#maybe i just kin him a little bit too much

[transekiro]

now that im thinking of ygo i am thinking of ryo bakura and how he probably listens to the most grittiest disgusting metal ever and when his friends find out his music taste they just faint

[atrwriting]

trust me -- billy the kid x barowner!reader

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

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

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

anyway.... here's trust me:

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

a lot of it.

and an old building.

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

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

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

until one day. that day.

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

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

that was dangerous. too dangerous.

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

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

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

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

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

“ma’am?”

you turned around.

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

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

you smiled. “another drink, sir?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

billy, on the other hand… did not agree.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“pay. the. tab.”

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

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

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

“time for you to leave, friend.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘s my job.”

“i know… but still,” you spoke.

you were continuing to close before he spoke again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but he kept that to himself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he tipped his hat to you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“knocked,” he bit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

no. you couldn't.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you’re a flirt,” you giggled.

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

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

“damn death trap,” he spat, fussing.

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

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

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

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

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

that shut you right up.

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

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

“what — what —“ you stammered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“look at me, sweetheart.”

your eyes glanced back up to him.

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

“y’trust me?” he asked.

you hummed in agreement, nodding.

“say it.”

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

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

that was when his fingers picked up speed.

and, god… did it feel damn good.

“b-billy,” you whimpered. “feels…”

“still trust me?”

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

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

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

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

“something — feels —“

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

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

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

and that was it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you nodded, half ignoring him.

but it didn’t hurt.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

his hips snapped against you. hard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

his touch. only his touch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“billy — you didn’t —“

“s’alright, darlin’—“

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

“that... thing?”

“with my mouth.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you tried to hide your smirk from him.

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

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

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

you narrowed your eyes at him, but smiled anyway.

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

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

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

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

that shut him up.

a long and drawn out fuuuck had left his lips.

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

but you did anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"on one condition," you spoke.

his eyebrows furrowed, but he nodded his head anyway.

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

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

---

what did we think?? xox

-L

[peachesofteal]

Maybe Johnny ends up in the hospital.

Maybe he ends up with a spine fracture, broken arm, shattered pelvis, deep tissue burns all over his stomach and chest. Maybe he hemorrhaged, has internal organ damage. It’s bad, bad enough that he needs multiple, complicated surgeries. Bad enough that it’s a struggle to stabilize him, and keep him conscious. Simon is there the entire time, doesn’t leave his side, sleeps sitting straight up in the uncomfortable chair that he’s dragged next to Johnny’s bed. He’s Johnny’s next of kin, and advocates for Johnny when he’s not able to do it himself. It’s grueling, every second feels like a lifetime. Johnny’s in so much pain every time he comes to, and Simon can’t do anything to help him, to take away his pain or make him feel better. All he can do is sit by his bedside and hold his hand. Anytime he’s handled by doctors or aides, nurses or respiratory therapists, Simon watches their every move, ready to shove them away the second he see’s Johnny face crumple in agony. Ready to swoop down and remove them the moment he feels like something’s not right. Hospitals make his skin crawl, make him feel like a big bug under a microscope and he hates it. He doesn’t trust this place, doesn’t trust anyone in here to take care of Johnny.

But then there’s you. You, the ICU nurse that works the floor four nights a week on graves. You, who he notices, checks on Johnny (and Simon) more than the other nurses do. Who takes the time to make sure the lights in the room aren’t too bright, or that Johnny’s blankets are not tucked in too tight across his stomach. You always knock on the sliding glass before coming in, and you’re always smiling at him, and Johnny, even though he’s hardly ever awake to see it. It’s not a forced smile either, it’s something soft. Something precious, something kind. You don’t look away from Simon, even when he scowls at you from above the mask when you wake Johnny in the middle of the night, for some reason or another.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I know.” You soothe him, gentle hand on his good forearm before you swab his arm for a blood draw. Simon’s muscles inadvertently tense, because he can’t help, because he hates sitting here, completely helpless, watching Johnny grimace in pain.

“‘s alright, bonnie. Not yer fault.” He assures, eyebrows knitted together, jaw gnashed tight.

“Just need to get some blood, okay?” You intentionally look at Simon, like you’re waiting for his go ahead before you start, and he nods his approval before you push the needle through his partner’s skin. “And then maybe we’ll get you some more pain meds, I’ll make a note for the next shift to let you sleep unless it’s dire.” Simon nods again, gratefully. Maybe Johnny will be able to get some uninterrupted rest this morning. You give Johnny one of your sweet smiles, and then directs it to Simon too. It makes his mouth go dry a little bit, and he’s too entranced by the eye contact, the curve of your lips, to notice Johnny’s eyes flicking back and forth between him, and you.

So maybe he doesn’t mind when its you, in particular. Maybe it’s not so bad, when you slip inside the room with an extra smoothie for Johnny, or when you flick the lights off when you think they’re both sleeping. Maybe he doesn’t mind that when he comes back from the cafeteria, you’re sitting in a different chair, reading from your kindle because Johnny had asked you stay a while between versed doses. He’s enchanted by the way you care for Johnny, the tenderness you show him, the way you’re gentle and sweet with him, to him, the way you take the time explain everything that’s happening with Johnny’s medical care to both of them, patiently answering the questions, even the ones Simon worries are dimwitted. Simon tells himself that it’s your job, you’re just doing your job, but he can’t help but perk up a little bit whenever you linger, or try to engage him in small talk. You ask him about their lives (busy) their job (classified) and how they fell in love (“it’s a long story-“ “it’s really not, LT.”)

He also notices little things about you too. Some nights when you come in, you seem happy, bubbly. Refreshed. And others, you’re dragging a bit, posture slumped, circles under your eyes. He sees the way your scrubs are usually a little wrinkled, the day you wore two mismatching socks, the small little bruise, impacted skin, on the inside of your arm… and it makes him wonder. You take such good care of Johnny, of himself… but is anyone taking care of you?

Simple Math masterlist

[stubz]

Kim and Max and the adventures of running an alien child care centre

"Human Max I'd like you to meet Ezshi, they will be joining you soon in the youngling centre."

"Oh hey there buddy, nice to meet you!"

"Now, what do we say Ezshi?"

*croc sounding hissing and snarling*

"Ezshi! You apologize right this instant!!"

"...oh boy"

days later~

"I don't know what to do! The kid won't stop hissing at me everytime they see me! As soon as they spot me they flare up and won't stop hissing at me, they almost bit me when I tried giving them their chocolate milk!! I don't know how I'll survive this year Kim."

"That's rough buddy," she gives sympathy pats to him. "but why don't you try my method? Y'know, the one I used with my siblings and cousins."

"Kim if I did that I would get fired."

"Yes, in an earth school you would without question buuut...here?"

"...here I wouldn't! Kim you genius!"

later....

"Ah, human Kim, I am here to pick up Ezshi early today. May you point me to them?"

"Yeah sure, right over there with Max." she points to a large crowd of children and parents.

"Thank you Human Kim."

"Of course....maybe I should've stalled them for a bit...shoot."

"Ezshi! Where are you? Ah, there you-- oh my."

In the middle of the crowd is Ezshi and Max both hissing and snarling at each other. The young reptilian slowly advancing towards the human, eyes slitted.

"EZSHI! Youngling you will stop this at--!"

"Wait Mx. Ezshi's Bubba! Maxie is okay, look look!"

"Youngling Human please release your tiny hands off me, I must save your 'Maxee'...huh."

Max advances as well but more predatory like, circling around the youngling until their back hits a table. Jumping onto it thinking it'll make them look more intimidating, Ezshi hisses down at the lowly human. No one interferes, especially the other reptilian and predator like species.

"Okay now here it comes Max, remember not too much spit and be aggressive!"

Back straight, toes pointed, chin up, the young man closes the gap between them with a headbutt while releasing a roar. Silence. Until finally, with eyes dilated, Ezshi chirps and bows their little head.

"Aw, its okay buddy. Now go get your stuff, your Bubba is here."

"Thank you caretaker Maxee! Lets do that again!"

"Human Max how did you know how to assert dominance among my people? Was it Tarlak's family? Tigihalaxes and Repilixes do share similar customs..." they muse.

"Oh it was Kim."

"Yep!"

"And how, may I ask, do you know how to assert dominance among my people Human Kim?"

"My siblings and cousins."

"....you were taught by your human kin?"

"Some of them started to roar and hiss while we goofed around and to make sure they still listened to me while we did this I would 'assert dominance' by doing exactly what Max did."

"I thought humans did not have displays of dominance and that everyone is to be treated equally, like a herd."

"Yes thats right."

"But you just said..."

"Oh that was just us playing around. We still do it every now and then, just over the holidays my little sister and me did the equivalent of the gorlazitics display of dominance."

"For fun??? And not to be the new leader? No one was killed?"

"Save for our mother's opinion of us, no."

"Are you sure you two are herbivores?"

"The proper term is vegetarian, which is what I am, Kim is a pescatarian."

"May the fish forgive me for finding them so delicious in sushi form."

[50cal-fullauto-astarion]

horny, sulky, kinda mean, kinda roughhousing könig thought bc it's my birthday, it's 2:50am, i have been horny like a fuckin werewolf for like a week now. f!reader ig for talk about pussy.

So our man König doesn’t keep normal hours—not that you do, but dude is two days back from KorTac and pretty much strung out on the “fun” amphetamines KorTac req officers pass out like candy if you even wave smth that looks like a form at them. So kind of out of the worst of it, exhausted, but wired and feeling kind of shitty and toothy and wound up.

He wants to fuck. Easiest way to diffuse, decompress, and he’s hard as shit by the time he lumbers his way into bed with you—over you—all around you. You were reading off your kindle, not anymore. He plucks that shit right out of your hand and puts it behind him, tangling those long, heavy limbs around you like a boa constrictor.

“Was wondering when this was going to happen,” you say, hissing when he’s none to kind in nipping the skin of your neck, wrapping his arms around your torso, pushing your breasts up under your t-shirt. “Shit, you’re moody,” it’s half a laugh, and a grapple at not immediately just folding and giving into him. You like to bite, too.

“Give me your mouth,” he grunts, nose pushed into the spot behind your ear. He’s pushing down your underwear, singlemindedly stripping you down. His words make your skin humid, “Gonna play with your pussy, want you fucking wet for me.”

You give that little bit, turning your head over your shoulder, smirking into a kiss that drives deliriously deep as soon as contact is made. König isn’t a prim kisser, but a primal one. It’s not a clean act; sloppy, yes, and somehow tinged with something kin to restrained violence. Challenge? Dick swinging? Maybe something more biblical in nature—gluttony, or greed.

He’s a fearsome thing, and he may only be beautiful to you. A needful thing, too, twisting nest of starved serpents—6 feet 10 inches and pushing-300-lbs of fucking muscle, battering-ram-body housing more than thirty years of neglect-crushed memory out for retribution.

But you never were a target. He didn’t have a choice in that matter. You both know good and goddamned well that you picked him. Everything he gets away with is at your allowance, and good fucking Christ, he loves you for it.

His cock throbs against your bare ass through his boxers as his arm wraps around you, craning his hand to pump two big fingers into your sopping cunt, angling his wrist so he can press and rub your clit with his thumb.

Man’s got his perversions, and he’s the most physical person you’ve ever met in your life. He’s had a fraction of the sex he’s fantasized about, but you’ve covered hectares of that ground since you’ve gotten together. He’s a quick study, and his mind’s a nightmare of steel trap memory. He never forgets what you like.

Two fingers turn to three, and he almost pushes it to four—assured torture, too much stretch too fast—before you snap a hand around his wrist and buck hard back against him, seething his name in warning. “Don’t fucking dare.”

“Ja. Ja, Schatzi,” he mumbles, breathing hard and too collected. You’re both sweating already, and the bed feels too damn warm, but neither of you shift. The spooning position is perfect as-is, only needs acted upon. In the mean time, he draws his slicked fingers up, leaving them in the air before your mouth in question. He groans and shudders harshly when you take the digits into your mouth, almost laughing at the ever-fresh amusement of your own taste. Salt and cold coins, your own metallic tang a complement to the one on his skin. His voice shakes as he warns, “Time, now. It’s time, bitte, aw, fuck.”

Just like that, he sinks right into you, to the base, balls pressed tight against your lips due to your body’s contortioning to meld against his form. An ungodly moan bellows out of his throat, rattling from his chest into yours, arms tightening around you. You meet the fuck-weird noises, turning your head to keen into your pillows and pressing back against him. Your hand anchors behind you on his hip, as if pinning him in place, affixing your bodies together.

You both hang in a moment of suspension, hearts pounding, minds blank, stomachs rising as if careening over a hill with momentum not sparing you a moments reprieve.

When that finally snaps, you have to force him to focus, to fuck, and he’s slow about it, grinding into you as your cunt sucks him deeper.

That huge hand you know so well drops between your legs, right back to toying with you. Oh it doesn’t take long to get you off, bent in half on your side, holding onto him and gasping as you’re hit with wave after wave of pleasure.

He’s not subtle to signal when it’s his turn. He pulls you back up and clamps his teeth into your shoulder, biting down hard through the fabric of your shirt, fucking you rough, now, and unheeding, like an animal in heat. When he finally finishes, spasming and jolting all over now that his balls have been emptied into you, he leaves his heavy arm over your waist, keeping you close. “Good shit,” he mumbles, throat sticking to itself it’s so dry as he pants, parched, “we split a smoke?”

You’re not much better, even though you’ve bravado to fucking spare. “I smoke. You go the hell to sleep now,” you try to sound stern and dismissive, but there’s a laugh in your tone some place. And fondness, undeniably. You feel his grin against your neck, his body purring mhm in question. “Feel better?” you ask, at length, stroking the hair on his forearms.

“Yes,” he says after a moment, weak and sweet with relief, “can sleep now.” A pause, you can hear him thinking. “Won’t, though. Because you were an asshole and had to bring it up first.” His laugh wheezes, low and susurring.

[pep-rambles]

Lucifer is a Swiftie headcanons because I kin this man so much I am projecting my other hyperfixations on him

But also I mean c'mon,

Look at him

yes there is RadioApple in this

-It probably started from Charlie. When she was in high school (post emo phase obviously) she may have enjoyed Taylor Swift (maybe Fearless got her through her senior year because I can't stop projecting) Lucifer started listening to try and have something to bond with his daughter about. But about the time Charlie kind of lost interest is about the time Lucifer doubled down on his obsession.

-He has been to basically almost every Eras concert, usually in really good seats because many a swiftie has offered to sell their soul for tickets. He said keep your soul just let him tag along.

-He is definitely an Evermore stan mostly because of relating too hard to the divorce narrative of it.

-Speaking of, Charlie has threatened to lock him out of his Spotify after catching him on the floor crying to “Champaign Problems” on repeat too many times. She never would but most definitely tried to ban him from listening to it for a month.

-She then caught him crying to “You’re Loosing Me”

-Angel Dust is most definitely  Beyhive (killer bee probably) and though initially joking that they are rivals the two men bond over their love for the two queens of pop, recommending songs and videos to each other.

-Angel is a Reputation Stan though 

-After one of Lucifer’s many tiffs with Alastor,  Charlie is expressing her frustration asking her dad why can’t they just get along and Lucifer explains that he doesn’t trust Alastor because “I think his ever-present grin is a little troubling” and is a little upset when she doesn’t get it 

-One day, Luci is sitting in the Lobby doing his work while listening to Taylor on shuffle. He’s casually minding his own business jamming out to one of her poppier love songs and Alastor wanders in commenting on the “Obnoxious trite little diddy” Lucifer doesn't even hesitate to take the bait

L: HOW DARE YOU! SHE IS A TALENTED GODDESS!! A DOWNRIGHT MUSICAL CHAMELEON! You are such a snob Alastor! Good music didn't stop getting made after your tiny little lifetime.

A: I never said it did but it's certainly not this frivolous noise!

L: Oh, you uninformed uncultured cur! She is a fucking poet!

He then proceeds to play examples for Alastor of her most creative and heart wrenching lyrics (he absolutely makes Al sit through all 10 minutes and 13 seconds of ATW) 

After all that though Lucifer will never get Alastor to admit that he finds T.S. musically talented (or that Lucifer did in fact catch Al tapping his foot a couple times)

        -Alastor does come to Lucifer, after a bit of research, admitting that though he does not find her music enjoyable, he respects her business cunning. Luci figures that's good enough. For now. 

-because I bet my non-existent Eras tour tickets that Lilith was a hater. I’ll leave it at that.

-OP works at Barnes & Noble and let me tell you there are about 80 different Taylor Swift magazines that even my swiftie ass thinks is excessive but Lucifer has every single one

-including the Taylor Swift paper dolls magazine (yes this is a real thing). He probably gets a few because he convinces Charlie to use them as a team building activity.

-He has at least 3 copies of each of the covers for the 2023 TIME Person of the Year magazine. 

-Also all cardigans. On a casual day he definitely lounges in them and has a set rotation of when to wear each one (and I am totally not gonna draw that nope)

-Well, it seems Lucifer is no longer crying to the depressing break-up songs on repeat but now he seems to be angrily listening to “Gorgeous” on repeat. Charlie asks him about it and he goes full denial mode “No no Charlie I'm not thinking of anyone specific, I've just been really into this song lately.” Everyone else in the hotel, besides Alastor, has already figured out what's going on

Alastor: If I have to hear that obnoxious noise one more time I will reduce that tiny maniac’s room to rubble as well as the abode of whatever sad sack is making him play it.

Angel: *knowing smirk* I'm gonna hold ya to that one, Antlers. 

-Al may very well hear it one more time if Lucifer uses it as his confession song (I don't fully commit to this headcanon, I just think it's funny) 

-Anyway boy’s probably in his Reputation stan Era b/c LWYMMD is like his long overdue big F-YOU to Heaven song 

btw this is NOT gonna end at these headcanons I am running with this idea like scissors.

@nunalastor

@julsiemagne

@nose-nippin-fun (I know you're not a swiftie but we talked about this so idk if you care I can un-tag you if you want)

[shirefantasies]

Hello again! I have another request that came to me as I was submitting a different one. How do you think Thorin's or the LOTR companies would react to reader having a buzzcut. Especially for dwarves who pride themselves in long intricately done hair and braids. Would they think something bad must've happened to the reader for them to have short hair. Cue misunderstandings and fluff, with maybe hair petting(buzzcuts are super soft!) Hope this sounds interesting enough to do, have a good day again! :)

(I literally lied on my last post THIS is my last pre-op post by the 45 minutes left before my operation appointment)

Heck yeah friend I love this! I don’t quite have a buzzcut but my hair’s far shorter than the average lady’s & definitely so for a dwarf, so I wonder about this too 😁 hope you enjoy 🥰 Warnings: a little violence in one reaction, injury mention in another

Thorin’s Company When You Have a Buzzcut

Balin

“You’re causing quite a stir with everyone, you know that?” Giving a chuckle at Balin’s cheeky look, you lean forward with your chin upon your hand. “And why is that?” “At risk of offense,” the older dwarf answered, “they all want to know what happened to your hair.” “Yourself included,” you shot back with a grin, “or else you’d not be asking.” Taken aback, Balin stutters a bit. “Ah, well, I confess I am a bit curious, after all. Reminds me of when my brother first took all his off. What a stir over something so silly. Do what you like, I was just wondering if Dwalin was trying to get you all painted up too.” “Not yet,” your smile softens and you give him a wink, “but if he does you’ll be the first to know. Ahead of all the sensation.”

Dwalin

You start the conversation on this one, seeing that Dwalin is the other company member with little to no hair upon his head and considering it a bonding opportunity. “Well, I’ve got a reason,” he shoots back to your comment of similarity, arms crossed but expression teasing, “what’s yours? You need some tattoos up there at least.” “No thank you,” you tell him, “if I’m adding any tattoos it won’t be on top of my head! Feel how soft it is up here.” Dwalin looks at you, prompting you to take his hand and put it on top of your head, his eyebrows raising at the sensation. And perhaps because touching one’s hair is a much closer and more intimate thing for him than perhaps you realize. You are quite forward, aren’t you?

Thorin

Pays little mind to how you wear your hair…or lack thereof. In fact, by your appearance he gauges you to be a warrior of some kind, thus taking command of your actions in a fight and seeking proof of your prowess. Before your first encounter with a threat the king’s questions are more along the lines of “What is your weapon of choice?” and “From where in these lands do you hail?” The day the company fights a pack of orcs, you manage to take down more than Thorin expected and at one point, you even jump in front of Dori to parry before a potentially deadly strike takes him off guard. Rising from the struggle of battle, black blood splattered across your layers and even your shaven head, you feel a hand upon your shoulder. Thorin. "It can be hard for us to look beyond our own kin," he tells you, "but you have well proven yourself today. We may not always understand each other, but there is a beauty in that, too, I see."

Oin

Wincing despite your gratitude, you shifted in your seated position while Oin packed the poultice into the wound your side had suffered. "Don't worry, you'll go numb in a bit. If it stings, that is quite alright, that simply means you are getting clean again." Thanking him through heavy breaths, you watched as the dwarf reached a hand up toward your head, running a hand over the soft, shorn little bit of cover it had. "And this one's healing quite nicely, quite nicely indeed. Why, I cannot even see the scar!" The sting in your bloody side faded down a bit as you tilted your head to fix Oin right in the eyes. "What scar?" "Did they not have to sew up your head at some point? Figured that's why they shaved you down," he answered, finally removing his hand from your head. You giggled at that, regretted stretching yourself at a new, though much smaller, arc of pain. "No, my dear Oin, I am afraid the only thing my head has suffered is my typical madness," you teased, waving your hands mystically and grinning at the way the healer laughed.

Gloin

"Pardon me, my dear," your name rolled smoothly off Gloin's tongue as he shuffled forth, hands folded in front of him in the picture of innocence. Oh, this was going to be good. "Yes?" You indulged him, swiveling to give your full attention. The auburn-haired dwarf pointed to his head, his own flowing locks. "What happened t'yer hair?" Perhaps sheepishly, his voice suddenly quickened. Feeling your eyebrows involuntarily raise, you tilted your head- this was not exactly what you’d expected, after all. “I cut it,” you shrugged, “got tired of how it was before. Simply wanted a new beginning, you could say.” Gloin’s eyes never left yours. “So no accident?” “No.” “Ha!” The dwarf bellowed, waggling a hand at his brother and a small scattering of company members a ways back. “I was right! By choice! Now pay up and remember I told ya it was worth the risk!” Shaking your head, you playfully smack him on the shoulder. “I’d better get a cut from this, you ol’ scallywag!”

Bifur

Catching Bifur signing, you turn his way, seeing the motions he performs by his head. “Did you cut your hair yourself?” You realize he is asking. “No,” you sign back, “another did it for me.” “You must trust them a great deal.” Simple enough words signed and yet there is something in the way his eyes shine, the fond inquisition in his smile, that brings a little shock of joy to you. Barring royal dressings, it was far more common for one to do their own hair or entrust it to a loved one, and you could see intimacy in the act. It almost brought a pang of regret that it was just some small-town hairdresser that sheared it at your asking and payment. Your hands freeze for a moment as your eyes search Bifur before you finally sign a response. “I suppose. Perhaps if you ever want to do something different with your hair, I could help you, too.”

Bofur

A mix between caring and teasing, he offers you cover! “Your head looks cold. Need to borrow my hat?” Thinks he’s so funny he laughs at his own joke whether you roll your eyes or joke back. “But really, any particular reason you took it all off?” "It was uncomfortable having it long," you admit, "I was tired of it all being in my face." The way everyone spoke of dwarven culture, you half expect disapproval, but this is Bofur you speak of. Instead he nods acceptingly, smiling in that way that always has you feeling seen and reassured. "I understand that." "You do?" "Sure I do! Why do you think I keep mine braided out to the sides like this?" At that, you smile back. "Besides," he continues, "helps me see all the best sights. The trees, the flowers, that smile of yours..."

Bombur

“Singe all your hair off?” Bombur nods sagely despite the fact that he couldn’t be more wrong. “I’ve been there. Burned my beard leaning too far over the stove.” You can’t even correct him right away because you’re too busy laughing. Finally, though, you explain to him that your hair was simply so unhealthy it needed to start over. “Ah, I see, I see! Trying to take better care of it, then?” At that, you nod. He looks at you with new interest, eyes shining eagerly. “So what would you like to do with it next? I’ve got some things you might like to put in it, and I think it would look mighty nice if you wanted to try…”

Dori

"Sometimes I wish I could do that, too," Dori remarks one day, rolling blue eyes illuminated beneath the sun that peeked between the branches. Shifting carefully so as to not disturb your pony, you turned back to face him. "Do what?" "Cut all my hair off just to save some time in the morning!" He replied with a wave of a hand in your general direction. Chuckling, you gave a conceding nod. "I suppose you would gain back an hour, wouldn't you?" At that, it was Dori's turn to laugh. "But then again," you continued, "then you couldn't wear as many of those nice clips and cases. That is one thing I miss about having it all." Puffing up like a proud little bird, Dori smiled. "They are quite nice, aren't they? You know, if you ever get so bored you're tempted to let it all come back, I could make you some of your own."

Nori

Abrasive as it was, Nori's question found you in a way that raised such amusement you forgot to be upset with him entirely, instead simply falling back with a bark of laughter before you answered. "Looks like you're tryin' to hide your identity. You on the run from someone?" He continued musing, in fact, as you laughed. "Law somewhere? A scorned lover? Simply run off with something too valuable not to do that?" Finally, your voice returned. "All this because I've sheared my head down?" You burst out incredulously. "Ever consider," you gasped in mock-scandal, "I like it like this?" "Sure, but that's not exciting," Nori shot back with a smirk, "I like a good story." "Well," you crossed your arms, "perhaps I still have some of those, too."

Ori

Shuffling up to you was the youngest dwarf in the company, sweet Ori; Ori was one of the dwarves who accepted outsiders most readily, and you spent plenty of time at his side watching his drawings and records come to life. That day, though, what was in his hand was not his book, rather a bundle of fabric. "I made this for you." Eyes widening, you extend your hands to accept the soft knitting, peering back at Ori. "I thought your head must get cold," he explained his craft as you unfolded it, revealing a thick, sturdy cap you immediately began pulling onto your head, "does it fit?" Yarn hugging your head perfectly, you nodded. "It's just my size. Thank you." Before he could speak again, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug. "This is the kindest thing anyone has done for me in some time. Thank you."

Fili

“One of my braids came undone. Kili?” The younger Durin prince seemingly did not hear the request for his presence, so you stepped forward. “I can help.” Goggling at you, Fili posed a question. “Do you even know how?” Hand falling to your hip, you shot him a look. “Though I may not possess them myself, I am quite capable of doing them up.” The golden-haired dwarf looked sheepish, a bit of the mischief fading from his blue eyes. “Suppose I assumed you didn’t much enjoy doing them either,” he told you with a nod toward your head. “Well,” a teasing smile drifted across your face, “I certainly would…unless you are scared.” You were no fool. You knew how the Durins were with challenges. And if you remembered correctly, you knew how dwarves were with braids…

Kili

He cares some of the least out of the dwarves being the least traditionally presenting himself. He’s sort of the type to be a little attracted to everyone, enjoying the unique traits of all types of people. You still cannot help being a bit surprised when he flirts with you, though, not expecting someone with a cut like yours to catch his eye or draw his teasing. “Not one for a courting braid, I see? No one worthy of putting one on you, no doubt.” For all his jesting questions, he never actually demands an answer, though. Instead he simply launches into a story about a haircut prank he pulled with his older brother once to keep light conversation flowing. “Well, by the end of it our uncle looked quite like you! Except he didn’t pull it off half as well.”

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @kilibaggins | Let me know if you'd like to join!

[egcdeath]

kith and kin

pairing: joel miller x f!reader (pairing from the soccer parents AU)

summary: your parents finally meet joel in the midst of celebrating your daughter’s birthday. 

word count: 8.3k

warnings: brief mention of past abuse, a little tough love from reader’s mom, no use of y/n, cursing, alternate universe: no apocalypse, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, joel is a little anxious, your daughters are sassy, very lightly edited

author’s note: i’ve had the worst writers block recently, but i love this pairing too much to let them go. feel free to send me any requests!

previous part / series masterlist

Joel paced back and forth in your bedroom, the padded sound of his socks hitting the floor pleasant at first but was becoming a bit of an annoyance by the tenth consecutive minute of the sound of pacing.

Chloe’s birthday was in just a few days and your parents had rented out a cabin on Canyon Lake, inviting you and one of her friends to come along. Seeing as you’d been together for around a year now and that there was no better time than the present, you figured it was probably about time for Joel to meet your parents.

“Joel,” you finally said sternly, zipping up your suitcase and looking up at your partner. “Relax, honey. They’re gonna love you. I mean, they’re gonna have to love you since I love you. That’s how it works, right?” you walked over to him and gently grabbed the bottom of his shirt, pulling him into what you hoped would be a reassuring kiss.

“I don’t know,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours. “What if they don’t think I’m good for you?”

“Well, this may be breaking news to you, but we’re not living in the 1700’s. We don’t exactly need my parents’ approval to have a relationship.”

Joel walked away from you, grabbing his own bag from where it laid on the floor. “I know, it’s just… I want them to like me. I don’t want you to have to feel like you needed to choose between me and your family and secretly resent me for years over that.”

“Maybe let’s unpack that last part some other time. But you’re so likable and charming, they’d have to be crazy to not like you.”

“I admire your belief in me, but it’s been well over a decade since I’ve had to meet and woo someone’s parents. What if I’m rusty?”

“Don’t be rusty, just be yourself!” you tried, smiling at your own terrible dad joke.

“Ha, ha,” his laughter was forced and monotone.

“Not the time?” You knew it was bad when Joel didn’t even respond to one of his beloved dad jokes.

“Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about. But everything is gonna go great, okay? And if not, you have a few days to make them love you, yeah?”

“You’re right,” he admitted reluctantly, seemingly just wanting to move on from the conversation. “You ready to go?”

“I am. Are you?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

When you arrived at the cabin, your parents were sat on the front porch, seemingly deep in their own conversation before noticing your car pulling up.

Chloe was quick to hop out of the car, excited to see her grandparents. Given that they were practically attached at the hip, Sarah followed close behind Chloe, with the pair receiving hugs from your parents as they greeted the girls.

Still firmly seated in the car, Joel took a deep, yet shaky breath, giving you an idea of just how nervous he was to be meeting your parents. Wanting to give the man a bit of reassurance, you grabbed ahold of his slightly trembling hand and squeezed it hard.

“I promise you have nothing to worry about. You’re gonna have a great time, and my parents are probably gonna love you more than they love me. Got it?” you asked firmly, trying to sound sure of yourself despite the minor nerves you were facing yourself.

“Got it,” Joel parroted, although he didn’t exactly sound sure of himself.

“C’mon,” you beckoned, unstrapping yourself before getting out of the car. After a very subtle moment of reluctance, Joel’s door opened and your partner stepped out of your car as well.

The moment he got out of the car, you grabbed his hand, squeezing it once again as a small demonstration of your support before leading him up to the porch.

The girls were already making their way inside when you finally reached your parents, your mom giving you a tight hug and setting her head on your shoulder.

“It’s been too long,” she declared as she squeezed you for a few more beats, finally pulling away to analyze the man you had brought with you. “And who is this?”

“Mom, Dad, this is Joel. He’s Sarah’s dad,” you stepped back to wrap your arm around Joel, a slightly territorial move to show your parents that whatever you had going on was serious. “He’s also my boyfriend.”

“Nice to meet you, Joel” your mother greeted, shaking Joel’s hand and maintaining a somewhat loaded eye contact with him. She smiled at him, but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Your dad didn’t even bother with the pleasantries, giving Joel’s hand a firm squeeze and one solid shake. Both of your parents looked rather skeptical of the man, but you hoped that the stern look you were offering them was warning enough for your parents to behave around your boyfriend.

As everyone left to put away their luggage, you stayed downstairs with your mother, who indicated she wanted to have a separate conversation with you.

“What’s up?” you asked her, crossing your arms over your chest defensively in anticipation of what she might say. Based on that loaded interaction on the porch, you already had a good idea of where this conversation is going.

“Is this the Joel from Chloe’s soccer games?”

Shit. The one time your parents remember the name of someone you disliked just happens to be the one time you bring them home.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you remembered that,” you attempted to casually brush off. “It is.”

“The one you couldn’t stand?” your mother pressed, her brows furrowing as she looked at you with what seemed like disbelief.

“That was a while ago! Before our kids got closer and I got to know him better. And really it wasn’t even like I couldn’t stand him, it was more like he mildly annoyed me and we would argue sometimes. Even then, I kinda just had a crush on him. That’s why I told you guys about him in the first place. Notice how you don’t know the names of anyone else on the team who I don’t like?” you spoke quickly as you attempted to justify what you’d told your parents in the past.

“Stop. Just stop,” your mother rubbed the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath. Growing up, you were all too familiar with that move of exasperation. “Why do you keep doing this?”

“Doing… what?” you said meekly, almost scared of what was going to come next.

“Finding men that don’t treat you right. Men who aren’t good for you?”

Oh. So that was what this was about. It was less about Joel, and more about your parents not trusting you to take care of yourself.

One of your biggest fears after exiting your relationship with Nathan laid in the ways that people would treat you after finding out you had stayed in a relationship that was abusive. Sure, there was the sympathy that always came with finding out about someone’s past trauma, but then there was the judgment that came with finding out you stayed. You knew people would question your ability to take care of yourself and your daughter, and you knew people would question your ability to find a significant other who didn’t end up toxic. It shouldn’t have surprised you that your mother was grilling you like this—after all, it was her that you turned to on nights where you had nowhere else to go, bringing your daughter to her home on days where things with Nathan got particularly tough.

“No! No, no, no,” you protested, emotions that had spent far too long simmering on the back burner beginning to come forward. “Joel is the best thing to happen for me in a long time.”

“Honey,” your mom sighed and looked at you with what could only be described as pity. Frankly, it made you want to crawl out of your skin. “You sound just like a teenager again, defending Nathan.”

You nearly had a visceral reaction at the comparison of Joel to Nathan. You just wished your mother could understand that even though she may have heard some of the things you’d been through, that you had lived through those things, and you would never make that kind of mistake again.

“Mom, Joel is nothing like Nathan,” you expressed passionately. “He’s an amazing partner and he may have only been in Chloe’s life for a short bit of time, but he’s a far better father to her than Nathan’s ever been.”

“I want to believe you, and I am going to give him a chance. But just know that things even seem like they might go South, your father and I will be fighting tooth and nail to keep Chloe safe. You’re an adult; you can make your own decisions, but we won’t let her go through something like that again.”

You understood the implication of her statement and frowned. You knew that your parents just wanted the best for you and your daughter, but this whole thing just made you feel like a child. Why were you being punished for being a victim? Did your parents really trust you so little? Little enough to think that you would intentionally put your daughter in harm’s way?

“Okay,” you uttered, defeat evident in your tone. “But there’s nothing to worry about with Joel.”

“I certainly hope so,” your mother said with a sense of finality.

You found yourself sitting by the lake as Joel played with the kids, deep in thought as you pondered the situation. Maybe inviting Joel was a bad idea. Your parents clearly weren’t happy and your partner certainly wasn’t comfortable. At the very least, the girls seemed to be excited to spend some time on a little vacation with the man.

Chloe ran over to you, pulling your attention away from the cyclical motion of the water as it approached and receded over and over again.

“Come look at our sandcastles! They’re really detailed,” she said excitedly, grabbing your hand and attempting to pull you up. Her excitement was contagious, causing you to completely disregard all the negative feelings you’d been stewing in after your conversation with your mother in favor of adopting some of your daughter’s enthusiasm.

“Okay, okay, I’m coming,” you laughed, following your daughter out to the shore as she practically ran all the way over to her creation.

You squat down next to Sarah and set your hand on your brow so you could protect your eyes from the sun as you looked upon the three sandcastles in front of you.

“Well, what do you think?” Sarah asked, her tone just as excited as Chloe’s.  

“I am very impressed. Great work, guys,” you expressed, beaming at the people around you.

“But which one is your favorite?” your daughter asked, shooting you a cheeky look that you were becoming all too familiar with.

“They’re all my favorite,” you replied, evaluating the castles.

“Boo,” Sarah jeered, clearly hoping for a better answer. “Which one is your actual favorite?”

“Hmm,” you fake-pondered aloud, bringing your free hand to your chin to make you seem like you were far deeper in thought than you actually were.

“We don’t have all day, mom,” Chloe commented, setting a hand on her hip.

“Hey! Good deliberation takes time,” you replied. Given that everyone was sitting by their own castle, it wasn’t very hard to pick out which one belonged to your boyfriend. Seeing as you were in the mood to mess around, you proudly declared Joel’s castle as your favorite, despite his castle not looking so hot.  

“That one,” you said, trying to hide entertainment on your face as you pointed to the least technically impressive castle. Joel’s expression matched yours as he clearly bit back an entertained smirk.

“Whaaat? C’mon, I have a moat!” Chloe gasped, throwing a hand over her heart to show just how offended she was.

“And I have a mermaid! What does his have that ours doesn’t?” Sarah protested as she gestured over at her sand mermaid.

“She’s just biased because they’re in love or whatever,” Chloe scoffed. “Don’t worry, Sare. You’re a winner in my eyes.”

“Aw, stop, I love yours too!” Sarah grinned, going in to hug her friend as the two began to compliment aspects of each other’s sandcastles.

You couldn’t wipe the smile off of your face if you tried. Somehow, being around your little found family always made you feel a bit better. Even if your parents didn’t approve and never came around to Joel, that didn’t change the fact that you genuinely were happy with the man, and even happier with the blended family you’d created.

“Girls!” your mom yelled from inside, drawing all of your attention away from the beach and towards her booming voice. “Lunch is ready!”

“I’ll race you back inside?” Sarah offered. Chloe was off on her feet before she could even respond.

You and Joel took your time getting back to the house, walking slowly as you filled him in on your mother’s one-on-one confrontation with you. Despite the joy in the moment just prior, the reality check of having to deal with your parents had brought both of your moods back down rather quickly.

“I don’t think your parents like me very much,” Joel admitted to you, a hint of shame in his voice.

“I-“ you wanted to lie to him, to at least bring a little comfort to your boyfriend who had been worried sick about your parents not liking him. “It’s not your fault, it’s Nathan’s. They think I… they basically think I have a type. It doesn’t help that they think I used to hate you.”

“Fuck,” Joel exclaimed quietly, looking away from you. “I’m sorry, I just… I want them to like me. I’m already so nervous, I feel like I’m gonna shit a fucking brick. How can I make them like me?”

“Just be yourself, okay? And relax. I’m gonna love you regardless of whether or not my parents like you. Nothing's gonna change because of what my parents think of you. At the end of the day, I’m the one crawling in bed with you, not them. Who cares what they think?”

“I care. Deep down, you care too.”

“Joel, please,” you stopped and grabbed his hands, gently tugging him over to you. “I genuinely do not care. I love you. I love our family. Nothing is going to change that, okay? Nothing.”

Joel looked at you anxiously, his eyes a bit more defeated than usual. The two of you made wordless eye contact, communicating something heartfelt without using one word.

“We’re gonna be okay, regardless of how this weekend turns out. Okay? Just be yourself and my parents will eventually come around. If they don’t, it’s their loss.”

The round table at the patio of the lake house had a shape that in any other setting you wouldn’t even really notice, but only seemed to create more tension in this particular context.

You sat next to Sarah and across from Chloe, who sat next to your mother. It just so happened that Joel and your father were sitting across from each other at the table, and you could already feel the stare down just waiting to happen.

“So Chlo, what are you wishing for for your birthday?” your mom gently asked as your daughter took a bite of her food.

“Hmm,” she hummed as she thought. “I don’t really know. And if I did know, I wouldn’t tell you! Remember, wishes don’t come true if you tell people. But I am very happy to be here with everyone. So maybe my unofficial wish is to have more family time.”

“That is a great wish, Bug,” your dad agreed. Sarah smiled mischievously at the nickname and Chloe threw her a playful glare.

“So how is school going, ladies?” your mom asked them, looking between Sarah and Chloe.

You glanced over at Joel, mostly to make sure that he was doing okay under the pointed gaze of your father. Sweat beaded at his forehead and you weren’t quite sure if it was from the dry heat or from the daggers your dad was currently shooting at him.

Thankfully, your kids seemed to be blissfully unaware of the one-sided war going on at the table. You attempted to reach under the table and grab Joel’s hand, but the odd shape of the table didn’t allow for that. He was on his own for the duration of lunch.

The conversation mostly flowed between your mom, Chloe, and Sarah, with your father occasionally butting in to comment on something. All you could do was sit and watch while your dad grilled your boyfriend with only his eyes, with not one thing you could do about it.

Finally, it seemed like everyone had finished their meals, and that Joel could finally get up and be put out of his misery. But fate didn’t seem to be on his side, as he somehow wasn’t off the hook yet.

“Why don’t you all go try out one of the trails? Joel and I are gonna stay behind and do some dishes,” your dad proposed, making pointed eye contact with your boyfriend.

The girls happily agreed with the plan, excited and oblivious of the fear that had just coursed through yours and Joel’s veins with the idea of him being alone with your father.

“Hold on, ladies. You’re still wearing flip flops. How about you go change into better shoes, then we’ll go explore a trail. Sounds good?” you asked, hoping to buy yourself a moment of time to give Joel a pep talk.

Chloe nodded affirmatively and the two of them headed inside to change. At least you could have one private moment with Joel before he had to face off your father.

You stood up and pushed in your chair before grabbing Joel’s hand and squeezing his slightly shaking palm as hard as you could.

“You’ll be okay. Just relax,” you said under your breath so that your parents wouldn’t notice. “Remember, you can’t say the wrong thing. Even if they despise you, I’ll still love you. Okay?”

“Okay,” Joel agreed, although he didn’t seem completely convinced.

“You got this,” you reiterated, letting go of Joel’s hand as the girls came back outside, talking about some show they’d been watching.

When you glanced away, your father had begun picking up plates, looking at Joel like he expected him to be doing the same. That was your cue to leave.

You mouthed good luck at Joel before your mother ushered you all away. You had no idea how your dad was going to act around your boyfriend, but you certainly hoped for his sake that he wouldn’t be too terrible.

After you and the girls left, Joel and your father picked up the dishes outside in silence, with Joel focusing on finding his composure and maintaining it, and your father being completely unreadable.

Joel politely opened the door for the man, even with his hands filled with plates, cups, and silverware. Your father simply gave Joel a curt nod rather than a verbal thank you.

He followed your father into the kitchen, trailing a few steps behind him before setting down the content of his full arms into the sink. Joel did his best not to overthink this interaction, but it was going to be his first one-on-one with one of your parents, and your father had already spent the past hour giving him a nasty glare.

The following silence was awkward and thick. Almost like those tension filled silences you and Joel had the first few times you were together with stakes that somehow felt even higher.

Joel stood at the sink, silently scrubbing away at a dish, hoping that an awkward silence would be the most of his woes that day, rather than any sort of verbal confrontation.

“You do the dishes often?” your dad asked out of the blue, breaking the awkward silence with an even more awkward question.  

“Uh,” he tried not to show how thrown off he was by the question. Maybe if Joel could treat the interaction as less of an interrogation and more of a way for your dad to get to know him a little better, things would be slightly less awkward. “I do. I mean, I’ve been a single dad for almost 13 years. Someone had to wash the dishes, and it wasn’t gonna be Sarah.” Joel chuckled awkwardly, but your father didn’t even crack a smile.

“So if you had a wife, she’d be doing the dishes?”

Joel was once again thrown off, this time by the accusatory tone your father had asked the question with. Joel tried to give the man a bit of grace—your dad was probably trying to get a good read on him, so he would try not to let it get under his skin too much.

“What? No! I-I never said that. We’d probably split our house chores. I mean, that’s what your daughter and I do.”

There. That was a good enough answer. Tell the truth while explaining why him and his daughter were a good pair.

“Oh?” your father began with the raise of a brow, setting down the dish he was working on. “Well, why don’t you have a wife?”

Joel was completely taken aback by the blunt question, but assumed it was fair enough game to ask about. He would probably wonder the same if he were in your father’s shoes.

“Uh, my last long-term partner left shortly after Sarah was born,” he answered quietly, afraid of the judgment that your father may pass upon him, and slightly ashamed to admit what happened in the past.  

“Oh,” if Joel wasn’t mistaken, it almost seemed like your father’s tone shifted, as if he wasn’t expecting that answer. “That sounds hard. Do you know why?”

It almost felt like that answer had humanized Joel the slightest bit in your fathers eyes.

“It’s a long story,” Joel dismissed, not particularly wanting to get into all the details at that very moment. “Leaving was better for her mental health.”

“Okay,” your father simply accepted, although Joel had a feeling that answer didn’t quite suffice.

“But things are better now, with your daughter around,” Joel added. “Sarah’s probably happier now than I’ve seen her in a long time. I can’t really speak for Chloe, but based on what I’ve been told, she’s been doing better too. It’s been really nice to finally have another parent around to be able to split duties with. I just wish I’d found your daughter earlier,” Joel gushed, hoping that your father would find his answer pleasing enough.

Your father was unresponsive to Joel’s statement, finishing up the last of the dishes before finally speaking again.

“You talk a lot,” your father said simply, turning off the water flow of the sink and turning to face Joel head on. “I’m not gonna beat around the bush here. I’m glad to hear that things are working well for you two right now. I don’t know how much you know about Nathan. I don’t particularly care how much you know either. What I do care about you knowing is that I will never see my daughter suffer like that again. Understand?”

Joel was taken aback by the abrupt change in tone, and just when he thought tensions between them were easing up. “Y-Yes, yeah I-“

“So if you ever put your hands on my daughter, or raise your voice even an octave higher than it needs to be at her, there will be hell to pay. Get it?”

“I do, uh, I get it,” Joel wasn’t even completely sure how he was supposed to be reacting to this sudden rant.

“I want you to say it. You’re not going to mistreat my daughter, and you’re not ever going to lay a finger on her. And god help you if you do anything to Chloe.”

“I swear. I swear I’ll never hurt your daughter or your granddaughter ever,” Joel’s words were rushed, and he swore he could hear his rushed heartbeat in his own ears. The sudden confrontation being jarring was an understatement, but he supposed that’s how your father intended it to be.

“Good. I’m going to hold you to that,” was all that your father said as turned to dry his hands off on a towel. “Thanks for helping with dishes.”

“No problem, sir,” Joel choked out, like his heart wasn’t still in his throat. He took that as an indication that he was dismissed, and he set down the things in his hand before walking back outside and heading straight to the lake—far away from your father.

As you were heading back from your hike, you were surprised to run into Joel. He looked slightly disheveled, but particularly relieved to see you. The girls seemed just as pleased to see him, talking his ear off all the way back to the lake house. You occasionally glanced over at your mother, trying to get some sort of read on her opinion of Joel, but it didn’t seem to be working.

“So what happened?” you asked as you stepped out of the bathroom, exchanging your towel for the soft pajamas you’d brought with you. “You seemed pretty shaken up after lunch.”

“Your dad just really grilled me,” Joel explained, turning off the lamp on his side of the bed as you flopped onto the mattress next to him.

“My dad can be an ass sometimes. I apologize,” you muttered, curling up beside Joel. “And I apologize for bringing you here. I didn’t know they were gonna be like this.”

“It’s not your fault,” Joel assured, hoping to bring you a little consolation.

“It is, though. I’m the one who suggested that you come. I wasn’t thinking,” you whispered as you set an arm and your head on top of Joel’s torso.

“They were gonna have to meet me eventually. Better now than at the wedding, right?” Joel quipped.

“Right,” you agreed, looking up from where you’d set your head on your partner’s chest. “Hold on, are you proposing to me right now?”

“No, not yet,” Joel began to backtrack.

“Good. You’ll need my parents’ blessing first,” you teased. “Too soon?”

“Maybe a little,” Joel stifled his laugh.

“Ugh, I’m exhausted,” you groaned. “I can’t even imagine how you feel.”

“Also exhausted, mixed with a little bit of defeated,” Joel sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “You meant it when you said you’ll love me even if your family doesn’t, right?”

“Of course!” you exclaimed, sitting up a little so you could make better eye contact with your boyfriend. “Of course I will love you even if they don’t,” you promised.

Joel still didn’t exactly look like he was buying it.

“Joel,” you began, tone stern and serious. “Every day, you make my life so much better. You bring me so many laughs and smiles, you’re always there when I need to rant, and you’re the most reliable person ever when it comes to parenting shit. You’re probably the best thing that’s happened to me since Chloe was born. So yes, it would be great if my parents loved you as much as I do. But until they figure that out, I could care less about their opinions.”

That answer finally seemed to resolve some of the insecurity Joel was feeling around wanting to impress your parents, as he didn’t bring it back up for the rest of the night.

It was far too early to be awake, but Joel was having a hard time sleeping. Sure, you peacefully snoozed next to him, and of course Joel was comforted by your sleeping presence, but despite the pep talk you gave him, the knowledge that your parents disliked him and that all of his fears had come to light weren’t allowing him to rest very well.

With not much else to do and an arm that was quickly falling asleep (thanks to your cuddling), Joel snuck out of bed and down the stairs. Maybe he could catch the sunrise on the lakefront.

As he made his way to the patio, he heard a few sounds coming from the kitchen, and went to investigate. He was surprised to find your mother already walking around the kitchen, seemingly making a coffee for herself.

“Morning,” Joel greeted, voice raspy as he announced his presence.

Your mom turned around and offered him a pressed smile. She clearly was not expecting visitors this early in the morning.

“Morning,” she repeated. “Would you like some coffee?”

“That would be great,” Joel smiled, sitting down at the kitchen table while your mother worked on putting together another mug.

“You an early riser?” your mom asked Joel, bringing a mug and some creamer over to him.

“Thank you. And no, not really. Your daughter and I usually trade off on who’s gonna wake up early and get the kids ready for school while the other gets to sleep in. I just couldn’t sleep all that well today,” Joel shrugged as he prepared his coffee just the way he liked it.

“That’s sweet,” she hummed, taking a sip from her drink.

Joel sipped his coffee as well, and found himself surprised at the quality of the drink. “This is really good,” he acknowledged. “Is this a pour-over?”

“It is! How did you know?” your mother sounded quite excited that you were able to identify any way of brewing coffee, let alone identifying how his drink was made from just one sip.

“I can taste the difference,” Joel explained.

“See! That’s what I’ve been telling my husband.”

“I also may or may not have seen your dripper. But from one coffee connoisseur to another, this is amazing coffee. I’ve always said a pour-over gets you the best flavor.”

“I completely agree! These new, fancy drip machines just don’t do coffee justice. Keurigs, Nespressos, they’re all hunks of junk to me.”

“Well someone gifted me a Nespresso for Valentine’s Day after seeing my dripper and calling it prehistoric. I use it, of course, but it doesn’t compare.”

“Since it was a gift, I can forgive that,” your mother laughed, taking a hearty sip. “Do you ever grind your own beans?”

“When I can,” Joel replied, thinking about the fresh bag of beans he had sitting on the counter back home.

“Ah! Good boy,” your mother exclaimed, clearly pleased with Joel’s answers. “You do any other special things in the kitchen?”

“Eh, not particularly. I do enjoy being in the kitchen, though. I mean, being a single parent, I didn’t really have many options but to learn how to cook since I didn’t have anyone else to carry me in that area. I will say, we’ve been baking more often. Turns out, I can make a pretty mean focaccia.”

“Baking? With my daughter? You sure you’re talking about the one upstairs? I swear I’ve been trying to get her to bake for years and she just… hates it! What’s your secret?”

“I don’t know. The honeymoon phase, maybe?”

Your mom laughed aloud at Joel’s joke. He had to hold himself back from beaming with pride. He could barely speak to this woman the day before, and now he was making her laugh?

“Whatever it is, bring some over next time. I need to be the judge of this ‘mean focaccia’.”

Next time? Thank god for not being able to sleep.

“Of course!” Joel said with what may have been a little too much enthusiasm. He sipped some coffee from his mug while he thought about something else to say to fill up the silence, but your mother began to speak once again.

“So Joel, I want to know more about you. Other than the fact that you raised an adorable kid, like coffee a lot, and used to argue with my daughter during the soccer season.”

“She told you about that?” Joel asked, unsure of how to react. He wanted to laugh at the fact that you’d shared that with your parents, either before your relationship began or recently as some sort of fun fact, but he was still walking on eggshells around your parents.

“Yeah,” your mom acknowledged. It almost seemed as if she wanted to be casual about it, but also was curious for a bit more context.

“It was a long time ago,” Joel explained as if he could make it better. “It was never anything serious.”

“Well, how did you go from arguing every week to… this?”

“After the girls became friends, they kept setting us up to do things together. After that, things progressed pretty naturally. I think we just clicked. Realized we’re a good team and like each other’s company. I mean, I really love her and Chloe. I’m really happy with our little family.”

“Family?” your mom questioned with raised brows and a tilt of her head.

Joel wondered if he’d said the wrong thing or overstepped some sort of boundary. “I mean, I guess. I would say we… function as a family?”

“So there’s no secret engagement or secret wedding I need to know about,” your mother probed.

“No! Not at all,” Joel confirmed, hoping to quell some of the concern that had seemed to find itself on her face.

“And you didn’t come here to get a blessing for an engagement?” she implored.

“No! This is only my first time meeting you guys. I mean, I’m more worried about making a good impression than getting your approval on our potential marriage. Besides, I’m not really sure she’s interested in marriage after…”

Your mother nodded as Joel trailed off, not needing him to finish his sentence to understand where he was going.

“How much has she told you about Nathan?” she queried, seeming to be even more curious about this question than she was about some of the previous questions.

“Bits and pieces. Some things I’ve inferred,” Joel answered.

“Yeah. It was pretty bad for her and Chlo,” your mother simply stated. “Maybe we’ll talk about it some other time. It might help you understand why my husband and I have been the way that we’ve been towards you.”

“No, I get it. If anyone I loved had to go through those things—let alone my daughter, I would react the same way. I’d probably be worse,” Joel stiffly chuckled into his drink. For a moment, Joel thought about punching Nathan. The perfect cathartic moment for hurting and harassing the woman he loves. He’d do it again. And he’d do it to any person who even attempted to hurt you, Sarah, or Chloe.

“I just want to wrap her up in bubble wrap,” your mother admitted. “I never want her to be hurt again, and I know it isn’t possible, but I just want to be so sure that she’ll never be hurt in that way again. I apologize for being hostile, but you understand, right?”

“Of course I do,” Joel said earnestly. “And if it’s any consolation, I would never, ever do anything to intentionally hurt her. I know what it’s like to have a wall built around your heart and to swear that you’ll never let anyone in again. Your daughter let me in, and I’d never want her to regret that.”

Your mom seemed to think for a moment, getting up and setting her mug in the sink before sitting back down across from Joel.

“Either you’re really manipulative, or you really love her. I’m gonna hope for all of our sakes it’s the latter.”

“I can guarantee that it is.”

“I’m gonna believe you. But only because I want to try that focaccia.” Though your mom stated that with the cadence of a joke, Joel couldn’t help but feel that there was some hint of truth behind her words. Sure, this conversation hadn’t fixed everything, but it seemed like she trusted him just a bit more.

You crept down the stairs, clearly trying to be quiet, but failing at doing so. You approached the kitchen and yawned aloud, attempting to alert Joel and your mother of your presence.

“Good morning,” you greeted the pair. “You better not be interrogating my boyfriend,” you told your mom as you sat down next to the man of the hour.

“Nothing of the sort. We were just talking about baking. Why didn’t you tell me you bake now? And why haven’t you baked with me?”

“I guess I just didn’t have the right pastry chef,” you chimed, stealing Joel’s mug and taking a sip of his coffee. “Did Joel tell you that we’ve been working our way up to sourdough? I just ordered some starter the other day.”

“Oh wow. You’re like a completely different person. I don’t even know you anymore.”

“Sorry,” you apologized insincerely.

“Does this mean you’ll start baking with me when you come home?”

“Sorry mom. I’m loyal to my pastry chef. Has he told you about his focaccia? It’s really good. We’ll bring it next time you invite us over.”

You pulled your chair a little closer to Joel’s and held his hand under the table, a simple reassurance that you were there, and you weren’t going to let your parents treat him any way he didn’t deserve to be treated.

“You are breaking my heart,” your mom said, clutching her chest jokingly. “Although you mended it when you mentioned bringing bread.”

Luckily, it seemed like this day had started off far better for everyone—but particularly your boyfriend and mother. The two of them were getting along swimmingly, working together to whip up breakfast, carrying the conversation throughout the meal, and even going on to converse while the girls played at the beach.

If nothing else, you were glad that Joel was growing on your mother. You still couldn’t really get a read on your father’s opinion of your boyfriend, but hopefully with your mom now on his side, she would be able to talk some sense into your father.

It just so happened that your parents had planned to set up a few things around the house in preparation for the birthday festivities for the following day, and your mother had somehow managed to talk Joel into helping them out with their preparation. Since your boyfriend would be setting up, you were tasked with distracting the girls with a day out on the town, leaving your boyfriend alone in the lake house with your parents.

As things seemed to be going well between your mother and Joel at the very least, you at least weren’t too worried about your parents shredding your partner to bits while you pampered the girls and took them shopping.

Despite this fact, you still checked in with your partner multiple times throughout the day, getting updates about things he was doing with your parents, or any particularly interesting conversations they’d had during the day. For the most part, things seemed to be going well, but as the evening began to come in, you began to hear less and less from Joel, making you the slightest bit worried.

Once you got back to the lake house, you were pleasantly surprised to hear the sound of laughter coming from the back patio, paired with the familiar scent of a bonfire. The girls seemed more than pleased to go straight to the backyard, walking off far ahead of you.

By the time you reached the patio, Sarah and Chloe had already found spots to sit around the fire, and Joel was tossing some more firewood into the pit while seemingly laughing at a conversation going on between himself and your father. Although you couldn’t have seen the evening going this way when you initially came the previous morning, you couldn’t have been happier that everyone seemed to be getting along.

You found your own seat by the fire and Joel came back to sit next to you as your mother began to ask the girls a few questions about their day.

After getting as comfortable as you could on what was essentially a rock turned into a bench and leaning onto your partner, you and Joel quietly roasted marshmallows as your daughters excitedly chatted away, just happy to be able to sit and relax after a busy day. You were curious to hear all that occurred between Joel and your parents while you were away that had made them open up to each other more, but you could certainly wait.

“So girls, what was the highlight of your day?” your mom asked, turning to face your daughters.

“We had really nice manicures. The woman who did my nails was so much better than mom is. No offense, mom.”

“None taken,” you laughed at your daughter’s blunt statement.

“If it makes you feel better, you can’t be any worse than my dad,” Sarah offered, only contributing to your laughter.

“You’re probably right,” you agreed, playfully nudging Joel.

“I thought we understood that anything regarding my artistic ability is a soft spot?” he attempted to defend himself, but it was already too late.

“Sorry, Joel,” your daughter giggled, encouraging Sarah to giggle along with her.

“I also really liked our manicures, but we went to this really cute café with really good pastries and drinks!” Sarah exclaimed, gratefully accepting the slightly burnt—and just the way she likes it—s’more that you passed her.

“We only got decaf drinks, don’t worry,” you explained as you watched Joel hand Chloe a s’more of her own. “But everything was really good.”

“You would know, since you tried everything,” Chloe teased.

“Thirteen-year-old Chloe is even more sassy than before,” you teased right back. “It’s called the mom tax. Since I was your chauffeur all day, I got to steal a little nibble of your pastries. I think that’s fair.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Sarah added in, grinning mischievously at you.

“I would probably do the same,” Joel interjected, coming to your defense.

“See? This is why I keep you around,” you squeezed his arm and grinned up at your partner.

“Ugh, you guys are always being so gross,” Chloe laughed. “Do you see what we have to put up with?” Chloe directed at her grandparents.

“You know, one day you’ll find someone that you want to be gross with too,” your mother explained.

“No way,” your daughter giggled, standing up and stretching. “Do you wanna go get ready for bed, Sare?”

“Sure!” she said cheerily, popping up and heading inside with her friend.

“Seems like they had a good day,” your father commented once the pair were gone.

“I think so. I hope so. Chlo was pretty bummed when she found out her dad was going to be out of town during her birthday, but I’m pretty sure this has made up for it. Thank you for putting this all together,” you acknowledged.

“Of course! Anything for our girls,” your mom said, smiling softly at you as she reached out to put a hand on your knee.

“Well what did you guys get up to while we were gone?” you asked, hoping to get a little insight into what you missed while you were gone.

“Joel and I did some baking, then he helped your father put together some decorations. Speaking of which, you’re gonna have to help me put up some final touches before the big day.”

“Of course,” you agreed, happy to do anything that would make your daughter’s special day more special.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I can finish up and help you with whatever needs to be done,” Joel offered.

“You’ve already worked so much today, Joel. We  couldn’t possibly ask you to do anything else,” your mother practically gushed. Joel seemed like he was going to protest, opening his mouth before your mother cut him off. “I insist.”

You couldn’t believe that just the previous morning your mother was lecturing you over this man.

“Well, I’m not gonna argue with that. But if you need any help at all, I am more than willing to be there,” Joel reiterated.

“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary,” your mom stretched her arms behind her head and yawned. “I’m getting a little tired. Would you like to go set up now?”

You were getting the feeling that the question was less of a question and more of a direction, but you agreed regardless, pressing a kiss to Joel’s cheek before you went back inside with your mom to help set up the last few things for Chloe’s birthday.

Setting things up was about as eventful as you thought it might be, other than the absolute raving your mom was doing over your partner, and the occasional sound of muffled laughter coming from the patio.

“I’m starting to think you like my boyfriend more than you like me,” you commented offhandedly as you tied off a balloon.

“Oh I do,” your mother agreed. “You think I’m bad? You should see your father. Yesterday he was so wary of Joel, but today those two have just been giggling and bonding all day. I should’ve known it was a wrap after your boyfriend made a stupid dad joke,” she glanced over at the glass door leading to the backyard.

“So what changed his mind?” you asked, setting down the balloon. “What changed yours?”

“After talking to him for a while, it was just very obvious how much he loves you and the girls. He also just happens to be a very likable guy. I don’t know how you ever managed to hate him before.”

“I already told you, it was like we were flirt-arguing!” you insisted.

“I know, I’m just teasing. I’ll still be a little cautious, but he seems like a good guy. Now, after he and your dad got over their little awkward thing, they absolutely hit it off. Just started bonding over everything under the sun. Their love of guitar, their love of DIY projects, their love of you…”

You smiled to yourself as you listened to your mom. It was great news that Joel had been able to bond with your parents, despite whatever feelings they’d had towards him previously.

“That’s good to hear. I’m happy you both finally came to your senses. He was worried sick about you guys not liking him.”

“Well, he’s got nothing to worry about now,” your mom flashed you a smile that matched yours as she finished off the balloons. “I think that’s all we needed to do. I’ll wake you up in the morning if I need any extra hands then.”

“Please don’t,” you groaned, pulling yourself out of your chair and glancing back over at the back door, where Joel and your father still seemed to be having a great time. When you looked back over, your mother was approaching you with open arms.

“I’m sorry, honey. I know you’ve already been through so much, and you wouldn’t purposely put yourself through that again,” she began as she embraced you. The apology was like music to your ears. You just hoped that Joel had also received some form of apology from your parents, as he was the one receiving the majority of the pushback. “I’m proud of you. I’m proud of you for leaving Nathan, and I’m proud of you for focusing on yourself, and I’m proud of you for finding someone good for you when you were finally ready.”

“I love you. I’m pretty fond of your boyfriend, too. Goodnight,” your mother bid you farewell, and you couldn’t even think of a proper response before she was already going up the stairs. You had much to process tonight.

Long after you’d fallen asleep, you woke up to the feeling of the mattress shifting its weight. When you turned over onto your side to see what the disturbance was, you just barely made out your partner in the dark.

“It’s just me,” Joel whispered as he settled in bed next to you. Like you were a magnet, you found yourself clinging onto him almost automatically.

“Hi,” you mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

“Hi,” he repeated, settling his arm on your hip.

“How was today?” you asked, nudging Joel over enough for him to be on his side so that you could spoon him.

“Really good, I think. I think your parents kinda like me now,” he yawned, relaxing into your touch as you held him.

“Kinda?” you muttered sleepily. “What did I tell you? They’d come around eventually.”

“You were right. I should’ve listened earlier,” he confessed as he fell into a more and more relaxed state.

“Maybe. I could care less about their opinion of you. That’s what I wish you listened to earlier,” you explained. “But I am happy that they like you so much.”

You were up bright and early to put the last little finishing touches on Chloe’s birthday decorations. You and your father taped up a few ‘happy birthday’ signs, while your mother and Joel worked on decorating Chloe’s birthday cake. Not much longer after you came downstairs, Sarah found herself downstairs helping to put her own creative spin on the cake as well.

After some discussion of when it would be acceptable to wake up Chloe, you all headed upstairs to her room to wish her a happy birthday.

As her door opened and everyone began to sing slightly off-key rendition of ‘Happy Birthday,’ Chloe slowly began to sit up as she grew more and more awake before she broke into a fit of slightly embarrassed laughter.

It was quite the scene, and probably not the most ideal wake-up call, but your daughter grinned and expressed her gratitude regardless, getting out of bed so she could attempt to pull everyone into a big group hug.

“Ugh, I love you guys so much,” she sighed fondly. “How did I get the best family ever?”

You were starting to wonder the same yourself.

[itscherrylipsforme]

Everything fits into place: Oliver Quick x fem!reader

Part 1 here

Summary: After having fallen in love with you at an Oxford's library, Oliver planned everything out until he could have you wrapped around his fingers. Now that your school year is over, you have been invited to spend the firsts months of Summer in Saltburn. You were certainly not expecting what you found there, but don't worry, Ollie was already three steps ahead

Warnings: Post Saltburn fic, a little bit dark (it’s Oliver, what you expected?), age gap (he is around 15-17 years older), slightly innocent kin? (A little bit spicy, but nothing really sexual)

Requested: yes

Words: Something between 700-800 words

Author's rambles: As I have seen that people somehow enjoyed my shitty writing I decided to make part two. Hope you like it!

Masterlist Characters I write for

Likes and reblogs are appreciated ღ

I do not authorize any of my works to be copied, translated or plagiarized ✗

Oliver hadn't told you much about Saltburn, you could only gather the crumbs of information he left once in a while. A beautiful big home in the northwest that he had inherited from a woman he considered to be kind of his "second mother" after she passed away, that was all that you knew about it. Once he also he mentioned that she had met her through her son, who had been in Ollie's year in uni, that had committed suicide when both of them were young. All of that seemed like tragic memories that your boyfriend tried to bury in his past, so you didn't want to dig much on it not to hurt him.

But during the three hours long car ride that you had to do from Oxford to your Summer destination, you were expecting that at least he could describe it with more the detail. To your surprise he didn't and when the two of you arrived at the mansion he was able to call "home" now, just surprised was not the exact word you would use to describe what you were feeling. When the maid who had opened the doors of that palace to the two of you was ordered to dismiss by "Mr Quick" as they referred him, you couldn't help but ask.

"Why didn't you tell me you were practically living like a prince, Ollie?"

"Had to make sure you truly loved me and weren't after my money, darling" He answered plainly and tried to change the subject "Come on, let me show you the place"

"You know I am not like that" You protested. Maybe you wouldn't go as far as saying that you were offended, but you would be lying if you said his words didn't hurt a little at least.

You trusted him with every piece of your heart and soul. Told him all your secrets and all the times you had lost all your hope. You loved him enough to talk about it when you fell like nothing more like some broken mess that no one, not even him, could fix. And yet he couldn't do the same? Couldn't he trust enough for this until now Somehow Oliver managed to read your thoughts from the expression of worry on your face

"My beautiful beautiful y/n I am aware of It now. But trust me, I know better than anyone else how far people can go to gain power, I needed to be sure" His eyes seemed to darken a little for a few brief second lost in his mind until he came back and rested his hand sweetly on your cheek "How can I apologize to my beloved girlfriend for putting her through a trial?"

"Well, one of the few things you did tell me about this place was that it had a library" A little grin played on your lips while he held your hand and guided you through the maze that mansion was.

Four weeks later, you two were laying in the bed you have been sharing during your stay. His arm around your waist a little bit too tight, as you had learned he liked, and your head resting on the crock of his neck. It was one of those lazy mornings that you could spend peacefully in each other embrace.

"You know every day for the rest of our life could be like this" His nose and lips dancing dangerously close to your face as his hand rubbed your back up and down.

"Ollie, that was a funny one" A small giggle echoed in the room.

"I am serious y/n" His big blue eyes glued to you as he started kissing, your forehead, your cheek, your lips... "We could sooner than later. Marry, have you in my bed each morning, and maybe a few kids around if you are up for it. Doesn't it sound good for your"

"I need to finish my degree first, Ollie" His lips now on your neck, and gosh he knew pretty well that you couldn't say no to anything when he did those kind of things.

"Of course you have that, I am not saying otherwise" Actually, you didn't need to finish it, once you were his you wouldn't have to work a single day in your life. But if you wished to gain your diploma to be happy, he wouldn't dare to say otherwise. "Maybe after you graduated, what do you think about?"

You just smiled at his sweet trail of kisses, and he took it as a yes. Soon enough you would be tied forever, soon enough you would be his wife, soon enough you two would be better than the Cattons have ever been. Soon enough, everything from his plan would fit into place.

[eldritch-spouse]

Anon who asked for an S/O who mimics Breg's chirping is backkkk

Surrounding vocalizations... again. I have vocal stims that vary, but often sounds like a creature vocalizing. Chirps, trills, whines. Depends on my mood. (Thanks tism)

How would Breg react to an S/O who did that almost subconsciously based on their mood? I can imagine him hearing it, being confused briefly, before 'interpreting' the sounds and trying to help out lmao

[Anon, I don't have the tism (that I know of, at least) and I constantly pop my lips, click my tongue and whistle when I'm comfortable. 🤝]

Breg himself has many involuntary vocalizations, as you probably took notice of already. In moments of great focus, you might still hear the ghost of a trill or growl coming from him, and unlike many other monsters, Breg doesn't try to hide his other impulse vocalizations for the sake of acting ""normal"" like plenty of societies demand monsters do.

When he hears you doing your own chirps and clicks, he doesn't actually think too much about it. It's normal to him, he just didn't know humans did it too! That's awesome, maybe you and him are not so different. That idea kind of falters when he makes a reply noise at you and you don't immediately return it. A bit odd, maybe you don't respond to him because your brain doesn't recognize him as kin, and that saddens Breg a little.

Eitherway, breeder vocalizations are very pitch and rhythm sensitive, so Breg can interpret your noises as a plethora of different things. Sometimes it's just a "Hey." or "I'm satisfied."/"I see you.", other times it can be "I have located prey." and that one has him rushing to your side.

Whining is almost never a content noise for breeders, so he's hovering around you trying to understand what the source of the discomfort is. There's a chance he'll start body checking you for wounds, before finally giving up and asking you, feeling like he failed as a partner for not immediately noticing.

[sprinklenoodles]

Okay!

This one is going to be shorter since I am trying not to stay up late! (Future me. I lied but I made it! It's not 12 this time! WOOOOO!!!) 'Tis 11pm rn instead of 12 or 1am. Decided to read And Then I Go And Spoil It All By Saying Something Stupid Like "I Love You" Did more art today so I didn't have a lot of time to read that much! Also, it's Jin and Kijo! The doomed gays!! I had too! Also, sliding this in. Hope you had good celebratory time!!! I'd say more but I forgot how to use more words. Yay for celebratory noises! As for my vaguely silly comments for the fic, it be good. Short, sweet, got the TUMI lore in there. So, pretty neat! Not crazy or anything since it's a little oneshot into the lives of Kijo and Jin in their youth, but still!! Makes me think more about these two. Mostly Jin because I never even cared about him much other than "HEADMASTER" and "KYOKO DAD". That kinda stuff. Never even took account like... his personality and what he likes, dislikes, or even how he was in his youth. Guess he kinda just existed in my mind before so it feels nice finally thinking critically about his character a bit more. With Kijo, I always had that intrest because he's so much of a mystery. In the game, there's only the allusion of his preseence cus "Duh! Byakuya came from somewhere. Not some money hole like some money mole" (heehee that rhymed) And like, the only stuff of Kijo IS his name. So I already was in that mindset to wonder about him. What kinda of guy would be responsible for the creating of Byakuya. Which, honestly, maybe I just need to one day go and just... look into the depths of Jin lore. A Jin Journey. Cus I know nothing and it is a crime. Realized this didn't have much fic talk in it and more just me blabbering about Jin and Kijo so I hope you don't mind! Also, since why not add some out-of-pocket thought, I must say this cus it's true and happened yesterday on my end and it's a wild realization. AHEM. I think Byakuya Togami made me realize I might be aroace or like, on the aroace spectrum. This sounds so dumb but it's true. Also think your headcanon for him helped me realize that. I thank you for good fics, interesting ideas, and self-actualization somehow. Like, no one could have guessed that to be on the bingo card. So, by the time of your reading this, it'll be like, 2 days since I had that realization which I'm still shocked about! I digress though. Thus, to end this off, take this MS paint doodle I made in like... less than a few minutes.

The way I drew Kijo is so freaking funny to me. He's so head empty. You bonk that head and he just doesn't react cus there's nothing in there. Also, would their ship name be Jijo or Kin? Kijogiri? Jingami? Also, I will give Kijo better hair some day. I promise!

That little one-shot is one of my favs. It's both recent and is just a nice little addition to the TUMI universe, which I always love to do.

It was also just time for Jin and Kijo to get something that focuses just on them, even if it was just a prequel... but who knows, that might become more...

But I really liked writing it and I'm glad u liked reading it :D

Loved the little doodle too! Poor Kijo's hair tho 😔 And I dunno what the ship name should be... Maybe something ✨creative✨

As for what you've realized, congrats! I'm glad my fics could help with that, though I'm not that surprised that they did. One thing I've noticed is that quite a lot of my readers are aromantic.

Also, I recommend watching this video by JaidenAnimations! It's her coming out as aroace and was quite eye opening for me back when I watched it the first time!

But congrats on figuring that out! If you ever have any questions or whatever, you know where to find me!

[inkyquince]

I tolerate her. I liked you.

characters. Enver Gortash. Astarion. (Baldur's Gate 3)

cw. Dark Urge reader, with a intimate history with Gortash. Astarion being bitchy. Not explicitly nsfw, just dirty talk and dirty thoughts. Clingy and Jealous Astarion. Lots of talk of blood. 3k words.

“I tolerate Orin. I liked you.” 

The words hung in the air, Gortash’s smirk curling in the silence that followed. You cocked your head at him, slowly letting the statement sink in. There was something else there. His gaze was simmering, dark, as if daring you to ask what exactly he meant by that, right in front of the audience hall filled with chattering nobles, in front of your companions who had just learned that you were one of the three that had started all of this… In front of the one person who had taken your bloodied hands in their own and kissed your knuckles and washed the red from your skin. 

You wondered if your Bhaalspawn kin ever tasted the fear you seemed to wallow in these days. Fear of turning, fear of dying, fear of being exposed to be the disgusting creature you thought yourself to be. As for right now? Fear that Gortash would run his tongue over his teeth again and go into detail about how much he had enjoyed your company. So, like a coward, you instead fell back on prying into his thoughts. 

Carefully, with just a little Guidance, you crept into his mind, making sure not to alert the dark eyed Chosen of your actions. As per usual, the stream of consciousness came quickly, running like a stream past you, only able to catch a few strands of thought. 

Orin is too uncontrollable. This one never let me down. Oh, yes, how I liked you. Liked you so. I wonder if they taste as they did before, with blood on their tongue. Nothing that a little bit of wine helps to sweeten. The first taste is always the most memorable. You didn’t have the time of day for me at first, did you? The chosen of Bhaal, his favorite spawn, but I changed that. Now, if that glaring little shit would go find a shit house to glare at, I could invite you back to those chambers we enjoyed so much, to properly celebrate my new Dukedom. Not even the Sharess' Caress’s whores were able to scratch that itch you started- 

You quickly slipped back out, almost embarrassed with how the bastard saw you. Who you used to be… Maybe someone you still were. 

“I’ll think about it.” You finally managed. 

Gortash snide smile glinting in the bright candlelight. 

“I look forward to our reacquaintance.” He murmured, voice dropping low, husky and suggestive.

Yep. No way any of your companions would ever overlook that. You didn’t even look at any of them as you turned on your heel and walked back out, as Duke Ravengard began to anoint Gortash as Duke, shame prickling the back of your neck. Though, whether it was from the dawning horror that your friends’ tadpoles were lodged in their heads because of you, or because… Someone’s darkened red eyes were trained on your skin, their footsteps following quick and close behind you. 

Well, hopefully Mizora shares some truly abhorrent news downstairs to distract everyone from your own little reveal. Karlach had been beside herself when Gortash dropped the news, Wyll had been befuddled, but focused on his father, standing by with a blank look in his intelligent eyes. But Astarion? Not a word. 

Silence was bad. Astarion was never quiet. Between quips and jabs, with the occasional double entendre laced compliment, your undead lover loved to hear his own voice and run his mouth. Not to say he wasn’t quiet at times. When absorbed in his books, when staring with a frown at a mirror, when quietly gazing at you across the campfire, red eyes glinting with the reflection of the flames. 

However, this silence was none of those. This was the silence before he had snuck up to bite you for the first time. Before he had drawn his dagger to your throat. Before he was aiming to strike true. 

“Nice to know that you always had a taste for the finer things in life.” He drawled, leaning back on his hay bale, making it look as comfy as a chaise longue. Delicately picking at his cuff, sprawled out as if he was tempting you. 

“... Seems so.” You muttered, adjusting your bedroll again, to make sure none of the pieces of straw would dig into your skin. 

“Seems so.” Astarion repeated after you, tongue curling as he mocked your blase statement. “Maybe we should swing by a nice furniture shop, see if you’d fuck a particularly fancy bureau next.” 

“Astario-” 

“No, no.” The elf gave a long suffering sigh, as if your… “Ex” appearing was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. “You have a type, darling. Dangerous. Excellently dressed. Though, I do say that I have the better hair by a mile, and that’s being polite.” 

You couldn’t help but smile. When you two first met, his bitchiness made it impossible to please him, but since then it had become extremely endearing. At least now you knew you were saddled with him for life, and it was more entertaining to listen to him aggravate people. 

The elf drank in your smile lazily before stretching out. 

“Interesting couple of days. You nearly kill me, then you proclaim that you're Bhaal’s favorite child.” He mulled over, tapping his chin with a perfectly manicured finger. “Then worst of all, you drag me to meet your lover. I’ve had fun being a homewrecker before, but the other partner never really knew it was me who lured them out of the marriage bed and into the grave.” 

“Astarion! I-” 

“Now, darling.” He tutted. His smile was sharp, glinting, but there was something strangely fragile in his eyes. “You’re usually so good at letting me talk all I want.” 

There was a beat of silence between you two, with him looking up at you with his charlatan’s smile and glassy eyes. 

“Pretty sure your Gortash guessed I was the other man. Lovers of that sort do usually have a rather snide look when they find you out.” Astarion rolled onto his back with a languished sigh. “... Do you call him Gortash? Isn’t his first name Enver? That’s rather an ugly name to moan out.” 

“I don’t.” 

“Don’t what? Call him Enver? Or maybe Envie? Sounds rather like Envy, and I doubt that he’s one prone to jealousy-” 

“Astarion, I don’t know him.” You finally snapped, giving up entirely on your patience for his bitchy shenanigans. “I have snippets of memories. He’s implied something was between us, but that’s between two people I hardly know anymore. Anyway, shouldn’t you be more worried about, I don’t know, everything else going on?” 

“But I’m having so much fun playing the jealous lover. Don’t I get to play this out, to stamp my foot and demand you to never talk to him again? Shadow your every move and such?” He sighed through his nose, but something in his facade was slowly ebbing away. “... His offer is a good one.” 

“His offer? To rejoin him in fucking up the entirety of Baldur’s Gate? C’mon.” 

Astarion pondered your sentence before sitting up properly, easily slipping into a cross legged position. 

“It would be easier. Wouldn’t have to fuss around with Raphael and the Gith. Get to go back to a comfy life of being the favorite child, with a Duke for a bed warmer and an Elder Brain to boss around.” 

“Well, I’ve proven that I don’t like to do the easy thing.” You glanced at him, knowing how hard he had fought at first to keep you both as something casual, at most fuck buddies. 

His pale lips quirked. 

“Touche.” 

Silence fell again, but this time you waited patiently, knowing that Astarion always needed a moment to slip into the sincerity that came when he actually wanted to talk to you about something important to him. 

“I… I don’t like setting rules.” Well, that was obvious. Astarion thought that every boundary he wanted to put down would drive a wedge between you two. You barely managed to convince him you were okay with waiting to have sex, just for him to feel comfortable again. “... But….” 

You waited, fingers skating over his ivory knuckles as he formed the words. 

“.. Even if you start up your alliance with Gortash again, I… No starting up any dalliances you might have had. I don’t care if I have to share you, but I do get a say in who I share you with.” 

Astarion’s eyes hardened, fragility dissolving into something heated and dark. You two were already seated close enough, but his lithe fingers gripped your chin and pulled you closer to him, his lips parted enough to reveal his pearly fangs in the fire light. 

“And I will not share you with him. Anyone else might get the chance to think you have an equal relationship with them, like the one we have. But they’d be wrong. We belong to each other first and foremost. But he never gets to even get to hope to touch you like that again. Clear?” 

You didn’t even have a moment to reply, not with his cool lips quickly pressing against yours, breathless despite not needing air. One of his teeth nicked your bottom lip as he hungrily pulled you closer, tongue dragging over the cut. If it had happened even just the day before, you’d have laughed and asked if he was already parched again, but this was different. This was not a moment that could be broken with a light hearted joke. 

Astarion was making sure you understood in full, that you might have been with Gortash once upon a time, but that period was well and truly over. 

… At least, it was for you and Astarion. That time in your life tied up with a box and thrown into the fire, with the two of you sharing a few more kisses before the night was over. But Gortash sat in his chambers, idly rubbing his knuckle over his stubbled chin. It had been quite a day. 

Not many men got to be gifted the Dukedom of Baldur’s Gate, be threatened by an unhinged Changeling in his own room and see her long lost kin striding into his audience hall a few hours later. A smile flickered on his lips. You looked good. Even with your brain filled with holes, and unable to recall the brilliant plans you two had created, you were just as magnificent as the last time he ever saw you. 

His dalliance with The Dark Urge, Bhaal’s favorite spawn, had surprised even him. He didn’t care for Orin’s messy dedication to her father, the way she was always just a word away from sinking her dagger into his chest, so why had he been so taken with her superior bloodkin? The one the cult actually adored and followed, the one who soaked the streets in blood and flayed anyone the God of Murder casted his bloodied gaze upon? Orin was beautiful… If you enjoyed the beauty of the vampiric quality. But even her looks never had him in the same breathless chokehold your eyes did. 

He remembered that one look from you had his heart beating faster, with saliva pooling on his tongue. Even before the two of you were formally acquainted. The first moment he saw you, surrounded by the cultists of your father, to him you were majestic. Hells, you weren’t in any sort of garb that demanded worship, just the clothes you usually wore in the evening he later realized. But it didn't matter. The way you held yourself, with your eyes cold and collected, even when he could smell the blood on your skin. You were a master of your craft, of your art. While other Bhaal worshippers would dedicate themselves to him with fits of fury and love, smearing themselves with the hot blood of their victims, you were methodical. 

You were perfect. No wonder you were his chosen. Not an amateur like Orin. 

Gortash’s fingers idly skimmed over the map of the Sword Coast on his desk, swirling his goblet of wine, the red inching closer and closer to the rim with every motion. It was the same brand that you had shared with him before Orin had taken your place. 

After you deigned to let him taste your body again, he had poured two chalices, hoping to dull your senses and keep you away from the ruins you lived in, under the city. You had just given a half smile at him and sipped upon the dark red liquid, your form still lovely and bare. He could still recall your last words with each other, your tongue stained red with the wine. 

“It seems we’re on a precipice.” You hummed, flicking the dagger planted into the map of Elturel. “Tomorrow I journey to Thorm and then it shall all be in motion. Properly. No more waiting.” 

“Have I ever complimented you on your pillow talk?” Gortash chuckled, skimming over the other bottles of wine lining his bureau, trying to find one that you’d enjoy enough to stay longer. 

You didn’t say anything, just a throaty chuckle he basked in. He had come a long way for being a whipping boy for Raphael in the House of Hope. Now he was here, just a few weeks out from getting everything he could have ever wanted. Gortash remembers the nights he used to sleep with a knife under his pillow, even when Karlach had been stationed outside of his door. No longer would he feel the cold blade under the fabric by his cheek, for now he slept with the warm body of a weapon far greater next to him. If only you would stop leaving his side to be with the fanatics that swarmed you with adoration and pleas to watch you work. 

“The reason you came crawling to me in the first place was for the Absolute’s Plan. Nothing gets you excited more than the prospect of your future power, does it?” The way your teeth glinted as you looked at him in the flickering candlelight had his breath stilling in his throat. Excitement pooled in his stomach and he made his way back over to you, even as you rolled your eyes and finished your wine. 

“You know me so well.” He murmured, dragging his roughened palm across your stomach before pressing a kiss against your neck, inching his lips up to your jaw. 

You hummed at the feeling, but unlike a few hours before, you didn’t relax into his wandering hands. 

“This was a pleasant distraction. However, I must go do the rites for my Father before I leave.” 

Would he have let you leave if he had known Orin would attempt to destroy all that you were? He didn’t know about that. Gortash would have to see. He was interested in learning about this new form of yours, memory riddled with holes. Were you just as ruthless as you once had been? Would you tear Orin limb from limb as you should, for even daring to try and take your place? 

The side of his mouth tilted in a crooked smirk, taking a sip from his goblet, letting the flavor soak into his tongue before he swallowed. 

Gortash saw a chance for something new, now that you were finally back in Baldur’s Gate. You weren’t one of the Chosen, not anymore. You would have to reclaim your power… And he was more than happy to offer himself up for your bloodied hands, to… Help you get your life back. 

Be a crutch that you would stumble without. You’d never be as you once were, at least in the upcoming execution of the plan, unable to earn back the position of an untouchable. But he could bring you back up, as his very own weapon this time. 

The Dark Urge that infested your being, Bhaal’s very own Chosen child, he’d have it. He’d have you. The blade he kept close to his body, with the blade that kissed his skin and threatened to split it open, but it never did. 

Gortash hummed at the thought, before wetting his thumb and forefinger with his tongue, reaching out to extinguish the candle by his bedside and returned to the bed, one of the pillow’s still faintly smelling like you. 

Down by the Elfsong Tavern, in the rented rooms Astarion was once so pleased about, the vampire spawn lay awake, feeling your breath against his collarbones from where you lay sleeping next to him. Once, it would be the norm that he was awake at night, only to doze during the day, but that hadn’t been the case for weeks now, not since he had the tadpole squirm in between his eyeball and the lid. 

But it wasn’t his urge to go hunt the streets of Baldur’s Gate once more, to reacquaint himself with the habitat of his prey, that kept him up. It was his own thoughts. 

Soon enough, he’d have to return to Cazador, who thought he could use him as a weapon for his own ascension. Astarion knew it wouldn’t happen. But now, his thoughts would stray from his own master, to the one that proclaimed himself as yours. 

Yours. Your… Master? Your past lover? Your conspirator in arms? 

In Moonrise, after Raphael’s deal, he had been full of swagger and confidence to return to his home, to face Cazador, with you by his side. Even the night where you shook him awake and told him the Urge was about to hurt him, forcing him to tie you down and sit with you till morning…. Even that night hadn’t shaken his confidence. 

So why did meeting Gortash erase it? 

Astarion sighed through his nose, rolling his eyes at his own string of pesky thoughts. He was being foolish. Weak. You wouldn’t abandon him for some freshly anointed Duke with hair riddled with split ends and hungry eyes. 

He’d make sure of it. 

[zachsbees]

Hi yes so I have a hanzo headcanon id like to share.

When hanzo first joins overwatch, for obvious reasons, most of the other members don’t trust him. Some more openly than others. But it’s something hanzo expected. Whether it hurts him or not, he understands. Maybe even respects them more for it, for their loyalty.

(And it does hurt. He probably doesn’t even realize that their coldness stings because of his own emotional constipation, a lack of understanding when it comes to his own feelings, but it damages all the same in its own quiet way)

I think it’d be Cole that’d be the one to make his distaste most known, sneering and passive aggressive. Genji is one of his closest friends; he got to see firsthand exactly how horrifically hanzo mutilated his own brother. Family is a sensitive topic for him. How could he ever even consider trusting a kin slayer?

Regardless, hanzo can handle their different flavors of distaste. It takes a lot more than some mean spirited words (and a particularly threatening warning from Cole) to break him. He’s not there for them anyway; he’s there for genji alone.

But I think Cole would end up taking it a step further into violent territory, maybe not even fully aware of it. Like. Maybe they’re sparring or something and things start getting a little too violent. Hanzo isn’t an idiot; he sees exactly what’s going on almost immediately. How cole’s face darkens with vengeful anger. How his blows become sharper, deadly intent growing with each miss. Cole is getting lost in his own anger— bubbling to the surface after a lifetime of stewing.

Because it’s not just about hanzo’s mistake. It’s about cole’s anger over losing the people he cares about. His own insecurity.

And hanzo? He isn’t about to let that shit fly. There is no honor is dying to a teammate in a petty brawl, or potentially getting each other killed during a mission over a grudge that leaks onto the battlefield.

Which is exactly what hanzo lays out, plainly, bluntly, and in much more sophisticated words than I can come up with. But this next line I thought up, this is important, the one that brought this idea to me in the first place:

“You will not steal my brother’s revenge from him. I will not allow it.”

And he’s deadly serious. Because the only person that hanzo would ever let kill him would be genji. Period. And he will wait for that day for the rest of his life.

Hanzo then proceeds to gracefully kick cole’s ass to the mat. Cole is talented, he was in blackwatch and trained under Gabriel after all, but he’s not as good as a man who’s been trained to be an assassin from birth.

The gunslinger has a bit more respect for hanzo after that, albeit begrudgingly.

(And if you wanna get yeehan with it, maybe he’s a little turned on too. I could see him being into someone who can kick his ass, and hanzo would certainly look gorgeous doing it)

[ahsoka-in-a-hood]

Ranking incidents of alleged child thievery cause I'm bored

Qui Gon & Anakin: If we were not witnesses it could sound bad. However we do know that Qui Gon did what was within his power to get Shmi out too, and this was truly discussed between them and the active choice of both Shmi and Anakin. Best of a bad situation. One thing that wigs me out a bit is Qui Gon testing Anakin's blood without asking, and the prophecy motive doesn't sit well.

Obi Wan, Yoda, and Bail deciding the placement of the twins: they believed the twins were orphans (though strangling their pregnant mother and killing all the children in your home and sentencing your little sister to death are reasonable grounds to challenge custody of two infants on imo), and Obi Wan (and Yoda, even) can reasonably be considered next of kin to Anakin, maybe even more so than Owen. Ideally Padme's family should have been involved, but the danger of Sidious knowing of them is a mitigating factor.

Maarva & Cassian: There was definitely no informed consent involved, lol. She kinda did just kidnap that kid. However as long as she is a reliable narrator then it's an understandable kidnapping. They were going to die, so….

That business with Cad Bane: straightforward kidnapping & trafficking. He lied about his identity and used hypnosis and coercion and everything.

Din & Grogu: where do I start. Well, taking Grogu back from the imperials was a rescue not a kidnapping. Also he took on the job of foster parent and spent two seasons trying to find Grogu's people. When he did adopt Grogu, it was after Grogu chose him. This is all above board and not baby theft. However, I do have to factor in him taking on the job for the imperials to begin with. Even if his conscience kicked in when he realized what he was selling Grogu into, that was a pretty extreme case. So while Din is not in the business of stealing kids for himself or his tribe, he MIGHT be in the business of stealing your kid if it's a job and he doesn't think too hard about it.

Luke & Grogu: While there was less dialogue than there was with Qui Gon and the Skywalkers, the gist is much the same. Grogu did make the call, and Luke did establish that this was everyone's choice. (and Din was a foster parent, not the parent) And he revisited it again later, too. With Grogu, anyway.

Palpatine & Maul: I just realized i barely remember. Mother Talzin gave him away, right? Did she get something in return? Hang on, didn't something similar happen with Ventress?

GOING OFF OSMOSIS ALONE: Jaster & Jango: the way I heard it: Jango was orphaned. (idk if he had anyone else). Jaster maybe made him pass some kind of test involving planting a bomb before adopting? if so that's an unusual thing to do

Baby Ludi: the way I heard it: jedi find a kid who seems like an orphan. The mother turns out not to be dead and there is a media storm about it. There is a custody dispute? Idk enough details tbh.

[bunniekittiee]

(MK1) Bi-Han Headcanons

I was listening to Jar of Flies and it came into my head that I never did separate Bi-Han headcanons about himself. So this is what I think he would be like. This is also very music-based but yk its all good.

Bi-Han is known as the goth man of Mortal Kombat because of Noob but I think he would be a bit more grungey.

He loved dark and haunting music even before he became a wraith.

Alice In Chains was his first listen to Earthrealm music as he had never interacted with it before. Johnny had to tell him about them.

“I think it’s up your alley.” Johnny told him as he handed him a CD player with a few CDs.

Bi-Han did not trust his judgement at first and even put it off for a little bit, but he soon regretted putting it off as soon as he listened to Jar of Flies.

Absolutely loved AIC after this.

Related Jar of Flies to his own trauma with losing his mother and his father’s harsh treatment.

That’s another can of worms that cannot be opened in great detail today.

Would also like Narrow Head, Superheaven (duh i headcanon every character to like them), Mareux, Basement, Nine Inch Nails, but that’s just to name a few.

Associates “Hole in the Ground” by Superheaven with Kuai Liang and tries to not listen to it too much.

This is much worse after his betrayal. Bi-Han hardly touches the song after because of this.

It would only make him feel horrible and guilty.

Also associates “Necrosis” by Narrow Head with his father because of his hurtful treatment as a kid.

Bi-Han was trained a pushed a lot harder than Kuai Liang and even Tomas who was not their blood kin, so Bi-Han held a lot of resentment for his father.

He treated Tomas more like a son than he did Bi-Han.

Bi-Han wondered if this was so he could become a tough Grandmaster, and that’s how he reasoned it in his head, but it still messed with him.

When he lost his mother, it was devastating. She was the only one who supported him and took care of him after suffering from bouts of hypothermia from his father testing his might in the Arctika.

She was there for everything and always made sure Bi-Han was well.

When she passed, he did not have that support system anymore. That is when he knew it was time to become a man and move on.

He never moved on, but he did become a man.

His exterior was already cold, but it became much more worse after the death of his mother.

That is the Bi-Han we know today.

He never held much warmth despite his brothers telling him he should.

He hardly wanted to give his father a funeral, but he knew he could not go in that direction. He needed to honor him despite his dishonorable acts against the Lin Kuei.

He was a weak, senile Grandmaster. He was not fit to rule.

But Bi-Han was, he was ready to reform the clan and change the weaker policies his father implemented after the death of his mother.

Kuai Liang always tried to reason with Bi-Han, but he never changed his mind. Once Bi-Han was set, he was ready.

It didn’t matter what Kuai said or did, Bi-Han would never budge.

He was very stubborn to the dismay of his brothers.

Late at night if Bi-Han could not sleep, he would listen to music to help him.

Bi-Han could not sleep well because of the creeping thoughts of his childhood/adulthood that caused him great pain.

It often seeped into his dreams which caused him to not be able to go back to sleep.

That’s why he looks so tired, he just has a hard time sleeping. His mind is too occupied and the gears are always turning about.

“Blank” by Glare also makes Bi-Han reflect on his life. He listens to that when he can’t sleep.

Sometimes, it’s able to lull him to sleep.

Tomas and Kuai do worry about Bi-Han.Tomas suspects that Bi-Han is depressed, maybe anxiety-ridden.

But they’ll never know. Bi-Han is super against vulnerability and he hates to feel that way.

He also does not like to be forced to talk about his feelings or what’s bothering him. It makes him feel like he’s trapped in a corner like a wild animal.

After Bi-Han’s betrayal, Sektor and Cyrax are the ‘replacements’ for his siblings.

But they never are interested in what Bi-Han’s mental stability is. They are not that close to be aquatinted like that.

All they care about is having a Grandmaster that is ready to conquer and give them orders. They are warriors, they are ready for anything Bi-Han throws their way.

When Bi-Han was younger, his father did everything to make his life difficult. This lead to Bi-Han being very angry often.

He trained alone in the temple, his knuckles bloody from the amount of punching he did. His knuckles would be raw and cut open badly.

His mother would coax him away from the training room to let her wrap his hands up. She did this very often as Bi-Han was the main target of his father’s wrath.

He hardly cried in front of her, but every once in a while he broke. But she picked up his pieces.

Bi-Han loved his mother greatly, her death pained him the most out of everyone.

So when he looks in the mirror, all he sees reflecting back at him is his mother.

Her eyes, her facial features, her caring demeanor.

But Bi-Han was hardened, extremely rough around the edges.

He could never be as caring and loving like her. It wasn’t in his DNA to be that way. That was more Kuai Liang’s personality.

Sometimes if he stared for too long, he would see her in the mirror. But only for a mere moment.

He blamed it on lack of sleep and never told anyone.

Bi-Han is extremely troubled, and he requires a lot of patience and understanding. He will not open up right away to anyone.

[sneakyboymerlin]

Can I ask for you to talk more about what you said in the tags of this post? Morgana went evil because she was classist and not because she was hurt? Can you go more into depth on that? I feel like Morgana's arc and her motivations are really hard to decipher because of the way she was written. Like one episode it seems like she just wants Uther dead, and then the next she wants Arthur dead too and she wants the crown and she's going after Emrys and that shift always confused me a little.

I always thought the interpretation that Merlin could have helped her more was valid. Like, yes I am completely in agreement that the entire point of 2x03 is that Merlin helped her when no one else would. But he also took back that help as the season went on, and betrayed her when he poisoned her. There WAS more he could have done, I think. He could have been honest about himself, but he wasn't. He could have simply told her that he suspected that maybe she was the center of the sleeping spell in the Fires of Idirsholas, but he didn't. He could have tried convincing Gauis to help her on his own, without bringing Merlin into it, but he didn't. (Even Katie McGrath said that she blamed Merlin for what became of Morgana.)

And yes, I know why these things didn't happen. Because the dragon told him not to and Gauis told him not to. But in the end these WERE Merlin's choices. And maybe if he had chosen differently, so would have Morgana.

Like, yes I agree that Morgana's choices were her own. But I don't think she made those choices in a vacuum.

As to the bit of her being classist, I think I understand what you mean? But I'm still confused because I wouldn't exactly call Morgana from season 1-2 or even season 3 a classist person. She was good back then, shared values with Arthur about what a better world would look like.

I'm just so intrigued by what you might mean, and I'm always looking for new ways to look at this story. It's lovely that after all this time there's still more to discuss.

Lot to unpack here.

For one thing, Morgana feeling hurt didn’t encourage her to kill or allow the killing of random uninvolved people, but especially the Druids + their sympathizers who were arrested in 2x03. She ignored her kin’s plight in favor of her own comfort, even though she is granted protections that those people couldn’t dream of. She’s very much a class traitor from the start, because she tends to be thinking more about how she feels than how others do. She’s more blatant in her self-loyalty later on, but it’s always been a theme with her.

As for Merlin, 2x12 was a mutual betrayal between him and Morgana. Morgana betrays him first in this episode by endorsing the fever spell that Morgause casts on Camelot. While she’s not fully informed at first, 1) Merlin has no way of knowing that (especially since she has formed similar alliances in 1x12 and 2x11), and 2) Morgana embraces Morgause’s plan after the fact (explicitly so in 3x01/2). Merlin then poisons Morgana in order to end the fever spell on Camelot, choosing the greater good over her as an individual. To clarify point 2 here, Morgana is aware long before 3x01 that Merlin poisoned her because everyone in Camelot was slowly dying, but she makes it clear that she understands this in 3x01.

I also fail to see how Merlin revealing his own magic would have changed anything. Morgana already knows that Merlin is pro-magic (also discussed in 3x01), they simply have different methods by which they aim to achieve that goal. Both are flawed, as Merlin’s relies on tyrants like Uther changing their minds, and he places blame on the oppressed group (even if he’s a part of it) for not demonstrating that magic can be good, when it doesn’t matter how well this is demonstrated, since magic is not banned for any logical reason.

Morgana’s plan is also flawed because she prioritizes herself over anyone else, meeting Uther’s tyranny with more tyranny. This is where the classism comes in. Morgana’s sense of entitlement is rooted in her status as a noblewoman. As 2x03 demonstrates, she values her own safety above the safety of her people, and when her descent is portrayed more openly, the first changes we see are in her mistreatment of Gwen, her maidservant. In 3x01/2, she also finds the townspeople to be disposable (including the Druids & sympathizers she knows live among them) and blackmails Merlin using her status as a noble. She also tries to kill Gwen because she can’t stand the thought of a “mere servant” taking the throne. She’s good to Gwen as long as Gwen functions as her underling, but as soon as Gwen is set to outrank her, everything that makes her appear distinctly better than other nobles disappears.

But ultimately, it’s Morgana’s actions that tell us this. These actions aren’t bad because she was hurt, or because she has magic. Every bad thing she does is bad because she is classist. The harm she does comes from a place of entitlement and inflated self-importance. While she may justify these actions with the hurt she’s suffered, being hurt did not make her do those things. Classism is the reason she becomes a tyrant, and it’s the reason she mistreats the “commoner” class. Again, her dismissing random civilians, especially the Druids & sympathizers, as disposable to preserve her own comfort? Comes from a place of classism. Her getting Gwen arrested on false charges and blackmailing Merlin using her power as a noble? Acts that are motivated by classism.

But back to what Merlin could or didn’t do. Morgana knew that Merlin was pro-magic, but she would never have agreed to his methods, as we see in 3x02, because she did not have faith in Uther or Arthur changing for the better (understandably so, and she’s proven correct). Whether Merlin is just pro-magic or has magic himself does not change this outcome, because it is about methods, not identity. Even when she finds out that Merlin is a sorcerer in 5x12, this does not change her mind.

And again, as far as Merlin knew in 2x12, Morgana was very much in on the plan with Morgause. He even tests this by asking Morgana why she reacted the way she did about Morgause and catches her in a lie. If he tells Morgana that he suspects her involvement, with the information he has (that she is allied with Morgause), then what? It makes no sense to bring it up. He never tells Agravaine that he suspects the man’s involvement with Morgana, either, because he doesn’t suspect that Agravaine could somehow be innocently/unwittingly doing these things. One could argue that Morgana could have confided in Merlin about her earlier interaction with Morgause (when the curse was cast) since she trusted him so much, but alas, she did not. And that’s understandable, too. Also, if you’ll recall, Merlin did try to get Gaius to help Morgana. They had a whole argument about it. Gaius concluded that gaslighting her about her powers was helping her. Merlin had to give up and go to Kilgharrah, and then when Kilgharrah wouldn’t help, either, he searched out the location of the Druids on his own and sent Morgana to their encampment. What Katie McGrath thinks about it means very little since she is just one (1) opinion against the visible canon facts. Merlin too blames himself for what Morgana became, but that doesn’t make him right.

The fact is that Morgana is her own person and her mind isn’t going to be passively changed. She’s always been fiercely independent, opinionated, and actionable. The desire to blame everyone but Morgana for her own actions also has a lot to do with her being a rich white woman. People assign a ~delicate, passive~ demeanor onto her, even when she shows her ruthlessness (whether that is simply standing up for her beliefs or torturing people). Morgana did not just get passed around and manipulated by everyone. If anything, 2x12 seeks to establish that it is Morgana herself who can make these decisions and change the future, rather than sitting around passively watching it happen. And by choosing to join with Morgause, she changes everything. The rest of the series is a chain reaction to this one crucial moment when she makes up her mind.