's right. He'd been at the museum. There'd been a class of out-of-state high school students visiting and they were acting strange. Bruce sent him to check up on them, make sure they were who they'd said they were.

Without moving, he mentally checked his body. Nothing to be alarmed by. Maybe a new bruise or two and his wrists and ankles would be sore. He was wearing his shirt and pants, but his shoes and socks had been removed along with any of his possessions.

So he let himself focus on the rest of the room. An arrhythmic tapping sound was coming from just a few feet away. But his head was still foggy from whatever he'd been drugged with and he couldn't figure out what it was.

He couldn't hear anything else.

So he let himself moan slightly and shifted his weight as if he was only just waking up. He opened his eyes slightly and didn't bother hiding the wince of pain at the light from the bare bulb that hung from the ceiling.

"Hey, cool! You're awake!" exclaimed someone. They sounded young.

Tim looked over and saw a boy about his own age also tied to a chair. The tapping noise had been him rocking back and forth on his toes. The room they were in was small, more of a closet really. About five feet by five feet and shelving had clearly only been removed recently. The door had no window. No way to know how long he'd been out.

"Where are we?" asked Tim. "What happened?" Tim narrowed his eyes against the light and looked closer. The kid looked familiar, where had he seen him?

"You okay?" the kid asked.

"Killer headache. Better than a concussion, I guess, but these drugs, man. Did they not get you with them?" And then he placed the kid, he'd been part of the group he'd been following.

The boy shrugged. "Things like that usually wear off for me pretty quickly. I'm Tim. Who're you? This your first kidnapping?"

"I— What? I'm Tim."

"Huh, cool. We have the same name. They kidnapped us because my dad's Bruce Wayne and they want ransom. When they found two boys of a similar age with black hair and blue eyes in the museum, they took us both rather than waste time figuring out who was who."

And suddenly it made sense what this kid was doing. He was trying to trick them into thinking he was Tim. Perhaps so Tim could escape or just to sow confusion. Tim shook his head and winced when that just caused throbbing pain. "What are you talking about? I'm Tim Drake, adopted son of Bruce Wayne."

"Dude, why are you lying? We both know I'm Tim."

"You're the liar," he shot back. He couldn't let a civilian take the fall for him.

But before their argument could continue to cycle, the door banged open, making the pounding in Tim's head worse. Two men stood there: one holding a gun, the other a phone. Most likely he was videotaping them. Both of them wore more guns and knives openly.

"Look like Sleeping Beauty's finally awake," sneered the one holding the phone.

Tim pretended to be afraid as was protocol for civilian kidnappings. "Who are you? What do you want?"

His companion, however, did not seem to get the memo. "You'd better let us go right now or you will regret it."

"Looks like we've got a feisty one on our hands, eh?" asked Gun-kidnapper.

"Smile at the camera, boys, we'll be sending this to Daddy Wayne. Better pray he pays up. Otherwise worse'll happen."

"Worse than what?" demanded his companion. "I've been in detentions worse'n this."

"Shut up!" hissed Tim.

"You better listen to your pal, boy, because you just volunteered for our first demonstration," said Phone-kidnapper. "Hear that, Brucie? We're gonna shoot your boy, or maybe not your boy. And you'll pay us the demanded ransom if you don't want us to do it again. Every half hour you delay, we'll put another bullet in one of these boys."

Without delay, Gun-kidnapper raised his weapon and shot. But he missed as Tim's companion managed to get enough leverage to knock his chair over.

Not that it was enough to stop the kidnapper who simply shot again. And this time he didn't miss. Tim watched as blood quickly began dripping from the boy's thigh onto the floor. At least his position on the floor meant it was elevated.

The two kidnappers laughed before leaving.

"Shit, are you okay? Why'd you do that?" Tim pulled at his bonds. The other boy needed medical attention ASAP. Worth using some of his Robin Training to help out the brave, idiotic kid.

The kid chuckled through clenched teeth. "I've had worse, it's fine."

"Worse? That's a gunshot wound!"

"And last Tuesday, I was hit by a spear and lasers, bit by a vulture, and punched through a wall over the span of, like, four hours."

That gave Tim pause. If that was true, and he seemed oddly unconcerned about a bullet wound for it not to be, he was clearly not a normal teen. "Who are you?"

The boy grinned. "I told you, I'm Tim Drake! Now, do you trust me?"

"Trust you to do what?" Tim had almost gotten one hand free.

"We're getting out of here, Timbuk-two."

Before Tim could blink, the kid did...something...and all his bonds fell away. Then he lunged at Tim, pushing him out of the chair and into the wall. They came through into what looked like an average Gotham warehouse.

Tim bit his tongue as they continued flying through the wall and ended up outside. It was still daytime, but dusk was getting close.

"What the hell?" whispered Tim. "You're a meta?"

"Not exactly, but close enough. I'm Danny. I can keep us invisible and intangible, but I can't block sound. So only speak when needed. Want to figure out who these guys are or leave?"

"You need to get medical attention. Much as I want to know who these guys are, we're leaving."

"I'm fine! I've had worse."

Tim looked down from where they were floating and noted the blood dripping to the ground. "Dude, you're bleeding. We're leaving."

That seemed to knock Danny out of it. "Oops. Suppose you're right. Where should we go?"

"There's a doctor in crime alley who treats everyone. She won't talk about your meta status and she'll be able to contact Bruce for me to let him know we're out."

Danny hesitated a moment before asking, "Can you promise she won't talk? Because there're people who'd like nothing more than to strap me down and cut me open to figure out how I work."

"Fly a few buildings over and land on a roof so I can get a tourniquet on your leg. Are those the same people who hurt you last Tuesday?"

Danny did as directed. "Believe it or not, no. That guy wants me to be his son."

Once the landed, Danny let him go. "What the fuck?" Tim patted himself down hoping that the kidnappers had left him with anything useful only to sigh. He'd have to make do with his shirt.

"I know. He's a total fruitloop. Nah, it's the government that wants to vivisect me. And a few others, but I think they'd stop once they realized who I am." Danny looked him up and down. "But it looks like you might have a story or two to tell as well."

"You are going to tell me everything, Danny," said Tim as he set about tearing his shirt into strips. "Bruce would totally take you in if you need a safe place to stay. Especially after you helped me escape."

"And what can you do about it? There's laws that make experimentation on people like me legal."

That made Tim pause in what he was doing, but only for a minute. "If that's true, I happen to be friends with two very good investigative journalists who would love to do a series of articles. They've a good track record of getting unjust laws overturned."

Danny didn't say anything for a moment and Tim looked over at him. It seemed like he was actually contemplating the offer. "Really? I'll want proof before I talk. And I'll need to reach out to some friends for a second opinion."

"Only sensible. Okay, this is as good as I'm gonna get it. I'm going to bandage your leg now."

"Just do it."

Looking at the wound, Tim could see the bullet hadn't passed through Danny's thigh but had seemed to have fallen out. Perhaps when he'd density-shifted them? But then why did their clothes remain intact? He'd have to ask later. Instead, he focused on making a bandage and tourniquet out of the strips of his shirt.

"Okay, that's as good as it's going to get. How high can you fly?"

"Higher than you can breathe."

"I see. Well, fly us up a bit so I can figure out where we are in the city, then I'll give you directions to Leslie's clinic."

"Will do!"

With how well Tim knew the streets of Gotham from the sky, it was the work of moments to get his bearings and fifteen minutes later, they were using the back entrance to Leslie's clinic.

A week later, Wayne Manor had a new resident and Clark Kent and Lois Lane published their first joint article on the Anti-Ecto acts.

-----

I honestly went into this one without a plan, something I usually hate doing. But I like how it turned out! Let me know what y'all think.

I've one more prompt to fill which should happen by the end of the week. Still accepting new ones, but the turn around will be a bit longer I'm afraid.

[the-odd-devil]

Gods and Good Boys

Homelander x f!reader

Summary : You know something is wrong, a simple image management employee has nothing to do in this fancy lounge at the highest of Vought tower. When Homelander enters the room with a satisfied smile, you know you’re fucked. The rumors you've heard about him and his constant presence at your office do nothing to help get him out of your head but will certainly help you get out of this situation, or maybe make it worse.

Word Count : 4 042

Warnings : !!! minors DNI !!!, non-con/dub-con, sexual harassment, canon-typical violence, blood, death, smut, mommy kink, degrading, sub!Homelander, dom!reader (let me know if I forgot any)

Author's Note : So first fic eh? More specifically, it’s the first time I've written fanfiction in English, but I loved it so much! Much more than my native language for some reason? Anyway I had the best time ever writing Homelander, he is so fun to write (even more when he’s a sub oops), hope you will have fun reading it too!

 But before the Big Boy™ I want to give a big big BIG thank you to @mietkoz and @finniestoncrane for proofreading the fic and being sweethearts, they really hyped me up and makes me want to write more! <3 Another big big BIG thank you to @spicedchaiandromeda and @just-call-me-angel who inspired me a lot to write and were so nice to me <3 

Hope you’ll like it!

This whole thing was weird as fuck. Two people, who you immediately guessed that they were a lot more important than you, had brought you and this other Vought employee, in this fancy lounge decorated with expensive stuff. The price of the furniture did nothing to make the room more appealing, it felt empty and cold. They left you and the other girl in the middle of it. While looking at each other, you remembered seeing her at some office inside the tower, her name being Grace and being in a similar post as you at Vought, she was in a high level of stress, picking her nails and looking generally concerned about why you were here. Honestly, you were concerned too, random office workers at Vought have nothing to do at the highest of the tower, but your mind was empty, not knowing what to expect.  

You hear clicking heels coming to the door from the hallway and soon Ashley is standing right in front of both of you, a fake and uptight smile on her lips and an all too much joyful tone. 

“So, I suppose you know why you’re here!”

You and the other girl look at each other with a questioning expression before looking back at Ashley.

“You’re gonna have an interview with Homelander!” she said while doing a little forced cheering movement.

Ah yes, Homelander. You’ve seen him more than once in the office area explaining to employees what they have to do and sticking his nose in other people’s business. With his fake smile and false sympathy. You know and everyone knows that he’s close to a no return point at every second, ready to turn the room into ashes. What you really think about the fucker is another story tho. You first didn’t think much about him, in your department, the supes are more of a product than anything, you don’t really see them as a person anymore, even more when you’re the one who has to cover their “mistakes”, if killing innocents can be considered as a mistake. You prefer not to think about him in particular, even if you know only the surface level about what he’d done, aka, what you have to deal with and then dilute for the press ; seeing him in person, close to you, looking at you, is totally different. He did nothing that would be considered “abnormal”, at least, for him, in the office. He tries to play it cool, be the nice guy, but his sudden voice bursts betray him. 

What really scares you is what he makes you feel. Things that you prefer ignoring. He undressed you with his eyes or made prolonged eye contact more than once and you couldn’t refrain from the heat that you felt. The asshole had a really pretty face and a shark smile, the way his expressions distort oscillating between rage, pure distress and complete emptiness made you imagine how you could completely break him with just a few sentences and how he could annihilate you in a blink of an eye. The thoughts of you possibly dominating this god-like figure have kept you awake more than once. 

“Did we do something wrong?” Grace says timidly, you could hear how anxious she was.

“Oh no no no! He just wants a new “assistant” and asked me if he could see you in private.” you could hear the fake enthusiasm and the quotation marks in Ashley’s tone. 

The word “assistant”, isn’t a good omen for where this situation is going, you know how perverted Homelander, and the vast majority of the supes are, and you’re thinking that being fired isn’t that horrible after all.

“Anyway! Try to make a good impression!” Ashley says before making her way to the door.

“Wait? You’re gonna let us here??” your voice makes you suddenly aware how much you were panicking.

“Yes? I’m not the one choosing.” she says, a frown across her face before finally leaving.

And there you are, Grace and you standing in the middle of this Vought’s lounge, clearly design for la crème de la crème of those who enters the tower, not knowing what the fuck is gonna happen when Homelander is going to join you. 

He probably was waiting for Ashley to inform him that you were here because he arrived shortly after she left, you even suspect him of waiting next to the room and most certainly watching and listening since you were here. He enters the room and closes the door, placing the key on one of the tables next to the couch before putting his hands behind his back, a pleased smile on his face and places himself in front of both of you, making direct eye contact with Grace and then with you. Grace instantly looked away but you couldn’t stop looking in his icy blue eyes. It feels like the eye contact is during an eternity, none of you looking away. He breaks the contact when he is starting to speak after clapping once in his hands, making Grace and you jump.

“So, what did Ashley tell you?”

You were growing more and more confuse with this whole situation, what the fuck does he want? 

“Come on girls! Speak!” he says, elevating his voice and clapping his hands. There it is, his constant struggle at keeping his calm. Grace was mortified and you answer Homelander, hesitation visible in your face and voice :

“She told us about an assistant thing…”

“Oh yeah… You know, days are a little bit boring sometimes…”

You look at him while he starts pacing in the room, getting closer to you and Grace. When he’s close enough, he starts petting Grace's hair like a dog and turns his head to look at your side. You could feel his warm breath on your cheek, too afraid to turn your head and look at him in the eyes when he is this close to you. He withdraws his hand from Grace’s hair to start stroking your cheek instead.

“I just can’t decide which one of you I’m going to fuck on a daily basis.”

You can see his fucking smile in your peripheral vision, well aware of the power his holding on the situation. Your breath is stuck in your throat, your vision is starting to blur, your blood runs cold, you feel like your soul just left your body and you’re not able to move anymore. You're out of your paralyzed state when you see and hear Grace running to the door and starting pulling on it in panic, unable to unlock it. You watch the action with eyes wide open, panicking more and more but unable to move or react, knowing too well that this situation is about to get worse. You know Homelander too much to know that showing him signs of resilience is a very very bad idea. He grabs your chin so hard that it hurts you, turning your head in order that you face him again. His eyes are closed and he lightly shakes his head, he seems disappointed as if a little kid just did something wrong and he’s about to reprimand them. Grace is still trying to open the door in panic and starts to cry some “please!”, “let me go!”, “please”, Homelander just turns his head looking at her with some disappointment, still holding you before melting her head with his laser eyes. 

Her body falls to the ground, headless. You contain the screams who are holding in your throat, so much that your body begins to contract. Your eyes are burning, holding tears in a terrorized expression. Homelander turns his face, having a sweet forced smile, looking at you like he was proud of you being an obedient girl who listens to him. You feel sick. He hums, approaching his face even more, you could feel the vibration in his throat. 

“I guess it means that you’re the one I choose.

SO!”

The fact that his expression is changing once more, so rapidly into something completely different, has always scares you, today, more than anything. You don’t know what to expect next. His now happy and calm expression and the fact he starts pacing again in the room only calms you slightly, leaving you some time to think of what to do next. 

He ends up facing you, a few feet away, his smile still on his face. It is the kind of smile you know is pacific, that nothing will happen to you if you do right. It is comforting in some way. Some agonizing seconds pass, before he finally says something. 

“What are you waiting for? Show me.” 

You didn’t expect that. Not the abrupt demand but the tone of his voice. Very deep and low, vibrating through your core. All the deep, filthy feelings you have for him are coming back to the surface. His fucking gaze, looking right through you with lust and envy, his satisfied smile who knows he can have everything he wants. You’ve noticed every time he passes by your office. You were sure you were imagining things, you are now certain that everything he did was on purpose. This wasn’t a wet dream anymore. Homelander was here, waiting for you to make the first move, if you didn’t, you'd end up like Grace whose blood was spreading across the fancy carpet of the lounge. 

You compose yourself, sniffing the results of the tears in your eyes, trying to make the feeling you had when you saw him at your office fully resurface.  

He often went into the offices of your department, putting his nose in everything. You thrived on the view every time. Even knowing everything he’s done, you couldn’t stop looking at him. Not only do you find him beautiful, but when he comes to your floor he always has his worried puppy face. He seems so sad and anxious wanting to know if the public still loves him, seeing him in this state makes you hot all over. 

One day, he ends up noticing your glances, you can only also guess that your expression said a lot more than you wished, and till that day he began visiting your desk every time he came down here. 

It was mostly light teasing, and you understand now, flirting. You thought he didn’t mean much until today. It seems that he finds making people uncomfortable funny. You would have never guessed it meant anything. You were always flustered nonetheless. 

Most of the time, he exaggeratedly bent next to you to watch your computer screen, his mouth ending up to be impossibly close to your ear, where he whispered saying some uninteresting shit about what’s on the screen, most of the time, he didn’t even know what he saw meant, and you didn't really listened to him anyway, his low and deep voice reverberating down to your core. You remember your mind spiraling and only being able to concentrate on the wetness in your panties. Sometimes in the blur of his sayings, you could recall him calling you pretty, or lightly degrading you, it only made you spiral even more. 

Being in the break room instead of your desk didn't stop him from harassing you, or whispering in your ear. He looked at you like a prey, you were his prey everytime he went to the office. You should have called sexual harassment. You didn’t. You know it wouldn’t change anything, you thought he was like that with everyone. Even one of your colleagues suggested it. She knew damn well that there is absolutely no point of doing that.

You usually just didn't respond to him, just getting more and more red and wet, sometimes swallowing and letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding. Except the last time he came to see you in the break room. 

It started like usual, the usual being him spotting you in the break room and immediately entering and sticking to you, pressing his torso against your back and his lips against your ear. You could see and feel his hand every time, hesitating to go on your hips. He began whispering in your ear, a lot nicer than all the other times, things like “you’re so pretty today”, “let me buy you another coffee”, “we can go to a calmer place if you want”... You were already red and wet from the few sentences and his proximity. When he bent over to take a hot chocolate your breath stopped. You could feel him already getting hard on your ass. 

He took his drink and went to sit on the break room table. You couldn’t help but watch him across the room. He was delighted seeing your red face and your look filled with lust and shame. 

He slapped on his thigh two times, calling you like a child : 

“Come sit with me.”

 You took the closest seat to him, hypnotized, incapable of thinking or saying anything. Your cup of coffee was trembling in your hand. Attentively, you watched him take a mouthful of his chocolate milk. He took so much milk so rapidly that some was left on the corner of his mouth. 

The satisfied look on his face and his unusually soft smile made you lose your mind. You didn’t even had time to realize what you were doing, that your hand was already cupping his cheek and your thumb was gently whipping off the cream on his face. 

His surprised look was rapidly replaced by a look of pure bliss, his head leaning on your hand, his eyes closing and his mouth slightly opening while he exhaled a long breath. You couldn’t recall if you had an orgasm right then, seeing him so submissive in the palm on your hand ; an electric shock went through your body, you feel like you blacked out and next thing you know you were splashing cold water on your face in the closest bathroom, hyperventilating. You could see your mascara running on your cheeks, asking yourself how you were gonna explain your current state to your colleagues. 

You don’t remember the rest of this day, but you remember him, staying in the break room, his hand caressing where yours was, watching you leave with puppy eyes, his puppy eyes that were the only thing you could think of the following days. You remember thinking of the rumor. The rumor that made you so horny you had to excuse yourself to the bathroom. The one about Homelander you’ve heard the first month you’ve been working in Vought : about  how particular his relationship with Madelyn Stillwell, the ex-Senior Vice President of Hero Management, was. You remember finishing on your toy that night, this idea and what happened leaving your mind running free. 

You know what to do, you know what he wants. There is no other choice, you’ll give it to him while refusing to admit to yourself that you want it too. 

He is in front of you, a small smirk on his lips, challenging you. You feel like a deer catched in headlights feeling so small in front of him standing straight up and looking down on you. You take a few seconds composing yourself, taking a deep breath. You know exactly what he wants and you were going to give it to him. His expression changes as he sees you fake confidence, questioning but still challenging; you look at him through your lashes, a devious smile on your lips. You took a few steps until you were facing him, close enough to hear his breathing speeding a bit. 

You bring slowly your hand to his cheek, locking your eyes on his face, trying your best to look both sweet and flirty. Your heart skips a beat, your breath shaking slightly. You feel like your body is on autopilot while there is a storm in your mind.  His eyes are following the action, eager for some contact. Once your hand is cupping his cheek, you start to stroke lightly with your thumb. Homelander directly melts into your touch, leaning into your hand ,closing his eyes and slightly opening his mouth, bliss and release across his face. He let out a deep breath while relaxing into your hold, he was looking like an asleep kitten, almost purring in your hand. You try to keep your composure, feeling your stomach dropping at the sight of this god-like being turning into putty to your touch, making you feel so powerful. Your confidence level being higher seeing his soft expression, you decided to lean more into the situation. You approach him till your mouth is the closest possible to his ear.

“You really need someone to take care of you mh?”

The shaky whimper he let out makes you tremble. Even knowing the rumors, and witnessing a glimpse of it before, being in first line, and being the one who made him whimper makes you weak and you could already feel yourself getting wet. You continue stroking his cheek, drinking in his reactions.  You’ve always liked how expressive he is, the tiny movement of his face while he is losing himself in pleasure sends you into a loop as you whisper again in his ear : 

“You look so lonely… Poor boy… Don’t worry, mommy’s gonna take care of you.”

You put your other hand in his blond hair, feeling them on your fingers and appreciating how soft they are. You’re totally losing yourself now, hypnotized by his trembling, almost whining voice : 

“Yes! Yes please…”

Any sense of logic leaves your mind as you hear his voice, lust now controlling you. You move your hand to put his chin in your palm and start tracing his lips with your thumb, his mouth opening in a silent moan. You can’t help putting your finger in his mouth. He immediately closes it and starts sucking on your thumb. You don’t control the little moan escaping your mouth, making him moan too, unable to restrain. You start to unconsciously rube your thighs, eager for some contact and relief. Your eyes leave his face and meet his crotch, his dick hard. Your pussy throbbing at the sight and size. Homelander is still lost in the moment, punctuating his sucking with little moans who make you weak.

You can’t resist touching his dick anymore and took your hand out of his face, leaving his mouth empty making him whine at the loss. 

“You’re so eager… Mh? Pretty boy…”

You finish your sentence with your hand ghosting over him, feeling his length, making him groan at both your praise and the feather-like touch before thrusting his hips to fully meet you.  You tut and shake your head :

“You’re really disappointing mommy, baby…” 

Punctuating your sentence with a sad pout. You see his face contracting and looking up, while he moves back his body, as he concentrates to obey you. 

“That’s my good boy.”

His focused face stretches into a proud smile, still looking up, scared that looking at you will make him lose control. 

You smile too, satisfied and shocked by how well you can make him obey you. You apply more pressure, stroking him as you see his expressions tighten. He is trying so hard to keep composure, you don’t know if you will be able to contain yourself too, his almost pained face making you feel closer and closer even if he still hasn't touched you, hands in fist at his sides, waiting for an order to start touching you . 

You suddenly cut off all contact, Homelander making the saddest and most pathetic whine at the loss, lowering his head to look in your eyes, wanting to know what he did wrong.  

“What’s wrong baby?”

Another whine escapes his mouth, urging you to touch him again. You lock eyes, look and voice assertive : 

“Get on that couch.”

He doesn’t think twice and sits on the couch next to you, his eyes are glossy, filled with lust as he looks at you like a puppy waiting for approbation after doing a trick.

“Come on, lay down.” 

He does as you say, you can hear his heavy breath as he waits for more. You approach him like a predator, and sit on his lap, he whimpers at the contact of your pussy, feeling both of your wetness on his costume. You start moving your hips languidly, making him groan. You want more friction, to start moving quicker, you’ve been waiting for some form of release for so long ; but you’re determined to watch him completely lose himself beneath you.  

You continue your agonizing movements (for both of you), the room starting to echo both of your moans. You’re very glad that this lounge has one-way windows, but you doubt the fine glass will be enough to muffle both of your screams. You don’t really care at this point though, the gossip that may happen in the tower being insignificant over the power and the pleasure you are feeling in this instant. Plus, everybody will know anyway considering Homelander reputation, and, oh yeah, the dead body still emptying itself from his blood next to you, but who you totally forgot, your mind clearly elsewhere. 

Your head tossed backward, eyes closed, the sweet moans of Homelander starting to sound more and more demanding, the friction of the his dick on your clothed and wet mount making you lose control, you almost jump when you feel his hands grabbing your waist using his superhuman force to make you move quicker. 

“Did I allow you to touch me?”

Your strict voice makes him stop all movement. He closes his mouth and rapidly shakes his head, hands still on your waist. You furrow your brows harder making him quickly withdraw his hand. You pick back up your previous pace, making him open his mouth again.

“I thought you were mommy’s good boy… Seems like you’re just a dumb slut…”

The whine he lets out is louder than any of the preceding ones, making a deep, sadistic smile grow on your lips and your hips moving faster. You can feel your climax being closer and closer, finally getting some relief. 

“You can touch mommy now…” 

You say at the same time a moan escapes your lips. He places both of his hands on the top of your hips, following your movement as he catches the rhythm with his. 

“You’re such a pretty slut, doing what mommy says.”

His moans are louder at every degradation and praise. 

Your climax coming closer and closer as you can feel his, you start muttering incoherent degrading praises making him moan and buckle his hips at each one of them. Your movements begin to be uncoordinated as you can feel your orgasm arriving with full force, as Homelander’s are becoming more and more brutal. In a final thrust, you feel his dick twitch and release in his costume as you continue riding him pursuing your own high, making him whine at the over stimulation. Your orgasm follows quickly after, a wave of pleasure you’ve never felt before spreading all over your body, making your eyes rolling and watering and your body uncontrollably shivering. 

You fall down to his chest, both of you catching your breath. Once your heart is catching an almost normal beating, you lift your head and give him a soft and chaste kiss on his cheek.

“You did great.”

Before leaving him completely spent on the couch, still catching his breath, a wet spot on his crotch. You smile to yourself seeing him in this disheveled state, making a mental image for future nights by yourself.You take the key on the small table and pull down your skirt while walking to the door, hoping that it will be long enough to cover how wet the top of your legs are. You give one more look at the decapitated body of Grace, trying not to step on the blood, before opening the door and leaving the lounge and going to the bathroom, and then leave the tower, your mind still not recording what happened nor trying to figure out what all of that means for the future.

[loverhymeswith]

god you’re writing is angelic i just neeeeeed a cowboy like me inspired tommy shelby fic!!!

Forever is the Sweetest Con

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x F!Reader

Summary: Written for the Taylor Swift Tapes: Tommy Shelby - based on Cowboy Like Me

Word Count: 815

Warnings: Smoking, drinking, implied smut

A/N: Thank you to both Anons who requested Cowboy Like Me. I hope you enjoy!

From across the moonlit courtyard, you spot him. The man of the moment; the name on everybody's lips. He's not particularly tall, but he cuts an imposing figure in his finely-made suit, a glass of amber liquor clutched firmly in his large hand.

He's standing at the edge of the gazebo. A crowd of men and women are gathered at his side, vying for his undivided attention as he raises the glass to his mouth, but as his piercing blue eyes finally meet your gaze, it's evident that his much sought-after attention will remain elsewhere for the remainder of the evening.

Silently, you count to ten.

Right on cue, he stalks towards you, a deadly predator sizing up his prey, oblivious or at least indifferent to the host of unfulfilled ladies and gentlemen he leaves in his wake.

The corner of his lips twitch up when he reaches you, those startling blue eyes lazily travelling along the full length of your expensive dress. Even before he speaks, he's straight to the point.

"Would you like to dance?"

You regard him for a long moment, listening to the notes of the gentle waltz spilling out into the summer night. For most of the evening, the band has favoured uptempo music - fashionable, but not particularly romantic - until now.

Apparently, your new companion has been biding his time.

After taking a drag of your cigarette, you offer him your response. "Dancing is a dangerous game, Mr Shelby. Especially with a man like you."

As he raises a dark brow, his eyes sparkle in the moonlight like a cerulean sky full of stars. "You've heard of me?"

"Everyone has heard of you," you assure him bluntly.

"You don't sound impressed."

"Should I be?"

His lips pull up into the hint of an amused grin as he places a cigarette between them.

You reach into your velvet purse and offer him a light, startled to find yourself quite so enraptured as he rolls the cigarette across his full bottom lip.

Softly, he exhales a cloud of white smoke into the dark night. "So it’s a 'no' to the dance then, eh?"

Resting your own cigarette between your painted fingers, you narrow your gaze. Perhaps you will be dancing tonight, after all. "It depends what you're willing to offer in return."

Thomas Shelby considers this with no sign of surprise, eventually inclining his head. "Oh, I'm well aware of what tricks you have up your sleeve."

Although it pains you to admit it, his admission catches you off-guard. Until now, you've been so careful to conceal your tracks. That he can read you so easily is as intriguing as it is alarming.

Determined not to show weakness in the face of such a worthy adversary, you flash him a vicious smile, showing your teeth.

"Enlighten me, Mr Shelby. What do you think you know about me?"

He pauses, his expression entirely unreadable as he watches you, carefully deciding just how much to reveal. "Oh, I've seen you around, telling all those rich men anything they want to hear. Bet you make a pretty penny from nights like this."

There's no judgement in his tone, which almost makes it worse.

"Are you calling me a whore?"

"Of course not. You're far too clever for that. You sell them words instead of sex. You promise them love, but only if they pay for it."

Stubbing out your cigarette with the heel of your designer shoe - bought for by the very men he speaks of - you level him with a blank stare, no small effort given the way his presence seems to have your pulse unwillingly quickening.

"Then why are you here?" Almost as an afterthought, you add, "You're no different than me."

Because when it comes to hustlers, it takes one to know one. Thomas Shelby might not offer the illusion of love in exchange for money, but instead, he offers power and influence. Just as deadly as love, but far more desirable.

Divesting himself of his cigarette and whisky, Tommy takes a step closer. So close that you can feel the warmth radiating from his body. A predator, indeed.

"No," he agrees. "I'm no different to you at all."

A breath catches in your throat before he leans in, stealing the swiftest of kisses.

Two hours later, his boots are beneath your bed. Tangled sheets cling to your sweat-slick bodies; clothes discarded in a heap on the floor.

Perched atop him, your soft thighs hugging his slim waist, you dip your head. "Whatever you think this is," you gesture between the two of you, "I'm not going to fall in love."

Tommy's pupils are wide as he stares up at you, mouth slightly parted and chest heaving. "Not love, then," he agrees, roughly. "But how about forever?"

You place a hand on his warm cheek. "Didn't they tell you, Thomas? Forever is the sweetest con."

Taglist: @a-reader-and-a-writer @simpforbuckyb @crysxtal @shynovelist @amberpanda99 @globetrotter28 @iammrsrogers @dragonsondragons @butterfly-lover @sunshineyourethebesttime @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @breezy2and2freezy

[howlingday]

Weeping Knight,Grimm Knight, or Arcwitch?

Ooh, boy... Heck of a selection, huh? Jaune and the three "MILFs," eh? Alrighty. Let's talk about these three ships.

Weeping Knight/Willow's Knight/Frosted Knight

Normally, this would be your classic "pool boy/lonely housewife" trope in adult works. Hell, some people jump at the idea of giving Jacques Schnee the NTR treatment because, well, he's Jacques Schnee. And there's also the fact that Weiss didn't show interest in Jaune in Volume 1 (completely understandable, by the way) and this is some form of payback for that.

But I say, NUTS TO ALL THAT! You could definitely craft a loving story about Willow finding love again after not having it for so long and Jaune isn't just some horny young adult looking for a woman with experience. You could instead look at Jaune for what he is, which is basically walking medicine. He's healing Willow and she's relishing in the attention she's receiving.

Also, one of my favorite Willow x Jaune art pieces I see is Weiss going full emo/goth in response, and Jaune is like, "I'm not trying to replace your dad, Weiss! I'm just trying to be there for you and your family!"

Score - 8/10 if not written like a MILF porno

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Grimm Knight/Death Knight/At The Stake

This one is another old school trope of "what if the hero and the main villain got together". There's a lot that can go into this, whether Jaune becomes evil, Salem becomes good, or some unique scenario in between. Honestly, I find this ship both cute and wholesome when it's done well enough. Of course, there's lewds of this too, because apparently when Mommy Salami stayed too long in the oozie jacuzzi, her body didn't change from when she was in her 20s.

Still, this is a very cute ship and I like just about everything I see of it. Probably my favorite version of this ship I saw was when Ozpin sent Jaune to kill Salem, and she ends up marrying him and sending Oz the wedding invite. (Yeah, it's a self-plug. Big whoop, want to fight about it?)

Score - 9/10 just don't think about the potential Philip J. Fry effect

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Arcwitch

Since there's only one name to this, it stands to reason that this is the most famous of three, likely due to the fact that this was the first Jaune x MILF ship ever made. Unfortunately, this also makes it the more... problematic, just from the trope alone. The classic "hot for teacher" idea that becomes an actual crime when applied to the real world.

However, that doesn't mean that there's no good works with this, though it's mostly lewds pertaining to the couple. The best example of this ship I've seen is in Professor Arc, in which Jaune sneaks into Beacon as a teacher and he and her develop a very close relationship. Although, there's still a bit of an ick factor to it, but that doesn't mean that this ship can't be done well since it's a confident older woman with a more timid younger man. Overall, I think it can be a good ship.

Score - 7/10 and the ick keeps me from going higher.

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IN CONCLUSION:

If y'all wanna have Jaune be cute and romantic with an older gal, that's fine. Just, y'know, don't be weird and creepy about it. Course, won't stop me from writing these ships either. Never compromise your standards for the worse and KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK!