#this post would probably be a lot different if i had took a break there | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

avis-writeshq · 1 month

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not me asking for it https://www.tumblr.com/avis-writeshq/744966259884556288/if-someone-asks-for-it-ill-write-a-fic-based-on?source=share

pairing: s9!spencer reid x fem!reader genre: fluff, established relationship, SMUT warnings: 18+ CONTENT; MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !! oral fem receiving, spencer reid is a munch, hair pulling, fingering a/n: a promise is a promise !! based off of this post <3 i hope this lived up to expectations !! first time writing fem oral ha h a ha wc: 1.1k

Honestly, if there’s one person Spencer can blame for the situation he is currently in, he blames himself. After all, he should have known that a ‘gathering’ at Rossi’s house that was planned by Penelope would only call for a lot of teasing, a lot of ‘get to know each other!’ games (despite the fact that he has worked with this same team for more than seven years. What else is there to know?), and a lot of alcohol. He didn’t quite realise that these games would be of the drinking variety. Alas, here he is, sitting on one of Rossi’s incredibly expensive leather couches and cringing at the horrid taste of whiskey.

The game they’re currently playing is an alcoholic’s rendition of ‘who is most likely to?’, involving a thick stack of cards with different topics while each member of the team took turns reading out. Whoever ended up with the most amount fingers pointed in their direction was forced to drink.

Spencer hates this game. He has drank from his cup a grand total of six times, and he is not getting any more used to the spicy-poison-equivalent in his hand.

“Alright, this is a good one,” Derek announces with a manic snigger. “Who here is most likely to be a munch?”

There is no hesitation in anyone’s answers, and all six fingers point into Spencer’s direction. His jaw drops at the betrayal, his head spinning from the sheer amount of shots he had to take but also what the hell is a munch?

“I don’t even know what that means!” He insists.

“Oh–” Penelope wears a half delighted half pitying expression at his words. “We really need to get you onto the internet more. Reddit is probably up your alley.”

“Even Rossi knows what it means,” Emily cackles, gesturing to Rossi who looks all too pleased. “Hotch was my second option though.”

Aaron shrugs, sipping at his drink. “Guilty.”

A chorus of laughs and shrieks erupt from the group, leaving Spencer even more confused. “What?”

“Don’t Google it,” JJ chimes in. “Seriously.”

Spencer nods, and although he knows that he should have taken the warning seriously, the curiosity was getting to him and he had no choice but to search it up as soon as he got home. He gets the usual answers– the etymology of the word, what it means in the Oxford Dictionary, the popularity of the word since the early 1800s, and he really doesn’t understand what the fuss is. Does the team think that he eats loudly? Or that he chews with his mouth open? His brows furrow at the unsightly thought.

His interest soon shifts to a different a different link, namely The Urban Dictionary. He blinks, clicking on the link without much thought and– oh. He does not get much sleep that night.

***

Your relationship with Spencer isn’t a secret. At least, it was never supposed to be classified as such. He is simply an incredibly private person that even his closest friends don’t know that you exist. It simply never popped up in conversation– or so he says.

The relationship isn’t necessarily new either. It’s nearing the one year mark and you have gotten to the point where the two of you have been more ‘experimental’ when it comes to sex. He finds it embarrassing. You find it unsurprising that he would. You find it even more surprising when he breaks a kiss halfway to lower you onto his bed, your head falling to one of his very expensive memory foam pillows.

“I want to try something,” he announces softly into your ear, squeezing gently at your waist and looping his fingers into his shorts. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, body hot with anticipation as he pulls down your shorts. It’s only when he brings his face between your thighs do you realise what he intends to do. “Spence, you don’t have to–”

“I want to,” he repeats softly, his fingers running up and down the lacy fabric at your slit. “If you want me to stop, you can tell me.”

You shake your head immediately at that, your hands moving to his grip his shoulders. “No, I don’t want you to stop but– but Spence, this is the first time you’ve done this. It’s okay–”

“Let me do this for you,” he says, his breath ghosting against the sensitive skin of your thighs. “I’ve done my research.”

“What–”

You’re silenced as soon as he presses his lips to your cunt, only separated by your pretty lacy underwear. He groans quietly at the taste of your slick seeping through the fabric, and his hands hold onto your thighs to keep them parted. It’s so good, so good, but it just isn’t enough. He pushes the fabric to the side, watching the way it clings and sticks to your skin.

All it takes is one swipe of his tongue on your pretty clit for his brain to grow blank. The grip he has on your thighs grow firmer and his fingers dig in hard enough to leave little marks. His nose bumps against your clit while his tongue travels against your folds.

“You taste so fucking good,” he breathes against you, lapping at your dripping cunt. “Fuck, angel, you’re so beautiful.”

Then, he’s on you all over again. His lips wrap around your clit and he whines into you as he sucks at the bundle of nerves. Each one of his actions has your back lifting from the bed and your hands tugging at his curls, to which he responds with a quiet moan. Amidst the pleasure, your mind nags you to be gentle, and you loosen your grip despite it taking all of your self control.

“Do that again.” He says it as a demand, guiding your hands back into his hair. “Do it again, angel.”

His head is spinning and he craves for more of you, his tongue flattening against your clit over and over again. He brings his own fingers to brush against your entrance, coating them with your slick before slipping his middle finger inside. It’s only the first knuckle but it’s enough to have you squirming beneath him. He pushes further until it reaches all the way, and Spencer groans at the feeling of you tightening around him. He kisses your clit again at the same time he curls his finger inside you and it’s all too much.

“Spence–”

You gush around his finger and he licks and laps at your pussy like he needs it to breathe. His finger curls open and closed inside you while you rock your hips against his face, your grip on his hair tightening as each second of your high passes.

“So good,” Spencer moans, kissing your clit. “Taste so good. You can do one more, right, angel? Just one more, I promise.”

reblogs are always appreciated !!

tagging the people who commented on the original post: @mosaicbrokenherz @doigettokeepyou @goblinintheblog @cassioxpeiaxmgg @daddytenebra @lilliumrorum @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @lightreiding

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soundlessdreamss · 3 months

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Lovely Riddance p2

link to part one here

the first post got a lot of attention so I finally decided to work on the second part. Lol.

Also I am sick rn so I’m trying to do all my requests, but they are still open if you’d like to request something!

Y!Alastor x reader x Y!Lucifer

If you ask me why I put the seal there, I honestly don’t know.

After you and Alastor had left the hotel he teleported the both of you to the hotel. It kinda scared you since you forgot he could teleport for a moment. He already made a reservation so it wasn’t that long of a wait. (The hostess was afraid of Alastor though since he has quite a reputation)

A waiter quickly brought the menu and gave you guys a couple minutes to find out what you’d like to order. When Alastor already picked his order you were still wondering what to order, so he looked around and he couldn’t help but notice at the corner of his eye, that someone was watching the both of you. He didn’t know who was stalking the both of you but he had a suspicion it was Lucifer.

Lucifer didn’t think that Alastor didn’t notice how he treated you when Lucifer first visited. He saw how Lucifer looked at you, how he spoke to you, and his aura around you.

So if Lucifer really was the one who is stalking the both of you right now, Alastor had to play his cards just right in order to manipulate you, and piss off Lucifer.

Once you finally picked what you wanted to order, Alastor called over the waiter and placed in both of your orders. During the time you both were waiting for your food you couldn’t help but realize how touchy and romantic he became.

He started brushing his hand on yours, pointing out your lovely features, what good taste you have in fashion, basically anything that would help him woo you.

Lucifer watching from a window was enraged, how did Alastor think he could just do that to you? He understands that you two haven’t met in a long time but you didn’t forget the bond you too had, did you?

He protected during your time in hell because he knew you were already there, and he couldn’t have you getting hurt now could he? (He was basically stalking you the entire time you were in hell.)

Seeing how Alastor treated you made him want to kill Alastor on the spot, but he worried that if he did you would see him as a monster. So he just had to wait a bit to cover up Alastor’s death as a disappearance. It would make sense anyways, since Alastor had left for 7 years prior.

Alastor was trying different ways to woo you, and it was working. You felt your face heat up a bit during times where he brushed his hand on yours, pulled away some hair strands from your hair, and when he gave you tons of compliments.

He kept doing this until both of your orders came and you guys took a small break to eat what you ordered.

Once you guys finished you meals he paid for it and then took you somewhere that he said was “special”. (Lucifer followed behind you guys without you knowing)

He took you somewhere beautiful and led to you a bench to sit down with him and admire the scene. His plan was working. Now the last thing he needed to do was to propose his deal to you.

“My dear, [y/n] you should probably know how I feel about you by now. Especially after all those hints I gave you. So may I ask you of a favor?”

That was very unexpected for you to hear from Alastor, but it “made your heart race. “What favor would you like to ask from me?”

“I would like to propose a deal for you dear. Yes I’d own your soul, but in a way you’d technically own mine as well. What I’m saying is that we’d both be at each others beck and call.” He then offered his hand to you. “So do we have a deal?”

This was a deal that was hard to resist, the idea of it made your heart sink but also squeal with joy. Did that mean he like wanted to be yours officially?

You found yourself almost about to shake his hand to confirm the deal, but before you could someone interrupted.

“DON’T SHAKE HIS FUCKING HAND!”

….

PART THREE COMING SOON.

TAGLIST: @slimeygirlowo @pooplyface1423 @fabii275 @killer-nightmare0 @caniseethefourthsword @myluckymoon

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader

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overtrred28 · 5 months

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Gnomeo and Juliet | alanna kennedy x reader

Summary; Two players steal each other's hearts and keep it from everyone because they know how controversial their relationship could be to their club’s rivalry. OR Y/N and Alanna soft launching their relationship over time until they decide to share it. *Features social media posts.*

Pairings; Alanna Kennedy x Manchester United reader

Words; 2.2k

Warnings; swearing (i think that's it)

A/N; i literally love alanna so much and don't think there are enough posts about her so naturally i write one. i just thought this was cute and different from a chealse v arsenal rivalry (though i really love those). enjoy and please give it some love and feedback xx

Lioness star Y/N Y/L/N set to leave her club of four years, Brighton & Hove Albion W.F.C, and join Manchester United W.F.C on a two year contract at the beginning of the 2023/2024 season.

You had really valued your time at Brighton, starting your senior career there and blossoming into a strong forward for both the club and the England Senior Women’s team, better known as The Lionesses.

But when the offer from Manchester United came in at the end of last season, you knew it was the right move. Leaving the team you had come to know and love was tough to say the least but the adventure before you sounded a lot more exciting. So during the break before pre-season began, you made the move to Manchester and took a few days to settle into your new home and surroundings.

Manchester was very different from Brighton; no beach and much bigger city life, but it was a good different. You had found that everything in Manchester was so much closer, and in great reach of your new club and housing.

You had officially settled into your new home, very quickly making it feel just like your last one, then decided to go exploring through the city. The first thing a person would normally do would probably be going shopping or searching for a new café to become the regular, but you had spotted the Manchester Art Gallery and decided to go in.

It was quiet, as expected for midday on a Wednesday when most people were at work, but you found it peaceful. It was a break from the regular hustle and bustle of your regular life as a professional footballer.

It wasn’t until a particular painting caught your eyes that you realised someone else was in there, because you quite literally walked into them.

“Shit. I’m so sorry.” You apologised quickly to the taller person, picking up their phone you had knocked out of their hand, from the floor. “Here…” Your voice trailed off as you met bright blue eyes while handing them their phone.

“It’s all good, thank you.” The woman met your eyes and she also felt the world pause around her, you were no longer in the gallery but just in a moment of time with each other.

“Sorry the painting distracted me.” You snapped out of your trance and nodded to the painting on the wall; the story of Romeo and Juliet portrayed on a large canvas.

“Well it is quite captivating.” Alanna spoke, still looking at you, now at the side of your face as you looked at the painting.

“It is.” Your eyes fell back to hers and realised she was still staring at you, a slight blush rose to your cheeks, both smiling at each other. “Hi.” You extended your hand out, indicating a handshake.

“Hi.” She laughed at your chivalry for a second before shaking your hand. “Nice to meet you.” She spoke softly in the quiet gallery.

“You too.” You smiled up at her, quite literally encapsulated by her.

That was three weeks ago before you decided to get coffee after finishing a self led tour of the gallery, then the conversation kept going and you ended up at dinner together, continuing to learn about one another until the night ended.

What you didn’t seem to bring up was that you both knew who each other were, but there was a mutual agreement that it didn’t matter. You weren’t professional footballers who had gone up against multiple times in the past at both national and club level, you were just two people who met and wanted to get to know each other.

Now you were both deep into pre pre-season, you at Man United, her at Man City, and there wasn’t as much time to meet up for fun dates every night, now relying on text messages and late night calls before bed to catch up.

The first kiss took a while to get to, but boy was it worth it.

You had both decided to keep whatever this was between the two of you, soaking in the quiet moments shared in one anothers apartments and over long phone calls. It was still labelled a friendship, you both knew you wanted more, both scared of what the other might say if you revealed your feelings. But when you both had a free long weekend, you decided to take Alanna down to Brighton and show her your old home, soaking in the last of the warm weather before winter began to creep in.

It was the best decision you could have made, relishing in being able to spend time together away from your normal lives. You had rented a small air bnb right near the beach, enjoying the solitude together as you cooked together and watched the sun rise and set each day by the ocean.

It was on the second night after dinner that she finally made her move, unable to swallow the feelings bubbling inside her. You sat on the beach alone as you waited for Alanna to join, wrapping your arms around yourself to shelter from the cool breeze.

A blanket had been wrapped around your shoulders and a warm body nuzzled into your side, a small smile on your face as you rested your head on her shoulder, Alanna looking down at you as you watched the waves crash. No words were said for what felt like ages, the only sounds being the waves and the seagulls heading off to bed.

“Y/N.” Alanna suddenly spoke, a thick Aussie accent breaking the silence.

“Hmmm.” You hummed in response, keeping your head in its place.

“I want more than this.” Her statement made you move your head, turning it to meet her blue eyes.

“More?” You spoke softly.

“More.” She nodded with a small smile before she moved her hands from her legs, twisting to cup your face before moving closer. You thought she was going to kiss you straight away but her forehead came to rest on yours, both closing your eyes as you basked in the silence.

“Just kiss me already.” You breathed out and she smiled before closing the gap, joining your lips in a strong kiss. Her hands cupped your face, yours held her waist before trailing up to meet her face. It was passionate but soft, saying so much without any words and your heart grew.

y/n.y/l/n.. just posted a story

alannakennedy just posted a story

Since you were both heavily in the public eye, it was an easy decision for you both to keep this new found relationship to yourselves, not wanting to receive any unwanted attention from the media, fans and even your own teammates.

You were able to keep it that way for a while, without you guys being on the same national team or at the same club keeping this secret relationship a secret was quite easy. And since no one thought you would even know each other personally, there were no fans sifting through evidence to put two and two together. Of course though, you both wanted to show each other off, you were so happy and so was Alanna, so maybe a soft launch would be best until you decided to go fully public.

It started small.

y/n.y/l/n.. just posted a story

alannakennedy made a post

alanna kennedy almost as good as home

y/n.y/l/n.. made a post

y/n.y/l/n.. felt like a fairy tale

alannakennedy just posted a story

Your teammates began to ask about the secretive posts, hammering you about it in the locker rooms at training, Alanna's friends and teammates doing the same.

“When are you going to tell us more about these mystery posts?” Mary had asked Alanna while she was tying her boots before training. Alanna paused for a second before sitting up and looking up at the other Australian.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Alanna simply shrugged with a straight face before standing up and walking away.

“Oi mate.” Ella Toone had caught your attention as you walked out to the carpark after a late friday night training session. You paused and turned around, waiting for her to catch up, instantly wrapping an arm around your shoulder as she met you.

“What’s up?” You turned to her as you walked towards your cars.

“Few of us are going round Zelly’s to watch a movie, you in?” She asked with hopeful eyes.

“Sorry love, got plans.” You apologised, knowing you had a certain blonde already waiting for you at your apartment.

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with a possible mystery woman you refuse to tell us about, would it?” Ella asks with a suggestive smirk, nudging your shoulder as you remain stoic.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You simply shrugged and patted her shoulder as you let go of her, walking to your car door. “Goodnight Tooney.” You waved before getting in and racing home to Alanna, preparing for your own movie night of Gnomeo and Juliet and a weekend spent in each other's arms.

The day had come, the one you and Alanna refused to talk about until the night before.. It was the Manchester derby day. The day every City and United fan had waited for and the one you and Alanna dreaded.

y/n.y/l/n.. made a post

y/n.y/l/n.. Derby day. Let's bring it on home red's! ❤️

alannakennedy made a post

alannakennedy The day we've all be waiting for. Come on blue! 💙

Sure you had come up against each other in the past at both club and national level, but you had yet to do it since being in a relationship together. So it was going to be different this time; harder. You both decided it would be best for your teams if you didn't interact with one another from the moment you joined your teams for the match, and until that final whistle blew.

The plan was going well during the first half of the match; Alanna had started with City in the defensive line and you were sitting on the bench waiting to get subbed on. Katie Zelem had secured the United side a goal through a penalty early on, but City fired back and took the lead 2-1 at halftime.

You got subbed on for Nikita Parris at the very beginning of half time, taking her place as the left forward and a strong striker. Though this became a slight issue because of who was currently defending the City goal and in charge of blocking your shots at goal; your very own girlfriend. But in that moment you had to act like you didn’t know who she was on a personal level, right now you were just opposing players who both wanted their teams to win.

It was hard for you both to act like that, stealing glances on the pitch, brushing past each other ever so slightly without anyone noticing too much. You had both been able to get away with this secret relationship so far because you’ve haven’t had to be in the same place yet, but maybe it was time for that to change.

The final whistle blew and City had won 3-1, your side not being able to score any further goals despite your best efforts. You looked around at all your teammates, defeated looks all over as City celebrated together before exchanging handshakes with the other team.

You and Alanna had purposefully left each other till last, waiting until you could be alone with each other in a busy and full stadium. You had finally found the blonde Australian and began walking towards her and she finally locked eyes with you. Seconds before you had very different expressions, one filled with happiness and one filled with disappointment. But as soon as you got closer the one expression you both shared was one filled with love, and your heart melted as she brought you straight into a hug rather than a friendly handshake.

Her hands wrapped around your waist as her slightly taller frame leant down, your hands found their way around her neck before you buried your head in her neck. An instant feeling of warmth and security flowed through both of your bodies as you hugged, Alanna pressing a soft kiss to your neck as she buried her own face in your shoulder.

Confused looks fell to both sets of teams at the interaction, at first because of the more than friendly hug and second because of the familiarity they could sense between the two of you.

“I’m so proud of you.” You murmured, still holding tight around Alanna’s neck.

“You played so well, it was a tough game.” She spoke back instantly, squeezing your waist before slowly pulling back to look at you. You smiled at her as you exited the hug, genuinely happy for her but still very upset your own team couldn’t secure the win like they wanted.

“You should go celebrate.” You nodded to the City team who gathered in the middle, preparing for their post-match huddle, your team doing the same further down on the pitch, all players still watching the interaction with lost eyes.

“I’ll find you after and we’ll go home together.” Alanna nodded to you, looking down to your now interlocked hands, a small laugh leaving her lips. “This is going to be everywhere tonight.” She looked back up at you as a small smile grew on your face.

“Definitely.” You laughed too. “Are you okay with that?” You raised a brow at her.

“Yeah. I’m ready to show off my girl.” She winked playfully at you, now both of you laughing, shaking your head at her before playfully pushing her shoulder and walking over to your team.

y/n.y/l/n.. made a post

y/n.y/l/n.. the gnomeo to my juliet

tagged @alannakennedy

alannakennedy made a post

alannakennedy my girl in red

tagged @y/n.y/l/n

THE END

#alanna kennedy #alanna kennedy x reader #manchester united #manchester city #woso #woso x reader #lioness reader

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velvetm00light · 6 months

Text

Taken

gif: pinterest dividers: @benkeibear, @mariariley, @haerinism

Chapter Two of Save Me

Previous Chapters: one

Word Count: 3.7k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: You and your team at the BAU come to the disturbing realization that you're the final target of a brutal serial killer. Without any leads, your team determines you need to be the one to draw him out. As you sit alone in your apartment for hours, on edge, you can't help but want your coworker, Spencer, to be there with you. But, is your little crush enough to get you through the upcoming torture?

Warnings: Mentions guns, sexual assault, murder, serial killer, torture, stalking, physical harm, kidnapping, fear. In future parts, will mention vivid torture, PinV, oral, domxsub situations, grief, bondage, physical harm, etc.

A/N: I'm actually enjoying writing this soo much. I hope you all are enjoying reading it! I'm going to write the next chapter in both (y/n) POV and Spencer's POV, so I'll probably post both at the same time!

YOU CAN'T HELP BUT fidget in your seat at the round table as the rest of the team takes their seats and waits for Hotch's word to begin. You couldn't bring yourself to be in the same room as them as they discussed different ways for you to lure him out, unable to listen and play out those possible scenarios out in your head. Spencer at first fought against your wishes for him to discuss with the team, but all you could do was look into his sad eyes with yours and tell him, "I need someone who is going to fight for me. I trust that you will know when enough is enough." He stopped fighting then and did as you requested.

He was the first to arrive back at the round table, immediately taking the seat next to yours, not even hesitating to give you his hand. You took it greedily, needing any kind of human contact to keep your mind grounded, bonus points because it was him.

"Let's get started." Hotch announced, and you noticed that no one would meet your gaze directly as your eyes wandered to your friends around the table. Your heart sank into your stomach and you had a feeling the discussion they had was a hard one. You can't imagine it being easy for your friends to discuss the best way to capture a brutal serial killer by using your life without actually endangering it.

"(Y/), tonight you're going to go home as normal. We have to assume he watches your every move so he cannot know that we're aware of you being his final target. We obviously will not leave you unguarded, Rossi and I will sit down the street from your apartment, Morgan and Reid will sit in the back of the parking lot so they can see anyone who exits and enters. If he's not bold enough to do anything tonight, we will simulate a day of errands for you, each of us posted where you go."

A chill runs down your spine. It's hard to believe you're about to be sent home and expected to act completely normal. To sit in your apartment alone, just waiting for him to try to break down your door or draw you out.

"You'll let me know every hour how you're doing and call Morgan or Reid if you notice anything since they'll be closest. If it makes you feel more comfortable, we can send someone ahead of you to replace your apartment security guard so someone with a little more training is there."

"Yes, please. I think that'll help." You almost whine. The more you sit here, the less you want this conversation to end because you want to avoid going home at absolutely all costs right now. You know you can't push it off forever or else you risk other women's lives. Before the meeting ends, JJ meets your eyes. "I promise you, we will find him."

"We're going to get this sick son of a bitch," Morgan adds. The rest of the team chimes in and you feel grateful to being going through this with a support system by your side. It makes the tight knot in your stomach loosen a little, realizing that you know you're safe with them. You know your entire team would stay up for days on end to catch this guy, and wouldn't allow themselves a moment of relaxation knowing you're unable to sleep or feel safe in your own home.

Hotch sends an agent to your apartment before you to simulate security guards changing shifts. You hope this will be enough, but something deep in your stomach twists anyway.

Before Reid leaves with Morgan to get to your apartment before you, he pulls you into the kitchen - a public place, but with enough cover to make your body heat. The thought of getting caught doing something scandalous sends a shiver up your spine but you quickly chastise yourself. Your life is in danger, now is not the time for fantasies.

"Can I ask you to do something for me?" He asks softly, his face looks battered from stress and you're sure you look the same. "Of course."

"Can you text me too? To let me know you're safe."

"Of course I will." You try to give him your best smile, but it falls flat. His care is warming, but it's hard to feel anything other than absolute fear at the moment.

"You're going to be okay," he promises. He abruptly pulls you into an embrace and you waste no time relaxing into his chest. He smells of almond and lavender. You take a deep breath, trying to memorize the smell of him. Your embrace ends too quickly and he leaves you standing alone in the kitchen.

After a torturous drive home, you pull into the parking lot of your apartment. You quickly scan your surroundings, making sure to wait an extra moment before exiting the car to see if another car pulls in. You spot the car Reid described to you sitting in the corner in the back of the parking lot and you let out a relieved sigh. This whole situation is terrifying and ridiculous all at once. You remember Hotch's words and get out of your car, trying your best to act as if you aren't completely afraid for your life and you're not about to spend the entire night rechecking your door and window locks, making sure all your hidden guns are reachable and in place.

You pass the agent posed as a security guard and trying not to draw attention to yourself as you head down the left hall towards the elevator to your apartment. You would be out of your complete mind to take the stairs in this situation, but you're unsure if an elevator might actually be worse if he were to randomly enter it.

The elevator stops with a jolt and opens on your floor. You take a cautious peak out and check down the hallway left and right before exiting. You quickly make it to your apartment door, looking back to make sure there's no one in the hallway. If you're lucky, he might not know what exact apartment you live in, but then you realize with despair that if he's been watching you for however long, he could have easily seen you enter and exit your apartment multiple times.

You fumble with your keys as you try not to act panicked and open your door. You swiftly enter and lock it immediately behind you, making sure to lock the deadbolt and put the chain on as well. You loose a deep sigh and your eyes widen at the fact that you still might not be safe yet. You didn't even think about the fact that you'd have to check your apartment when you got here to make sure he wasn't already waiting for you.

You quietly pull the gun from the holster on your side and slowly work through your apartment, turning on every light and lamp possible, locking every single window you walk past, checking inside your bedroom closet, the kitchen pantry, the small storage closet just outside your bedroom, and even behind the shower curtain. Once you've decided that there's no possible place for him to hide, you finally feel your muscles relax. You place your gun back in your holster, unable to feel safe without it by your side.

You grab yourself a glass of water and some snacks and decide to stay in the living room. You're able to keep an eye on the door and balcony simultaneously. You don't risk turning the TV on or listening to music to relax you. You need to be at complete high alert until your team catches this son of a bitch.

Time goes by agonizingly slow as you try to keep yourself awake and entertained. A full pot of coffee sits on the counter for you to refill as the night goes on, although you're unsure if you'll even need it. The fear is enough to keep your blood pumping hard through you. You try to play card games with yourself and practice some card tricks Spencer taught you when you first joined the Bureau.

You aren't able to keep your attention on one task for too long, your fear pulling your eyes to scan every inch of the room. You decide to risk sneaking a peak through your balcony curtains. You look out from the side, just barely moving the fabric over so no one would notice a disturbance in the curtains from the outside. After deciding the coast is clear, you recheck the balcony door lock and do a walk through of your apartment once again, checking locks, hiding spots, your gun always close by.

The first hour passes and when your phone buzzes it just about makes you jump completely out of your skin. You reach into your pocket to pull it out and quickly read a text from Hotch, asking for an update. You reply to let him know that everything's normal so far, all possible access points are locked and you've gone through your entire apartment in intense detail.

You remember the promise you made Spencer and text him as well, basically explaining the same thing you told Hotch.

Me: im scared spence

Spencer: I know, that's okay. You're brave, remember?

Me: im trying really hard to be. i can't even turn on the TV or focus on anything long enough without getting worried im going to miss something and he's going to catch me off guard.

Spencer: You're the strongest person I know, don't let him control you. These offenders love control and making you feel helpless.

Me: he is controlling me though. i cant even imagine sleeping, im jumping at every car door being shut, every car horn from the street, every bug at my window. even if we catch him, will the fear ever go away?

The text bubble appears and disappears a few times. You start to wonder if maybe something happened, if they caught someone trying to get into your building when your phone buzzes in your hands.

Spencer: I think we both know the statistics. But, I promise that I will do everything I can do ease the fear and be there for you when it's too much.

You begin to get teary eyed at his promise. Never in your life have you felt cared for or protected. It was always kill or be killed and you fought for your life since you were a child, just trying to survive in a world destined to chew you up and swallow you.

Me: thank you spence. that means more to me than i think you'll ever understand. you mean more to me than you'll ever understand.

You set your phone down on the table next to you, feeling jittery after sending that text. You deleted it and rewrote it about 5 times, but if your life is in danger, why hold back? You also think about how he might try to profile you and believe you're forming an attachment to him due to trauma bonding or transference.

You let out an aggravated sigh and rub your face with your hands. This has complicated your life in just about every way possible and you promise yourself that if you ever get your hands on the man that feels like he can make you cower away, locked in your apartment, you'll make him regret it.

I pick my phone back up and when I see Spencer hasn't replied, I text again.

Me: have you guys seen or learned anything?

Spencer: Not yet. Few people have walked into the building but we're not legally allowed to deny people the right into their homes. You live on the third floor so hopefully that should deter him from your apartment.

Me: hope so. im not sure i could ever come back here and live my life without fear if he chooses here.

Spencer: That's understandable. I don't think he's prepared for his endgame just yet. But I'm also not sure he is disorganized enough to attempt to attack you in broad daylight in a public place like the grocery store.

Me: he abducted those other women in broad daylight in high traffic areas though and no one saw a thing.

Spencer: (Y/n), you're a federal agent. If he has an IQ that's at least half of mine, he would need extra planning. A damn good rouse to lure you away and that's only if he's confident we have no idea you're his target. Don't worry, okay? We will stay here all night for you.

Me: thank you..it helps to know you are here. i don't feel alone in this.

Spencer: You're never alone. Never again, (y/n).

Spencer: As much as I want to keep talking to you to make sure you're safe, I think it's best you focus on your surroundings. Deep breathing exercises actually trick your brain into thinking that you're relaxed and takes your body out of flight or fight.

Me: are those drs orders?

Spencer: Yes, now be a good girl and relax.

Your breath catches in your throat with his last text. It takes you aback at the pure brashness of it, something you weren't sure he was even capable of doing.

You do as commanded and you allow yourself to pull your legs up onto the couch, despite the impracticality of it in the sick chance he breaks into your apartment. You try your hardest to do breathing exercises you found on Google.

You are slightly surprised when your body begins to relax a bit and you feel less at edge. You don't allow yourself to completely let down your guard, but you welcome the slight relaxation of your muscles at least.

Minutes turn to hours and if you didn't have your phone to check the time, you would have thought days were passing by. All you've been able to do is stare at the ceiling when you're not making your routine patrols around your apartment. You feel as if you're starting to get a bit stir crazy.

You check in hourly with Hotch and Spencer, not allowing yourself too much of a distraction. But, as the hours tick by, your eyelids get heavier and heavier. You begin to lower your vigilant wall the tiniest bit. If he wanted to attack here wouldn't he have done so by now?

Me: im so tired.

Spencer: It's okay to sleep. It's highly recommended by every doctor, including me.

Me: alright smart ass. do you think he would've already tried something by now? the suns about to come up and it's been almost 12 hours.

Spencer: Go to bed. None of us are going to sleep so you're safe. You've been through a lot, you deserve some rest, even if it's just an hour.

Me: i guess youre right. ive got all my locks in place anyway and i guess i would probably hear if any glass broke but i dont know how anyone would expect to take an entire grown woman down 3 levels without risking being seen by using the stairs.

Spencer: You don't need to justify sleeping to me. You deserve the rest, no matter what. No justification needed.

Me: Thank you, Spence. ♡

Spencer: ♡

Still a bit weary, you decide to check the balcony and do your patrol once more before you allow yourself to relax. After determining the coast is clear, you decide to finally retire to your bedroom. You unhook your gun holster and lay it on your nightstand, making sure to keep it in reach in case.

You don't even bother changing out of your clothes as you finally climb into bed. You let out a small moan of relief and sleep consumes you almost instantly.

You're taken out of your sleep by a loud thud, confusion overtaking you for a few moments as you blink rapidly around the room, attempting to adjust your eyes to the daylight. You're frozen in fear as your vision clears and there's a gun pointed right to your face.

The man holding the gun is in a regular hoodie and jeans, seemingly normal. You reel your terror back as you hold your hands up in surrender, attempting to make him believe you're willing to do as he pleases in hopes he makes a mistake.

You eye the time on the clock on your nightstand, if you can only distract him for a little bit longer, Hotch will call you when he realizes you aren't replying to his hourly check in and they'll come up here and save your ass.

All your able to do is stare at your attacker and stay completely still. You rack your brain for the best possible thing to say to get him to deescalate or at least lower the gun. "What's your name?"

"My name?" He questions, tilting his head to the side. You thought he might be put back by the question, instead he seems to have gained a confidence your profile suggested he was close to growing into. You suppose he must have had some new found confidence to be able to sneak past multiple undercover agents, and into a room on third floor with all doors and windows locked. He makes no move to lower the gun and no attempt to answer your question.

"How did you get in?" You ask as calmly as possible, hoping he made a mistake that way at least. Maybe your team was already outside, discussing how to play it to where he surrenders. You realize your luck as probably fallen short at the way a wicked smile spreads across his face.

"Do you not want to talk?" You try again. The blog posts he made about you play over in your head. You're hoping he takes the bait.

"Don't you think it's a little late to talk?" The gun stays unwavering in your face.

"What do you mean?"

The smile falls from his face and if you were in a cartoon, you can almost bet smoke would come out of his ears.

"What do I mean? You know what I mean!" He roars, shaking the gun angrily around. You decide to take this as your opportunity now that the gun isn't pointing towards you.

You release your leg from under the covers and kick as hard as you can muster into his abdomen. He reels back and you stumble out of bed and attempt to retrieve the gun on your nightstand when you realize it's no longer there. You spin around in time for his fist to connect with your jaw, knocking you off your feet, your knees barking as they connect with the hardwood.

You sweep out his legs from under him, sending him to the floor along with you. You spot his gun laying on your bedroom floor, right next your dresser, which unfortunately, he is right in front of. Before you can think to hesitate, you're up on your feet and lunging for the gun.

Before you're able to reach it, he grabs you by the collar of your shirt and swings you around and slams you into the wall. The breath clears your lungs and all you can do is fall to the ground on once more.

Blood from somewhere, you assume your face, drips onto the polished floor below you. You attempt to play the defeated victim, hoping it draws him close enough for you to catch him by surprise.

His heavy feet slam against your floorboards until he is right in front of you, gun completely abandoned on the floor. He grips your neck with a strong hand and lifts you to your feet. When he brings your face to his, you spit blood into his eye, causing him to drop you.

You use the few moments you gave yourself to at least make it out of your bedroom, grab a knife or one of your hidden guns, anything to give you the upper hand against a man twice your size and strength.

"Bitch!" He roars, wiping furiously at his eyes as you scramble with the door to your bedroom. You swing it open and lunge towards the closet gun you can think of when you see the open compartment, your gun missing from it.

"You think I don't know every single detail about your life, (y/n)?" He laughs from behind you as you're frozen in the middle of your living room. "I've been waiting for a long time, (y/n). Do you like the presents I left you? I figured I'd show you what I would do to you."

"You have an odd perception of the word present." You deadpan. You scramble to come up with a solution. All your guns are gone, if you run to the kitchen you better hope to hell he doesn't shoot you first or get there before you. "What do you want?"

"You." He smiles, and before you can react he's on you again. As you fight tooth and nail against his raging grasp, you hear your phone begin to ring. You allow hope to bubble in your chest, just a few more minutes, you say to yourself. They'll save me.

When you finally think you have the upper hand on him, he lands a fist to your temple that throws you to the carpet. Your vision spins as you attempt to crawl anywhere but where he is. You feel his laugh in your bones and you can tell he is taking his time taking in his win and the power it gives him. Your sight becomes blurry and you fight as hard as you can against it. But, all you seem to have the strength for is to watch blood spill from your mouth and the wounds on your face, onto the carpet of your living room. You gather enough strength to at least look your attacker in the face and deny him as much of the power he craves as you can. "I'm not afraid of you," you whisper. Your throat feels tight, and it's almost impossible to swallow. You spit blood onto your carpet as you try to relieve the pressure in your throat.

"You should be," is the last thing you hear before you see his boot come down towards your head and the world turns black.

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d-dixonimagines · 20 days

Text

PROMPT REQUEST from this list from @daryls-wife

A/N: I'm sorry it took so long to get this posted! I honestly have no idea what my plan was for this one, the direction changed every time I started over! But nevertheless, I hope you still like it! Warnings: mild language, a lot of typos probably

PROMP 17: "You're bleeding--how long have you been hiding this?"

A lot had happened the past few days while you and Daryl were out doing an exchange with The Kingdom; giving weapons in exchange for some crates of fruits and vegetables. It was a never ending run-in with walkers, a couple encounters with lone individuals who were desperate enough to try and steal some of the food you were bringing back.

For as short of a trip this was supposed to be you were completely exhausted. Eventually you convinced Daryl to stop for the night, though he didn't fully understand why you felt you needed to when you were so close to home. It was only a few more hours, but you were desperate as well.

Finding a run down convenience store, you cleared the area for walkers and tried to make yourselves comfortable. Daryl found a spot on the floor by the window, adjusting his position against the hard tile. "I don't think we'll be gettin' much sleep, my ass is already goin' numb," he grumbled as he moved once more before finally settling.

"I'm sorry," you smiled a little in response. "I just needed a break. We can keep going and make it back before it gets too late, but I really just need to rest for a while." You settled next to him, moving slowly and wincing slightly when your side brushed against one of the crates.

"Nah, we'll be ok. Looks like we might get some rain anyway." You nodded in agreement. Daryl watched you for a moment. "You doin' ok, though?" he asked gently, noticing how you sat down. "Yeah, I'm good. I'm just sore, and my feet are killing me. It's probably time to be on the lookout for different shoes."

He gave a nod, not really responding. The rest of the evening went on pretty much like that. Small talk here and there. Daryl took watch first and let you sleep before switching a few hours later. You got going again just before the sun came up, arriving back at Alexandria as people were starting their day.

After getting the crates dropped off where they needed to be, you and Daryl headed back to your shared abode and planned on relaxing a bit before tending to whatever else needed to be done. "I'm gonna take a long shower, if anyone needs to find me." Daryl nodded, his eyes catching glimpse of your side and a wet sticky substance that was seeping through the fabric of your shirt.

He caught your arm to stop you. "You're bleedin'... how long have you been hidin' this?" You turned your body slightly so his hand would drop. "It's nothing, just a scrape from a scuffle we had with a walker." "On which day?" His gaze was direct, probably already guessing when it had happened. You hesitated a second before answering.

"When we were at the tracks.." "That was three days ago." "Yeah, so? I told you, it's nothing." There was another silence. You knew it was more serious than you were trying to let on, but it wasn't anything you couldn't handle. You just needed to clean it and bandage it up and you'd be good as new.

"Can I see it, then?" You gave a defeated sigh and peeled the shirt back so he could take a look. "I was going to go to the infirmary after my shower," you defended. "Why didn't'cha just say somethin'?" "I didn't want to turn it into a bigger deal than it was. We were close enough to here that I knew you would have probably made me turn back, and I didn't want to leave."

"Comin' back wouldn't've been a big deal. Waitin' three days and practically bein' forced to acknowledge is what's doin' that, let alone the risk you put yerself in for infection. So now it is a big fuckin' deal." You dropped your hands and took a step back, wanting to just walk away from the conversation. You knew he was coming from a place of protection and concern, but you didn't have the patience or the energy to be scolded at.

"I have it under control, Daryl. I can take care of myself." You turned and headed for the bathroom, Daryl following close behind. "I know ya can, just wish you'd be more open about stuff like this. If you're hurt, you should be able to tell me.." "Oh, because you're so open with me? Mr. guy who leaves for weeks at a time without saying a single word about it? Open like that?" "That's different and you know that."

You shook your head. "It's really not. Your reasons might be different, but the concept is still the same." You walked over to the tub and sat down on the edge, feeling sick and drained, and you didn't know if it was because you were tired and hungry or if it was because of the aching, oozing wound on your side. All bets were probably on the latter.

"...I don't feel so hot.." you placed your hand on your forehead. "I mean, I do feel hot, but still..." "A fever's probably settin' in. We should get to the infirmary." Daryl helped you up, with zero protests from you, and let you to the doctor. At some point you must have passed out because the next thing you remember was waking up in a bright room and Daryl right next to you.

"Mornin', sunshine," he smirked slightly. "What happened?" "Ya passed out on the way here from dehydration and an infection startin' to set in. The doc got ya fixed up, though, so you'll be okay."

You nodded, processing the information. You hadn't realized how bad it had gotten. There was a silence that fell between you, and you could tell that he wanted to say more.

"If you want to say 'I told you so', go ahead and do it," you chuckled slightly. "I can see that you want to." He shook his head. "That's not what I wanna say, I'm not gonna rub anythin' in, I just.. I hated seein' you like that. Ya can't mess with infections." His tone was soft. "I know... I'm sorry," you whispered. "I'm also really sorry about picking that fight with you earlier. I didn't intend for anything to go that far."

"That was just the fever talkin', yer good. I'll make a deal with ya, though.." "Oh, yeah? What deal is that?" "I'll open up more about stuff if you will. Doesn't hav'ta be everythin', just if you're hurt or going somewhere. We just check in with each other. That sound fair?"

You let out a quiet sigh and paused a moment before agreeing, hoping he wasn't making that deal because he felt like he had to. Him leaving didn't have to be anybody else's business, it was just disappointing when you couldn't find him and found out from someone else that he left.

You weren't complaining about the deal itself, though. You were relieved that he was going to start saying something, but you hoped he was doing that because he wanted to and not just because he thought that was the only way to get you to open up. "That sounds like a fair deal." You gave a smile regardless, accepting it all for what it was.

"Alright then.." he gave a satisfied nod. "I got us some food. I figured you'd probably be hungry when you woke up." "Yes, please, I'm starving!" Your eyes brightened as he handed you a plate of food, some eggs and fruit from the crates you brought back. As bad as things got, you were relieved that it wasn't any worse, and you felt pretty lucky to have Daryl by your side through all of it.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon imagines #daryl dixon x reader #d-dixonimagines #norman reedus #twd daryl dixon

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emeraldborealis · 3 months

Text

I Will

Pairing: Captain John 'Soap' MacTavish x GN!reader

TW//CW: Mention of torture, hurt/comfort, non sexual bathing, nudity, depictions of PTSD and panic, probably inaccuracies when it comes to recovery, but it's not something easily researched, so I used personal experience and knowledge. No use of y/n, my attempts of writing a Scottish accent.

A/N: This is part two to this fic, because I'm a whore for domesticity and hurt/comfort, also being taken care of because someone loves you and not because it's a chore <33

Words: 3,108

Recovery started slowly, a new strict diet with a high calorie count to help build back the strength lost from malnourishment, physical therapy as well as actual therapy.

Drugs, mostly antibiotics to help with different infections, the worst being a UTI from having no sanitary way to use the bathroom. As well as some anxiety meds and some things to help with the hallucinations, though hydration and food mostly took care of that.

It was overwhelming the pace they expected you to recover at. It all felt like getting hit with a train then being expected to be able to walk it off.

You were told you had to stay at the hospital for a while, that was perhaps the hardest part. You didn't want to be poked and prodded after finally getting out of hell, and you understood the good intentions behind it. But all you wanted was to go home and never see anyone ever again.

The only thing that made the whole ordeal even manageable was John, his constant presence by your side. His refusal to leave you.

So though you couldn't go home yet, he brought the feeling of home to you. Like a dutiful watch dog refusing to leave their post.

"Ye're looking a lot better." Johnny praised you, handing you a mandatory snack in your 'recovery plan', at least that's what everyone was calling it. Real recovery didn't feel possible, even if you got back to your healthy size and physique.

Even if you somehow got to the point where you felt like you could breathe and think again.

A piece of you would always be back in the Tomb, delirious and rotting.

You felt a lot of shame from being there, the condition you came back in was not you, didn't even feel like a husk of you. It was beyond humiliating to think of how your captain had found you, the filth and disease you'd become. The thought of him touching you like that made you feel the burning feeling of bile rise in your throat.

Maybe it was the decaying remains of your pride that made you feel this way. Though you were sure anyone found the way you were would feel just as mortified when given a moment to recover and think.

Filth. You were filth and he'd carried you on his shoulders like something to be worshiped.

"Think ye're up fur a shower t'day?" You hadn't showered since being rescued, you'd been cleaned, but not had a proper shower. It was something the doctors were struggling to get you to agree to, there was a requirement for a certain amount of vulnerability and trust that you just couldn't meet with the doctors or nurses.

"No." Gently you took another piece of the snack from him, he liked to break them up for you into smaller pieces, he'd noticed you'd been having a hard time swallowing things since your rescue.

"Ye sure? I promise it's no' as bad as ye think it'll be." The thought of being seen so vulnerable was too much for you. Vulnerability was something you struggled with even before, but now, now it felt impossible. "I'll help ye, it'll be me, no' a doctor. Jus' me. Please."

His rough calloused hand slipped into yours, squeezing it gently. He needed to see a spark of something alive inside of you, to know he'd brought back more than just an empty cage, one that would be in eternal search for the bird that once lived and loved there.

A soft shake of your head made him sigh, you knew all he wanted was to take care of you. The thought of disappointing him hurt. Bad. Maybe he was upset with your refusal, Maybe he was upset with your reluctance to trust him, or maybe with how slowly you were going on your 'recovery plan'.

As if it was as simple as checking off every mark on a list.

"Another day then." He leaned in, placing a soft kiss to your forehead.

The day you were given the greenlight to go home felt unreal, two weeks of recovery and now you got to go home. Three months of hell and two weeks was all the hospital deemed necessary for you to be able to go home.

John helped you out of the hospital, taking the role of caretaker for as long as you needed him to be there.

Stepping out of the hospital into the sunlight and fresh air of freedom felt so foreign now, you'd been outside many times while in the hospital. But this was different. You were going home now. You were going home with the person who made it feel that way.

The sun seemed to soak into your skin, seeping in through all your cracks to bring light to your soul. It never felt this way before, maybe it was the added damage that better let the light in.

"Th' car is over here." Johnny's rich Scottish voice sunk in too, filling more pieces of you than you thought possible now. Maybe recovery was achievable.

"Right." He led you with a gentle hand, helping support you, he helped you into the car, and settled himself in the driver seat, starting the engine and starting to drive you home.

Crossing the property line of the hospital felt beyond good. Leaving as much of the damage and hell behind you as you could, it wouldn't help to hold onto all that pain and carry it with you. A lot of it remained even still, festering in your mind and carving out room to live in your bones, making several pieces of you feel hollow.

The trees were wonderful to see again, until you were driving under them, the sun shining through their branches blinding you, the light flickering in your eyes between blinding and shadow.

A tightness formed in your chest, suffocating and stifling. A fan spinning overhead, the smell of all types of bodily fluids burning your nose, the quiet chatter of rats. Ropes tied tightly around you, squeezing you until you felt like you were going to pop.

"Stop." Your voice was beyond shaky and distressed, catching John off guard for a moment, not sure what was wrong. "I said stop!" You yelled, pulling at your seatbelt, it felt so wrong. You couldn't even breath, or think, or feel. You found yourself waiting for a grounding pain to strike you. But nothing ever came.

John pulled the car over to the side of the road, turning to you with concern, but you were already undoing your seat belt and clawing your way out of the car, all but throwing yourself down onto the park strip.

Your feet wandered without a destination in mind, you just needed to get away, gone. Never to be seen again. If you couldn't be seen you couldn't hurt. If you were gone things would be okay.

"What's wrong?" John followed after you, softly grabbing your hand to stop you, turning you around to face him.

Your lungs burned in search of oxygen, trying to gasp anything down through the tears you hadn't registered were falling down your face. John's voice didn't reach you, your mind too preoccupied with the pain and suffering from the Tomb.

Things didn't get any clearer until you were wrapped tightly in his arms, hyperventilating down his scent, the one you'd spent so many nights secretly basking in, his natural musk so incredibly potent and distinguishable in this moment, free from his cologne he hadn't put on in more than two weeks.

This was just him, just John MacTavish, your Johnny MacTavish.

"I can't. The trees." It wasn't much of an explanation, but he understood the problem, he was in the Tomb for long enough while he rescued you to understand.

"It's okay. Ye're no' there anymore. Ye're no' there." He repeated the words until you believed him, the timber in his voice being the thing to bring you back from the ledge you'd fallen from.

He herded you back to the car, not forcing you to buckle in.

When he settled back into the driver's seat he turned to you. "Do ye trust me?" You sat silent for a moment, before nodding. "I'm no' gunna hurt ye." He reassured, carefully putting his left hand over your eyes. You startled for a moment before hearing his voice. "It's okay, just fur the trees, then ye can see again."

He waited for your consent to cover your eyes before he started driving again, constantly speaking to you to help you stay grounded, to remind your brain it was just him.

Once home he brought you inside, letting you take in the familiarity of a space that was yours, despite the dust, but even that felt like it belonged. It felt like coming home after a long deployment, you could pretend that's all this was.

You could pretend you didn't spend the last three months tied to a chair in hell. You could pretend the pain in your shoulders was from your rifle stock, not from being constrained in the same position day and night, until it felt like more than an eternity had passed.

"How aboot a bath now?" He sounded hopeful, not putting any pressure on the question.

It took a long time to consider it, weigh everything about it. But now in the fortitude of your own home it felt a little more enticing, to be able to really scrub and wash away all that had happened. Not just a spit bath, a real good warm bath.

"Alone?" You asked softly, looking down.

"If that's what ye want." John had an intense need to make sure you were taken care of, even if he needed to take a step back and let you do it yourself.

"No." The answer came quicker than he expected, catching him off guard. "Stay with me, hold my hand."

A soft smile played on his lips, stepping closer to you he took your hand, leading you through your house like he lived there. Like he was never going to leave you again.

When he reached the master bathroom he carefully picked you up by the waist, lifting you to sit on the counter. You were lighter, smaller, than the last time he'd done that. But with time he'd get you back to the way you were.

For now he'd love you just the same, put extra care into making sure you were taken care of.

"Stay here love." He placed a gentle kiss to your forehead before walking out of the bathroom, you grew anxious in his absence, waiting for him to come back. Trying to be brave.

When he came back he was carrying a few things, a bath sheet, the soft one you liked the most. Some white fairy lights you used around Christmas but typically kept in the closet, and a candle, the fancy ones that crackle when you burn them.

"Gunna take good care of ye." He promised, setting the things down on the other side of the counter to start filling the tub, checking the temperature before shutting the drain.

Then he plugged in the lights, turning off the overhead light, making it a cozy atmosphere, lighting the candle he put it on the windowsill.

You watched him with careful eyes, a pain settling in your chest from how much his actions were filled with love, doing everything he could to make you comfortable. It didn't feel deserved. Not when you'd been so badly ruined without him.

"Alright, let's get ye undressed. If ye're still okay with a bath?" He stood before you, hands resting on either side of you on the counter, a tenderness in his blue eyes.

"Okay." That was all he needed, getting to work on carefully removing your clothes, careful not to hurt you or touch any sore or healing spots. He supported your body as he helped you stand to fully remove your clothes.

His eyes didn't linger, that wasn't his intention here right now. They didn't look away in disgust either, there was no pity or grimace on his face. Just the tender love of a man trying to take care of the person he cherished with his entire being.

He didn't try to move your arms when you tried to hide parts of yourself, didn't let that shame of being vulnerable with him fester, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close, letting you use his body as a shield against the world. "Let's get ye in the tub, aye?"

"Okay." With another soft nod from you he guided you towards the tub, helping you step in, holding your hand as you lowered yourself into the warm water, reassuring you every second.

"That's it, take it slow." He cooed, dipping his hand into the water before running it over your forehead, back down your greasy dirty hair. "Hair's gotten longer these past few months, think ye want it cut back tae how it was?" He asked softly.

"I don't know." You looked down at yourself in the water, taking everything in, letting the warmth of the water envelope you, consume you so wholly that nothing but this moment remained.

"That's okay." He cupped some water in his hands, dumping it over your head, careful not to get your face, he didn't know what kind of torture they'd put you through, and he didn't want to trigger anything for you.

Dipping yourself under the surface of the water you made his job of getting all of you wet a lot easier, he hummed in approval, grabbing a brush to go through your hair, smoothing it over before squeezing your shampoo into his hands, getting to work on washing your hair.

His fingers were like heaven, gently massaging and scratching at your scalp, removing all the dandruff from several months without washing it away. He was dutiful in his work, maximizing your comfort and enjoyment, humming a song for you.

You weren't out of the tunnel, everything ahead still seemed so dark and uncertain, but being here with John, being taken care of, being treated so tenderly, you knew there was going to be an end, that one day you'd be standing in the light. You just needed to be brave.

"I love ye. All I ever wanted was ye. Always ye. I want tae spend the rest o' my life taking care of ye, making sure ye feel loved." Rinsing away the shampoo he turned your face towards him, kissing the tip of your nose. "I will never let ye be alone again, I think I'll spend the rest of eternity following ye around."

"It's nasty work taking care of someone, especially someone like me." You leaned into him, leaning against the edge of the tub to get closer to him, making his shirt wet with your body.

"Not tae me. Not if it's ye." Wrapping his arms around you he held you close, letting you soak through his shirt, anything to have you closer. His clothes would dry, or could be changed, but this moment with you could never be repeated.

"Join me." Your voice was soft, just wanting him closer, needing to feel his skin to fully believe you were really with him. That this wasn't all a hallucination.

"Not this time, I'm just tryin' tae get ye clean." He kissed your forehead before pressing his forehead against yours.

"Please." You begged, pulling him in impossibly closer, the side of the tub digging into his ribs. "I just need you closer. I just need to feel that you're real."

His resolve quickly crumbled, taking a deep breath he stood up, stripped himself of his clothes and stepped into the tub, settling beside you. He was thankful for just how large your tub was, a big long garden tub, the secret reason you chose this home.

"Now, lets finish getting you clean." He grabbed your conditioner, getting to work lathering your hair, working from the ends to the base of your head. Massaging it in.

Then he grabbed your body wash and a soft rag, gently cleaning the remaining dirt and grime from your body, careful with cleaning your sensitive places, not wanting to hurt you in any way. He cleaned your back with extra care, working out the tension your body held until you were more relaxed.

Once you were clean you leaned into him, laying on his chest, watching the candle on the windowsill, listening to his heartbeat along with the soft crackling from the wood wick candle.

You stayed in the tub with him, skin on skin, until the water grew cold, only when he felt you shiver did he make you get out, wrapping you in the bath sheet, not caring he didn't grab a towel for himself.

He blew out the candle and brought you into your room, grabbing some pajama's for you, grabbing one of the shirt's he'd left there on 'accident' for you to wear. Helping you get dressed, before leading you back to the bathroom where he towel dried your hair before blow drying the rest.

Only once you were completely taken care of did he take care of himself, getting dressed before coming back to you. "I love ye, ye ken that?" His Scottish accent grew in thickness, tucking you into bed.

"I love you too." A spike of panic filled you when he took a step back, sitting up and grabbing his wrist. He could clearly see the nervous unease on your face. Fear. He hated seeing that look on your face.

"Easy, I'm not gunna leave ye, just moving to get in bed on the other side." He shushed your worries, kissing you tenderly on the lips, climbing into bed beside you he pulled you close, letting you lay your head on his chest.

His fingers traced circles over the skin of your arm, staring up at the ceiling. A comforting silence between you two, his heartbeat and breathing the only thing keeping your mind from wandering too far into despair.

"Penny for your thoughts?" You hum, looking up at him. Things felt alright when you were with him like this, a secret place neither of you could ever be caught in crosshairs or rules.

"Just thinking." He took a deep breath. "Don't know what I would have done if I didn't find ye. I wasn't messin' around when I said ye're all I care about." He leaned down to kiss the top of your head. "Get some sleep, ye need some rest."

You hummed in acknowledgment, for the first time in a while feeling genuinely sleepy, not just tired or exhausted, but feeling a desire to sleep. Feeling a desire to sleep because things felt safe here with the man you loved.

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wanderingconstellations · 9 months

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YUA 🥹 (i assume since i see the name in your tags)

i wanted to share that today was so achieving, i ffffuucking earned a free college scholarship cause i was being unknowingly observed by a dean of a school i wasn't in but only performing and assisting my mother (teacher as well) for a recital with only 2hrs of sleep, (i also read your top posts repeatedly earlier after sifting through stories 🤭)

fuck i just- perhaps want something related to my life long achievement that i never thought i would get, and how about a mean!scara?

a mean, dismissive, cold scaramouche that needs heavy decoding, and seconds before reader falters into sadness, almost leaving, scara mutters something that quickens her heartrate, grabbing her fingers with his instead of her wrist or hand, showing a certain side, and she was met with sudden comforting affectionate gestures, cheek kisses, trailing lower and closer to the corner of her lips, praising her affectionately and lovingly in that moment, before fucking each others mouths for a good while, mean!scara uncharacteristically praising reader genuinely with each gasp of her because- he understood her struggles, her hardwork, and he was just- drunk in an unspoken admiration towards her (cough ME🥹) AND- i dont know what else to put, but i also want to be bred roughly by him- fucking each other like it was the end of the world, and i want reader to cry in happiness and from his rough manhandling during their breeding session — because she just- she's just so genuinely drunken and intoxicated in love, happiness and lust

as if his cum was creating their own future as well

- hiraeth 🤭

MEAN SCARA MEAN SCARA MEAN SCARA

You were breaking down, tired and exhausted that you had tears in your eyes. You were so fucking tired, it was exhausting. You've worked so hard but come so far, you've been exhausting yourself just to get into that damn school, but you never got into it after..how many tries?!

During your crying session, someone comes in and sees you in a state that he's never seen before. Scaramouche kneeled down to where you were, and pulled you into an embrace, and resting your head on his chest.

You immediately broke down in more tears, probably because of him comforting you. You were extremely exhausted, and yet you don't know why Scaramouche was now comforting you. It was out of character for him to do so, but you weren't complaining.

He took your crying face in his hands, then kissing the tears away, peppering kisses all over your face until he got to your lips, placing a gentle peck on them.

"Stop crying you idiot, you've been working hard. It's hard but that's how it is. You've done a lot, and it's admirable. I can see that you've worked hard, to the point where you completely exhausted yourself. I think it's time for you to take a break and unwind.."

Meaning by unwinding, he meant by fucking you til tears are glistening from your eyes, thrusting his cock into your dripping hole while whispering and murmuring sweet praises into your ears, telling of how good you're taking him and how hard you're working. This wasnt your mean and arrogant Scara, this was a completely different person. He was being so sweet with you, peppering kisses all over your body, giving a gentle peck to your lips and worshipping your body as if you were his everything (which you are.)

He would wipe your tears, and kiss them away, the tip of his cock would always kiss your womb with every hard and deep thrust he make. You would claw at his back, whining and crying over how "it's too much" or how "it's too good."

Scaramouche would just snicker and just continue to pound into you like there was no tomorrow. Honestly, he finds your constant whining and crying adorable. He would often smash his lips against yours, silencing your whines and cries while he releases hot ropes of cum inside of you, painting your warm gummy walls white as you spasm around him.

"I wonder how would you look with a bump..pregnant with my child. You love that do you? Being all stuffed and full with my seeds..I bet you want to be knocked up, don't you?"

Tears were running down your cheeks, nodding frantically and desperately begging for him to fill you up with his cum. He immediately obliges, stuffing his cock inside of you once again, cum leaking out of your cunt as he thrusts into you mercilessly.

The thought of you being knocked up, pregnant with his child, made him harder. He loves when your gummy walls clench and spasm around him, he would occasionally rub your clit, making you squirt on his abdomen right on the spot. You don't even damn know how long you guys have been at this, but you don't care.

Scaramouche turned you over to your stomach, putting you on all fours. He soon grabbed your hips, pumping his cock right into you once again, giving hard and deep thrust that makes you quiver and tremble under him. Damn right you were gonna cum right on the spot again.

Who knows how long you guys been at this. You came so many times that you've lost count, you were reduced into a dumb cockdrunk bitch for Scara to stuff his cum in, and you didn't mind. He would always give the best after cares after anyway <33

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burningvelvet · 5 months

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Why Mr. Rochester and Bertha Mason Couldn't Get a Legal Separation; or, the Utter Madness of Marital Laws

So I saw a Jane Eyre post discussing why Mr. Rochester and Bertha Mason couldn't get a legal marital separation. I've thought a lot about this topic, and in order to procrastinate writing the final for my upper-level Brontë class, I've decided to write this sort of convoluted analysis instead. I know many others have written about this subject, but I wanted to explore a bit further on my own.

Preliminary context about me, the Brontës, their Byronic inspiration, etc.: I've learned a lot about 19th century British marriage laws recently in my classes on old British literature, as well as by having studied Byron, whose marital separation in 1816 was a notorious part of his history & also reverberated through 19c literature. He refers to this separation in many of his works, most famously in his notorious poem "Fare Thee Well." Harriet Beecher Stowe, the most famous American female writer at the time, was friends with Lady Byron and wrote a book defending her called "Lady Byron Vindicated: A history of the Byron controversy from its beginning in 1816 to the present time" (the original callout post).

Insanity accusations did factor in to Byron's separation. Many scholars have remarked how the Queens of Byronic Criticism, the Brontë sisters, took significant inspiration from their well-worn copy of Moore's biography Life of Byron when creating their works. The Brontës would have been very familiar with marriage laws not only due to their knowledge of Byron's trainwreck of a marriage, but also due to being well-educated women at the time who knew that marriage was the most important economic decision of one's life and could very well make or break a person. As a result, marriage plays a significant role in their novels.

More relevant preliminary context about the novel: Jane Eyre actually takes place in the Georgian era, despite most adaptations and anaysis presenting is as a Victorian piece due to the novels publication date (this drives me crazy; same goes for the other Brontë books). Marriage laws did not change drastically from the time the novel is set to the time Brontë was writing the novel, but things were a bit different socially. Rochester was also married 15 years before his attempt to marry Jane. According to this very good analysis, Rochester and Bertha probably married in or around the year 1793: https://jane-eyre.guidesite.co.uk/timeline.

Now, here are the reasons why Rochester couldn't separate from Bertha:

1) Insanity wasn't grounds for divorce/separation in the Regency era.

Rochester himself says that he couldn't legally separate from her because of her insanity, which presumably rendered any of her faults null on the grounds of that marital vow "in sickness and in health." This is possibly one of his biggest reasons:

"I was rich enough now – yet poor to hideous indigence: a nature the most gross, impure, depraved I ever saw, was associated with mine, and called by the law and by society a part of me. And I could not rid myself of it by any legal procedings: for the doctors now discovered that my wife was mad — her excesses had prematurely developed the germs of insanity [..]"

2) Divorce was nearly impossible anyway.

There had only been around 300 divorces in English history at the time. Almost all of them were husbands divorcing their wives for committing adultery. Only a handful of divorces had succesfully been obtained by women, and they were only in cases where the husband had committed incestuous adultery or bigamy, and was extremely physically cruel. So technically after his bigamy attempt, Bertha may have had more grounds to obtain a divorce than Rochester would have, if only she were lucid enough to do so. However, in that scenario infertility would have helped their case, and Adèle's existence would have harmed their case if he attempted to seek a divorce before marrying Jane. Though as the novel explains, Adèle is probably not his, she definitely would have been used against him, as would the fact that he kept Bertha's existence a secret in England. But he wouldn't have tried for divorce that late in the game anyway, considering it was one of the most difficult options.

3) Female adultery was your best bet at divorce or separation, and this probably wasn't applicable to Mr. & Mrs. Rochester.

Although some scholars claim that there is subtext hinting that Bertha was adulterous (which some adaptations, like the 2006, include), you needed substantial proof of the adultery, which Rochester may not have had if it did occur. Being a proud man, he also wouldn't have wanted to be humiliated in that way by letting it be publicly known (as shame is one of his main reasons for hiding their marriage to begin with).

However, I lean toward the idea that Bertha may not have committed adultery. If she definitively did, seeing how affected Rochester was by Céline cheating on him (he shot her lover in revenge and left her with a stipend), if he ever suspected adultery on Bertha's part then I'm sure he would have been at court the very next day. I also think Rochester tries not to be too much of a hypocrite, and he is well aware that he himself is an adulterer, so he probably doesn't want to accuse Bertha of a crime he's committed and which he couldn't definitively prove she did.

Rochester does talk about hating Bertha's "vices" when they lived together, citing drinking, arguing, cruelty to servants, cursing, her being "unchaste," a "harlot," etc. - the last epithets, combined with her supposed lack of morality, and her being described as seductive, heavily imply that adultery could be added to her list of offenses. However, if she did truly cheat on him as well, I don't see why he wouldn't plainly tell this to Jane as well. I would imagine it would be his first complaint, and it would probably be considered his most justifiable reason against her by their cultural standards.

I don't see why he wouldn't jump to take Bertha's infidelity as an opportunity to defend his own actions, considering how open he is with Jane about his own adultery and being cheated on by Cèline Varens. While I can see how some of the textual evidence may strongly suggest Bertha's adultery, we cannot be fully certain, and that may be because Rochester himself is not fully certain. I cannot see why he wouldn't have sought legal advice on that account alone.

In short, if Bertha was an adulterer, there must have been no evidence to convict her.

Also: while the double-standard may seem odd and trivial to us, the reason why female adultery held more weight than male adultery has entirely to due with old patriarchal inheritance laws; i.e the risk of a wife getting extramaritally pregnant and passing the illegitimate child off as her husband's heir was considered too great of an affront. A man could have as many bastards as he wanted because he would know they were bastards and were not at risk of inheriting his stuff. One needed legitimate heirs to justify passing on one's ancestral wealth to. Essentially, marriage was a mere economic tool, and the economy was and is inherently patriarchal. I digress.

4) Rochester's lack of social & economic leverage, and risk of social ruin in general.

Only the wealthiest of the wealthy could obtain divorce or official separation, and it often led to social ruin. Rochester is rich, but he has no title and no great network of supporters due to being a younger son and having been abroad for most of the past 15 years (this was the length of his marriage to Bertha, stated by Mr. Briggs during the bigamous wedding attempt). He doesn't have as much leverage as Lord and Lady Byron had.

To continue on official separation, like Lady and Lord Byron obtained. Just like divorce, this was also a messy and scandalous legal proceeding, and required numerous good reasons to obtain, and being well-connected Lords and Ladies really helped your case. You also needed many witnesses and written statements as evidence. Bertha's family, as we see with Mason, would have been unhelpful to Rochester, and due to his shame and secrecy, no one could really testify on his behalf I'm assuming.

5) Unofficial separation would have been inconvenient, especially in regards to living situations.

Aside from divorce, which was extremely rare, extremely controversial, and only for the wealthiest members of society — there were unofficial and official separations. An unofficial separation was simply living apart from one another. I've often wondered why Rochester didn't simply move Grace Poole and Bertha somewhere else, but my main theory is that it would have been cost ineffective, and due to his family who were implied to be shitty, he probably really didn't want to live at Thornfield anyway so thought it would be convenient to place her there. Rochester says it would be dangerous to place her in his other residence of Ferndean:

"[..] though I possess an old house, Ferndean Manor, even more retired and hidden than this, where I could have lodged her safely enough, had not a scruple about the unhealthiness of the situation, in the heart of a wood, made my conscience recoil from the arrangement. Probably those damp walls would soon have eased me of her charge: but to each villain his own vice; and mine is not a tendency to indirect assassination, even of what I most hate."

6) Annulment was likely impossible given their circumstances.

Annulment means evaporating the marriage, acting as if it never existed, that it was a mistake. This was rare and only granted in unique circumstances, and I believe it was more common with aristocracy and royals. I believe you could possibly get an annulment if you could prove that the spouse was insane at the time of the wedding and you did not know. However, Bertha did not begin to truly deteriorate until after they had been living together for a bit. And while Rochester says that he did not know her mother was in an asylum until after the wedding, having an insane mother doesn't mean that you are insane, which Bertha clearly wasn't at that point, at least not in a way that people would have publicly acknowledged, since Rochester says she attended parties and her hand was highly sought after.

Generally, the longer a marriage had gone on, the harder it was to prove why it could not go on. Rochester says that he and Bertha "lived together" for "four years" in Jamaica while her condition deteriorated and he tried to make things work. And again, after the wedding he found out her mother was "mad, and shut up in a lunatic asylum." So we have more reasons for Rochester's difficulty: the fear of Bertha going to an asylum while she was still mostly lucid in those first four years, combined with the fact that they openly lived together and certainly must have consummated their marriage (things which would further prevent annulment), and were certainly publicly recognized as a couple in Spanish Town society, and her family wanting the marriage to continue so she could have children of "good race" i.e. to produce heirs.

Here's an important passage that to me suggests that Rochester and Bertha not only had an initial flirtation but likely consummated their marriage, likely had a passionate sexual relationship for some time, and likely implies his feelings for her were more complex than we'd initially assume, making annulment not so clear-cut of an option to him at the time:

"My father said nothing about her money; but he told me Miss Mason was the boast of Spanish Town for her beauty: and this was no lie. I found her a fine woman, in the style of Blanche Ingram; tall, dark, and majestic. Her family wished to secure me because I was of a good race; and so did she. They showed her to me in parties, splendidly dressed. I seldom saw her alone, and had very little private conversation with her. She flattered me, and lavishly displayed for my pleasure her charms and accomplishments. All the men in her circle seemed to admire her and envy me. I was dazzled, stimulated: my senses were excited; and being ignorant, raw, and inexperienced, I thought I loved her. There is no folly so besotted that the idiotic rivalries of society, the prurience, the rashness, the blindness of youth, will not hurry a man to its commission. Her relatives encouraged me; competitors piqued me; she allured me: a marriage was achieved almost before I knew where I was. Oh, I have no respect for myself when I think of that act! — an agony of inward contempt masters me. I never loved, I never esteemed, I did not even know her."

7) Spousal abandonment wasn't possible, and on some level he honored his legal and financial obligations to her and the Mason family.

Bertha's family likely refused to house her for legal and personal reasons, and spousal abandonment was forbidden due to the husband's financial responsibility as well as the law of coverture (a wife became her husband's full legal responsibility; some say "property"). Like we see in Anne's Tenant of Wildfell Hall, if a woman ran away from their spouse they would have to live in obscurity and be at risk of being sussed out. You couldn't just abandon your partner. Still, people did, because it was the easiest route to take.

But the more upper-class you were, and the more financial entanglements you had, the more inconvenient this was. We know that Rochester and his family became enmeshed with the Mason family, and he got a lot of money from Bertha, so her father likely would have taken him to court. At any rate, Rochester was legally bound to bring Bertha with him to England when he left Jamaica. If he attempted to abandon her in Jamaica, the backlash it would have brought would have brought him social ruin and foiled his chances at getting away with any bigamy attempts.

All this brings us to a further notice of Bertha's family situation. Based on Charlotte Brontë's positive comments about Rochester's character (https://www.tumblr.com/burningvelvet/731403104856195072/in-a-letter-to-w-s-williams-14-august-1848) I see no reason to suspect him, like many feminist critics do, of being an unreliable narrator or of lying about Bertha Mason's history. Everyone is entitled to their opinions, and in mine, that is simply not the novel Charlotte wrote. By her own admission, she wanted his narrative to be a path to further goodness.

It makes no narrative sense for our explanation of his and Bertha's history to be full of lies when he's trying to make ammends with Jane, who never suspects him of lying during his admission, but who does critique him and figure he'd tire of her like she was one of his many mistresses. Jane wonders if Rochester would lock her in an attic too, which he refutes on the basis that he loves her more than he loved Bertha when she was sane, and so he would care for Jane himself. Jane also tells him that it's not Bertha's fault that she's mad. So in my opinion, if Charlotte wanted us to believe Rochester was lying about his and Bertha's history to make himself look better or Bertha look worse, I don't see why she would have been vague about it, and I don't see why Jane wouldn't have called it out like she does everything else. I don't think Rochester is really a villain who locked his harmless wife in the attic for giggles; I think he weighed most of his options and found, like most people back then and even today, that keeping his problems locked up and ignored was the best solution.

Now, on with the point. I have often wondered why Rochester didn't simply "unofficially separate" from Bertha by leaving her with her family when he left. Why did he take her to England? Why didn't he just run away? It wasn't because he was an evil villain who wanted to keep her as a trophy. It's because 1) I don't think her father would have let him, as he was so quick to marry her off, 2) he felt obligated to her, and 3) it was criminal for men to abandon their wives, and it would have attracted publicity, which is what Rochester was avoiding by taking Bertha to England and sheltering her in secrecy.

Many claim that Rochester's adultery is a betrayal of his wife; and while religiously, narratively, socially, we can accept this statement, it was not legally a crime. While Rochester does honor his financial and legal obligations to his wife and her family, he does not take the religious part of the vows into account, and that's why he's cosmically punished and only rewarded after he repents, as he explains toward the end of the novel.

Another interesting point is that when Rochester recounts his decision to move back to England, he tells us that Bertha had already been declared insane in Jamaica and that she was already confined there (presumably around the 4 year anniversary before they left), meaning her father probably knew about confinement:

"One night I had been awakened by her yells (since the medical men had pronounced her mad, she had of course been shut up) — it was a fiery West Indian night; [..]"

Locking away "insane" people was standard procedure then, and if this was done with Bertha's father's knowledge, considering he locked his own wife away in an asylum, then this further absolves Rochester of a lot of the blame in my opinion. It more than likely wasn't his idea to lock her away, but the advice of "the medical men" and presumably her father's consultation as well.

8) Even if he divorced or separated from her, he couldn't remarry. Attempting these, or getting caught attempting abandonment, would have brought negative publicity that would have likely prevented the success of any future bigamy attempts. To him, secrecy and bigamy seemed better chances at securing happiness than the social ruin and likely failure the other options would have brought him.

Aside from Rochester's own explanation (which I supplied in #2 re: the separation veto inherent to Bertha's insanity), the other biggest reason as to why Rochester wouldn't seek a separation/divorce even if she hadn't been declared insane and even if he were willing to accuse her of adultery truthfully or not, is due to the fact that one could not legally remarry upon separation or divorce (unless you were Henry VIII and got God's permission lol). Rochester's impossible dream is that he wants to be married to someone he really loves, and if secrecy and bigamy are his only options then he is willing to succumb; this is shown in numerous passages:

"[..] I could reform — I have strength yet for that — if— but where is the use of thinking of it, hampered, burdened, cursed as I am? Besides, since happiness is irrevocably denied me, I have a right to get pleasure out of life: and I will get it, cost what it may."

"I will keep my word: I will break obstacles to happiness, to goodness — yes, goodness; I wish to be a better man than I have been; than I am — as Job's leviathan broke the spear, the dart, and the habergeon, hinderances which others count as iron and brass, I will esteem but straw and rotten wood."

"Is there not love in my heart, and constancy in my resolves? It will expiate at God's tribunal. I know my Maker sanctions what I do. For the world's judgment — I wash my hands thereof. For man's opinion — I defy it."

Closing remarks on the above's validity: I can't cite all my sources because a lot of this stuff I learned from lectures via my professor who specializes in 19th century English literature & history. But here's some recently published information from a historian, taken from "Inside the World of Bridgerton: True Stories of Regency High Society" by Catherine Curzon (2023):

"And if you were one of the newly-weds, you really did hope things would work out, because in the Regency till death do us part wasn't just an expression. As the Prince Regent himself had learned when he separated from his wife within eighteen months of their marriage, obtaining a divorce in Regency England was no easy matter. He never achieved it, and for those who did the stakes could be high and the cost ruinous in every sense."

"Until the passing of the Matrimonial Causes Act of 1857, which legalized divorce in the civil courts, it was governed by the ecclesiastical courts, and the Church didn't end a marriage without very, very good reason. Even these divorces didn't allow a couple to remarry, though, and they were more akin to what we would today call a legal separation, with no shared legal or financial responsibilities going forward. It was freedom, but only to a point."

"The only way to obtain a complete dissolution that allowed for remarriage was to secure a parliamentary divorce, and these were notoriously difficult to obtain. They began with a criminal conversation case, because they relied on adultery by one of the parties to make them even a slight possibility. If a woman committed crim. con., her life in polite society was over."

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riinkun-art-stuff · 4 months

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Howdy ho! I'm very excited to finally be able to share this illustration I worked on as part of this year's @bumblebybigbang for @tahnex's lovely and super fun fic (with no pain attached whatsoever), "Of Dragons and Panthers," which you can read here! As soon as I read the original notes on it this scene captured me so much I had to do something dramatic for it. It's been such a pleasure watching the whole collab come together, tysm for having me!

First time joining an event like this, and I'd love to again if the opportunity comes around hehe. Still a few postings to go on this one, the pieces before us this year have knocked it out of the park and I'm super excited to see the rest once they come around!

Made a few process cuts just for fun, which I left under the cut!

I did do a few sketches roughly before I started out, especially based on other parts of the chapter, but this particular composition was so fixed in my mind that I ended up just sticking with it. In retrospect, I would've loved to go back and do some more thorough exploration for it. Here are a few of the sketches I managed to fish back up:

I also was thinking of trying a few other doodles/another big piece, but ended up not really having the time between other obligations :')

And the sketch I finally settled on:

Inking was SUCH a fun process on this piece in particular. I'm a huge fan of how dragon!Yang's mane turned out, especially, and all the detailing on the head and around Blake's fur and such. Feel like I'm really satisfied w the particular way the line weight variations came out, and it's where the piece shines the most imo.

Panther!Blake, too. Oh gosh. I feel like it took me a lot of reworking to get her structure to a point where she felt very leopard-like, rather than any other type of big cat- especially around the head.

Colours were such a challenging part. There was a big feeling I had for that glow coming off dragon!Yang in the middle of the heavy rain- I love seeing that sort of effect in real life so that's something I'm really hoping to work to capture better as I practice. Trying to get dragon!Yang's slight iridescence in there and to balance out the lighting on panther!Blake's fur each took a long time, too- I'm only a pinch sad that a good chunk of it is covered by other lighting effects XD

Blake's rosettes were SO fun. Augguhugg.

In terms of backgrounds. HOO boy I was going through a strange patch in life while working on the background and final polish for this piece, which is why (at least I feel like) it looks kinda rushed. I have been practicing natural landscapes and doing some observational studies but still struggling to get those rock shapes quite right, which I think is a big make or break point of something like this. I did really enjoy toying around with inking on the foliage and foreground layers of the ground, though! And in the end, lighting and effects ended up masking a lot of the big weak spots :D

I think natural effects like smoke/steam, and rain, are big things that I got to practice more of in this piece, but also really would like to get better at in future. Esp since I feel like it's been a great opportunity to mess around with different colours and brushes that I use way less, which I'm always grateful for w painting. I think just layering the rain on its own ended up being about 10 odd layers?

I think the only other thing I would have loved to improve is to just help the piece feel more Bumbleby™ in the final look. I think I like the cool colours of the lighting for this particular outcome, but I also would have probably tried to have made things much clearer (ahem at the very least switch to yellow/purple) in the long run in terms of representation and resemblance. Ik that at least for me it is fairly easy to associate the two characters with dragons and panthers since I'm more familiar w the fandom lingo around these two, but esp for outsiders I feel like it's probably not great at conveying who they are, and why they are potentially in this situation.

I'd also love to try and find a shading style that still has a painterly quality but compliments the inking a bit better, rather than overpowering it.

I think that, on the whole, I am pretty satisfied with the piece and had a great time working with Tahnex on the whole collab! And I've also has a fun time reading his work and notes in return, and thank you so much for being so so patient with me even as my updates were slow n rocky at points :'D

That's about all I got, have a great day y'all! Still a few big bang postings to go, so very excited for those once they come around!

#riinkun art stuff #my art #digital art #bumbleby big bang #bbb2023 #rwby #YIPPEEEE #very very happy to finally be able to show this off aaaaahugghh!!!!#it's been v cool working on this collab- tysm for having me again! :'D

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blue-slxt · 6 months

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Kinktober 31

🔞Minors Do Not Interact🔞

Kinktober Masterlist

A/N: Happy Halloween! We've reached the end of Kinktober! It's such a bittersweet feeling. But I'm so happy with the turn out and with all the love that you guys have shown over this past month! Writing all these prompts took a lot out of me so I'll probably take a short smut break after this. I'll still be writing in the background, but I want to branch out and do more fluff pieces and other things too. But best believe, the smut WILL be back shortly. Anyways, thank you guys for everything and I hope you guys enjoy this! I wrote this with the understanding that female Alphas have a knot inside of them and Omega males have the sheathed penis. You can find out more in this post. So just keep that in mind! I was partially inspired by the fic Howling For You by @theblueflower05 (It's one of my faves and I highly recommend it!) All characters are aged up.

Pairing: Omega!Lo'ak x Alpha!Fem!Metkayina!Reader

Warnings: Smut, P in V, Oral (M receiving), Scenting, Knotting, Creampie, Mentions of Anal, ABO, Territorial Reader

Almost everything about your attitude was all Alpha. You stood proud and strong. A self-assured, commanding presence in any situation you were in. You could be aggressive at times, but never out of any sense of malice or superiority. It was simply your nature. A pure, red-blooded Alpha in every sense. Almost.

The one thing about you that was a bit different. You had a certain…affinity for soft things. You kept your marui lined with the softest fabrics that hands could weave. Lush blankets and delicate tapestries. You loved the feeling of the plush sand beneath your feet and the sound of soft early morning waves wading into the shore. But what you loved the best? Soft moans and whimpers from soft boys in the domineering grip of your hips.

Soft Omega boys set your heart on fire in a way that was incomparable. You knew you couldn’t be with another Alpha. Not because Alpha-Alpha relationships didn't happen, but because you were too stubborn and proud to let someone try to dominate you. But something about Omega boys was just so enticing to your senses.

So when you first set eyes on Lo’ak, you immediately wanted to devour him whole. Maybe it was his scent that smelled like fresh fallen forest rain on exotic flower petals and tree bark. Or maybe it was his foreign, tawtute features that others outcast him for which made him seem more vulnerable. Or maybe it was the instant images that your mind conjured of his slim build trapped between the toned muscle of your thighs. Whatever it was, you just knew you had to have him and you would bare your fangs at anyone that dared to try and stand in your way.

You were straightforward in your approach with Lo’ak. Immediately, you approached him with all your confidence offering him an arm band that you had made to match the beads in his braids. You circled him slowly appraising and appreciating his deep royal blue skin and lean muscles. You take the chance to subtly sneak a whiff of his scent and Eywa, your mouth nearly starts to water.

“See you around, sayrìp” you said lightly dragging your tail across his thigh as you walked past him. And from that moment on, Lo’ak may as well have been a fish caught in your undercurrent. He started trailing after you everywhere like an ilu pup follows its mother.

He could be brash and rough around the edges when it came to getting along with other males in the clan. Namely, Ao’nung and his crew. But he was all velvet when it came to you. Always soft murmurs in your ear on the mornings he would find himself waking in your marui. Burying his face in your chest nuzzling his nose at your soft skin. Feather-light kisses he’d press against your neck that would turn into hands exploring down the front of your body lower and lower.

And you could be…territorial. A credit to your nature, you would turn over still half asleep and bury your face into the crook of his neck scenting him in the early hours of the day. Rubbing your own scent all over him. You had this inexplicable need to have him wear your scent at any and all times. Completely bathe him in it to ward off any other Alphas that would be stupid enough to try and move in on your precious lover. You wanted to mark him in every way and he would let you.

Today’s been particularly grating for you. Your hunt was less than fruitful. One of your favorite necklaces broke sending beads flying all over the beach. And worst of all, you saw another female looking at Lo’ak; trying to get close to him. That won’t do. Not today. Not ever. Of course, the second she locked eyes with you, she rolled her eyes in annoyance and left with a huff. She should count herself lucky that you left her with eyes to roll.

Deep breaths are supposed to be calming for the mind, but right now, they are doing little to quell the fire in your chest. Nevertheless, you put on your best face when you approach Lo’ak. Before you even reach him, he already picked up on your scent and turns in your direction. His arms reach out to you as he walks over.

“I missed you, babe. Are you done with all your tasks for the day?” he asks with his slim tail swaying giddily back and forth behind him.

The human nickname rolls off his tongue so effortlessly and it never fails to make your stomach flip. You think he is truly too good for this world as you walk into his waiting embrace.

“Something like that. It has been a really long day. Can we just go home?” you say rubbing your face into his chest while his arms fold around you and he kisses the top of your head.

“Of course.”

Lo’ak can tell on the walk back to your marui that something is bothering you. He knows you well enough by now to know that your tail only flicks like that when something is heavy on your mind. However, he also knows you well enough by now to know better than to try and make you talk about it before you’re ready.

When you reach your marui, you secure the flap over the opening to give you both some privacy. “Lo’ak, I have a problem.” You say with a small voice that definitely doesn’t fit you.

He cocks one of his brows at you waiting for you to elaborate. He watches you cautiously as you stalk closer to him.

“You see, even though everyone knows that I intend to take you as my mate, other girls are still looking at you. Trying to get close enough to smell you when I’m not around…”

Your voice gets stronger with each step closer you take. “Even though you lay with me every night and it is my gifts that you wear and my scent that lives in your skin, it’s not enough…” Your body finally presses right up against his and you keep moving forward, pushing him back against a post. His eyebrows and ears are raised looking down at you. Despite the slight height difference between you, when you get like this, it makes his breath tremble in his throat.

“Yawne, you know I--”

He’s cut off by the feeling of your fingers ghosting over his tewng and lightly tracing over where his dick was still sheathed.

“See, Lo, I really really hate it when others are trying to move in on what’s mine…I’m just bad at sharing in that way…” your long, nimble fingers make quick work of undoing the tie on his tewng and letting it fall leaving him bare in front of you. You slowly sink to your knees holding his gaze the whole way down. You tease at his slit with a quick lick from your tongue making him gasp.

“You already know I’m only yours, yawne.” He says with a quiver in his voice that has your body heating up.

“Oh, of course I do, my love. But I need everyone else to know it, too. So tonight, you can be as loud as you want to be. As a matter of fact, I want you to be.” You say teasing him even more with your mouth until his cock is fully exposed and standing proud in front of your face. Your eyes nearly cross with it coming to its full glory aimed straight at your lips.

A smirk plays on your lips looking up at him.

“Eager for me to mark you? Does the idea of it turn you on, sweet boy?” you tease with kitten licks to the tip of his dick and he flinches turning his head away from you.

“Look at me.” Your voice is firm and commanding. He doesn’t dare to defy you when you give him a direct order. His eyes meet yours in a fiery tug-of-war that you easily win when his expression softens. Fuck.

In no time at all, you suck his entire length into your throat and the shudder that racks his body is probably one of your favorite things to witness. Every suck and slurp is met with another beautiful whine or whimper from his mouth. It drives you and your need to ruin him. You keep your tongue pressed firmly to the underside of his cock and apply light pressure just the way you know he loves. His head lolls back against the post and his fingers claw at the wood looking for something to ground himself with.

Hushed whispers of pleas for more appear in the back of your head. You bob your head faster looking up at him and watch his face scrunch in pleasure while you work on him. You sneak a hand up and under to cup his balls and give a gentle squeeze and Lo’ak sucks in a sharp breath between his clenched teeth. His hips buck into your face and chase the warmth of your mouth. You loved watching him lose his composure and take what he needed from you. Watching him be so needy for release that he can’t bring himself to care about his position as an Omega and just fuck you with wild abandon was so damn sexy. You could practically feel the slick running down your inner thighs.

Hallowing out your cheeks, you can feel every ridge and vein drag against your mouth. Lo’ak starts to lose it, letting his hips jut forward and meet your movements.

“Ah…fuck” he curses under his breath watching you so eagerly take his whole length into your mouth.

You steady yourself against him and push his dick all the way into your throat until your nose is flush with his pelvis. You lightly stroke your finger up and down the underside of his balls and his face screws up in lust as his climax tears through his core.

“Haaah-ah!” His hands reflexively hold on to your hair keeping you in place for his cum to run down your throat. It coats your throat and makes you gag around him, but the sound only drags out the feeling for him.

When he releases you, you come up for air and his body falls back against the post. His legs just barely have the strength to keep him upright. “Satisfied?” he pants out to you with a grin.

You meet his expression with a mischievous smirk, “Not even close”.

You rise to your feet already untying your own tewng to discard it somewhere across the floor. Lying down on your plush sleep mat, your knees fall open and your fingers spread your slick-covered cunt open for him.

Lo’ak feels like he should be embarrassed at how quickly he’s hard again, but how can he bring himself to care about that when you’re lying there sprawled open for him in silent invitation? He’s pulled to you as if he was entranced by you and your scent. Your grin is devilish in watching him resign himself to his desires. His hips slot right into place between your thighs and he’s already dragging his tip between your folds and brushing against your swollen clit.

He lightly slaps the little nub with his dick making your hips jump and an arrogant grin finds its way onto his face.

“Lo’ak…” it’s meant as a warning, but Lo’ak takes it as a challenge.

“What’s wrong, yawne? I thought you liked being teased.”

He wasn’t wrong. You did like it when he teased you. Putting a bit of power in his hands and stroking his ego made your head feel fuzzy with pleasure. But with the kind of day you’d had, you were feeling especially impatient. Your fingers hook under his necklace and pull his face closer into yours. You can hear how his breath stutters and you see how his half lidded gaze dances around your face, lingering at your lips.

“I need this, Lo’ak.”

He smiles gently leaning forward to crash his lips onto yours. The taste of him still fresh in your mouth and it makes even more blood rush straight to his cock that was slowly breaching you. You both moan into each other’s mouths savoring the feeling of your warmth almost literally sucking him in. It’s almost as if your body won’t be satisfied until you’ve completely enveloped him into your skin.

He starts a steady pace of long, strong strokes making you feel every vein and ridge of him. His tip presses perfectly into the spongey part of your walls as he drags it almost all the way out, only to kiss your cervix when he presses back inside.

“Ohh…fuck…” your head falls back reveling in the feeling of the first real sense of relief you’ve had all day. Lo’ak takes the opportunity to litter your neck in kisses, licks, and nips. You smile deliriously to yourself as you let this beautiful man fulfill his fantasies with your body. His breath is hot and uneven against your skin as his pace picks up. The sound of skin slapping against skin gets louder the faster he goes.

Your hands claw at his back holding him close to you. The scent of his pheromones gets stronger in your nose making your eyes roll. His hands grab your legs by the backs of your knees and holds them open so he can angle his hips the way he knows you love.

“Ah! Right there! Feels so good right there!”

“Mmm, I love fucking you like this, sevin. Feel so perfect on my cock.”

Your face scrunches and you can feel your knot beginning to swell inside you. He groans above you feeling his tip meet the resistance and he tries eagerly to push past it and let you have him wholly.

“Oh, Great Mother! I’m going to cum, Lo’ak!” your voice is loud and his groans are even louder. Surely anyone in the vicinity would hear you and know, but that’s exactly what you wanted. Your hands find his face so that you can capture his lips in another kiss. It’s a messy clashing of teeth and tongues, but full of a desperation that has your pussy clenching harder around him. His strokes get longer and he puts his full weight behind every one, finally pushing past the resistance of your knot and tipping you over that edge.

“Ahhn~ Lo’ak!”

He keeps rolling his hips into you as he reaches his own release and you milk him dry.

Both of you huff out breaths trying to steady your own breathing. Sweat beads start to form on his forehead and his eyebrows are scrunched together feeling how your knot won’t let up on his poor sensitive cock. His head falls to lay on your chest and his eyes close trying to stop the spinning in his head. You stroke his head lovingly eliciting soft purrs from him.

Days later, you stand with Lo’ak and his siblings around the fire at communal dinner celebrating the first hunt of the season. Neteyam and his mate are retelling the story of one of their warrior students and how they taught him to make a clean kill when a sudden chill runs down your spine.

“Hi, Lo’ak” the most aggravating voice you’ve ever heard calls to your boyfriend beside you. You both turn to find Nìvya, the other Alpha that you caught looking at Lo’ak the other day. She completely disregards your presence despite standing right next to him.

“Would you like to dance with me?”

She’s either extremely bold or extremely stupid. Either way, you are ready to rip her throat out with your teeth when you let off a low hiss in her direction. The only thing that saves her is Lo’ak placing a gentle hand on your waist to calm you.

“Thanks, but no thank you. I’m fine where I am. Isn’t that right, yawne?” He says burying his face into the crook of your neck sweetly.

You smile while you cut your eyes at her in warning. Nìvya’s face falls and she finally acknowledges your presence by looking at you. She rolls her eyes bitterly and stomps off in the direction that she came.

Your tail swishes happily behind you, pleased with how Lo’ak handled himself in the situation. You turn your head to look at him with a satisfied grin.

“What?” he asks seeing the gears turning in your head.

“You’re so sexy when you claim me, you know that?” you whisper to him dragging your fingertips down his chest in teasing touches and pausing right above his tewng. “You wanna get out of here?”

He chuckles lightly, “What about the rest of the party?”

You push up on your tiptoes so that you can whisper directly into his ear, “I’ll let you put it in the other hole this time.”

Lo’ak’s face is completely flushed all over when you pull away to look at him again. His tail is thrashing violently behind him and his ears are standing straight up.

Clearly excited by your proposal, he quickly turns to your group and excuses the two of you. “Too much to drink and ready to turn in” was what he said.

Nobody was buying it, though. Everybody knew that Lo’ak could out-drink anybody there. But no one was going to call him out on it.

Wild giggles erupt from you when he gleefully scoops you up into his arms and sets off into the direction of your marui.

Kinktober Taglist: @pandoraslxna @ashlatano7567 @sincerelykaib @jamies-wh0re @quaritchsluts @jakescumdump @delacruzyari @onlyloaksgf @skywonder @taintedlovesworld @myloveforyouisforever @angie-1306 @moodays @childofgod-05 @hadesbabygurl @daddysmurfslefttoenail @loaksulluyswife @y4sm1nsstuff @thewhiltedpeony @lovefrommeelise @neteyamssyulang @rosyjn @imintoomanyfandomscuzihaveadhd @anaclaudiasugar @xxwelshqueenxx @hania11 @xylianasblog @idkanymoregirl @eyrina-avatar @biscuitsaredelish @quinn-sadilla @the_mourning_moon @eyweveng @puddleswimmingnerd-blog @xaxsir @jakesullyfatjuicypeen @navilover24 @sulieykte @iameatingmyhair @leaveitbythewave @ntymavtr @fifilynn16 @kiri-tuk @mstocky78 @neteyamyawne @randumfanfics @sliqeramx @bluewonder @the-morning-moon @nerdfacesposts @vip-btxch @neteyamsyawntu @teyamsatan @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @dixonjunkie

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makeyoumine69 · 11 months

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I Would Be Lost Without You (commission)

— PAIRING: Daddy!Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: During a rainy day you seek comfort in the arms of your beloved.

— CONTAINS: Fluff, flirting, teasing, Daddy kink, a lot of kisses and touches, pet names, grumpy but sweet Daddy!Patrick Bateman himself.

— WORDCOUNT: 1.5k

— A/N: This is commission for my sweet @crystalrage90. I'm glad to be allowed to post it. I hope you like it!

— LINKS: [MASTERLIST] 🪓 [COMISSIONS] Many thanks to @linusbenjamin for her amazing gifs!

It was a typical rainy day in New York, and people were rushing through the streets, hiding under their umbrellas or trying to find shelter in nearby buildings. Even though you knew the forecast, you decided to try your luck and managed to get to Patrick's place before the rain started. Now you stood in front of the door of his apartment and cursed yourself as your damp clothes stuck to your body like a second skin.

You frowned and took a deep breath before finally daring to ring the doorbell. When he didn't open the door after almost five minutes, you let out a tired breath, thinking that you probably deserved it and turned around to leave, but as soon as you made a step, you heard the door click and then Bateman's arrogant voice hit your ears harder than a thunderclap from outside.

"Sorry (y/n), I had an important business call—" Patrick paused as soon as he noticed your completely soaked clothes, his perfect face immediately turning angry. "Don't you know how to use the umbrella?"

"I didn't have one."

Bateman let out a tired sigh before rubbing the bridge of his nose to calm himself. "Oh yeah, what am I even thinking? Such a pointless thing to have an umbrella when it's pouring outside!"

His mocking tone caused your small frame to shiver even more, you were already cold and his attitude only made you feel worse. You shifted from foot to foot, hugging yourself and dropping your eyes so that at least now you wouldn't have to deal with his snotty little side glances.

"Get in." He blurted out suddenly, stepping aside for you to enter this fancy apartment. "Go straight to the bathroom."

Damn, you always loved his demanding voice, but now it made you nervous. You hurried into the bathroom, not wanting to ruin his expensive wooden floor with the water running down your trembling frame.

"Strip off and take a hot shower," Patrick added as he followed you, now standing in the doorway with his hands crossed over his chest. "And don't waste that soap again! It's from limited collection and—"

"I know, I won't!" You cut him off, removing your soaked dress. "Maybe you should join me in the shower instead of giving me endless notations?"

After saying that, you turned to give him a challenging look, expecting his mood to change, as it usually did, but this time not a single emotion appeared on his beautiful face. Neither of you wanted to break the awkward silence, but when you finally decided to say something biting, Bateman smoothed his cashmere robe and proclaimed:

"No." His cheesy grin was the last thing you wanted to see, but it was fine. "Listen, (y/n)," Patrick suddenly came closer to you, so that you even had to step back. "Just be a good girl and listen to what Daddy wants you to do, okay?"

As soon as his big, warm palm touched the cold skin of your waist, you almost flinched, but he managed to hold you still, trapping your naked little form in his big arms.

"Will you be a good girl for me?" He whispered, his hand still roaming over your back.

You gasped and dropped your head, unable to stand the way Bateman looked at you with his savage brown eyes.

"Yes..." You wanted to add something, but he wouldn't let you, covering your mouth with his.

Maybe the kiss was too passionate, or maybe it was just the difference in temperature of your bodies, but when you felt his hot tongue sweep along your lower lip, you squealed and grabbed his strong biceps to pull him closer.

"Shh, babydoll." He pressed a thumb to your chin, forcing you to raise your head and look straight into his eyes. "I know what you want."

Jesus Christ, this man was so skillful at testing your limits - making you whine like a little girl who couldn't get what she wanted.

"We'll come back to this later, after you take a shower." His velvety voice was the only thing that mattered at that moment, but then Patrick decided that what he had already done was not enough, so he made you open your mouth so that he could tease your tongue by sucking it really hard. "I promise you."

Bateman couldn't help but grin with satisfaction as he saw you melting under his touch, his ego was about to fly to the moon, but there was nothing you could do about it, he was just irresistible.

When he finally left you alone, you stood near the shower door for a while, trying to pull yourself together. Shivering slightly, you finally stepped under the warm water, which brought you some relief, because you really were very cold. You washed yourself very quickly, because every moment without him felt like torture. Although you couldn't be sure if his words weren't just another game of his, he got what he wanted, and now you were clean and warm as you walked in front of the mirror, looking at your reflection and running your hands over the new robe he had bought just for you.

Later you came out of the bathroom and saw him sitting on his white couch, and it seemed like he noticed you before you could even think about it.

"C'mere, honey…" Patrick purred, tapping the spot next to him. "Did you miss me already?"

You smiled to yourself at how arrogant that bastard was, but you chose to play by his rules nonetheless. "Yeah, I thought about you the whole time I was in the shower."

"Oh yeah?" He asked flirtatiously, watching you take a seat next to him.

You nodded in reply, making yourself more comfortable on the couch as you felt his hand on your shoulders.

"I hope you haven't done anything Daddy wouldn't let you do, have you?"

"Uh, what do you mean?" You darted him your most innocent glance, and you could swear you saw a bright spark in his hazel eyes.

"Awww, don't try to pretend you don't know what I mean." He chuckled, stroking your shoulder before beginning to massage the back of your neck. "Have you dared to touch what is mine?"

God, his words coaxed a loud gasp that fell from your swollen lips.

"N-no, Daddy…" you turned away from his attentive gaze, but he suddenly made you sit on his lap so that your faces were only inches apart. "I'm not lying."

Thrilled, Bateman examined your features for a moment before gently kissing your neck, your toes curling once his pouty lips found the most sensitive spot.

"You need to drink something warm." He urged abruptly, bouncing you onto his lap. "How about I make you a hot chocolate while you pick something to watch?"

"Oh God, Patrick..." You couldn't stop yourself from giggling at how cute he was.

With a sweet smile, Patrick grabbed your ankle to rub it, but then his sneaky hand skittered up to your hip. "Sounds like a good plan for my baby girl?"

"It's even better than you can imagine." You gasped at how shamelessly Bateman stroked your leg. "You know, when I first arrived, I was really afraid you were going to punish me for ruining your expensive floor with water… you looked so angry."

Patrick couldn't stop laughing as he nuzzled against your cheek. "Relax, silly. I was just worried about you catching a cold, we have so many plans for the weekend. It actually made me upset." He explained to you as if you were a little kid. "You don't want to be in bed with the flu, do you?"

In addition to his words, Bateman decided to tickle your toe, so you had to answer back.

"Stop, stop, stop!" You almost yelped as you couldn't stop giggling. "I'm really sorry!" He paused, expecting you to say something else. "I'll be more careful next time."

"That's a good girl." Patrick gave you a light peck on the nose before standing up, and you let out a sad gasp as you lost physical contact with him. "Sweetheart, I'm only a few feet away from you." He teased when he heard your whimper.

"Okay, okay." You watched him walk away, but then you mumbled: "Patrick..."

"Yeah?" Bateman turned around, and it was only now that you noticed his bare chest as his robe was half undone.

"I love you so much." The way you said those words made your own heart beat so fast.

Patrick just smirked and tittered to himself. "I know, (y/n). To be honest... I would be very surprised if you didn't."

With that he continued on his way to the kitchen, leaving you both embarrassed and happy. That bastard knew what he was doing, every little thing he did always made you feel butterflies in your stomach, every damn time. You laid on your back and looked at the perfect white ceiling above you, thinking how fucking lucky you were to be with the man who managed to fill your life with emotions and sensations you never thought you would experience before.

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale

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thelargefrye · 3 months

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🌷 SMALLS’ FIC RECOMMENDATION LIST.

i've seen a lot of fic rec lists circulating in the community recently and so i felt like i should also make one to support fellow writers who i think really deserve that extra love and attention.

so this is also an appreciation post because i have quite a few things to say. these are mainly writers that i enjoy reading and think need a lot more love and attention because let's be honest, they have amazing ideas and people are just sleeping on them.

so, i'll just jump right into it! make sure to send these writers love and reblog their works!!!

my best friend and person i share a braincell with : @sanjoongie

check out her master list.

like you want to talk about talent? topaz is the one who breathes talent and ideas that literally no one else is coming up with. like if i had to read only one person for the rest of my life, it would be topaz because her writing is just amazing. her moodboards that she makes for her works, perfect. everything topaz does when it comes to writing is amazing, and i'm so glad that she's my best friend and braincell.

and not only that, but topaz is just nice to be talk to! like she makes you want to repeatedly talk to her and she is so good at helping flesh out my own ideas. i wouldn't have written half the things i did last year if it wasn't for her.

anyways, i'm so grateful and proud to call topaz my braincell because she's so amazing, talented, and nice. it breaks my heart that more people don't talk about HER. like you want to read something different and so well written then you need to read literally ANY work topaz has written.

topaz, my lovely braincell, thank you for putting up with me and my shit 24/7. if it wasn't for you i probably wouldn't have gotten out of my writer's block. and just now that i love you and thank you for being an amazing friend and writer.

and if you've gotten this far, i'll just straight up tell you that this is topaz appreciation post. so now i'll link some of my favorite works by her and tell you why i love them:

twilight academy ( all parts ) ( rated : mature )

wizard professor!seonghwa x wizard professor!f!reader ft. ateez

this currently has four parts and is still ongoing and is literally SO good. like who else is writing about a professor au WHERE THEY ARE ALL WIZARDS. and not to mention the worldbuilding and history that is all mentioned and talked about. its so so so good and the smut in it is absolutely to die for. and the chemistry between seonghwa and mc is so good, i love when they go back and forth.

breed ( part one ) ( rated : mature )

ateez x f!reader ( most of the members are aliens with san and another member being human )

now THIS is an alien au done right and different and basically sum it up with one sentence its "alien!teez doing sexual experiments" (from @/morethingsfandom). like its just so good and the SMUT! THE SMUT IS WHY WE ARE HERE PEOPLE!! THIS IS WHAT SCI-FI SMUT IS ABOUT!!! like this is honestly pure pwp and a nice switch up if maybe twilight academy isn't your thing.

see? topaz does everything!

dragon oracle ( here ) ( rated : mature )

dragon!ateez x dragon!f!reader ( based off of my own dragon au )

THIS!! in my opinion is one of topaz's best works (i may be biased lol) and def my favorite from all time. topaz took my au and did her own spin on it and made it her own. she cared about the source material, asked questions, let me ramble, and then boom! a masterpiece was made. if you like my dragon au, then i highly, HIGHLY recommend you read this. and if you've already read... then read it again.

i wish it was me ( here ) ( rated : 18+ )

water bender!san x avatar!hongjoong x water bender!f!reader x water tribe warrior!yunho ( implied ot8 )

again another fic that is based off of mine but literally made it her own because topaz is just that talented. a "what-if" au for my alta series where mc is a water bender and with san and yunho. absolutely amazing and does so well with writing all the characters and their dynamics. a def read if you love atla!

sweet sorrow of evil ( master list ) ( rated : mature )

ateez x evil queen!f!reader ( members have different roles within the story )

this is a collab story between topaz and me and i couldn't make this post and NOT include this series that we are working on together. this really just shows what two authors can make when they come together. we co-wrote the prologue and are currently writing the first chapter. this world is our baby and i love and it has the both of us in a chokehold, i'm so proud of the world me and here built and i want everyone to see it.

and honestly, that's just the tip of the iceberg cause topaz has SO MANY more but these are just the ones that i always think about. like, i really suggest you all check out topaz's works. i have more of her fics on my fic rec blog (@comicsan) so if you want to see more of her and other fics that i have enjoyed then i would check that blog out.

please go show my bestie support, it would mean the world to me!

thank you 🩷

#ʚ・◞🍥 // smalls talks.#appreciation post #ateez x reader #ateez blurbs #ateez imagines #poly ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez smut #ateez reactions #ateez fanfic #ateez fic recs #ʚ・◞🍥 // moots.

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stillenha · 4 months

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new years kiss series: heeseung

heeseung x you; friends to lovers au, fluff

summary: you and heeseung are designated drivers for your friend groups at a new years eve party and you can’t tell if he was more drunk (in love) than you words: 2.6k warning: alcohol consumption a/n: writing a nye kiss series to start this new enha writing blog! a masterlist will be made soon once i post the other stories of this series. hope you all enjoy reading my fics! happy new year! ♡♡♡

The night was getting long. There was nearly an hour left before the new year and you finally found yourself settling down by the table counter in the kitchen after greeting other friends and joining groups for food and some chit chat time. You felt relieved that you went past the loud karaoke set that has been blasting all night since you arrived at the party.

Your cup of fruit punch was set on the table in front of you, along with your phone. You peeked out at the window of the porch and saw some people lighting up fire cracker sticks. You would join them but it’s too cold out and you didn’t have the energy to do more tonight. All you could do was sigh. You were exhausted and Heeseung noticed. He just got off from a pool game in a different room when he saw you there.

You noticed a mistletoe up on the hall and wondered why it wasn’t put down yet before you even realized he walked through it.

“So who are you trying to kiss tonight?”

“What?” Your eyes widened at the question when Heeseung walked up with a cup of fruit juice in his hand and sat next to you.

Heeseung, who you knew since high school, was wearing all black. It was his style and he had a leather jacket on, which didn’t really match winter. This was typical: he’s very different from others in a way that you kind of find him attractive at times. You wouldn’t call it a crush after all of these years. He’s just… really nice to be around with.

When he saw that you were still staring at him with a shocked look, he looked at the mistletoe then back at you, and nudged his head at the decoration. You came to your senses and shook your head. “I just can’t believe they still have a mistletoe up here.”

“It’s Jake.” Heeseung tilted his head, hissing a bit. “I think he’s still trying to kiss his crush.”

“Christmas is over though.”

“His spirit is still up for it, for the new year at least.” Heeseung chuckled, noticing how some red decorations were still up in his house. He took a drink from his cup before setting it down. You laughed quietly along, then he asked, “I’m not really into new year kisses, unless the person I’m with feels the same as me.”

“Sorry to break it to you but I may not be interested.” Though it would be nice to have someone to kiss, and it would have to be the same feeling as his.

“It’s all good.” He grinned. “You seemed so busy earlier. Now, you’ve settled down?”

“Finally, actually.” You had the biggest sigh ever and he followed your breath to the cup in front of you.

“Oh, and you’re drinking fruit punch too?”

“Yeah,” You chuckled at how excited he sounded. “I’m a DD tonight.”

“Same.” Heeseung showed you his cup, then his lips twisted to the side uneasily. “Why are we so bad luck?”

“You’re right.” There went another sigh. “When I think about the year, only the bad days come to my mind.”

“You sound like you went through a lot.” Heeseung fiddled his fingers at his cup, and turned to you.

He could feel how long you’ve thought about the year all night. You were everywhere, and he meant literally. Every spot he was, you were there, and Jake’s house was like a big mansion. It seemed like you just wanted to get the day over with, and that was probably how your year went.

“How do you feel now?” Heeseung asked genuinely.

“Lifeless, but there’s an urge of fun trying to come out of me?” It felt like a confession, but you truly wanted to feel something and just didn’t know what to do for that to happen.

“There’s some hope.” He nodded, whispering to himself. He noticed the confused look on your face and he grinned. “What I mean is, today can be a good day. You just have to remember that you get to choose whether it is or not.”

You softly laughed, not because of how true his words were but the way his hand moved when he was making his point.

“That is true.” Your smile died down and you sighed. “I wish I realized that sooner. It just seems easier said than done.”

“Then, can I ask you what you want to do right now?” Heeseung suggested. He leaned onto the countertop and rested his head onto his fist. His blinks were slow, eyes stuck on you under that smile, so sweetly waiting. It felt like he was doing that the whole night, trying to listen to you.

“I honestly want a drink, but I can’t. I want to be responsible.” You looked away, finding your friends having the best night with their lovers. You wondered why you even said yes to being their designated driver for tonight when you should be having fun too. Somehow, you couldn’t feel the joy to get up and join them. It could be this conversation you’re having with Heeseung but you also didn’t want to end it because you felt seen in his presence. He’s listening to you and you didn’t want him to stop.

“You don’t have to be responsible.” Heeseung’s voice teased and you almost glared at him, then he continued. “I can be responsible for you.”

“Be responsible for me?”

He nodded once, then he turned to you. “The choices you make tonight.”

“How are my choices your responsibility?” You asked softly, hoping that you didn’t sound mad or crazy.

Heeseung pointed his chin to your phone that vibrated a second ago on the table. “It looks like your friends don't need a DD anymore.”

Your face burned up in joy as something ignited from inside of you. Your shocking face made him grin widely. You shook your head, still in denial that what you read from their texts were true. “No, no. I probably shouldn’t.”

“I said I can be responsible for you tonight.”

“What about your friends? Don’t they need you too? I just think it’ll be a hassle to drive so many people-”

Your words got cut when Heeseung called out your name, a tiny laugh followed shortly. He sounded desperately tired of your complaints, but also as if he was teasing you again.

“I promise you they won’t need me. They will leave with other friends later or end up sleeping here tonight. It happens every year.”

“Really?” You’re not a party goer to confirm but you couldn’t believe him just yet. He nodded once, then you continued. “That means you’ve been to plenty of new year parties.”

Perhaps, since you met him. You didn’t want to assume, and it hit you that he may have kissed plenty of people too. You could be slapping yourself for thinking that, but instead, you found yourself blushing.

“Yeah, but I don’t drink when it comes to big parties like these. Many friends can be irresponsible. I’d rather look out for them than get myself in some kind of trouble that I might regret.” Heeseung grabbed his fruit punch cup and took a drink before he cheered it at you. “Do you trust me now?”

“I’ll go get a beer.”

Heeseung grinned, as you stepped away. In a way, he felt proud that you’re listening to yourself but little did he know, you were willing to drink just a little so you could stay sober for him. For a second, you thought how peer pressuring that was, but then again, you wanted to drink too. A beer won’t do much to you. As you grabbed a can from the fridge, you peeked at his back. You had no idea what he’s really up to but there’s definitely something on his mind.

“What the heck?” Your voice jotted his head to you when you sat back down on the seat next to him. You set your drink on the table and leaned your head close to his hand to take a better look. “You made that just now?”

“Yeah.” Heeseung closed his fingers to tighten the napkin ring he made on his index finger. It had a butterfly at the top of it. His smile seemed to never leave the night as he adored how awed you were. “Do you want it?”

Without giving you a chance to answer, he took off the ring, held your hand up and slipped it through your finger.

“It’s so cute, wow. You’re… you’re a wizard.” You complimented before you opened the can of beer. You took a drink of it in two big gulps to wash your burning cheeks away.

“No one has ever called me that.” Heeseung laughed. You couldn’t tell if he liked it or if he was making fun of it. You just couldn’t help to explain.

“I really mean it. You don’t see people going to parties and making tangible stuff like this. They just drink, dance, and be loud.” You were still awed at the artistry work he did that was now wrapped at your finger. “I want to learn how to make this.”

Heeseung was relieved. You were listening to yourself and didn’t shy away from what you wanted to do. “I can teach you.”

In that moment, you met his eyes and the world seemed to stop around you. Heeseung began to lean in. Slowly, you followed his move. You didn’t keep track of the time or realize how close midnight was going to hit.

All of a sudden, you both heard a shout of his name from the microphone where a few of his friends were karaoking from. You both moved back quickly and your eyes followed that loud voice.

“Where is Heeseung? Where is he- OH THERE HE IS!” His friend pointed at him then waved his hand for him to come. “Dude, this is your song! You have to sing this! Come on!!! It’s Mistletoe!!!”

Heeseung shook his head as his friends laughed loudly through the room. You could almost tell this song seemed to be an inside joke within his friend group. You’d probably ask about it later because he looked so embarrassed right now. He got up from his seat and walked backward slowly, then he waved a hand at you with a shy grin. “I’ll be right back.”

You nodded and watched him dash to his friends. They cheered for him as one of them played the song and the other handed him the microphone.

As you watched him sing, you couldn’t tell if he was drunk or not. He seemed to blend in with his friends, and it looked so funny that you couldn’t stop smiling. Heeseung kept looking over to you, as if he was singing for you. With just that song, you felt like Christmas was still here.

By watching him and knowing he’s in your presence, your face was clouded by something you didn’t recognize. Whatever that may be, you found yourself a bit calm from his smile, a bit unguarded from the way he talked, and a bit in love from that closeness earlier. You wouldn’t allow yourself to hold back anything else now because his words seemed to always be right.

You applauded as the whole room cheered. One of his friends was announcing how soon the new year was going to be. Heeseung made his way back to you, just like his words. Your shy smiles mirrored each other. He didn’t sit back down on his seat because you stood up. A hand of yours hid in the pocket of your pants and the other, the one with the butterfly ring, held onto the counter as if you’re leaning onto it.

“I always forget how good you are at singing.” You complimented again. Why is he so good at everything?

“Thanks.” His shy smile was still there when he looked down at his feet.

Your eyes met again, somehow deeper than before. As your lips calmed, you wanted to take the initiative and follow your heart once again.

“Say, what are you doing tomorrow?” You asked.

Heeseung slightly tilted his head but his grin peeked out. “Why?”

“I don’t have anyone to spend the new year with. I hope it will be you.” It was almost as if you were whispering to him when you confessed. Your words were slow and the silence between you both moved the same length. His chuckling nod said it all.

“I would like it to be with you, too.” He said.

Your sweet gazes were everlasting. You didn’t want this moment to end. How perfect it would be, you both heard a friend of his counting down to the new year before everyone else followed. Heeseung hadn’t left your eyes and he moved in close enough that you would feel the heat from this chest.

“I know I said I don’t do new year kisses, but I want to kiss you right now.” He confessed, almost hesitating.

“I think we feel the same way.” You played from his words earlier and he was amused. “Can I kiss you too?”

“Since you asked so nicely… Yes.” He was teasing again. It made you laugh before he held an arm behind you and your ring-fingered hand gripped at the front zipper of his jacket. You felt breathless against his body and it’s contradicting how hot you were feeling when chills ran down your back. Heeseung’s nose could almost touch yours when he greeted you, “Happy new year.”

It felt silly to say it before it actually hits midnight and you almost laughed at the thought of it. The countdown was getting louder and your lips beamed. “Happy new year, Heeseung.”

His smile turned into a sweet grin. You could feel his beating heart against your chest when your lips touched. His lips were warm, and they parted so he could give another smooch against yours. That kind of touch ignited sparks from your stomach. You lips brushed along with his and the venomous scent of his cologne made you dizzy. His hand cupped between your ear as he deepened the kiss and gripped your back tighter. You felt his hot breath tickling your cheek, fingers pulling him closer at the collar of his jacket. No one had ever kissed you like this before. He did more than you would, and you wished he wouldn’t stop, so your lips parted and kissed him a bit harder back, just like how he taught you earlier.

The sudden loud cheers around you woke you up before you both pulled away, noses still close together. Your breaths were deeply soft and quiet. You both remained standing, arms still at each other. For a moment, Heeseung felt astonished by the things you were learning from him. It was worth opening his eyes to when he noticed your flushed cheeks. You both shared soft laughs before letting each other go, except your hand. He wanted to hold them all night if possible.

As you both sat back down on your ‘designated’ seats, you had one thing on your mind: you should be doing this every year. Not the kiss because you couldn’t handle yourself, but the thought talk…

Just kidding, maybe both.

#enhypen imagines #enhypen #enhypen scenarios #heeseung #heeseung imagines #enha imagines #heeseung x reader #friends to lovers #fluff #kpop imagines #series #series: nye kiss

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fioiswriting · 3 months

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The sea and the fire

“Fire and water looked so lovely together. It was a pity they destroyed each other by nature.” - R.F Kuang

Rating : will be explicit 18+ later, MDNI Pairing : Aemond x Velaryon/Strong!niece!Reader, Cregan Stark x Reader later TW : mention of blood, mention of murder. TW will be added as the story progresses. Words count : 4361 AN : Hello everyone! I'm back from the deads hehe. Sorry, I've been busy with a lot of things lately, I've had a couple of exams and I'm also in the process of writing my (second) master's thesis. Sooo anyway, I've written the first chapter of my new fanfic. Yes, it is YET ANOTHER story that involves niece!reader x Aemond and it is adapted from an RP with my girlfriend. If you're tired of this trope, if you're uncomfortable with this dynamic, I suggest you find another fanfic (there are plenty of masterpieces on tumblr anyway!! 💕). It's been on my mind for a long time, and I finally found the time to finish this first chapter. I don't know yet how many chapters there will be or how often I'll post, but I hope you like it! 💕 As always, be nice, I know there are probably some inconsistencies, but we're here to have fun, right? (BTW, I've been bingewatching Vikings and I know the fandom is kinda dead, but I want to write some x readers now)

Also, English is not my first (nor second) language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes!!

Thank you for reading!!

Chapter 1 : Street of Silk

War of heart - Ruelle 🎶

The streets of King's Landing had the peculiar quality of being both enticing and repelling; like a unique, curious spectacle that you discovered with every hesitant step you took. The smell of fresh fish mingled with that of fire and sewers, tickling your nose with unfamiliar smells. It was new to you, these smells, these sounds too; the hammering of the blacksmith's tools on the metal, the shouts of the merchants, the rolling of the cartwheels on the cobblestones of the winding streets. It was different from what you were used to; the steady rocking of the waves, the calm of the rain, the ups and downs of the tides. The only turbulence in your daily life were the storms you were so fond of, and the thunder, the lightning, the wind that shook the stones and lifted the waves had an untameable yet terribly soothing aspect.

Unlike King's Landing.

If it wasn't the natural elements that threatened to unleash their wrath here in King's Landing, it was the unpredictability of the people in the streets, the danger lurking around every corner, the risk of disappearing forever into the shadows of a forgotten alley.

Apart from the hustle and bustle of the forbidden streets you were discovering for the first time after so many years - and the adrenaline rush of breaking the restriction on venturing there - King's Landing was, objectively speaking, a deadly bore.

But it was still less boring than going round in circles in the castle.

You knew it was the dream of every lady in the Seven Kingdoms to live within the walls of the Red Keep, for it had been yours for a long time. Back when you lived in your childhood bedroom - the one on the second floor - you had no trouble imagining yourself spending your life in the gardens of the Red Keep, with your husband, enjoying the strawberry cakes and the books in the great library.

After all, you and Aemond were inseparable.

But in the meantime, fate had decided otherwise, and the mild climate of King's Landing, where you were born, where you celebrated your first words and your first steps, had been replaced by the vagaries of Dragonstone's weather. It was the sea, the storm and the rain that raised you, and it was with your feet in the water, on the shingle, that you grew up.

Living in King's Landing now was different from anything you'd ever imagined before.

King's Landing tasted bland. Boring.

Your mother had promised that the stay would be temporary, a few weeks at most, just to settle some business with Alicent and Viserys - your grandfather. The aim was to find a way to keep the peace between your families, but you weren't an idiot. You knew that the rift between your families was growing wider and wider.

And that one of the only ways to prevent a total, irreparable rupture was a promise of marriage.

Then again, wasn't it your duty to be sold into marriage, to strengthen the bonds, to carry the family's shaky balance on your shoulders?

You already missed Dragonstone. You missed the sea. You missed walking on cold water.

King's Landing was like a golden prison you couldn't leave because everything around it was too dangerous.

And you were bored. You had been reading. You had been embroidering. You had wandered far and wide through the gardens. You'd listened kindly and attentively to Helaena talk about her insects, and you'd spent several afternoons sharing court gossip with Baela and Rhaena.

You spent much of your time avoiding your uncle. Or watching him from afar.

For he had changed terribly; for better or worse, you weren't sure. You only kept the memories of your shared childhood, somewhere in your heart, like a buried secret, like a triple-locked treasure you'd sworn never to open again.

The memories were painful. They created a lump in your throat, they kept you awake at night, they made your tears flow.

And that was why you locked them away and threw away the key that kept them locked.

You decided you weren't that child anymore - you stopped being that child when you went your separate ways, when you went back to Dragonstone and he stayed here. Now he wasn't the little boy you left either: he had become this cold, tall, ruthless young man. He had that cunning little smile, that air of self-assurance he wore with his head held high and his chin up.

Boredom drove you to follow Aegon into the city. He suggested it and suddenly all sense of reason left your body. Weren't you the most reasonable of your siblings, the most prudent, the most intelligent? An inexplicable feeling had urged you to accept, like two hands behind your back pushing you towards him, like a voice in your head encouraging you to abandon your model daughter's appearance: the call of transgression. Curiosity. The desire to be bold. The danger. For once you were making a decision, your own decision, without your parents or brothers knowing. You were the master of your actions, and in a way, it was an act of rebellion that gave you a feeling of freedom, that awakened a sense of excitement in you.

Ser Erryk protested, of course, when he realised your little ploy, but you had already vanished before he could stop you. You laughed as you followed Aegon, his mischievous smile at the corner of his lips as he led you through the secret passage that allowed you to sneak out of the castle, your hand in the crook of his elbow so as not to lose you.

And everything went well. You enjoyed your newfound freedom with a mixture of curiosity and fear, your body pressed against your uncle's, the hood pulled down over your forehead. You had the advantage of dark hair - the opposite of the Targaryens' emblematic features. It attracted less attention, you knew it. But your curious gaze, your round eyes that discovered the ordinary life of the lowborn must have intrigued the most observant ones, for Aegon nudged you in the ribs when he caught you looking a little too intently at the work of a craftsman.

"You make a poor peasant," he whispered in your ear. "Well... You're obviously too pretty to be a peasant, that's for sure. But try to be more discreet." He paused. "Those men are looking at you like hungry dogs" he lowered his voice. You rolled your eyes and patted him on the shoulder.

To tell the truth, you weren't comfortable with all those men giving you lecherous looks, but Aegon's presence was reassuring.

He showed you the shortcuts he knew, the secrets, the curiosities of the city, and he talked to you. You wondered if he, too, had changed. You wondered if he'd gone from that stupid, mocking, annoying child to a secretly vulnerable, secretly lonely young adult. You knew about his bad habits; alcohol and sex, but this secret escapade showed you a side of him you didn't know. When had he become nice?

"Wait for me," he said as you looked around. The streets had changed, they had become busier, and suddenly you realised that you were frightened. "I'll be quick. Don't move and keep this on your head."

You wanted to protest, to hold him back, but your uncle had already slipped away.

You were all alone in the Silk of Street.

Your heartbeat quickened. You weren't sure you'd find your way back, and Aegon had ordered you to stay there, not to move, not to talk to anyone. Fuck.

Fuck.

Had he done it on purpose? Was it a plan he'd been hatching all along, a bad joke he'd decided to play on his niece, on Rhaenyra's only daughter? Was he still the mean boy who bullied his little brother? Or did he actually have a real reason for leaving you there, all alone, in the street where brothels piled up and nobles went to satisfy their needs?

You were angry at yourself for trusting him. You blamed yourself for being so naive. You couldn't believe he'd really set a trap for you, not after the complicity you'd shared just before.

Or maybe he was just being Aegon; irresponsible and immature, oblivious to danger, and so stupid as to think that waiting for him here was a good idea.

You sighed. Tears tickled the corners of your eyes with fear, but you tried to chase them away, to swallow them down, to calm your racing heart. The last thing you needed was to draw attention to yourself.

But there were these men all around you, looking at you as if they were ready to pounce. Was this how you would end up, abducted, and sold into a cheap brothel? Murdered after serving the needs of a few old men? You shuddered at the thought.

The voices around you mingled with the tumult, blurred images drawing unidentified shapes before your eyes, and you took a deep breath to try and calm yourself, rubbing your sweaty palms against the fabric of your cloak.

"So? What do you say, girl?"

A hand on your waist.

You weren't sure you understood what the man in front of you was saying. The words were bouncing around in your head without you being able to make them out, but his hungry smile was enough to reveal their nature. You froze. He was joined by another man, and you took a step back, then a second. It was as if your body refused to obey you, as if your brain stopped working, and you hated yourself for it.

You hated yourself for being so weak.

You had a dragon. You were a Targaryen. So why were you trembling? Why couldn't you gather your courage and run, gather your courage and plunge your dagger into someone's chest, fight and scream?

One of them, the older-looking one, closed his hand around your wrist.

"Let me go!" You screamed, but the words caught in your throat, escaping your lips like a distorted cry. "Go away!"

Simple commands that couldn't get through the space between your lips with the authority you wanted.

You closed your eyes, trying to resist.

Fuck. You were going to die. You were going to be raped and then you were going to die, or be sold into sex work, or -

Something splashed in your face and suddenly you felt free.

"Didn't you hear her? She said let me go," a hoarse voice growled.

Your blood ran cold.

You knew exactly who it was.

That calm but sharp tone belonged to only one person: Aemond Targaryen.

How had he found you? Why had he found you? You opened your eyes instantly, your cheeks still red with shame. You knew you'd been irresponsible, and that wasn't in your nature at all, quite the opposite. But the fact that Aemond had caught you in such a weak position bothered and annoyed you.

It was supposed to be your secret, your act of rebellious transgression, your forbidden escapade with Aegon. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

It wasn't supposed to be Aemond rescuing you.

You opened your eyes. Facing you, the older man was kneeling on the pavement. He was clutching at his right side, blood trickling through his fingers to the ground. He was suffocating, blood pouring from his lips, but Aemond wiped the blade of his sword with a satisfied smile.

The crowd had gathered to watch what was happening, a mixture of fear and curiosity on their faces, but Aemond was already hastening to chase them away in a tone that left no room for discussion:

"There's nothing to see," he thundered. "Go away. All of you. Or I'll serve you as food for Vhagar."

The crowd dispersed, frightened; women grabbing their children by the shoulders to force them to move, barefoot beggars hurrying to gather their bowl and few coins to find another place, prostitutes closing the curtains with an irritated sigh, old men almost stumbling, and soon the street was deserted.

Despite the hood that covered his face, you could see the flat line of his grin and the cold, accusing look with which he stared at you. He was furious.

Perhaps he expected you to thank him, for Aemond approached you without a word. You looked up at him, your cheeks still red with shame. You were too proud to thank him.

And you were still too angry, too.

Angry at his silence all these years, angry that he'd let you down when you'd stood up for him, angry at the man he'd become.

"Are you coming or not?" he asked in his icy voice, his hand already closing around your wrist to force you forward, but you didn't move.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, frowning. You'd suddenly regained your repartee.

You knew you had to calm things down, thank him and follow him in silence. Accept the humiliation and beg for his silence. You knew you were making things more difficult than they already were, but that was Aemond. And once again, in front of Aemond, you had a pride to uphold.

"What am I doing here?" he repeated, his voice sharp. He froze, his dark eyes glaring at you as if you'd just insulted him. Suddenly you felt so small in front of him. "I should be asking you that question," he added dryly, obviously trying to keep the tone of his voice under control. "You're even more stupid than I thought."

The sentence had the effect of a slap in the face, and you felt your cheeks burning. Like a little girl caught red-handed, you lowered your head. What had been going through your mind? Why had you decided to follow Aegon in the first place?

Aemond lifted you with ease and slung you over his shoulder like a sack of flour, as if he wanted to be sure you would follow him, as if he feared you would escape again, as if he didn't trust you.

And in the end, perhaps he was right.

As he carried you to the Red Keep, your fists pounded on his back. Small blows that he ignored, painless on the width that was his back.

He seemed to ignore you, perhaps more annoyed that you wouldn't stay still than anything else. But you didn't need him to play the perfect knight, not when he'd been ignoring you all this time. Not when he'd barely spoken to you on your return to King's Landing. Not when he drew a line under your childhood as if nothing had happened.

Not when he kept harassing your brothers.

It irritated you. He played the role of the ideal husband-to-be, impassive and calm; as if he'd always been the knight in shining armour he never was.

"You could at least let me go," you sighed, seeing that nothing seemed to disturb your uncle's icy calm. "I know how to walk. "

He had a moment's hesitation where he stopped, and then you felt him readjust your position with a flick of his shoulder. You had no trouble imagining the corners of his lips curling upwards, painting his face with his usual insolent grin, you had no trouble imagining him chuckling at your condition.

"Stop it, you are only making it harder for us," he growled in an authoritative voice. "And if you are not happy, I can always leave you here." He paused. "I did not know you dreamed of working in a brothel."

The comment was enough to send another wave of heat up your cheeks, colouring them red, but you tried as best you could to keep your composure, as if not to betray your embarrassment in front of the prince.

You refused to show him that his remark had affected you.

You just gritted your teeth and sighed.

The position was becoming uncomfortable: Aemond's bony shoulder was digging into your stomach and your legs were going numb, as if thousands of little ants were crawling all over them.

You hoped no one would see you when you got back to the castle. Your excursion into the city was supposed to be discreet; you weren't supposed to come back with a blood-stained tunic, nor hanging over your one-eyed uncle's shoulders.

If Aemond knew anything about the impending official announcement of your betrothal, he said nothing, walking ahead of him as if you were as light as a sack of grain.

"Qybor." You whispered again, this time using High Valyrian. Uncle. You hoped the nickname would make him react. "Qybor," you repeated a little louder. "I can walk by myself now."

If the nickname had any effect on him, Aemond didn't show it. But you had no trouble imagining the stupefaction you would have read on his face had you been face to face with him. You were proud of your skills in High Valyrian: you learned faster than Jace, faster than Luke, but then again, you'd always loved books and history, languages and learning. Aemond would probably remember that, it was what brought you together as a child in the first place.

You could see the tall towers of the Red Keep in front of you, their red bricks standing out against the blue sky. From a distance, you could understand the fascination of the people. There was something great, something sumptuous about the sight of this building, and you understood why it had taken three reigns to build it.

But despite your pleas, Aemond had not moved an eye. You knew that if your uncle hadn't intervened, you would probably have ended up in a dark alley, or in a filthy brothel, used as a plaything by a bunch of drunken lords, or in the dirty hands of ill-intentioned men. The thought made a lump grow in your throat that you found hard to swallow.

You were definitely naive and stupid for agreeing to follow Aegon like that.

Still, you hadn't bothered to thank Aemond.

You had too much pride to thank him, a flaw you'd inherited from your family.

You were stubborn, never satisfied, and always had something to say.

But Aemond, it seemed, had as much - if not more - pride than you.

Your engagement promised to be surprising.

"I am serious, Aemond," you added. It felt strange to call him by his first name when you hadn't addressed him that way for years. "I am a..." strong woman, you wanted to reply, but you chose another word instead, not wanting to give him the occasion to mock you: "independent woman".

As you approached the entrance - you prayed Aemond would choose one of the secret passages, you couldn't bear the humiliation of being carried off like a piece of merchandise by your presumed future husband - he stopped and set you down. His single eye searched your face, as if looking for the slightest trace of gratitude, but he knew he wouldn't find any; he knew it would have been too easy, and he knew it wouldn't have been you.

You weren't easy.

Pulling your arm to make you walk faster, Aemond forced you to follow him, around the ramparts, glancing around to make sure no one was following you. He pulled a little harder. "Mandianna," he began, his husky voice vibrating, the tone sending a wave of heat through your lower belly.

There was something incredibly pleasing about hearing the intonations of High Valyrian roll off your uncle's tongue.

But that was Aemond. And it was out of the question for you to feel anything for Aemond.

Around the bend in the ramparts, out of sight, he slammed you against the wall, both hands pressed firmly against your shoulders to prevent you from fleeing. "What exactly did you think would happen when you went to Silk Street, tell me?"

You knew what he was thinking. That you were irresponsible. That your actions were unworthy of someone of your station, and even more so if you were to be his future betrothed. That he wondered if your time on Dragonstone had made you reckless and wild, that he wondered if he might need to teach you some manners before he could marry you.

His judging gaze swept you from head to toe. As if to say that though your father's legitimacy was often questioned, Aemond knew that you were indeed Rhaenyra's daughter.

You avoided his gaze, your eyes fixed on a point beside his face. You wanted to say something witty, but the young prince had robbed you of any chance of intelligent thought, and you hated this feeling.

"I didn't think you'd come looking for me, Qybor," you replied with a grin as you looked up at him. "I thought you were a busy man."

You felt his fingers tighten on your shoulders, his nails digging into the fabric of your cloak and tunic underneath. Your behaviour was childish, like a petulant brat, but secretly you enjoyed seeing Aemond lose his temper. You liked to push him to his limits. You liked to see the subtle signs of his irritation; the moment when he clenched his jaw, when he straightened his neck, when his breathing quickened.

If you were to marry him, then you would be poison, ready to corrupt his soul.

He grabbed the collar of your linen tunic and pushed you a little harder against the wall. "I thought you were smarter than to follow my brother into the city." His body rigid against yours kept you pinned to the wall.

The expression on his face betrayed his inner conflict: part of him thinking that he shouldn't care about his niece's actions, about you. Part of him reminding that you were soon to be betrothed.

And you knew that the thought of other men putting their hands on you, on his bride's body was lighting a fire in the pit of his stomach.

Jealousy.

Possessiveness.

Aemond was a man driven by duty. On this level, you were the same; the model son and model daughter of your respective families, charged with performing your duties to prevent the gulf that separated your families from widening.

Both the eternal seconds of your families.

Both the pride of your mothers.

Suddenly he released you. His hand found your wrist again and he pulled you through the corridors of the castle. Had anyone caught you now, your hood pulled down over your forehead, your clothes hiding your appearance, they would probably have frowned and wondered if Aemond had suddenly decided to follow in his brother's footsteps, his taste for debauchery, by bringing a common girl or a cheap prostitute into his chamber.

For at that moment, you did not look like the daughter of royal blood that you were, not with your simple linen clothes, not with the thick cloak that covered your body, not with your hair tied up carelessly. You looked like a servant girl, a smallfolk girl, not like the Pearl of Dragonstone that you truly were.

Aemond's fingers burned around your wrist. You wondered if he felt it, too. If you were causing the same effect in him.

But he was impassive, always so difficult to read. He hid his feelings, buried them under a cold, mysterious shell, as if to protect himself.

He stopped in front of the door that led to your bedroom. Fortunately, the corridor was deserted. You didn't have the courage to face your parents' disappointed looks, you didn't have the courage to realise that you had betrayed their trust, even if, for a moment, you had forgotten your duty, you had forgotten the responsibilities that weighed on your shoulders, you had tasted a feeling of freedom, so new, so delicious. A foolish act of transgression.

But you were safe and sound, and that was the most important thing.

"You'd better get changed," Aemond suggested. "It would be better if my mother didn't see you like this."

He clenched his jaw. He looked concentrated, as if he wanted to add something, as if he wanted to reprimand you but had to force himself to remain silent. An instant of silence hung between you. The urge to ask him if he was going to report your little escapade burned on the tip of your tongue, but you thought better of it.

Aemond's single eye was riveted to you. Piercingly. Fierce.

For a brief moment, a very brief moment, your uncle's ragged breathing caressed your face and your heart raced.

He was so close.

"Why? Don't you like to see me dressed like a common girl, my prince?" you asked, teasingly. Like a common girl you could bend over in some dark and gloomy street, you thought. But Aemond was not Aegon, and you felt him hesitate, as if the words had taken him by surprise. His hand, about to find your jaw and make you swallow your insolence, had stopped halfway.

You smirk. Aemond had nothing to worry about. For the official announcement of your betrothal, you had planned to wear a dress that would honour your Velaryon origins.

"Rest assured, qybor," you continued, taking a step in his direction.

Poison in his soul, you repeated in your head. That's what you'd be to your uncle. You took the time observe him, as if studying him, as if imagining the effect the words you were about to say would have on your uncle. Your eyes sparkled with mischief, and perhaps with something else. "Your betrothed is still intact for her wedding night," you finally whispered in his ear.

He held his breath. You knew that you would break down, brick by brick, the barriers he'd spent years building around his heart.

You wanted him raw.

But before you turned on your heel to enter your chamber, you summoned all the courage you had left in your body and stood on tiptoe to plant a kiss on the prince's jaw.

"Thank you for coming to my rescue, my prince."

And then, you were gone.

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