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kunikuma · 6 months

Text

sorry i'm late, sweetheart

relationship | wriothesley x afab! fem! reader

synopsis | the duke had been held up for a little too long in the deep sea and... well. content | smut, no plot, MDNI!cw | pet names (sweetheart, pretty girl, good girl, my love), usage of the term "fucktoy" but not in the degrading way? (bro is just feeling good), c.ock bulge, marking, biting, fucking from below, usage of “cunt”, trying to top but y/n folded fast (mb im y/n), praise kink, kinda meh a/n | i wrote this idea down after he took too long to come home. a shiny, drunken $30 was what convinced him. i got MAD but i literally got whipped by him mid fic and then lost my anger.

masterlist

“you’re late.”

he laughs hoarsely at your repeated words of the night. he leers at the swell of your breasts as they rise and fall with your movements when you steadily bounce on his lap. moonlight illuminated your left side and damn did the beams complement you well.

your perky nips were peaked by the cool chill of the night air and he had half the mind to just apologetically lave his tongue over them to warm them right up.

the man could catch glimpses of shiny slick coating your quivering inner thighs each time you impatiently wiggled on his lap. your pretty little fingers tugged at his crimson tie, yanking him close as you narrowed your eyes down at him.

waiting for an explanation.

gruffly, he laughs at your scrunched expression.

“sweetheart, you look quite—“

the compliment withers in his mouth as a moan cuts through his words and he clenches his jaw shut. you clamped down on his hard cock as you took him all in, a twinge of pain from the sheer amount of him shot through your body. your bated whimper failed to get smothered by the back of your hand as you started to ground your hips against his, wanting to see him crumble by your hand.

wriothesley’s head lolls back, exposing his scarred neck to your eyes as he chuckles in disbelief. his hazy eyes examine the teensy fluttering dust particles catching the moons’ light before he focuses on the upside-down clock on the wall.

the young duke drags himself back into the situation at hand.

your hand that was once at his tie had traveled to his shoulders, pressing him firmly against the back of the couch. your little rocking bucks of your hips were endearing, heavily contrasting the irritated creasing of your brows.

it was cute how you thought you could jerk him around and pin him to the soft cushions behind him, but he’d let that slide for now.

“compliments will get you nowhere, your grace.” you hiss his title in his face, half-genuine venom seeping into your tone. your slow yet methodical pace had come to a complete halt, ceasing the pleasure building in his exhausted bones. he quirks a brow at the sass thrown in his face and he grins.

tiredly, his chest heaves as he exhales, centering himself. wriothesley licks at his lips at the sight of you confidently handing him your iciest glare in quite some time.

sure, you were pissed, and he knew that. but could you expect him to take you seriously when you looked that cute when you were mad? could you expect him to focus with the way your cunt’s walls fluttered around his dick?

“‘m sorry,” he starts, his head rolling to the side as he eyes your form caging him against the way-too-small couch in your quaint home in the fontainian countryside.

your thighs had unconsciously relaxed against his, continuing to smear your arousal on the pants you were too impatient to allow him to remove when you found him resting on the living couch.

earlier, when you stormed over to demand where he had been, he peered from under his draped arm to sheepishly explain he didn’t want to slide into bed with you. he argued you’d wake up and he’d hate to disrupt your rest.

currently, his hands slid onto your thighs, giving them a firm squeeze and he sighed with glee at how your walls twitched around him. the warden gave you a genuine softly smile, hoping to disarm the metaphorical knife at his neck. he certainly did not need another scar marring that area, even if you did think they were oddly attractive.

you simmer at the way his stormy eyes seemed to flicker guilt before his lovesick gaze took over. he drummed his fingers on your legs. he continued his words when your sharp gaze seemed to falter, providing him an opening to deliver the go-to blow you despised hearing.

“there was an emergency–“

when he saw you open your mouth to retort that there was always an emergency, he tuts and swats his wrapped hand onto your ass. his soft smile grows into a wolfish grin, “let me finish, doll.” he laughs lowly, sinking into the couch, combing his fingers through his matted hair as he makes himself comfy under you. you watched his ear-like tufts smoosh under his roving hands, only to stubbornly perk up once he finished.

under the moonlight, he watched his hands seemingly waltz on the supple flesh of your body, similar to two mechs he had seen in the overworld.

his hands trailed up and down, admiring your dips and curves as he enjoyed the feel of you on the pads of his fingers. you always felt so soft in comparison to the scarred, rough skin on his body. every part of you was a delight to explore and he hummed appreciatively throughout his trek. wriothesley thought the moonlight on the surface tended to illuminate you best.

breaking the silence, your next words lacked bite and the man was never one to not take advantage of an opening.

with goosebumps erupting on your skin, you shivered and muttered, “better hurry up before-“

“before what, hm?” he jumps in with a grin, suddenly tightening his grip on your body as he begins to press you onto his cock. you and the couch both whine at his ministrations. the seating was too rickety for shit like this and you felt the blunt tip of his cock harshly kiss against the deepest part of your core.

“if you’d let me finish, i was going to say there was a genuine emergency.” he murmurs, his fingers doodling on the supple flesh on your body. “would you believe it if i said monsieur neuvillette was involved? ask him tomorrow if you don’t believe me.” the dark-haired man whispers, his hands traveling yet again to press against the small of your back. he nudges you close to him, your breasts pressing against his face. he chuckles at his new-found fortune before finally circling his tongue around one of your hardened nipples.

with a hitched breath, you gingerly rake through his soft hair. “a-ah, i suppose if… he was involved, it must have been serious…” you shudder and respond absentmindedly, your anger and resolve beginning to melt at his touch. he hums and releases the nub with a quiet pop, resting his cheek against the flushed flesh of your skin.

ah, you crumble fast.

his eyes wandered over to the small kitchen where his cold dinner was left on the table. all thanks to the issue down in the fortress. normally, he would come home once or twice a week. recently, it dwindled down to once a week and this time… he had left you home alone for exactly 12 nights straight.

“exactly. allow me to make it up to you.” he drawls lowly, his eyes flicking up at you for approval. when you give a slow nod, he suddenly roughly yanks you fully onto his cock, forcing you to grind your body against his. he pulled your body close, applying a sickly addictive pressure against your clit as his cock slides all of the way in. when he shoved your hips away, you’d whimper, wordlessly demanding to feel all of him again. wriothesley laughs when your keens morph into pleased, choked moans. biting his tongue, he’d hold back his own sounds when you’d clamp down on him or your pussy nearly drooled in his lap.

you were still straddling the strong man’s lap, your back arching away from him to bare more of yourself to the duke.

“going to ruin my pants. hope you take responsibility.” wriothesley teases. within you, his heavy cock twitched at the warmth you graciously gifted him. from under you, you could feel him steady his legs, planting his feet into the cushions crumpled below. before you could respond, he nipped at your flesh, enjoying the surprised ‘ah!’ you bestowed to his ears.

“i’ll — ah, fuck… ya feel perfect around me — make it up to you,” he grunts, his hips slamming upwards in sync with every word. you stumble forward, one hand resting on his chest and the other gripping his locks, hard. your head flies back and you cry out, and he shudders from the pleasured sting racing through him. from below, the man indulges in your teary glare before he continues his punishing rhythm to send both of you into bliss. each buck of his hips into your wet heat was sinful; the sound of his hips slapping against yours and the couch’s internal frame screeching echoed in his skull.

“s’good for me,” he coos, watching you struggle to steady yourself on his lap. his breath was no longer collected; quiet, stuttered grunts and heavy exhales filled the room each time his hips slapped against yours. shit, the sight of you struggling to take him in and the lewd wails spilling from your lips were divine. “takin’ me so well, sweetheart.”

once he notices you have found some balance against his fast pace, he urges you to sit up straight again, helping you up. wriothesley’s quiet orders of ‘up, up’ and praise about being his ‘good girl’ gave you just enough strength to obey.

he slows down just a notch as one of his hands slides to your lower tummy in hopes to draw languid circles on your neglected clit. on the way down, the duke’s eyes widened when he felt the slightest bulge of his cock, and he laughs in disbelief before thrusting back up into your quivering pussy with renewed vigor.

“shit, sweetheart, you’re so good f’me–“

when you wail at the overwhelming pleasure of the duke fucking you dumb, your body spasms and you pull away, leaning away from him. the man was no artist, but with the way your body seemed to shimmer from the perspiration as his rough fucking made all your gorgeous bits jiggle in response, you were picture perfect on his lap.

but wriothesley was moreso stuck on something else. something activated in his brain when he felt his cock through you and all he wanted to feel was to feel that again.

his thumb made their small laps around your nub, messily smearing your juices. his other hand tightened its bruising grip on your waist and fuck, he had hope that was going to leave a mark.

“so good for me, my love.” he repeats with a pant, his eyes darting around, struggling to decide on what part of your body he wanted to sear into his mind to replay during lonely nights deep under the sea.

your breasts that shook with each of his harsh thrusts?

the expanse of your cute tummy and the way his cock seemed to absolutely ruin – no, wait – enhance that sight?

or maybe the way your thighs seemed to have gone slack, allowing him to effortlessly buck up into you like his own pretty fucktoy?

your pretty cunt wrapping around his hard cock was a sight to behold, especially when he could catch the faintest of your juice splattering every time his hips met yours. “w-wrio…!” you cry out in response, feeling his cock ruthlessly bully the spongy spot within you. the wolfish man seemed to have made his decision and his eyes drilled at the slick coating where you were joined. he also stared at the cute little bump on tummy, as that was something he needed to worship. if he wasn’t abusing your g-spot, the tip of his cock was kissing your cervix. that dull ache from the size of him had long expired and—

“‘m’sorry,” he grits out, “should’ve never left ya home for so long,” his hand hastily flies to your back to hug you close to his body, his thrusts long losing their refined rhythm. your soft chest squished against his firm one and god, that was just the cherry on top of the soon-to-be creampie.

his arms wrapped around your body, caging you against him to take every buck of his hips into your warm cunt.

with your cries and begs to “p-please, make me cum make me cum make me—” so close to his ear, he was hurdling straight towards the edge all thanks to you. the quiet night on the countryside was absolutely tainted by the sin coming from this small cottage. now, he was frantically burying himself in you, chasing release that was not too far away. “s-shit, pussy this good d-deserves to be–!”

you muffle your increasing moans at the crook of his neck, but before he can demand you to moan louder for him, you sloppily attach your mouth to a sensitive scar, clamping your teeth down on the flesh and he whimpers and shudders under you.

he blinks hard to rid his sight of the fireworks speckling his vision and he laughs breathlessly, “tryin’ to mark me up, pretty girl? fuck.” his eyes were glassy with tears from the juxtaposing pleasure and pain clouding his brain.

he was babbling, reciprocating your cries with his own rough groans into your ear as his orgasm was quickly approaching, “gonna fill you up, never shoulda left you alone—“

…how can a man go back to jerking off in a dimly lit office at the bottom of the sea?

simple. he can’t.

he might just ask if you want to become a new resident of the fortress.

not as an inmate, of course.

actually… if you were an inmate, would he get to use the cuffs?

#kunikuma’s fics #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x reader smut #wriothesley x y/n #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x reader smut

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dragonagecompanions · 8 months

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DA2 crew reacting to Hawke who stops caring? Maybe after the death of Leandra they just stop showing any kind of emotion? Not even rage or sadness it's as if they're made tranquil but without the need to be cut off from the fade instead, it's their emotions that are cut off. When they finally ask Hawke they simply shrug and respond with

"Why do I care? Everyone leaves me or they want something from me only to stab me in the back, why should I care anymore?"

Just, just pure angst heartbreak something that will hurt I BEG FOR THE HURT JUICE!

WELCOME TO THE JUICE BAR! HERE THERE BE ANGST!

Varric: He gets it. For most of the time, amongst the odd band of friends he has made in the City of Chains, Varric puts on a very convincing show as the devil may care rogue with the world at his fingers and no weight on his shoulders.

But on the nights when he is not walking through Darktown killing...well, anyone who crossed their path really, it was hard to maintain the mask. When the last drunken drunken warbler had left or past out or otherwise left the Hang Man silent in the wee hours even his tavern rooms couldn't keep the echoes at bay. Brother, father, mother, ancestral culture and society; all of it gone before he was even respectably middle age. He'd lost Orzammar before his first breathe, and no matter how in the Merchant Guild he climbed no surfacer would ever be anything less than a casteless outcast.

Normally that didn't bother him, but on the heaviest nights...He can't bring back everything Hawke lost, and isn't fool enough to try. But he can be a friend, a port in the storm. Once Hawke's mindset is known Kirkwall's resident story teller makes it his mission to be a constant bulwark for his friend. He has let them flounder for too long-- dwarves might not be great at swimming, but Varric will not let Hawke drown.

Bethany: It takes a long time for her own bitterness, at a life of endless hunger and exhaustion and nightmares of a Grey Warden that she would never have chosen for herself, to fade enough for her sibling's silence to truly register. Their mother's death had been a terrible blow, a severing of the last parental bond, but it had also heralded a silence from Kirkwall that...

Well, that she had come to take for granted. Varric still wrote like clockwork, his letters a comforting and humorous glance into the city that had been home so briefly, but after more than a year the remaining Hawke sibling looks up to realize she has had not a word in months. Her last letter was so bitter, penned in grief and anger and without thought for the child who actually had to see and bury Leandra, but now those caustic words eat at her own mind.

Distance has bled off the pain, and the missive that goes to the City of Chains is almost meek in comparison to her fiery words. But the letter she receives makes silence preferable-- she can feel her sibling's desolate apathy through the short penned lines, and for once she aches for the cramped paradise of Gamlen's hovel when their family was mostly whole.

They do not write again, and in her shame and sorrow she does not ask them to. A Grey Warden is meant to leave all their former life behind, and yet somehow her older sibling has managed to cut loose of those bonds-- and Bethany finds herself clinging to a life that she cannot save.

Anders: Justice roils, unsettled and uneasy at the terrible symmetry. There is no sunburst scar to mark the sundering of mind and fade, no judgement rendered to murder life and emotion, and yet tranquility would almost be preferable to the empty aching sorrow. Hawke had always been a vibrant soul, built for purpose and life and determined to make their way in the world no matter the cost. But this...

There had been a time when Anders had been that alone. The loss of friends, of family, of the chance to have a life of his own. Even the freedom of the circles had still left him chained to another institution, no matter how preferable the Grey Wardens might have been. Isolation was a like an unhealing wound, pulling at the body and soul until there was nothing left to fight it. A sepsis of the soul, where no surgeon's blade could cut it free.

There had been no true isolation since Justice had come to him; it feels like a betrayal to admit he missed it.

And oh Anders wants to comfort his friend, tries to be there and sets aside (as much as his fracturing mental state will allow) the conversation of mages rights for other conversation. Brings food and wine and tries to rekindle that spark that had always been in Hawke's soul.

But his plans for the Chantry -and the looming betrayal that must carve them apart once again- keeps a pall of guilt over those efforts. It seems crueler somehow -infinitely more so if they are in a romantic relationshiip-to build up only to destroy, and so knowing he cannot help one of his first true friends in the city is another burden to lay against the cost of mage freedom on the scales of Justice.

Isabela: At first she brushes it off as a bad day, nothing that a trip to the Hanged Man and the Blooming Rose can't clear right up. She's had a few of her own, after all, and knows the liberal application of lover and libation to be a perfect solution for gloomy moods. Friend or lover, she knows how to raise the spirits.

But when that doesn't work, when her efforts are shot down again and again in that same terrible, dry tone, something distant and awful howls in the back of her mind. As the captain of a ship she is good at watching for storms and reefs, for the dangerous shoals that can render a ship little more than kindling or the hurricanes that turn even the greatest ports into unsafe harbors. There are no maps to nagivate here, no sounding charts or sextant readings to guide her to calmer waters.

She has looked death and danger in the eye with laughter and a ready blade, but the dull and distant apathy in her friends eyes shakes her like no nautical challenge ever has. They tetter on the crest of a wave, and for all that she might scramble for control the trough might be too much for them to weather. Emotions have never been her strong suite, commitment not in her wheelhouse. Isabela is shallow and vain by her own admission, made for the life at sea and not meant to drop anchor forever.

But when she takes a heading, she takes it true. It will be work, work the captain is not at all sure she is capable of, but in all her long life Isabela has never abandoned a crew member gone overboard. And even if Hawke is determined to struggle against joy and life and recovery, she will not let them drown.

Aveline: It is so, so tempting to lay pain for pain. To compare the loss of home and husband and life against the inevitable (if untimely) loss of parent, the grief of lost siblings and broken friendships to the struggle of proving herself to the guard. Who are they cut themselves off from those who love them, when no one is untouched by loss?

But the simple and terrible truth is that pain is a terrible equalizer, and lays low all who come before it. Aveline has fought for her position as a guardsman, and then guard captain, and is proud of her duty. But she is also too well aware that the burdens laid at her desk are nothing like that of a Champion of a city, and that Kirkwall has for years asked far more of Hawke than it has given in return. Her friend has never waivered, never failed in their devotion to a city that never stops taking.

Her own rise in station comes of both her work and theirs, and with a pang Aveline is suddenly unsure if she has ever let Hawke know how deeply grateful she has been for their friendship-- from that first day in Ferelden onward.

It is not in her nature to look back and regret on mistakes that cannot be fixed, or dwell too much on old sorrows. With Donnell's help she can only move forward as a better friend, a better companion. To make sure Hawke knows without question that they are loved, and to guard them and their future as she does the city they will build it in.

Fenris: Everything he touches, it seems, must be laid low.

There is no question that his social skills lack a certain...polish, nor that on the whole Fenris and society are mostly estranged. He in content to live in his decaying mansion, to make a life devoid of company when not traipsing through Kirkwall with a ragtag bunch of friends. He does not seek out company often, is not comfortable with the idea of the vulnerability that friendship requires with more than a handful of people.

It does not occur to him until Hawke's empty and apathetic words that those actions and attitudes might hurt more than himself. Hawke has been a better friend and compatriot than Fenris ever dared to hope for, certainly better than he had the right to ask for, but his actions have not been equal to that friendship. He has let them suffer alone, or at least mostly unsupported, and that is...

It hurts like the Fog Warriors hurt, needless betrayal when something better might have been.

There is a cold blessing in the memories of a life enslaved being ripped away by the lyrium, even if the experiences after were hardly kindness itself. But Hawke must live with it all, the pain and betrayal and the crushing isolation that comes with duty. Fenris has chosen to be alone, at least, in his self imposed solitude.

Hawke has no one.

It is a bitter vintage of guilt, particularly for a romanced Fenris who has done more than most to cause such pain. But he has not come so far in life without being tenacious, and commitment to a goal is keen to success. If he must finally leave the mansion behind, to spend everyday with his friend until that sorrow is as distant as his life in Tevinter, than it is a sacrifice worth making.

He will bring the good wine--it stands up well to despair.

Carver: There is a sort of inherent loss of self, when you have a twin. For all that Bethany and he had been different people, it is at times unavoidable that you be lumped together by even your family. It is rarely malicious but often very annoying, and was in some ways the catalyst for how much he envied his older sibling's singular triumphs and failures. There was no one to share that spotlight with, and it burned at something deep within Carver's soul.

The bitter grief that came when Bethany was gone, gone and leaving him with no one to lock step with, did not lend itself to mending the hard feelings for his older sibling. While not so cruel as Leandra to lay blame at the eldest Hawke child for his sister's death, her absence creates a void that neither can ever truly fill.

Time heals some wounds, of course, but distance and duty can cauterize what has not yet healed. Leaving his life behind to take the oath of a Grey Warden is perhaps the most freeing thing he has ever done, and if it is easier than most to carve away his past life...he is well named for it. That is not to say that the news of his mothers death does not pain him, but his new brothers and sisters a balm in a way family has not been in the past.

It is cold comfort when Varric's letter, with the uncertain request to write to his sibling in an attempt to ease their pain, makes them uncomfortably aware that years have passed without correspondence. Somewhere between the Deep Roads and his duties the oldest Hawke sibling ceased to be a daily thought for him, and Carver is ashamed to realize that he was relieved when the letters stopped. He does write a few stilted lines, unsurprised to receive no reply, and tells himself he can do no more.

If his father's face haunts his dreams with imagined disappointment and grief for months after, let that be penance enough.

Merrill: If Clan Sabrae still lives she will find it difficult to relate, but if Keeper Marethari's actions have cost her so much more than Merrill is painfully aware of the pain of total isolation. Hawke does not even have the eluvian to compensate their struggles, and for a time the Dalish mage is unsure how to help.

So she simply listens. Even if it is apathetic silence, or quiet sorrow, or even howling rage, Merrill stays. Her friend has never abandoned her, not in all the time she has known Hawke. Their life has been a bitter one, with duty and grief and helpless loss too mich a companion. Nothing she can do will fix the past, but she can prove to them with the consistency and patience of her presence that they are not alone.

The introduction of baked goods to that listening and support is also, in her experience and delight, a helpful tool. Among the Dalish shared food is the foundation of family and community, and in time she will use it to bring hope back to her friend.

Creators, let her succeed.

-Mod Fereldone

#dragon age 2 #merrill #aveline #hawke #carver hawke #bethany hawke #fenris #anders #isabela #angst

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pisscrossiant · 1 month

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Part two of my dragon age: origins headcanons because It's my current hyperfixation 😋

I'm honestly just writing these down here when I think of em

Oghren will stop doing whatever he's doing if he sees the Warden just to wave at them like a goof, he could be in the middle of fighting for his life and he stops to wave to them.

Morrigan can go MONTHS without bathing and look exactly the same as she did the last time she took a bath. She doesn't smell either she smells like roses 24/7 and no one knows how she doesn't smell after not bathing for like three months.

Leliana puts ribbons around her boots to make them prettier

Zevran tends to linger behind the party when walking somewhere just so he can stare at their asses without it being obvious.

Alistair keeps cheese in his pockets at all times, he has like three big ass cheese wheels in his tent at camp so he will take little pieces of cheese off the wheels and put them in his pocket so he has a snack later.

Wynne cooks the most out of everyone, she always takes requests from the party members so she can make them their favorite dishes for dinner so they can enjoy something during the blight.

Leliana often has auditory hallucinations and the most common one she has is of a woman screaming bloody murder, she'll jump a bit and if no one reacts to it she just carries on with what she's doing while waiting for it to stop.

Alistair has insomnia most of the time when he's "sleeping" he just lays in his bed roll and waits for sun rise, sometimes he'll talk to Zevran or Leliana if they get up before everyone else.

Zevran has Paranoia and has visual hallucinations, though they don't happen all that often, they still freak him out. He mostly see's shadow people which freaks him out alot because he thinks they could be assassins, watching him.

Oghren will pass out sometimes from his drunkenness, thankfully this doesn't happen during fights.

After Zevran got mad at the warden saying "there are other things to do besides me, go do those." The Warden gets upset and goes to sit by their tent and shale see's this and tries comforting them by saying "Would you like me to crush the painted elf" which actually does make the warden feel better.

Zevran and Leliana are polyamorous and wouldn't mind being in a poly relationship.

Leliana has a FAT crush on Morrigan, even if the warden romances her she can't help but fall for the tall lesbian.

Zevran has a crush on Sten, not in a romantic sense but more so he's attracted to him because Zev loves tall people.

Alistair is a bisexual in denial, he thinks he's straight but when he sees men without shirts on he gets all flustered.

Wynne reads 24/7 and she reads smut. Like hardcore smut. She reads it with a straight face.

Once Alistair asked what she was reading and she handed him the book to read the synopsis outloud and he became so embarrassed about it, Zevran and Morrigan made fun of him for it for weeks, he still can't see Wynne the same way again.

Elfroot is like weed, that's why it's called Elfroot because ancient elves would smoke it.

Leliana will wash and style Zevran's hair for him, during his time with the crows he didn't get to have his hair all nice and clean and styled properly so he doesn't really know how to take care of it all to well, so Leliana does it for him.

Zevran gets jealous easily believe it or not, if he sees another person flirting with the warden he gets mad and will go up to the Warden and interrupt their conversation. At first when he doesn't realize he's fallen for the Warden he keeps thinking he's stupid for it and tries to ignore it.

Leliana doesn't have a tendency to get jealous but if someone is getting too touchy with the Warden she'll just stand behind the warden glaring at them to get them to back off.

Morrigan can be very possessive of the Warden even if the warden hasn't romanced her she still will be very possessive especially if the warden is around someone she doesn't like (like Alistair)

Alistair gets jealous but doesn't show it or anything he's more tame and doesn't act on it or anything.

Morrigan is a raging lesbian she has no romantic interest for men, the only time she'd even sleep with a man would be for her to have a child. But she doesn't try to pursue any romantic relationship with women due to her pushing the people she loves away.

Oghren misses Branka before she left him but is glad to be a part from her at the same time.

Shale pets your Mabari 24/7 she loves animals especially dogs

Zevran is very weary around dogs, there were stray dogs all around Antivia City and they'd attack a lot unprovoked, he's been attacked by them numerous times so he was of course nervous when joining the warden's party seeing they had not just a dog but a wardog. Over time though he grew to actually like the dog alot however.

Leliana is a cat person, she's fine with dogs but she loves cats. But if she did have to choose between a Nug and a Cat she'd ofc choose a Nug.

Alistair is a major dog person, when he was living with the Arl he would usually hang around the kennels rather then being around people. When he says "I was raised by dogs" he wasn't actually that far off.

Morrigan doesn't like Dogs or cats, she's a bird person. She only tolerates the wardens Mabari because she knows the warden loves him.

Oghren is actually fond of dogs believe it or not, he hates cats though he says "they're stuck up"

Sten doesn't have a preference between cats or dogs however he respects dogs alot more then he respects cats.

Wynne is a cat lady, like if the tower let her she'd have like 20 cats.

Alistair has elf ears but not like how full blooded elves have, half elves have small points to their ears, they look like human ears but have a point to them instead of being rounded fully.

Leliana has a tattoo of a sun on her right shoulder.

Zevran has tattoos all over similar to the ones on his face, but he also has a tramp stamp that says " amor ''

Morrigan at first meeting her has no tattoos, I mean where would she get them living in the wilds. Once she leaves though she does get a tattoo of a raven on her left arm.

Alistair got drunk and got a tattoo of a dragon on his back, he thought it was cool at first but now that he's having to fight dragons and the arch demon he hates it.

The circle doesn't let mage's have tattoos so Wynne doesn't have any.

Sten does not have any tattoos because the Qun does not allow it, he does put markings on his body with face paint however.

Oghren has a tattoo of two beer mugs clanking together in between his shoulder blades.

That's all for now I'm most likely gonna do another part because I actually like writing these it's just nice to do when I'm not doing anything. Also the first part did pretty well and got a decent amount of attraction so definitely gonna do more 🤭

Plus I love fueling the dragon age fandom I wish there was a lot more stuff ab it 😭

#dragon age origins #dragon age: origins #dao #dragon age #zevran arainai #alistair theirin #wynne dragon age #morrigan dragon age #leliana dragon age #oghren dragon age #sten dragon age #shale Dragon Age #dao headcanons #headcanons

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captainjacklyn · 1 year

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Twisted Wonderland & Captain Jack Sparrow!Reader, PART 1 :

A/N : Just wanted to do something special for my 1000+ followers, it feels like I should've done better, I gotta be more present with my community and blog. Just so you know- even if I don't post, it doesn't mean I am not there. Love you all <3

This is Part 1 with Heartslabyul & Savannaclaw, Part 2 will contain Octavinelle and Scarabia, Part 3 will be with Pomefiore and Ignihyde, Part 4 is Diasomnia

Personality : According to screenwriters Ted Elliott and Terry Rossio, Sparrow is a trickster who uses wit and deceit to attain his goals, preferring to end disputes verbally instead of by force. He walks with a slightly drunken swagger and has slurred speech and flailing hand gestures. Sparrow is shrewd, calculating, and eccentric.

Warning(s) : the reader is gender neutral, just wanted to give our favourite pirate some appreciation so the reader has his personality, skills & background, pronouns are you cause...it's literally just you. mentions of drinking habits, I've seen teenagers drink their heart out but the age of the reader isn't mentioned so make up your mind, killing, thieving cause its a pirate what did you expect ?

All characters with a Jack Sparrow!Reader :

HEARTSLABYUL

Riddle ♡ - He doesn't like you, not in the slightest. You violate the rules, you get into trouble and proceed to bail your friends by placing the fault on them. "I can name fingers and point names." Really ?! His bitterness turned into pure irritation the moment you admitted to have been a pirate. Riddle knows about those type of sea criminals, historically at least. Not in any sort of fantasy like ways because he says they are just children false imagination. There was this one time where Grim called for you during an unbirthday party, you kicked a buffet table to make one of the pastries fly into the air, jumped over the table, caught it, bit a piece out of it and complimented trey's cooking to finally excuse yourself. It wasn't against the rules but he wished it was because you KICKED THE TABLE WHERE HE WAS SITTING-

Ace ♡ - He finds you funny, I mean come on. You speak like a drunk person and you can copy/understand his little card tricks in a few seconds. You can't tell me the two of you don't gamble, betting your lunch and money, to the point where no one gets to eat. He will ask you about your pirate life because he thinks its rad, you get to set out to sea without a care in the world just looking for ways to make yourself rich. Sounds like new dream job for Ace ! You are pretty much the same when you get in trouble, "He did it ! ....I didn't ! No you did !" both of you are trying to stab each other in the front and not in the back cause you are very open about it.

Deuce ♤ - "Why fight when you can negotiate ?" was the first thing you said the moment he was about to hit the student you broke the eggs during your shopping for Ace's tart. He appreciates your patience, you usually try to end disputes verbally instead of swinging a punch the moment you get irritated. Admires your courage as well, even when riddle over blotted you partly stood your ground (partly because you tried to run away at first but then Ace stopped you). Got hit more than once because you flail your hands around when you speak, he reminds you when you're done but please stop cause his nose is turning into a weird color.

Cater ♢ - He finds you funny, especially with the way you talk and run away from his house warden. You get along well even if he has trouble understanding your logic at times. Definitely takes funny pictures with you even if you don't get why he does it. "did everyone see that cause I will not be doing it again." he saw it and he snapped pictures of you fighting a group of flamingos while saying that you know you're attractive but this is a little much ladies. Boy is laughing at your shenanigans, always.

Trey ♧ - He just laughs whenever you act a little weird, you're eccentric and similarly to cater, he finds it hilarious. When he made the joke about adding oyster sauce into the batter for the tarts, you just looked at him and said : "You're basically saying that you want to put me in the tart ? Because that's what it sounds like." You do smell like fish because of your adventures in the ocean, he sometimes eavesdrops whenever you visit the adeuce duo to talk about your accomplishments. Trey finds your demeanor a little charming and he may or may not be charmed himself, statement is based off of a time where you tried to play smooth in order to get a tart.

SAVANNACLAW

Leona 𓃬 - You're too energetic, stop it, stop moving. You definitely tested his patience during chapter 2 because he tried to kill you more than once (he calls you a fish smelling bastard, of course you don't care but you won't accept an insult without the 'captain' part). Because of your shrewd and calculating prowess, you were able to figure out his schemes very easily. A couple years of pirating comes in handy when your life depends on deceit and wit. He smelled your presence after he had that conversation with Jack, you're pretty loud too, stealth is definitely not you're strong point. "Alright you caught me I was spying on your little chit chat with the big dog. And honestly, I don't care what you do as long as you don't drag me into it. But unfortunately you did drag me into it...now we're both angry." "What do you want, mister/misses/mixes pirate ? A gold coin ? Take your pick because I got many." "A tempting offer which I will address later, but I came here with a word of advice mate- the problem isn't the problem. The problem is your attitude about the problem." "...what." "In stupid people language it means stop whatever the hell you're doing cause it's not gonna work out. I've seen better plans than this like I've seen prettier krakens then this designer wallet." "HEY-"

Ruggie 🐾 - He's a little intimidated by you, you figured things out quicker than he would expect a drunk type of person to. Don't judge a book by its cover, got it. He was especially freaked out when he sensed your presence, even more when you came in through the window right after Jack left. You were also one of the first people to sympathize with him when Leona betrayed his own vice dorm leader, saying that if he wanted to be a pirate, he was already on the right track. You bond over the fact that the both of you are good thieves, you teach him a few tricks and he'll teach you a couple as well. Like Ace, he finds your job fun, at least it looks like it. You're more similar to him than you think, I genuinely feel like if he could, he would run away from society to find his own place and maybe a couple of treasures along the way.

Jack 𓃥 - He is confused, you have a sense of justice...but you're someone who gets hunted down by the government. And you steal too...why did headmaster ask you to solve the case again ? He's on good terms with you but you're not exactly friends either, he just finds you strange yet surprisingly smart despite your background. The way you run away is weird though, why are your legs running faster than your upper body ? Brushes it off later, he is impressed by your way of thinking, it may come off as insane but there is actually knowledge. When you came up with a plan to stop Leona he said it could be the most mad thing they ever did or the most brilliant thing ever. "it's remarkable how often those two traits connect." He admires you, you're still weird but..you're cool..even though you're weird.

It's a little long on Leona's part but I feel like they would be a pretty funny frenemy duo.

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within-your-eyes-if · 7 months

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The warden sneaks away to gods knows where but finally they find him in some hole in the wall pub drowning their sorrow and drunk. How would everyone drag them back home?

Admos: It's a sad sight seeing someone they've come to care about sit in a dingy tavern, alone, even though the place is bustling. He offers you one his finest wines, on the condition you return with him and let him keep you company.

Ly: They're not sure what to do as they see the warden wallowing in self pity. A state they themselves were in not long ago. Everyone copes differently, something the draconian respects. But the least they can do is sit with them. There were many times they wished for company at their lowest. With their usual air of flippancy, they approach the warden, "Ah look, I've found you! It seems I won our little game of hide-and-seek. But I do not wish to play again, so I'll just wait here with you."

The night continues on in casual conversation, or maybe silence, the draconian conforming to whatever you prefer while fending off any unwanted drunkards looking to join.

Gabriel: They don't say much other than announce their presence with a friendly tone before pulling you up and walking you out. They walk with you around the bustling night life of Narrau, offering food and non-alcoholic drinks to sober you up, to cheer you up. They stay by your side, letting the earlier loneliness fall away.

Lee: They don't want to overstep. But they don't want you to fall into the pit of despair you're desperately searching for in those mugs. They sit beside you, not letting the barmaid refill your drinks with glares unknown to you. When you're ready to leave, they still stay beside you.

Hestia: There are a few ways she plans to help you get through the hangover you're sure to have tomorrow. Right now, however, you need a better ailment than alcohol. The witch drags you away with the promise of something better and taking you to a quiet place she discovered within the palace walls. Soft hums soothe you, and through the waves of drunkenness, you forget the loneliness that's plagued you.

Xiao: They don't say much beyond announcing their presence as they sit beside you. It's hard for them sit in such a place, finding the atmosphere unpleasant. They ask you to leave with them. They don't promise anything better nor an exciting adventure, only to simply wander the streets and let the night play out however it does. At least you won't be alone.

???: They want to say you're pathetic. But your sorry sight is enough to make even their heart squeeze with pity. They drag you out without a word. Maybe you fight against them or go without thought, but even through the drunken haze you notice how gentle the hold and the soft whispers they think you don't hear or won't remember.

#within your eyes if #wye scenarios #wye romance information

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lookinghalfacorpse · 1 year

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I was thinking about butterflies and food. If offered, most will consume blood, waste from corpses, and other such matter. They are very opportunistic creatures, despite being so delicate. Most species are slow, but the skipper skipper butterfly can fly almost 40 mph, about 60 kph

tw for: mentions of death and corpses, insects eating corpses, graphic depictions of injury, character death (c!sam)

The pickaxe ripped through Sam's face, a waterfall of blood and teeth scattering across the floor like wet marbles. The flesh offered more resistance than Dream expected it to-- did Techno also have to deal with this carnage? He pulled the tool forward, hard, and when Sam's body dropped, it dropped towards Dream.

Heavy, limp, and still weeping with warm blood, Sam's corpse collided with Dream's torso.

Hooking an elbow beneath Sam's arm, Dream was able to catch him. With his knees failing and his bleeding head resting on Dream's collarbone, Sam seemed more like a drunken man than a dead one. How many times have they held this position, but in reverse? Blood soaked quickly into Dream's clothes, sliding down his armor and absorbing into his cloak.

But it wasn't long before Sam's weight proved to be too much, and Dream let him fall the rest of the way to the floor. He landed in a leap of limbs and metal.

Dream wasn't sure what he expected this moment to feel like. He's been planning it for a few days now, and he knows from many experiences that the actual sight of a body brings next to no personal satisfaction-- rather, the concept and theory behind the death brings its meaning. You have to think about it poetically. But poetry is hard to contemplate when you're looking at a freshly dead body (even harder as it ages), and Dream found himself feeling rather calm. At peace. Satisfied that the plan had worked, glad to see Sam on the ground before him, but far from exuberant.

He let the pickaxe drop from his grasp. It fell with a clatter, spreading more dots of blood across the floor and his boots. His breathe was deep, but steady. Sam, whose breath was usually loud behind the gas mask, was silent.

What do you do in moments like this?

The first butterfly to land on Sam was an elegant white one. Its wingspan was massive; when it perched on his cheek, right on the edge of the wound, it covered much of the injury. A new, lovely, living mask for the warden. Dream watched as her proboscis unfurled and landed on a nearby spot of blood.

More joined her. A cloud of color descended onto Sam, decorating his head and the puddle of blood that spread around him, a stark contrast to the dark lobby around them. As their wings shifted and folded, they'd obscure or present the injury. One landed on a stray tooth, her weight rolling it a bit and making a scraping sound.

His hands were shaking. More than usual, anyway. Adrenaline.

An orange one landed on Dream's forehead, stretching a wing downward and covering his right eye. 'Stop looking.'

He often forgot they could do this. Insects aren't picky eaters-- blood and gore had much of the same sugars and nutrients as they'd find in flowers. A number of butterflies descended onto Dream's armor, lapping at the blood that poured onto him when Sam rested there.

"Are we that hungry?" He asked, his voice low. "I've bled in front of you plenty of times-- you should've told me. I'd let you--" his voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, "I'd let you."

A purple butterfly landed on a rubbery-looking piece of gore. White-ish in color. Part of Sam's eye, probably.

Another landed on Dream's browbone, a white wing reaching down to cover his other eye. 'Stop looking.'

#bugs be doing bug things #they might be pretty but they're still bugs and bugs Do be eating some weird shit #also why are skippers so fast what the hell #ty also for telling me abt the skippers i didn't know that #good for following along with parkour i guess #anyway #drabbles #cdream #c!dream #dreblr #killing butterflies

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corroded-hellfire · 1 year

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My wife wanted angst? SHE GETS ANGST.

Sooo reader is still good friends with someone she used to date/hookup with and so they hang out and text a lot and Eddie is jealous/anxious about it because he sees the ex as being better than him but he doesn't wanna upset reader by telling her and they get into a drunken argument about it

Ah, my wifey! Anything for you 😊

Warnings: underage drinking, language, and I made Eddie a bit over possessive, oops

Words: 4.5k

Being Eddie’s neighbor was both a blessing and a curse. You loved living next door to your best friend - and longtime crush - because it meant you got to see him whenever you wanted and could hang out nearly every day. You hated living next door to Eddie because when you’re not home, Eddie thinks he’s entitled to know where you were. He won’t ask if he sees you coming home with shopping bags or if he knows you were going to hang out with Nancy or Robin. But if Eddie didn’t know you were going out and he notices your car isn’t in the driveway, he’s going to wait up to make sure you get home okay.

Which in one way, yeah, it’s sweet, but it’s mostly annoying. Your own mom doesn’t hound you about where you go half as much as Eddie does. He had toned down a little when you had a boyfriend last year. He wouldn’t necessarily wait up, but he’d make sure the phone was right by his bedside if you called and needed him. He didn’t ask where you had been when you’d come home at night, because you were probably with Alex. But once the two of you had broken up, he was back to full protection mode. Possibly even worse.

So you’re not surprised when you pull up to your trailer one night and Eddie is outside, leaning on the back bumper of his rusty old van, smoking a cigarette. You’re almost impressed by his timing, but then you wonder how many cigarettes he’s been through while he’s been waiting out here.

“I’m checking back in, Warden,” you say to him as you step out of your car.

“Am I really that bad?” Eddie asks.

You hold your fingers about an inch apart. “Just a smidge.”

“It’s late, you’re a girl out all alone, am I not allowed to worry?” The expression on his face is earnest and open and you just want to take his face in your hands and kiss it all over.

“Yes, you’re allowed to worry,” you relent as you walk over to him. He tosses his cigarette on the ground and snuffs it out with the toe of his boot. You place your hands on his chest and look up at him through your mascara covered eyelashes. “But I’m a big girl. This is a small town. And I’m smart and I am careful. So, please try to worry about me less. Yeah?”

Eddie nods and wraps his arms around your middle, tugging your body against his for a hug.

“I’ll try, I promise,” he mumbles against your hair.

“Good.” You rest your chin on his chest as you look up at him. “Now, do you have any of that pizza leftover from last night? I’m starving.”

Eddie leads you inside with his arm over your shoulder. The clock reads just past midnight and both his uncle and your mom are on their respective night shifts.

“Help yourself, darling.” Eddie plops the pizza box on the counter and opens it to reveal two slices left. You take one and Eddie takes the other, then you both crash down on the couch next to each other.

“Do anything fun tonight?” you ask Eddie with a full mouth.

He shrugs and nods towards his bedroom.

“Got high and played guitar. Was fun to me.”

“You do that every night,” you say with a laugh.

“Yeah, but sometimes you’re here. Sometimes I play guitar before I get high. I switch things up, gotta keep it fresh.”

Taking another bite of your pizza, you give him a playful eye roll.

“What about you?” Eddie asks. It doesn’t sound like one of his usual where were you questions, which is nice. It’s a genuine curiosity from one friend to another, which you appreciate.

“Buffy and I went bowling, which was fun. Then I grabbed a burger with Chrissy, and I ran into Alex. So, then I went to the record store with Alex, but it was already closed so we just hung out in the park while we listened to his car radio.”

Eddie’s head started buzzing at the first mention of Alex and he’s not entirely sure he heard the rest of the sentence.

“You were with Alex?” he asks, trying to keep the vitriol out of his voice.

“Yeah,” you say with a shrug, like it’s no big deal. And it isn’t. To you. But for Eddie, his vision keeps flashing from red in anger to green in jealousy.

“I didn’t know you guys still hung out.” Eddie’s trying to sound casual, but he’s not sure how well he’s pulling it off. By the way you look at him out of the corner of your eye, he’s guessing not well at all.

“We don’t, really,” you tell him. “Just ran into each other and got to talking.”

Eddie nods and shoves the rest of his slice of pizza in his mouth. He didn’t know how to answer, so that solved the problem.

The next week at school, it’s between periods before the last class of the day, and you’re darting through the halls searching for Eddie. He’s slamming his locker shut when you find him, and he grins when he sees you approaching.

“What’s up?” he asks. He notices you're slightly out of breath and your cheeks have gone a little red at the exertion.

“Couldn’t find you,” you say as you take deep breaths. “Needed to tell you before last period.”

“What is it?”

“I didn’t want you to just end up waiting around for me after school. You don’t need to give me a ride today. I’m going with a, uh friend to the store.”

Eddie shrugs and nods his head at you.

“Okay, sounds good. Wait. The record store?”

Damn Eddie and his knowing that you hate shopping for clothes or shoes - or anything really - with a passion.

“Mhmm,” you hum. You don’t look at Eddie as the two of you walk down the hallway together.

“So, with Alex.”

The displeasure is clear in his voice, and you don’t get it. Eddie never had a problem with Alex before you’d dated him, nor while you were dating him. But ever since you’d broken up last year, Eddie couldn’t stand the guy. It baffled you because it wasn’t like it was a messy breakup where Alex broke your heart or anything. The relationship had just kind of run its course and neither of you were very happy in it any longer. So why Eddie has such an aversion to Alex now is confusing to you.

“Yes, with Alex. Why are you being like that?”

“Being like what?” Eddie asks.

“Like you can’t stand Alex all of a sudden.”

“Whoa, that’s not true. But what, am I supposed to be a fan of your ex-boyfriend?”

“You don’t have to think about him at all,” you say. “He’s my friend and I’m allowed to hang out with him.”

“I never said you couldn’t,” Eddie huffs.

“Good,” you say, glaring at him from the side of your eye. “I guess I’ll see you later.”

You branch off from Eddie to head to class, leaving him feeling jealous, confused, and annoyed in the middle of the hallway.

Eddie isn’t waiting outside when Alex drops you off at home that night. There’s a good chance Eddie’s sitting by an open window, waiting to hear a car pull up, but at least he’s not coming out to confront you.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say to Alex.

“Yeah, no problem.” Alex smiles at you and it’s a comforting sight. Some people said that exes could never be friends but that was far from the truth when it came to you and Alex. Whenever you talked to him you felt comforted, like coming home after a long day. And you couldn’t deny the fact that you still found him attractive, but there was absolutely no romantic spark between the two of you whatsoever. In fact, most of the time you’d spent with him today had entailed of him asking you for advice on how to ask the girl he has a crush on out. It didn't bother you one bit. You were glad to give him all the help that you could.

“Remember what I said,” you tell Alex as you unbuckle your seatbelt and reach for the door handle. “Compliment her, but not in a creepy way.”

“Not like the way I told you that I thought your eyes were so pretty that I wished I had them?” Alex asks with a laugh.

“Yeah, definitely not,” you reply, laughing yourself. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye!”

When you go inside your trailer, the first thing you do is take a shower. Once you’re all cuddled up in your most comfortable pajamas, you climb into your bed. There’s a cool breeze blowing in your empty window, and you can see Eddie’s open window just half a dozen feet away. He must feel the gentle breeze as well. You know he’s there by the shadow man sitting where Eddie’s bed is located. It’s tempting to call out to him. To talk, to soothe the ache from your harsh discussion before. The two of you weren’t fighting; not really. There was just a tense air between the pair of you at the moment and you’re unsure as to why.

Two days later you’re sitting on the freshly cut grass at the park, leaning back on your elbows, Alex’s flannel underneath them, and legs stretched out in front of you, one ankle crossed over another. Alex is sitting next to you, strumming his guitar. It’s a song you think you’ve heard before on the radio, but you can’t be sure. You close your eyes and enjoy the feeling of the sunshine warming your face as you listen to the music beside you.

“Well, hey there.”

A shadow falls over your face, blocking out the sunlight. You squint one eye open and Eddie’s standing above you, one hand shoved into the pocket of his black jeans, the other holding his stupid tin lunch box by its handle.

“Hey,” you say. “What’re you doing here?”

“Business,” he says, balancing the lunchbox on the end of his pointer finger.

“Want to join?” Alex asks him.

Eddie turns his head to look at Alex, then looks back to you.

“Sure.”

He gets down on the grass next to you and lays his head in your lap. It’s something he’s done dozens of times before, but this feels possessive. The lunchbox gets tucked next to his head and your thigh, and Eddie closes his eyes, resting his hands on his stomach. Alex continues to strum a song and Eddie begins to hum along.

“How do I know this song?” you ask.

“We covered it at The Hideout last week,” Eddie says.

“That’s it!”

“Sounds better in electric guitar, though,” Eddie mumbles, peaking an eye open to look at the acoustic in Alex’s lap.

“Rude,” you say, reaching down to flick his forehead.

“No, he’s right,” Alex says, and Eddie gives you a self-satisfied smirk. “Song isn’t meant to be acoustic. Didn’t feel like dragging an amp out to the park though.”

“You probably could have,” you say with a chuckle. “With all the movers going in and out no one would’ve batted an eye at you putting the amp in the back of your car.”

“Movers?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah, my parents bought a new house over on Smythe Boulevard,” Alex says.

“Why’s that name sound familiar?” Eddie asks, looking up at you.

“That’s the road you always gawk at houses on when we’re headed to Steve’s.”

“Oh. Shit, you’re moving there?” Eddie sits up from your lap to turn and face Alex.

Alex nods and goes back to strumming his guitar.

Eddie’s shoulders deflate. Alex was moving into a huge new house while he lives in a crappy one-bedroom trailer. No wonder you’d rather spend your time with Alex, he thinks. Eddie knew Alex’s family was better off than his, but he didn’t know they were practically Harrington-level well off.

“You coming to the party tomorrow, Ed?” Alex asks. Eddie hated it when he called him that. He hated it when anyone called him that, but this felt more irritating because it’s your ex.

“Harrington’s? Probably. Good place for business,” Eddie answers.

“Because God forbid you ever dance or have fun at a party,” you say. You lean over and poke his back with the toe of your shoe.

“Shitty alcohol, shitty music, shitty experience,” Eddie says.

“Harrington’s probably getting some pretty good liquor. Who threw that party with the awful whiskey?” Alex asks.

“Oh, Tammy Thompson last year! Ugh, the vodka tasted like nail polish remover,” you say, a shiver running down your spine just at the memory of it.

“Is that the one where we made out under the kitchen table, and no one even noticed because they were so wasted?” Alex asks you.

“Oh my God,” you say with a laugh. “I forgot about that! Holy shit, we were wasted too. Well, you more than me. I remember you trying to get your hands under my clothes right there in the kitchen.”

“No one was paying attention!” Alex tries to defend with a sheepish smile.

Eddie’s sitting silently, watching the two of you go back and forth. His hands are curled into fists so tightly that he’ll be surprised if his nails don’t cut his palms.

“What time is the party?” Eddie asks.

“Uh, I’m not sure,” you say. “I figured I’d get there sometime between ten and eleven.”

“Do you want to grab some food beforehand?” Eddie asks, looking only at you.

“Yeah, I guess. That sounds good.”

Eddie stands up before you have the time to invite Alex or for Alex to ask to tag along.

“Well, I gotta head out. Alex, I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess. And you.” Eddie taps the top of your head with his index finger. “I’ll see you at home.”

Eddie smirks to himself as he walks back to the van. He didn’t stick around to see the reaction to his last words, but he was sure enjoying the reactions he was imagining in his mind.

Everyone who worked at Benny’s knew you and Eddie by name. They knew what table you preferred to sit at, what you were going to order, and they could tell how obviously in love you were with one another. One of the waitresses had a bet a fry cook on how long it would take you two to get together.

“How will we be able to tell?” A third waitress had asked. “They’re already basically the same person.”

So, when you came into Benny’s together before Steve’s party, no one was surprised to see you. You were seated at your usual table and the waitress had already put your orders in before you gave them to her. Every meal you had with Eddie somehow became an adventure, with the way he talked about anything that popped into his mind, or how he gesticulated so grandly that pieces of food would start flying around your table. You wanted to have every meal with Eddie.

“So, you sure you and Alex aren’t getting back together?”

Well, maybe not every meal with him. This one you were now ready for the end of.

“Eddie,” your voice sounds exasperated as you feel. “We’ve been through this.”

“Yeah, but yesterday-.”

“What, we talked about something we did when we were together? Is that wrong? Are he and I supposed to have our memories wiped of one another?” You run your fingers through your hair, fighting the urge Eddie is giving you to rip it out.

“I just mean that he and you seem like you’re getting closer again,” Eddie says with a shrug.

“Eddie! How many times do I have to go through this with you?”

Eddie slaps enough cash to cover the bill and tip on the table and pushes out of his seat, the chair legs scraping against the floor. You follow him out and both of you silently climb in the van.

“Seems like he’s getting a nice new house,” Eddie mumbles as he pulls out of the parking lot.

“And what the fuck does that have to do with anything? It’s not like - oh, wait. You’re not actually suggesting that I’m going to get back together with someone because they’re moving into a nice house?”

“Well, when you live in shit homes like we do,” Eddie offers with a shrug.

“You are unbelievable. You think so little of me?”

“No,” Eddie says with a groan. “I just don’t get why you’re suddenly all friendly with him.”

“Jesus Christ, Eddie! Just because you’ve never had an ex doesn’t mean-.” You stop yourself because you know you’ve gone too far. Why Eddie has never been in a relationship has always been a mystery to you. He never complained or moped about it, but you could tell it hurt his confidence a little bit. The way he sinks in the driver’s seat at your words only further proves that. “I didn’t mean…”

“Whatever,” Eddie mumbles. He puts the van into park down the street from Steve’s house, since any closer parking has already been taken. He grabs his supply-filled lunchbox and hops out of the van. By the time you get out and around the other side, Eddie is already halfway to the front door of the house, almost completely hidden by the mass of people on the front lawn.

“Shit,” you huff under your breath. In the house, the music is blaring, the scent of weed is already making the air sweetly sickening, and almost everyone has a drink in their hand.

Heading to the kitchen first would go one of two ways. If Eddie was in there, great. If he wasn’t, then you get to drink. His mess of curls aren’t visible among the gathered crowd, so you pour yourself a generous amount of vodka and choose apple juice as your mixture of choice, forgoing the usual cranberry juice. Not sure if it was a smart decision, you knock back a mouthful of it and find it’s not bad.

Solo cup in hand, you head towards the living room where teen bodies are writhing and bumping up against one another. You recognize most of the faces, but no Eddie. Not that you thought he’d be caught dead dancing at a party anyway.

A hand comes up to touch your elbow, gently, but it startles you nonetheless. You breathe a sigh of relief, thinking it’s Eddie, but turn to see Alex grinning at you.

“What’s got you so happy?” you ask with a laugh.

“Olivia is here,” he says, practically bouncing up and down.

“Where?” you ask, craning your neck to look around the room.

“Don’t be so obvious! She just went into the kitchen to get a drink.”

You snort a laugh and take a sip of your drink.

“And you didn’t follow to get one for yourself?”

Alex sighs and shakes his head. “Don’t wanna be drunk around her.”

“Smart,” you say, patting him on the shoulder. “I, however, do want to get drunk.” You take back another shot from your cup and Alex wrinkles his brow at you.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yep, just a little irritated with Eddie.”

“Do you want to dance?” Alex asks.

“Don’t take this the wrong way. But why?”

“Two birds with one stone. I make Olivia jealous, you make Eddie jealous.”

“Make Eddie what?” You scrunch up your nose and shake your head. “Why would he be jealous?”

Alex chuckles, but when you don’t join in, he realizes you’re serious.

“Wait, for real? You don’t see it?”

“See what?” The alcohol is already making your brain feel a little fuzzy, but you’re pretty sure he wouldn’t be making sense even if you were sober.

“Oh boy. Just…just come dance.”

You follow Alex out into the throng of people, and you swing your hips along to the music, one wrist resting on Alex’s shoulder as your other hand holds your cup.

The more you drink, the faster the songs seem to go by. Eventually, Alex is looking at you in concern and steps forward to whisper in your ear.

“Are you okay?”

“M’fine,” you slur back.

“You look plastered.”

You can’t help but giggle and pull away from Alex’s face, his breath tickling your face only adding to your giggles. The feeling of being watched comes over you, so you look to your right where Eddie is standing, glaring at you and Alex. Your brow furrows as you wonder what his issue is, then you realize that Eddie probably only saw Alex move in close to you and you pull away giggling.

“M’gonna go talk-.”

“Go,” Alex says, having seen the look on Eddie’s face.

You only stumble a little as you make your way over to Eddie. When you reach him, he smells like alcohol, and you’re surprised he had any at all.

“You drunk?” you ask.

He huffs a humorless laugh and shakes his head.

“That’s rich, coming from you, sweetheart.”

“Where ya been?” You’re starting to sway on your feet so Eddie pulls you closer so he can put his hands on your shoulders to steady you.

“Told you this was a good place for business,” Eddie says. “And I may have had a few drinks. Having fun over there with your boyfriend?”

You pout, eyebrows coming together, and actually stomping a foot on the ground like a child.

“He’s not my boyfriend!”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” He won’t look at you, though. It’s like his eyes are scanning every square inch of the house except for where you’re standing.

Letting out a loud, frustrated groan, you drag your hands down your face.

“Edward Richard Munson!”

He rolls his eyes at your outburst. He grabs your hand with his and leads you out the sliding glass doors and onto the pool deck.

“Think I’ve had too much to drink to be standing so close to a pool,” you muse.

“I’m not going to let you fall,” Eddie says, sounding annoyed in every syllable.

You spin around to face him, too quickly though, because it makes you a little dizzy.

“He is not my boyfriend! Why do you keep calling him that?”

“Because you keep acting like it,” Eddie says.

“No!” It comes out whiney and petulant. “Alex is my friend. He likes…someone. Can't tell you who, s’not my secret.”

“Oh, and what, he said you guys should dance together to make this girl jealous?”

“Yes!”

Eddie rolls his eyes at you, and you feel like you’re going to explode.

“What is the big deal? Why do you care so much if he is my boyfriend, anyway?”

The drinks have made Eddie looser, more likely to talk, and you can practically see the words he wants to say crawling up his throat.

“I don’t,” Eddie lies.

“That’s such bullshit,” you say. “Don’t lie to me.”

“What do you want me to say, huh?” The volume and intensity of his voice has you widening your eyes. “You want me to tell you that I’m jealous? Is that what you want? That I’m jealous of that asshole and what makes it worse is that he isn’t an asshole! He’s a great guy and I fucking hate it.” Eddie shoves his hands in his pockets and starts to pace in front of you.

“You’re…jealous? Of my ex? I’m confused.”

“Not that he’s your ex,” Eddie says with a sigh. “That you’re still so close with him. That he knows what it’s like to kiss you and hold you and do all the shit that I want to do with you.”

“That…you want to do?” You know the alcohol is making your brain work slower, but you’re trying to give all your focus to this conversation.

“Damn it, yes!” Eddie stops his pacing and comes to stand right in front of you, taking your face in his hands. “You’re the girl of my dreams and I feel like I’m losing you to the same guy for a second time.”

“You’re not losing me ever,” you say.

“I didn’t mean it like-.”

But you don’t let him finish.

“Have you ever really looked at Alex?”

Eddie raises an eyebrow questioningly at you, but you just smirk in response.

“I’ve seen him quite a few times, yeah,” Eddie says.

“No. Really looked.”

“What the hell are you trying to say? Is this alcohol talking?” Eddie runs a hand over his face and shakes his head.

“No! Oh Jesus, Eddie.” You step forward and grip the collar of his leather jacket. “Look at me.” He meets your eyes, and you continue. “Alex has brown hair, brown eyes, is pasty pale, wears flannel, plays guitar, is a total sweetheart, and is ridiculously funny.”

“Yeah, thanks for the update,” Eddie says with a sneer.

“No-o-o!” You drag out the word and hold on tighter to his jacket. “Who do all of those things also sound like?”

“I don’t want to play a guessing game right now.”

You yank on his collar to bring his lips down to yours. His cold nose bumps against yours in the night air, but neither of you pull away. Eddie wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer against him as he sinks into the kiss.

“You,” you say when you inevitably have to break away for air. “Those are things about you, Eddie. I only agreed to date Alex in the first place because he reminded me of you.”

“What?” Eddie asks.

You shrug, color coming to your cheeks.

“It wasn’t nice of me to go out with him because he reminded me of the guy I have a crush on. But then I did really like him for him. Then I didn’t again, and we broke up.”

“You had a crush on me?” Eddie’s eyebrows go up so high they get lost in his hair.

“Yes,” you say with a breathy chuckle. “Still do, as a matter of fact.”

“And you’ll still say this when you’re sober?” Eddie asks.

“I will,” you promise him. “Plus, you can ask Nancy. Or Robin. Or Max. Or Steve.”

“So, everyone knows but me, huh?” he asks with a smirk.

“Pretty much.” You shrug and he rolls his eyes at you, but fondly this time.

“So, you want me to ask you on a date or something?” He suddenly looks shy, hand coming up to pick at the skin of his lip.

“I would.”

He pretends to think it over, then nods his head.

“Okay.” He drapes his arm over your shoulder and starts to walk around to the front of the house with you. He stays silent the whole time and you look up at him with a pout.

“You gonna ask or what?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he says with a smile. “You’re going to have to wait until at least tomorrow. Gotta make sure that hangover’s gone before I ask you out.”

Eddie’s arm drops down to his side as you step out from under it and march up to the house.

“Where are you going?” he asks, confusion pinching his features.

“To find water,” you say, fumbling with the doorknob to get inside. “I refuse to wake up with a hangover now.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #request

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mogwaei · 1 year

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HIII FRIEND!! 💌🥺 I'd looove to see your Hawke AND your gray warden...!! gib info im so curious 👀💗 (no pressure, only if u feeling like it!!)

since you and @lillenta both included Hawke, I did her first!

This is Vyr "my full name is 10 years long and a drunken waltz from the Hanged Man" Hawke! She's a blood mage, enjoys crime, is a compulsive liar, and if you ask her how she lost her eye, the story changes every time. Very tall and very buff lass.

Most importantly, Vyr and Varric are desperately in LOVE but keep it a secret :3

#dragon age 2 #dragon age #hawke #varric tethras #varric x hawke #varric x vyr hawke #original character #mogwaei arts #VERY BEAUTIFUL. VERRRRY POWERFUL.#literal partners in crime #worst bird ever but would burn the world for her dwarf uwu

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znikomek · 10 months

Text

The stump was barely burning, but the flame gave enough light to write. The drops on the counter suggested to lay the shaky wrist to rest, yet just a few paragraphs marked the finish line.

A tingling sensation across his chin made him freeze with his hand midway in the air. A quill ran up over his nose.

"Hamilton, you must stop here. You have been ambushed, my dear sir. Lay your weapons down.".

Alexander slowly put his hand down, how could he have not under such a blade, and felt his smile mirror the one underlying the order. "Laurens, you are truly an exceptional soldier. I had not heard a rustle before you spoke."

"You did not hear me for you are too tired to be in your senses." He plucked the quill from Alexander’s hand and laid it down away from his reach. "You are my prisoner of war now, and you shall do what I say."

"Aye, Colonel." He tried to stand up. If the quarrel came to physical force, he would not be a challenge to John. "Alas, what is your command for me?"

"Join me on the pallet." John put his coat from the chair onto his shoulders. "The night is cold."

Chill overtook him when they stepped out of the tent. Gusts ruffling his cravat brushed against exposed skin. The night was dark, but for a warden's fire in the far distance. No more that two voices were chanting a drunken song from between the stationed soldier's quarters; sleep had truly come already onto the camp, the hour was late.

While they strode towards their tent, John did not speak much. "You probably should know Greene-" Alexander began, before being cut off.

"Shhh, you will scare away the stars," John smiled as his arm landed in his waist. "The matter can wait until tomorrow, cannot it?" There was no protest to be made. "Aye. But you should probably know I am selfish with my acts. I miss a friend to rest my head in his lap in the evening."

"Do not tease me, Laurens." He swatted the palm resting on his hip.

"I do not tease you. I express my regrets. The night is cold. Will you keep me warm for tonight, Colonel?"

"For tonight."

#fanfic #fritter #alexander hamilton #john laurens #historical lams

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hollyand-writes · 11 months

Text

My Arlathan Exchange 2023 gift for @highwayphantoms (1st of 2 fics I wrote for @arlathanxchange!)

Rating: Teen Word Count: 1,162 Pairing: Carver Hawke/Merrill Other Tags: Warden Carver Hawke, Drunken Confessions, Fluff, Size Differences, Friendship, Pre-Relationship, Cuteness

Summary:

Carver helps Merrill home from the Hanged Man when she’s drunk. Cuteness ensues.

———————

Carver Hawke has grown a lot in confidence over the years—being a Grey Warden and doing your bit to save the world does that to you—but when it comes to Merrill, he’s still just as lost and tongue-tied and flustered around her as a nineteen-year-old who’d met her for the first time.

It makes no sense: he’s faced down darkspawn and slain mighty ogres, he’s charged into battle armed with nothing but bravery and his broadsword, slicing through the hordes with a grace and speed one wouldn’t expect of a big bloke like him—he prides himself on his skill thoughtfully applied—yet this tiny adorable elf girl who loves flowers and butterflies, who innocently wonders if the Qunari would laugh if she tickled them, just slays him. He feels so big and awkward and clumsy and oafish next to her little figure—she’s so tiny against his bulk—and yet he knows that if he faced her in a fight, she’s probably the one who’d take him down with her magic before he could even blink.

(And that’s before you even get to the blood magic, of course. He’s changed his mind on that over the years: despite the Wardens allowing him specialised templar training to hone his battle skills, he’s the furthest you can get from a templar in mindset. Blood magic is a necessary weapon for his mage colleagues to deal with darkspawn—he’s seen how sometimes it’s the only way to deal with blighted creatures—and he wonders if he’d have changed his stance on blood magic if he’d stayed behind in Kirkwall.)

Right now she’s leaning into him, giggling, reminding him of bubbles in the champagne they’d drunk together in the Hanged Man; and after the evening they’d spent he couldn’t possibly let Merrill walk home on her own in her inebriated state. If she was sober, she’d be able to look after herself, but… she is very much not sober, and Carver has no idea if Varric paid off the Lowtown thugs tonight to leave her alone.

“It’s so nice of you to stop by and visit me!” Merrill coos happily, her cheeks flushed and her lilting accent slurring lightly on each word. Her short dark hair is a mess, braids sticking out every which way, big green eyes gazing up at him, and Carver can’t help thinking she’s the cutest, prettiest thing he’s ever seen. “I really enjoy hearing all about your Grey-Warden-ing, and I don’t get to hear it often enough! Will you be stopping by and seeing Hawke this time, do you think?”