My first piece of solid, uninterrupted writing for my story in over a month was a rewrite of a scene XD I’m trying to make use of some of the @yourocsbackstory scenes in the prequel, and this one is from the Week 2 - Friends prompt. I rewrote it to fit more chronologically with the story, and to include a little more worldbuilding.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy!
Bidding farewell to my father, I leave his study and proceed back down the corridor. Karolina is waiting for me, as she usually does, ever diligent in her duty.
The sunset makes this part of the castle seem much darker than it is. The winter months of course do not help things in this regard, but at least the sweeping hallways are lit up earlier to compensate.
There’s no one here at this time of evening, except the occasional guard patrols every now and then, as well as us. It’s lonely, almost, with how the only sounds being our own footsteps and the echo of steps far away from us, ricocheting down the stone to us.
My thoughts are plagued with grandfather’s words, his encouragement, for me to speak up and say something to my Maidens of Honour. If not all of them, just one of them. After all, dividing a daunting task into manageable chunks is an apt way to solve the problem.
i thought that everyone would like to know that the General is in pain :)))))
“Damn it.” A lone voice around the corner spits.
I briefly stop in my tracks, grateful that there is a rug lining the floors of this corridor, masking my footsteps in the deep fabric. It’s coming from behind me, so I turn to face the corner around which the speaker presumably is.
I take a few silent steps towards the corridor, hoping that I don’t get spotted doing this here.
Peering around the corner, I see a figure leaning against a windowsill, hunched forward and hissing in pain. I recognise the figure, and my heart beats in my ears as I do so.
“Goddamn it,” the voice of the General says to no one in particular, but even so, he’s trying to keep quiet. He’s breathing through his teeth and I can see him clutching at his right leg.
A part of me is thrilled to see him looking like this. Looking injured, and in pain, and not the strong figure he likes to present himself as in public and around the castle.
Seeing him cursing like that makes me want to shake the hand of the man who shot him.
He has no idea I’m here, that much is obvious.
A door further down the corridor opens, and I quickly move away from where I was stood spying from.
“Lieutenant,” the General sounds like he’s standing up straight, or at least, trying to.
“Your excellency,” the voice replies as they approach him. “Are you… all right?”
“Of course I am,” he snaps back at the Lieutenant. “There is no need to concern yourself with my… injury. I am fine. What is it you want?”
“My apologies, sir. I was coming to report that an arrest has been made. Captain Górskanki is in interrogation with the suspect who shot you.”
My heart stops at the thought. An arrest?. That can’t be. They couldn’t find the suspect on the day of the shooting, what evidence do they have that he was the one who shot the General?
“Where is he?”
“In the East Dungeons, sir.”
“Well, tell the Captain to get on with it – whatever means necessary. I’ll go pay the prisoner a visit in the morning.”
Happy birthday to the wonderful @kosmosian-quills! I wish you a lovely day, lots of health, lots of dreams coming true and lots of words coming your way. Hope you have an amazing year ahead of you. ❤️❤️❤️
Keeping up with the tradition, I have been thinking about Anjelika and Angel after the heartbreaking last fic, where the General makes her mother and the girls ask her to come back, how her identities, past and present crashed into each other. I know Angel in the intro actually has three sides to herself, crown, friend and runaway selves, but this image wasn’t getting of my mind as I went through Anjelika’s tag and what you showed us about her. I hope it’s a at least a bit fitting and that you like it
Drawn by the amazing @enspey thank you so much for the wonderful art. ✨
Awwww thank you so so much!!
This is so amazing I love that art so SO much. Angel being so unassuming, her reflection looking so graceful. The memory of who she once was so overwhelming.
And the art style is so beautiful!
The dark moody background, the reflection bathed in light. The pose she’s in mirrored by her old self. Aaaaah I love it so much!!
Thank you again for this!! And thank you @enspey!!
gonna do a quick tag list reblog bc look at my girl!!
On a roll with this fff!! Continuing directly onto Last Week’s piece, comes this installment of “Angel is heavy with emotional baggage” XD
Anyway, I hope you enjoy!
POV: Angel/Anjelika
“What are you watching?”
Felicja was sat on her laptop, fiddling with her hair with one of her headphones in. She didn’t even look over at me when I asked my question.
“The news. Curious to see what the quote unquote Official version of events is,” she replied, twirling the other headphone around her finger.
I wince. “I’d prefer not to know, honestly.”
Getting shot at by soldiers is certainly not high up on the things I want the General and his soldiers to know about, and any curiosity I have about what they’re saying on the matter is instantly dissapated by my fear that they know I’m injured.
She doesn’t reply, but she does look up at me for a moment, acknowleding my wish.
Rating: M There’s mention of what happened to Dieter, but not in detail. Language. Alcohol. Talk of sex.
Summary:Dieter has a gift for you less than two days before he’s set to leave England … what is it? And what does it mean? And after you find out - how will the two of you begin your last weekend together for months?
Author’s note:
This one has been a while coming - and I hope that all of you are just as excited to figure out what Dieter’s gift is *now* as you were before. Thank you for being patient with me - and thank you so much for the support on this story.
He led you out onto the balcony after you’d put a pair of shoes and your own robe on. Even though it was chilly, it made sense for the two of you to go outside and continue the conversation. This is where we first really talked. The two of you remained behind the short wall, blocking some of the breeze, but Dieter pulled the chairs back from the railing, arranging them to face each other. He’s nervous. You could see the look on his face - the man’s expression determined, and while you had a ton of questions for him, you decided not to ask, instead waiting for him to speak again and steer the conversation.
Rating: M - language, mentions of the events that occur within the TLOU universe, mentions of sex, talk of death, drinking
Warning: This gives away some of the plot points of TLOU. If you don’t want to know them, don’t read!
Summary: Accepting Joel’s invitation to come and visit - on your own - leads to some pretty deep thoughts. And after the two of you are alone in his house, those thoughts turn into conversation … and more admissions between you.
Author’s note:
This takes place immediately following Waiting For This Sky to Fall. I started writing and got carried away. As a whole, the thing sits at just under 20k with some left to write, and that’s entirely too long for a one shot, so I split it into 2. Like I said earlier - there’s plenty of intimacy, but no actual smut in this part… that comes next.
Song Suggestion: “Bonfire” by Third Eye Blind
The walk to Joel’s simultaneously felt like it took forever and no time at all.
You’d never gone straight there from your place before, and so you thought that that might have had something to do with it. You’d also never gone there alone, and you knew that that was the real issue.
But it’s not an issue, not really, because… He’d invited you. He’d explicitlyinvited you, only moments after he’d kissed you and warned you that he didn’t want to fuck anything up. You didn’t want to either, but in the day and a half that you’d had to think since you’d last seen Joel, you’d decided that the chances of that happening were slim to none.
Placement within the story: Meant to be red post chapter 13 - because that’s where it leaves off.
Rating: M. Mentions of drug use and Dieter’s OD, the aftermath of that night, talk of death, language, sex, adult themes … par for this story, but there’s nothing too graphic in here.
Trigger Warnings: Drugs and drug use, alcohol, an overdose, needles
Summary:Dieter’s got a lot of thoughts about what happened to him the night of The Incident, but even those pale in comparison to what goes on in his head after.
Author’s note:
So, since a lot has changed and ramped up in the last few chapters of Locked Down, I thought that it would be nice to take a peek into Dieter’s head and see exactly where he’s coming from with this new behavior - and what pushes him to be so honest and open with the people in his life that he cares about: in this case, you.
This got very long, but I hope you enjoy it. (Side note, every single word I write about this man makes me love him even more.)
He felt the muscles in his back and chest tighten, and Dieter’s eyes flew open.
What the fuck? He registered himself taking in a deep, wheezing breath, but his eyes wouldn’t focus. Not at first, anyway - and then he saw you, the man blinking as your features became clear. She wasn’t here before. But now she … she is.
Run-through:Steve and Bucky have been friends since they were young boys. They are inseparable, so naturally when you married Steve you were aware that Bucky came along with him. Every event, every vacation, even as the best man at your wedding - Bucky was always there, alongside you and Steve. He was one of your best friends as well, so you’ve never thought of him in a sexual way, ever. That is until one certain night, when you see something you’re not supposed to and you like it a little too much. You deny your desire towards Bucky, but Steve knows you better than anyone. He knows what you want and need, and he’s determined to fulfil your fantasy; because what his wife wants, she gets.
Themes: smut, explicit language, praise kink, degradation kink, voyeurism, cuckolding, threesome, fluff (? a little bit)
Run-through: The team is away, leaving you alone at the tower. And that’s when the enemy attacks. Assassins of HYDRA came to take you out, thinking you’re nothing but a helpless, new addition to the team. But little do they know that you too can fight like a villain. When the team comes back home to the bloody mess you left behind after dealing with the enemies, a certain blue-eyed, metal-armed super soldier is highly impressed; and suddenly he wants all the fierce aggression that you displayed directed right at him…
Themes: smut, avenger!reader,
a/n: for the lovely @breathtaking-cynthia
“Play the footage,” Tony called out to the AI, “I wanna see this.” He said, and gave you a smile and a wink to show just how proud of you he was.
I wrote this a while ago, for @kosmosian-quills - I forgot why, but somehow I keep thinking about it.
So have little snippet on Alicia, the farthest in her timeline we’ve ever been, after the war is over, Jimmy is prime minister, and Alicia is living a reclusive life with her nephew Oscar, who is around 15 or 16 here.
The Council is history, and their fighters are imprisoned. Including Eve, whose existence is canon here.
-
It’s late at night, when Jimmy’s phone rings. He thinks about not answering. After a long day of cabinet meetings, all he wants to do is fall asleep while watching soccer. But it’s his private phone, the very private one, and it’s not like he hears of his old friends often.
The caller ID is hidden, and he sighs. Alicia, then. Somehow, she never got used to the new world they’re living in now.
“Hey”, he says.
“It’s me”, she replies. “Is… Is Oscar with you?”
Jimmy frowns. They’re living several states apart. Kind of an odd question. “No?”, he says carefully. “Why?”
“He’s not home. Left a message on his bed to call you.”
A pang of grief flashes through Jimmy’s guts. He had somewhat hoped she’d call him without any reason, eventually. But somehow, this has never been her.
“He…” Jimmy pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to remember the details of his last call with the boy. “Didn’t you want to go the East Coast this weekend? I prepared everything for your visit at East Point.”
“East Point?”, Alicia repeats. “The… the prison? For the… Council people?”
They technically call them war criminals, now. Just like Jimmy and Alicia had been called themselves, a few years ago. He understands, how she still can’t say it.
“He hasn’t told you? Fuck.” Jimmy hits the wall with his flat hand. “Do you think he went alone then?”
“Jimmy.” Her voice is cold and dangerous, as she emphasizes every single word. “What does he want there?”
With a groan, Jimmy sinks into a chair and covers his face with a hand. “I’m sorry, Ali, I didn’t know, I -”
“Is it her?”
He swallows. “Yes. Eve Reynolds.”
“Fuckers should have given her a different last name at least.”
He hears her breathe, controlled, steady, one of the techniques she must’ve learned in therapy.
“I don’t want him there”, she says then. “She’s…” Her voice drifts off.
Too much, Jimmy thinks. She’s just too much. Fuck. He should have known Alicia would never approve of this.
“I’ll try and reach someone there. Ask them if he showed up, okay? Don’t worry about him. He’s a big boy. He’ll manage.”
He won a war with us, he thinks.
“Yeah”, Alicia says. He thinks he hears her sob, but it might have been the phone line. “Yeah, okay, please do that. And then get him home, okay?”
“I will”, Jimmy promises. “I will.”
She has already hung up.
Dusting off the tag list for that - hello friends!
Since Jacques mentioned picrews to me I thought it was about time I posted the picrews I got for the boys I never got around to. There is commisioned art for the trio, but Hal and Kieran aren’t up there, so here you go
Plus that’s the cool picrew you had for Astrea that I had to do for Skye too, Jacques
Summary: Your reunion with Sy is just as passionate you hoped it would be, but things start to become strained when you suspect he isn’t being honest with you.
Pairing: Captain Syverson x Female Reader
Word Count: Approx. 10.5k
Warnings:
Series Warnings:
Smut including oral sex (m and f receiving), hand job, fingering (f receiving), p in v sex, dirty talking, implied masturbation (m and f), showering together, slight praise kink, anal play (f receiving), mentions of PTSD, descriptions of PTSD, mentions of war, angst, fluff.
Part Three Warnings:
Smut including fingering (f receiving), p in v sex, intimate touching, showering together, dirty talk, slight praise kink, discussion of PTSD, insomnia, illusions to war, angst, fluff.
Authors Note:
Thanks once again to my wonderful friends and beta readers @amberangel112and@henryobsessed . Your constant support and friendship means the world to me.
A massive thank you to @radiantheartbeat for editing you have truely lifted my writing and inspired me to be better. It has meant the world to me and I have enjoyed getting to know you through the process as well. Everyone, if you want some more great Henry content, please check out her blog here . You won’t be disappointed.
Sighing contentedly, you put your hand on his still panting chest and run your fingers through his sweat-dampened hair. It curls slightly around your fingers, and you like the way your feminine hand looks against his masculine chest. Slowly, his breathing evens out and he takes long, deep breaths.
I wanted to write a hurting Dany. So here you go. This is for @painful-pooch especially, the referenced Kysils are her characters. Technically, set in our Romeo and Juliet AU.
Cw for bad coping mechanisms of a trauma survivor, referenced consensual sex, implied past noncon, this is just overall pretty dark. (And I love it.)
“No.”
I flinch. Some dude tells me ‘no’. In the club’s bathroom stalls, his voice hoarse over the thrumming baseline of the music, deafening loud even back here between aluminum doors with graffiti doodles and scraps of toilet paper on the ground. “No, sorry, I can’t, not like this. I… I think you’re really hot, but I… I’m not that type of guy.”
He’s tucking himself back in, head shaking without pause. “I can’t.”
He unlocks the door with trembling hands and stumbles out, fleeing. I don’t try to stop him, just hold the door close behind, before some drunk patron can stumble in. My fingers are not trembling, as I bolt the door again.
Still, I rest my forehead against the door and close my eyes, give in to the booming beats.
He said no.
At least he did so early. It’s worse when they do later, when they’re already at it, when they find the bandages on my chest or the hidden bruises on my neck. When they ask questions. What happened?,who did this?,what’s wrong with you?.
As if I let them bend me over in a bathroom stall to talk.
Reblog for the Dany tag list - let me know if you want to be added or removed (or if you only want in on her “canon” content, but there might be a little less of that these days):
