#and effectively con us into forgetting his DoS nature

[merakiui]

madness of duke venomania, but it's azul. >:D women have started going missing in your village. no one knows what's happening. your lover (riddle) assures you that all will be well. he's here to keep you safe. you have nothing to fear.

and yet, in spite of that, you're the next lady to disappear.

azul, who has made a contract with a demon to make himself irresistible to all, is loved and revered in the manor in which he resides. hidden deep within the forest, it's a place no one knows of. women come, but they never go. it is here where he, who has never known the feeling, is loved. he's fancied at every hour. it's a marvelous thing. out of everyone in the harem, however, you're his favorite. his dearest darling. his sweet childhood friend. even when you mocked and ridiculed him, he thought you were the prettiest. you've since forgotten about him, having grown and matured into a wonderful lady. a lady who caught the eye of that red-haired royal tutor. but azul can forgive you and your forgetful nature. after all, he was a gross, ugly thing in his childhood—someone hardly memorable. of course you would forget him.

but now it's okay because he finally has you and all the affection he could ever want. you fall into bed with him, entangled sweetly in the sheets. you look at him like he hung the stars. you kiss him, embrace him, whisper all manner of saccharine things. you love him, so sickly enchanted that the thought of leaving him never crosses your mind. it can't. he won't allow it. you wear sheer, satin nightgowns for him and giggle when he trails his fingers up your arms to reach your shoulders, peeling the fabric off like he's unwrapping a gift. this sort of infatuation is silky-smooth, dubiously reciprocated, and yet with enough delusion it's real and raw.

riddle never gives up searching for you. he catches wind of rumors about a monster holed up in a mansion. could that be where you've gone? the locals whisper about it: a demon who can enchant and tempt even the most unwavering woman. riddle feels himself growing ill with every bit of information he learns. knowing what he must do, he dons a pretty dress, a wig, and some makeup. He hides a dagger within the frills of his gown, its blade glistening with a potent poison. he's determined. danger be damned; he'll find and save you.

azul embraces him like he does every woman, far too full of himself to realize the con. it's when he feels the sharp, stabbing pain in his abdomen that he draws away, his pompous façade failing. he looks on in horror, blood seeping through his clothes, as riddle tears the wig off to scowl at him. the vermillion-stained dagger is held tightly in his other hand.

oh. he was tricked.

azul collapses, his palms pressing against the wound in an effort to halt the bleeding. it's no use. the poison digs deep, a fatal foil. with the spell effectively broken the women, who were once so wrapped up in him—so ensorcelled—begin to flee. he watches them go, his expression twisted in pain. but nothing hurts more than when you step over him on the cold tiles, striding towards the door. azul reaches out for you with a blood-stained palm. he looks pitiful. weak. sad.

you turn to look at him. his eyes are wide and panicked, tears rolling down his cheeks in rivulets. he'll die alone here. you don't quite care.

with your hand sliding into riddle's, you scoff at him and turn away.

he begs you to wait, to come back, to listen to him. please... please don't leave him. don't go! he hasn't told you he loves you yet!

[bonnieisaway]

WHICH ONE OF YOU WAS IT THAT - I KNOW IT WAS ONE OF MY MUTUALS - WE HAD A REALLY LONG CONVERSATION ABOUT HOW SEVEN ALWAYS WENT STRAIGHT FOR THE KILL IN THE PAST, AND WE GOT ON THE TOPIC OF THE GIRL IN WHITE AND YOU SAID THAT YOU THOUGHT SHE DIDN'T MEAN FOR SEVEN TO DIE BECAUSE SHE DIDN'T GO THROUGH THE HEART NOTICBLY MORE THROUGH HIS CHEST/STOMACH AND I SAID I WASN'T SURE IF WE COULD REALLY GO OFF OF THAT BECAUSE WE HADN'T KNOWN MUCH OF HER CHARACTER NOR WHY SHE DID IT BECAUSE I FEEL LIKE WE NEED TO SIT DOWN AND REDISCUSS THIS BECAUSE SEASON FOUR SPOILER THING UNDER CUT

I WENT FUCKING FERAL WHEN THIS WAS SAID because like obviously the question is when the hell did that poison get put in him because I feel like , Seven wouldn't have taken it himself? Like he wanted to move on and he was willing to fight all of Xuanwu for the girl in white but I think he would've known he had to do that face on and that poison would only, inevitably, put them in more danger?

And I can't think of another shadow killer or the leader that would want this- EVERYONE wanted him dead, Green Phoenix presumably didn't care because evidently the shadow killers DIDN'T go after him last time or were afraid to, otherwise he would've used his plan earlier, the leader NEVER gets off his ass, and there would've been no point erasing his memories if he was wanted dead.

I feel like the logical conclusion here - at least I'm assuming between the moment he was stabbed and washed up nobody else saw him, and prior to the fight he hadn't seen anybody else who'd have done this nor discussed it - is that the girl in white had it on her blade, right? Like wasn't she also wanted dead? Seven was protecting her and that's the whole reason he was wanted dead, so killing him would've gotten her killed too and I feel like this shit is waaay too much to pull a sort of long-con to get him killed, but even if she WAS supposed to kill him as some sort of long hidden plan, maybe she might've loved him anyway and CHOSE this form of mercy? Because erasing his memories would effectively 'kill' him? Or was it that they both wanted this to end so badly but she chose the impulsive way out, getting herself killed and a merciful, forgetful end for Seven that had a fighting chance of letting him live on without her?

But also the symbolism when they show it confuses me.

So this eye was a new thing in season four and it ONLY ever really is shown around the leader of the shadow killers, when he's on his being-an-eldritch-horror shit, but my thing is WHAT purpose would he have to do that to Seven? Like yeah, he ordered him dead, but HOW would he even get that done and what reason would he have? Like, it was kind of presumed the leader had gone out on a limb and chosen SPECIFICALLY Seven for some unnamed reason, to a point that even Redtooth was fuckin annoyed about it (probably because to some degree Redtooth envied him but let's pack that away for another day) so I don't know WHY this eye is here

There's also a crow here which I would assume was ALSO for the leader's spybird if it wasn't for Blackbird's whip right next to it? But like, Blackbird doesn't seemingly have an unsettled score with Seven. He wanted him to die, yes, and he said "painfully at my hands," but that's like, how everyone dies to Blackbird. And their entire fight, there was nothing brought up about something in their past or between these two, everything was only about Blackbird's past and his tramua, which almost sounded like he felt like he needed to be this anti-hero killing Seven because of the order and would let Shimen take the reward.

There's also a really faint hand here? I don't know what else to attribute it to other than this hand:

back in season three, which this sequence was VERY much a long allegory about Seven's nature and that he's had a very, very short time to live the life he wanted and that he's basically being fucking dragged through life at this rate, though noticeably the hand here in season four has a red, glowy texture on it (aside from the rest of the texture near it) that's seeming to me either be blood or also another sort of imagery for the poison in him

but also there feels like there's a larger image here, too? It's really hard to make out because I can't really tell if it's just the shading , or a stylistic choice, but the bottom right is noticeably a different shade and has an outline and the inside has a wood-grain like texture? But I think also this might just be a sort of outline - given where it starts on Seven's shoulder - that's supposed to look like a gaseous, poison cloud coming from him. just AAAAAAAH oh my GOD there's so much to think about from this 20 seconds alone kill me

[ofbreathandflame-archive]

I think the best argument against "He didnt have a choice" ( i think this is why choice is rhysands favorite word 🥴) is you're right, he didn't. The AUTHOR did. Sjm had a choice and still she went for the worst and more illogical one. She still decides to put the women in her series under awful situations without further consequences. I really dislike phrases like "my characters wanted me to write them that way" or "my characters lead the story". Im always yes this is a romantic way to see the writing process but ill never forget this author who said "my characters do whatever the hell I want them to do".

hi anon!!!! (sorry this is a super old anon that i actually finished writing a while ago sorry nonny💙. can’t think of anything to say so im just posting old stuff in my drafts today 🫶🏾)

i agree! its a problem on multiple different levels. for one, sjm often relies on telling the audience what we should get out of a scene, instead of what allowing us to form our own takeaways. its a very hand-holding type of storytelling; in consequence, the 'evidence' being derived is often contradictory to actual events. like the story can argue that "change is slow," and thats why illyria and the con persist, but that statement is consistently proven to be incorrect.

lets look at how invalid the idea of 'change is slow is'

in one year - feyre is able to become high lady, effectively creating an entirely new governing system, in which, a high lord can give a person absolute power of the court (remember - what feyre and rhysand say is 'law'). there is no process, no objection, or any fear of reprimand. rhys doesn't even have to consult his second-in-command. not only that - but feyre is also allowed power over the court of nightmares, which politically, is supposedly an entirely different governing state. again - keir and devlon are not consulted about this.

it took six months to produce to first illyrian female warrior to complete the rite in history. in the span of six months - emerie completes the rite. thats more illyrian women than rhys, az, and cass's entire 300-400 year reign.

it takes feyre less than a month to completely cause an entire court to fall - yet regimes such as tam's father, beron, and amarantha somehow persisted as long as they despite them being canonically worse rulers. even - and i mean even - if tamlin was the worst leader to have ever walked this earth, it would still take more than three to four weeks. and factoring in that this is a population of immortal, canonically 'slow-to-change' individuals.......

like - how slow can the change actually be? how can the book possibly explain how such drastic changes happen from book to book but not in 400 years? how come there have been no illyrian women in the army or in the rite if cassian and rhys have earnestly been working with the females in illyria? even the few moments we see them at illyria, they still seem to be at a rudimentary level; there's no established female training areas, no veteran trainees, no consequences for breaking the law in regards to the females...there's nothing that suggests any actual measures have been taken.

that's just one example of 'canon' statements acting in contradiction the previously established pieces of information. more - its a consistent pattern of contradiction in regards to certain characters. its their natural characterization acting against the forced narrative voice.

and this makes it problem on mulitiple fronts.

and even more, off the point you made about the women in her stories - i think there needs to be a larger conversation had about the patterns of female violence in these books; specifically the role that female violence plays in establishing sexual tension and relationships in general. or...the amount of times the female protagonist has to undergo some extreme form of humiliation at the behest of future love interest; there's an utter lack of this with the men.

sjm is a very intentional author - these problems exist because of how intentional she is as a writer. i know exactly the function of each scene, exactly what emotion the she wants me to feel. this is not because these characters are written well, but because we are often just told it. feyre can 'express' disdain for rhysand'a actions, but she often undermines her own inner thoughts about the issue. feyre’s inner thoughts are often abuse apologist 101 and in retrospect it’s kind of painful the way she consistently makes excuses for rhys, even when it’s her well-being being threatened and undermined. and that’s honestly bc sjm’s narrative voice supersedes the natural characterization of her characters. sjm doesn’t know how to organically create conflict between characters she actually likes bc she doesn’t know how to write conflict. it’s a consistent pattern in her series and it’s why all the villains suck and all battles ultimately fall flat.

but the problem becomes a bit broader (i.e. this is a larger issue in publishing and literary crit). some of the arguments that i see often, and that i referenced in my last post are these:

"why read this this book if you don't like the characters?" "why continue to read the book if you don't like it?" "this is a book about fairy porn - why are you analyzing it." "i read for fun." (this is not a bad statement, but it becomes troublesome in the context i will explain)

the commonality between these statements is that they are avoidant. often, they are employed when people can't explain away the amounting problems in the series, so they avoid the conversation.

because for one, you should never (and I means NEVER) say that a piece of literature should not be analyzed. or that fantasy negates interrogation into harmful themes. that’s just anti intellectual nonsense. second, if we’re arguing about real world issues bc of the book; of if your argument is that tamlin is abusive bc he did abusive things, then you literally can’t make this argument. the whole point of moving from tam is bc he was…abusive. abuse is not a fantasy. regardless of what the author intends, if a character is abusive or does absuive things, we should be looking at that.

look…if you are defending rhys using the logic the book establishes please have it. but the moment you implicate real-world values into this story, you’ve got to see it to the end. the same goes for the series as a whole: the second maf decided to integrate a ‘domestic violence plot lines’ specifically referring to behaviors as ‘red flags’ it immediately kind of gave up the kind of distance the fantasy romance genre usually gives to such issues.

[braxiatel]

Goodtimeswithscar is a sexyman and I will prove it to you

If you are still on the fence I encourage you to look at the sexypedia - a wikipedia dedicated to tumblr sexymen - and checking out their tropes page. Scar meets 35/62 on a list where recent winner of the tumblr sexyman poll Cecil Palmer of WTNW fame only has 8 listed on his character page!

35!

Scar is Textbook, and if you need proof I have gone through all the tropes and explained why they apply to him!

VOTE SCAR!

4th Wall Blurring: This one is arguable due to the nature of the medium but I’ll include it

Animal Theming: See: animal hybrid headcanons and designs. Cat Scar, panda Scar, hyena Scar, avian Scar - they’re everywhere!

Angst: That cactus ring… magic mountain. need I say more? This boy has angst. 

Bait: *gestures at the shirtless skins*

Capitalist: she sells sea shells on the sea shore but the value of these shells will fall due to the laws of supply and demand no one wants to buy shells cause there’s loads on the sand step one you must create a sense of scarcity 

Chaoslord: HotGuy! [snipes you for no good reason]

Criminal: shells will sell much better if the people think they’re rare you see bear with me take as many shells as you can find and hide them on an island stockpile them high until they’re rarer than the price of diamond

Con Artist: step two gotta make the people think that they want them really fucking want them hit ‘em like Bronson influencers product placement if you haven’t got a shell then you’re just a fucking waste man

Dealmaker: three it’s monopoly invest inside some property start a corporation make a logo do it properly shells must sell that will be your new philosophy swallow all your morals they’re a poor man’s quality

Distinctive Voice: I do not need to make any arguments here. Have you heard him???

Quotable Catchphrase(s): well hello there, scarred for life, “a-ma-zing”, etc.

Distinctive Laugh: I think I autism stole Scar’s laughter (whoops) so I’m giving him this one too, but also that gigle is just very good and we all know it, right?

Dominating: from the trope description: “Characters who assert their power over others. Could be through manipulation, magic, smugness, or force of personality.” Yes. 

Duality: Convex did not put their whole entire vexussies into that possession storyline for us to forget about it. 

Egotistical: This one is arguable and a question of characterisation, but I think that we can all agree that on some levels, yes. 

Eldritch: From the trope description: “Since the typical sexyman is a tall mostly human looking pale twink, in a vast majority of the cases the eldritch is a heavy implication lying just under the surface.” Hello? Vex Scar?? 

Gay: See subsection: 

LGBTQ+ Coded: That cactus ring. Mumbo “eye candy” Jumbo. The season 7 mayoral race. Concorp. His jolly rancher arc. This man has so many boyfriends. 

Girlboss: listen I think a lot of characters who aren’t traditional girlbosses get called so, but with Scar I think it’s accurate okay. Did Scar utilize girl power effectively when he and Cub were blatant war profetiers during the season 6 civil war? yes. Absolutely. Girlboss. 

Glowing Neon: vex blue anyone?

Hot-headed: Don’t let his calm exterior fool you. Remember. Scar when someone steals his horse: *sets their whole entire house on fire*. 

Intelligence: yes but also see subsection

Smartdumb: Okay listen. Scar is Smart. Scar is very smart. And I specifically have to make sure you know I am talking character only here because cc!Scar seems to me to be a Very intelligent person with a wide field of knowledge. But uhm. c!Scar dies so much and so often in ways that are completely unavoidable. He does silly things without thinking of the consequences. I have seen enough people calling him a himbo (beloathed term) enough times that I do not need to argue this point. He is smart but also babygirl Why are you like this.

Johnlocked: “When two characters are shipped extensively by fans despite the pairing not necessarily being canon (or even present) in the original work.” it started out with a cactus ring how did it end up like this, it was only a cactus ring, it was only a cactus ring

Knifemurder: Hotguy! [snipes you a second time] 

Magnificent Bastard: This Is The Whole Point. Scar oozes charisma even when he is the villain and that’s why he is so beloved. He is smart, he is stylish, he is charming, even while he is killng you. This is the point. 

Marked Canon/Fanon Divergence: “Sexymen with a large gap between how they are in the original work (Canon) and how they are commonly portrayed in fanworks (Fanon)” see : the fake crystals vs Scar actually having magic, the abs being painted on vs shirtless Scar everywhere, etc.

Monster Features: vex scar vex scar vex scar

Nonhuman: like the vex thing is literally canon it’s not fanon those cons sure did vex 

Pale Twink: We could have done many things with this collection of blocks people, and yet my dash is full of shirtless twinks/twunks every day ending with a y. Curious. 

Perpetual Smiler: Okay listen this is partially the nature of the medium but also 1) that is a distinctive smile and 2) have you see the fanworks? 

Power: This man tried to sell fake magic crystals and we all just decided he can do magic. He was an elf once and now fae/elf Scar headcanons are everywhere. 

Scars: I- I’m not explaining myself here. yes??? 

Tall: I can think of one, maybe two portrayals of Scar that have made him short. 

Theme Song: four expand, expand, expand clear forest make land fresh blood on hands five why just shells why limit yourself she sells seashells sell oil as well six guns sell stocks sell diamonds sell rocks sell water to a fish sell the time to a clock seven press on the gas take your foot off the brakes then run to be the president of the united states eight big smile mate big wave that's great now the truth is overrated tell lies out the gate nine polarise the people controversy is the game it don't matter if they hate you if they all say your name ten the world is yours step out on a stage to a round of applause uou're a liar a cheat a devil a whore and you sell seashells on the seashore

Unkempt: so those rugged life series Scars, huh? 

Villain: Scar has been the villain several times and has a Long list of crimes to his name

Technically Antagonist: see 3rd life

Villain Protagonist: unreliable narrator Scar my beloved. I love how he just *does terrible things edited to make him look like he’s just a silly little guy having some harmless fun*

Well-Dressed: Hmmm I wonder why waggon/tycoon Scar routinely wins every Scar skin poll. Also he has enough outfits to include these sub categories too: 

Suitguy: “Characters who typically wear formalwear, specifically suits. Often includes waistcoats, top hats, bowties, and pinstripes. Other neckwear may also be worn.” Again. The tycoon skin really lives rent free in all out minds, huh?

Long Coat/Cape/Robe/Etc: bathrobe wizard Scar my beloved but also do you know how many thirst trap last life Scars I’ve seen?? 

White Twink Humanization: He is made out of blocks in canon. We did not need to make him like this and yet we did. 

White Hair: last life Scar beloved by many <3

VOTE SCAR!

[thesoulesscollection]

The Royal Product; The Candy Jewelry & Kinsley Siblings Facts

It has been a long while since I've posted anything for Honey and or anything else related to her products. I've decided to make this a post on its own since it contains some things of Choc as well 

Candy Jewelry 

Basic explanation; It's a concealment and or disguise spell contained within jewelry. Mostly comes in the form of necklaces but also in earrings, rings, and etc. 

Can be worn for long periods of time unless it is to be taken off or gets damaged then it won't work for the wearer. 

Though there's always going to be a catch and inevitable downside, one is the decline psychologically as people will slowly forget who they once were prior. Severe identity crisis and the new identity will reign havoc.

 ^ Another side effect, physically, is the growth of colorful (pastel) ‘candy’ rocks on the wearer's skin. Usually it starts at the area in question where the jewelry resides. At first the skin is sore, itchy then soon it will consume them until they're nothing but a jaded statue. 

This product and any other doesn't work effectively on the Kinsley Family as it would've for anyone else outside it. They're as close to immunity as one can get.

^ Although that hadn't stopped Choc in his younger years from being overly excessive in taking them. (Ie. Honey's first guinea pig) and having multiple times overdosed 

Honey Kinsley

Has severe anger issues. The type that will get physically violent such as throwing things and fighting. As well will get absolutely vile with the verbale insults, not caring if she crosses a line.

^ Her anger tends to be explosive yet done and over with as quickly as it had started where it leaves her tired afterwards 

^ Does her best to keep her wrath in check (and fails miserably) to remain the perfect lady. The only person who can calm her down is her brother. 

Growing up between the two siblings, she is the spoiled rotten golden child of her grandmother, Candy who had favored her. Whereas Choc was the black sheep that she taunted over his head. 

Both siblings have a natural sweet scent to them where Choc's is of rich chocolate and caramel, hers is sweet honey that has an underlying ting of bitter spice

Similar to her brother, she has light pink clouds surrounding her but way more prominent and thicker, heavier 

^ She can actually command it to her doing so she often lets it move her from one place to another. As well, she can lay and sit on them to rest (same with other people)

An impressive con-woman albeit very controlling, has many contracts (soul bonded) with people. Able to help alter life with her products as one knows it for people who ask for her help. 

More Facts About Choc 

Somehow he managed to get a hold of the teleporter and make it work for him. He does have a knack for it and he got it fixed on his own. 

^ Diligently reworked it with his sister and now is a literal part of him on his person. For example, to get a better control on it he does use a clip on to his tie or a watch to help better control it. 

Whenever he teleports, Choc leaves behind a light gold cloud with small white stars that foams within. It stings slightly for anyone who happens to walk through it and is on the warmer side

^ Now has a permanent sparkly cloud residue that surrounds him but it only takes a keen eye to notice. Choc is unnaturally warm to the touch or to be around due to this like a heater. 

Ends up in awkward situations more then not, either landing in odd places he didn't account for or in the process drags unsuspecting people along with him 

[obsoleteozymandias]

Hi there! I’d like to ask for a twst match up!

Basics:

Gender-Female, she/her/they

164 cm tall, Virgo but doesn’t act like one, INFP

+I pride myself on being a very dedicated person. If there’s a task delegated to me, I will work my hardest to see it through, even if the end results aren’t perfect. I’m not a leader but still take my responsibilities seriously because I fear disappointment and feel like I always have to prove my worth.

+I’m slow to trust, but generally a good judge of character. I’m the person you turn to if you need to vent or complain about something. Even though I don’t have many friends, the few that I do have I am very attached to. I’m mostly a loner though, perfectly happy this way, and am introverted but not to the point of a hermit.

+Adaptable: I don’t complain much about change, and usually work well with people of different personalities and backgrounds. I go with the flow most of the time.

-I’m a very irrational person. I try, but conventional logic just isn’t my strong point. This sometimes causes other people to see me as odd or stupid/lazy because my way of thinking isn’t the norm.

-I can be absentminded and a klutz. I’m always making mistakes and trying to fix my mistakes. I’ll probably annoy some people by being really forgetful and scatterbrained. I’m always reciting things or writing lists to help me remember.

Despite my own flaws, I’d still say I’m overall a well-rounded person, a jack of all trades. I enjoy learning many different things and having a wide skillset. I adapt easily and can probably fit into most dorms.

Hobbies-

Cosplay is the biggest one. I normally don’t put too much effort into my regular appearance, but I spend alot of time putting together costumes, wigs, props, and makeup, and looking my best for photoshoots and cons. I’d love to learn how to sew or make my own costumes one day.

Image editing—mostly related to cosplay above, but I enjoy editing and manipulating pictures and experimenting with all sorts of visual effects and filters just for fun. I like taking selfies and photos on my phone too, just to edit it afterwards.

Also I enjoy medieval history, ancient mythology (particularly Greek and Roman), symphonic metal and alt-rock music, tabletop games, video games (mostly JRPGS, visual novels, and otome games), musical theater, and collecting objects (antique pens and leatherbound journals).

This one, as a stan of a certain character, was very easy. 

== Twisted Wonderland ==>

I match you up with…

Sebek Zigvolt 

Sebek is difficult to say the least. He’s rude, abrasive, and often dismissive of the abilities of others. But he finds solace in you, someone who will listen to him and give him the time of day. 

It shocks him, honestly. He’s used to being dismissed, and though it wouldn’t usually bother him, for some reason the idea of you dismissing him makes his chest hurt. 

He’s most attracted to your dedication and hardworking nature. Sebek isn’t one to give up easily (or ever), and so he’s glad the two of you match eachother in your passion for simply getting shit done. 

He’ll be honest with you about your work quality, but it comes from a place of genuine love and desire to see your best work flourish. 

Whatever you make/do, he’ll brag about it to others, even mentioning it to Lilia and Silver with the same proud smugness that usually accompanies his Malleus rants. 

Sebek may not understand you way of doing things at first, but I fully believe that he could use a change of mindset, and so as he comes to understand and respect you, he’ll begin to see the advantages and reasons why you think the way you do. 

He’ll also watch you go about your hobbies, obviously interested, although trying to hide it. 

Later in the relationship, he no longer hides his fascination with your hobbies and actively learns as much about them as he can. 

Some nights are spent with you gaming and him reading, sharing facts and stories late into the night, just enjoying the presence of one another. 

[meleanatargaryen]

The prince's hold

Aemond x Fem reader Part 3

Hello everyone this is the part 3 of the ennemies to lovers kind of "The prince's convict" that is the part 2 of "The prince's target" 👀 (everything is on my profile)

-This time Fem reader is bored, trapped in her golden prison and begs the prince to have some entertainment and go to the city but this will not really go as planned...

Warnings: incarceration, incest (uncle/niece), dacryphilia, penetration, bite, bruises, pain, degrade speech, 18+ MINORS DNI, dark, medieval-canon sexism, heavy dub-con, DD:DNE, mean Aemond, manipulation, abusing power, violence, major angst, oral sex (f and m receiving), Aemond being a possessive horny weirdo with a power complex, de spit kink, creampie... (Might forget some so please be aware).

The day after...

Just like her heart, the clouds had descended over King’s Landing, covering the sky with a thick blanket of grey.

Sometimes in her quiet moments inside his chambers, she would stare out at the outside, watching the various Lord and Ladies go about their day, wondering what their lives were like as opposed to her own.

These days, especially since Prince Aemond had taken it upon himself to torture her emotionally more regularly, frustrating her physically and emotionally, making sure she would miss him once he left after each visit. He would treat her better each day, changing the decoration green to violet, her favorite color, bringing her gifts, books, exotic fruits, cakes, delicious meals and even maids to do her hair and make up. Soon he offered her a whole wardrobe with exquises dresses and beautiful jewelries to pair them...

But this was not enough. Even tho she loved everything the prince made for her, she wanted nothing but his presence, she wanted him like this previous night.

One evening, at the prince's venue, she finally spoke to him with a softer voice, "Ameond, those gifts, it's wonderful and I loved them all but there is something. I am bored. I am about to die of boredom. Take me to the city or even the gardens, my dearest uncle,” she emphasized on the last two words, “My Prince,” she implored innocently, “Please please please!”

“Fine!” He finally declared, “But if you ever try to escape, you can forget about leaving his chamber ever again.”

“I promise I’ll behave!” She promised mischievously, her eyes twinkling with excitement, and galloped out of the oppressing chamber.

Aemond regarded her with a mix of amusement and suspicion. He was well aware of her manipulative nature and how she could use her charms to get what she wanted. Nevertheless, a small part of him couldn't resist her pleas, the way she looked up at him with those innocent eyes.

Wandering on the market of Bravoos for hours, Aemond’s hand never left the tilt of sword as he scrutinized the mass, assuring there were no Westerosi spies targeting him or his viper.

His unbearable niece, on the other hand, had much less serious matters in her head. As they strolled through the vibrant streets, she maintained her facade of naivety, pretending to be oblivious to the effect her every move had on Aemond. She skipped along, her dress swaying with each step, seemingly unaware of the gazes of admiration and desire that followed her.

She would glance back at Aemond with wide, innocent eyes, feigning confusion. "Aemond, why are people staring at us? Do I have something on my face?"

Aemond clenched his jaw, well aware of her game. He fought to conceal his growing frustration as he responded through gritted teeth, "It's nothing. Just ignore them."

The princess viper rejoiced secretly at her captor’s terribly failure of hiding his annoyance.

As they passed by a fruit vendor, her eyes gleamed mischievously. She plucked a ripe, succulent peach from the display, bringing it to her lips and taking a slow, sensual bite. The sweet juice dripped down her chin as she looked at Aemond through half-lidded eye.

"Mmm, Aemond, this peach is absolutely delicious," she murmured, her voice dripping with seduction. "Would you like a taste?" She extended the fruit towards him, her fingers glistening with its juices.

Aemond's resolve was hanging by a thread as he stared at the tantalizing sight before him. He wanted to seize the peach, to taste its sweetness and devour it along with her tempting offer.

No.

He wanted to do so much more.

He wanted to claim her lips, bite her, squeeze her, take her ruthlessly, make her scream like a common whore under broad daylight while the peasants of Bravoos watch with shock.

Clenching his fists, Aemond feigned a polite smile, “I’m good, little niece.”

She rolled her eyes as she licked her lips intentionally.

Smitten by the desirous moment, Aemond’s eye widened in horror. She was nowhere to be found.

He searched every tent of the market at no avail.

A mixture of rage, fear and vulnerability stormed in his mind.

Did he really let her little display fool him, leading to her escape?

Or worse…

Spies from his family got their hold on her.

“Have you glimpsed a maiden? Barely of age, in a white dress, hauntingly beautiful?” Aemond demanded menacingly a mid-aged trader of Pentosi silk. The woman froze in fear as she recognized the symbolic silver hair: a Targaryen.

Aemond’s worry blazed eye was covered by darkness. The shock electrified his body and his first instinct had been to cut off the hands on his eye. Yet an instant later, the worry was replaced by fury.

“Did you think I escaped, My Prince?”

Aemond turned around, rage written all over his face.

The sight before him exacerbated his storm of emotions.

Her white gown for a proper Westerosi lady gone, replaced by an exotic and tempting Dornish robe, revealing her fruitful bosom, slender shoulders and alluring curves.

“Isn’t this beautiful?” She grinned as she swirled recklessly, displaying her beguiling thighs.

With that, she bolted like a mice being chased by a ferocious cat. Did she intend to escape? Absolutely not. Her alluring laughter like a siren’s call to the dragon prince.

As she reached a glim alley, she slowed down her pace and turned to face Aemond, approaching her like a predator ready to devour its prey.

He cupped her delicious breasts, barely covered by the provocative silk, roughly, eliciting a soft whine her soft lips, “Wooh, my prince…”

Aemond grabbed the back of her delicate neck and breathed on her neck, “Are you really that eager to get fucked, hmm? Little niece?”

She tilted her head with her glimmering eyes, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Her tease almost childlike, yet her hands traced down his lean and muscular chest.

“Fuck,” he growled, his leather pants stretching at his growing bulge;

With a swift move, she wrapped her arms around him and muffled his shocked curses with her lips.

“You are annoyingly attractive, uncle,” she smirked.

Instead of responding or retorting, Aemond turned her around her pressed her on the wall in an almost brutal manner.

She smiled satisfactorily and taunted, “Perhaps I am eager to get… Hmm,” she mimicked him, “Perhaps you are just too eager to fuck me, Aemond.”

A animalistic growl followed by a low chuckle echoed from her behind, “You want me to take you in front of the gods, do you?”

She turned her head to face him, grinning, “You know me, uncle. I pray to myself, for myself. I am a goddess, and you are my willing servant.”

As her last words escaped her mouth, she shrieked at the pain and pleasure accompanied by the sudden intrusion.

She already got wet just by fucking teasing me. Such a - Aemond’s thought were cut off as the word "servant" entered into his ear.

He pushed into her luscious backside without any warning.

Soon, her gasps of pain tuned into screams of pleasure.

“How is that, little viper? Are you still a goddess now?” He demanded cruelly as he spanked her hard.

Little did he know in her ears, the sharp sound on his hand and her, the relentless pounding, her own moans and his occasional growls were a symphony driving her into Seven Heavens.

“Big uncle,” she emphasized on the word “big” and arched her back, “You are so good to me. Serve me harder.”

Aemond longed to ruin her, yet he knew she wanted to be ruined.

He increased his pace, his hands coming down on her again and again.

He whispered the most sinful and degrading things he could think off.

Everything exacerbated her excitement.

It both infuriated and satisfied him.

“Scream louder, my little viper, mine!”

And scream his name she did.

Aemond panted in satisfaction and exhaustion as he smirked at the mess he created.

But suddenly he stopped everything and displayed a face of chock as well as shame. "I will not fuck you here like a vulgar hoe on the sidewalk! I refuse to degrade you in such ways, I already did too much here. Let's go home. You saw enough of the city for today!"

She stopped right away her little game, surprised at the sight of the prince's behaviour, so serious and yet so reasoned. He valued her, she understood that behind his pride and lust towards her, the prince really estimated her. She was not just a toy anymore or a property, he had feelings for her as complex as hers.

"You deserve better than this my lady", he added while he took her by the hand to walk back to the castle...

Once there the prince brought her into his apartments before leaving without a word but it was clear that he was replaying the latest events over and over again in his head. Alone now, she would also think about the latest events and her attitude toward the prince. Maybe her provocative manners was no good and should not be taken so lightly but she couldn't help but desire the prince. She longed for his coming every night and came to ask him to stay a little longer each visit to such an extent that they exchanged more and more regularly, getting closer and closer each time. They became to share dinner sometimes, he taught her High Valyrian, read to her but everytime the tension began to show the prince ran away even tho he wished to stay, he didn't wanted to do any mistakes again... She almost came to the point of asking the prince to sleep with her but she knew it would have seemed inappropriate, which was for sure. She felt so alone without him. More! she began to like him despite her hate and hatred and now she wanted him.

It was obvious Aemond started catching mixed feelings towards her too during those visits, she was no longer his stupid prey, a property or a way to anger the Blacks, he liked her despise her viper manipulative and provocative attitude, she satisfied him as well as she frustrated him. He knew he couldn't marry her, as a prince of the realm, and on the verge of civil war, once his father passed, Aemond needed to secure an advantageous marriage with a powerful house, one that would increase their army numbers. She was an ennemy to his family and an menace. Regardless of his affection for her: duty comes first. That is what his mother taught him. Under different circumstances, perhaps it could've worked out, she were not a lowborn, but her position was worst than that.

Aemond could be a cruel man, yes, but never with her. She have found her way into his heart a long time ago this particular night and maybe way before that... He couldn't be selfish and hold her back because of his desires because he also knew she needed to marry soon.

"You might do well to find yourself a suitor." He said in between two readings, you were straddling his lap on the sofa of his quarters, grinding on his bulge slightly, his breath stuttering as he held onto your waist.

She pulled away, with furrowed brows, swollen lips, and lustful eyes. The sight was almost too much for Aemond to bear. "What?" 

"You heard me." Shadows danced across his face and you believed Aemond bathed by the candlelight was undoubtedly one of the finest views you have ever seen.

You hummed, a habit you picked up because of him, and then smirked. "Are you trying to get rid of me?" Your breath encountered his neck making him have chills.

Aemond squirmed underneath you, holding your arms as he gently pushed you away. "I am not jesting," His expression was stern. "We cannot keep this going for longer, I have to go for affairs because of the war." She broke down internally. He then grabbed her arms, leaning his face closet to hers "I'll write to you and maybe when I'll return we'll discuss serious topics, it will also give us the time to think about the situation, right?" He kissed her cheeks softly making her blush right away. "I won't lock the door this time, if you want to escape, I won't stop you, you're free little bird" he then left her more frustrated and lonely than ever. It was obvious she wouldn't even try to escape. She was his.

The days were so long without any companies and only him to think about but every day she would receive letters from the prince and would take many hours to answer him. They exchanged many letters through what seemed to be a week... Their discussions were stricts and serious at first only mentioning Aemond's missions but became more and more personal day after day even sharing their feelings, speaking openly about missing each other company as well as being bored by everything around them. The day before Aemond's return, the princess seeking desperately their reunion, she wrote a letter a bit more special... She proposed him to meet at midnight in the garden to maybe discuss the serious topics he mentioned... It was a risky letter and she knew it could be decisive as well as she knew she could not help being obsessed with him and needed to see him again, to meet him again, to be close again, closer.

This particular day, it seems like the princess had been waiting all the evening for the prince's letter. It was becoming to be dark outside and she was worried, overthinked for hours, but nothing came. A letter finally slipped down her door. She ran to picked it up and read it as fast as she could. "Dear niece, I know you hate to stay in this room all day locked up, come find me in the garden at midnight. The doors are unlocked. Make sure you're not followed or seen. I can't wait to see you."

And then she reached her breaking point. She sneaked out of her bed in the middle of the night to join him in the garden, she didn't even thought to escape a second. She paced around the room, ran the corridors and stairs of the castle... Now in the garden fidgeting with the sleeve of her cloak as she waited for Aemond. She had no clue he'd actually would come or not. Certainly, now that the war broke out, he had more urgent matters to attend to, so was she being selfish for wanting and almost demanding him? Absolutely, but so was he when he didn't let her go and kidnapped her, so was he enticing her with filthy letters and making her sin even more for him.

The crack of a stick of wood made her blood rush in her veins, breath stuck in her throat as she turned around. There he stands, in all his haughtiness, even when he's almost all covered with his cloak, he pulls the hood down, smirking at her. There's only silence as she watch him slowly take off the cloak and throw it on a bank. She lick her lips as she take in his leather clothing, then he proceeds to remove his worn and brown eyepatch, the one he would only use to run around King's Landing undetected. Her eyes trail his body hungrily, the glistening gemstone only making the knot in her stomach tighten. It's truly almost painful the sight of him, having him so close, and completely alone. She can ghostly feel his touch and smell already, and her heart hammers against her ribcage. She approach him under his amused gaze.

"I know you are up to no good to bring me to such a place at the hour of the owl," Aemond says as she halt in front of him.

"You are correct." She glance at his curved lips for a second before locking her eyes with his violet one again.

"Have you enjoyed my letters?"

"Greatly, the same amount I despised it as well." Aemond scoffs. "What happened to our terms?"

She take a great inspiration "This is not right and you know it Aemond but I feel things that I should not and I think you do too despise our condition..."

Aemond smirks "you're right, you should not feel those things..."

She can't help the snicker falling off her lips as she hits his chest playfully. "Stop making me feel more guilty than I already do!"

Aemond hums, raising a brow. "Not guilty enough to stop you from answering my letters or coming here late at night." She avert her eyes.

"It 's alright. Did we once follow the traditions? Do you believe the Seven thought of us as fewer sinners when we engaged in sexual activities before marriage because we were unwed?" He grabs your chin. "Do not be ashamed. You are mine and can't resist me. You and I are meant to be, we are more than a mere convenient marriage. Ain't I too supposed to be faithful to my duty and my family?"

"Have you enjoyed my letters?"

"I keep them all." He answers, leaning his face closer to hers. Her knees almost fail her as she inhale his scent of leather, sandalwood, and bergamot. "Have you missed me as I missed you, my beautiful girl?"

"Possibly even more." You confess.

"Tell me why you invited me here, I need to hear it from your pretty mouth." His thumb trails over her lower lip.

"I was expecting you to keep to your word." She tease.

He chuckles. "That would take days."

"Certainly you can arrange some time for a close friend…" 

His good eye seemed to glimmer as much as the sapphire replacing the other. "Will this be an occurrence?"

She fidget with the button of his tunic. "It seems we cannot keep apart from each other, so I would guess so." She look into his eye. 

"Mhm." His arm sneaks around her waist, bringing her even closer to his body, and she place her hands on his shoulders. "You haven't said it yet." He tilts his head.

She breathed in and gulped. "I brought you here because I want you to fuck me, I need you to fuck me." 

Aemond smiled, actually smiled. Most certainly smugly, but he displayed all of his teeth in his adorable grin, and she loved to see it, a smile appears on her face as well, almost unconsciously just by seeing him smiling. 

"As my lady wishes."

It's blazing when their lips meet, not loving or gentle, but rather fervent and harsh. She moan into his mouth when his tongue touches hers, and all guilt leaves her at once. At that moment everything that wasn't Aemond ceased to exist, as it always happened when she were with him, she only cared for his touch. The time apart made it even better, the leather beneath her fingers comforting. His other hand goes to the back of her head, and she continues to kiss him eagerly, her body trembling even with so little stimulation. She bites his lips as she parts slightly for air, and then their mouths are locked again. The kiss slows down a bit, becoming more appreciative as both of them delight in the exchange and each other's taste, but it remains just as lustful.

Aemond swiftly takes her cloak off and she struggles off her shoes, the prince does the same. She helps Aemond out of his tunic after she is done and his undershirt goes flying across the garden. She touch his toned abdomen before her lips find his chest and neck, the low groan coming from Aemond stirring her up, her mouth trails down as she kiss all of his stomach, kneeling down in front of him. Aemond looks at her in anticipation as she undo his belt and pulls his trousers down, the leather a little too tight. Once his veiny and semi-hard cock springs free, her mouth starts watering. She don't take her eyes off it as she strokes it with her hand, making Aemond gasp loudly, her eyes darken, even the smell of his manhood tantalizing her. He's definitely above average, straight, long, and thick enough to give the best stretch without making her uncomfortable, with large veins running through the base and a pinkish tip. She can't help herself as she insert his head in her mouth with a loud pop, he tastes so divine. She smirk at him as he let out a strained moan, her tongue then sliding across his slit. Aemond's hand grips her hair with a decompensated breath.

She start kissing and licking around his shaft attentively, tongue flat while savoring it and purposely teasing him more before she stroke his cock a few more times and proceed to put half of his length in her mouth, Aemond trembles upon feeling her hot and soft lips around him, a growl escaping his mouth. "Oh, fuck, yes. You look so beautiful, my dear."

Her cheeks hollowed, head bobbing back and forth as she sucked him into her mouth, humming against his member, the sensation of pleasuring him way too good, and tears start to prickle her eyes. She keep fisting his cock and lapping on him relentlessly, even when she pulls him out, her lips keep locked on his part, tongue running around the length as she licks it before she swallows him again, the fullness of her mouth making her grow even wetter. She looks up at him as she gag on his cock, mouth squeezing his manhood as she sucks him hungrily, his head is thrown back, brows furrowed and pink lips parted, his good eye half-closed while the sapphire sparkles bright, it's the most wonderful sight one could lay eyes on. His grunts become more prominent as he lets her lead, she can feel her cunt throbbing almost achingly now. She gives him all the devotion she can master through it, her other hand gently massaging his balls and receiving the most delightful sound in return.

She smirks at him, taking him out of her mouth sloppily once again to catch her breath, his cock coated with her saliva, she slaps it on her face before sucking it again as if her life depends on it. He was so addicting. 

"By the Gods," He mutters with a grunt.

It's when she quicken her pace that it feels as if something quite feral snapped inside Aemond. He started to grow impatient and jerked his hips against her face, his closed fist on her hair more harsh and demanding, his pace becomes so brutish now that she stops stroking him, both her hands laying on his bare thigh for support, her nails digging deeply into his skin as she moans, no doubt bruising it later. It is impossible to fit all of his length in her mouth, but Aemond is certainly determined to do so, a flow of hot tears fall down her eyes as he fucks her mouth, her throat burning with the invasion. It's dirty, uncomfortable, and absolutely ecstatic. Aemond does not care for her whines or her gagging one bit now, he only cares for his enjoyment and release and she is more than happy to assist him with it. Lewdy sounds echo in the air as his tip hits the back of her throat mercilessly. She pushes his thigh as she pulls back for air, her appearance disheveled.

"Come on my face, please." She says out of breath, a split of saliva hanging between his cock and her mouth as she strokes his length rapidly and suck his head again. 

The sight below him accompanied by her words are enough to send Aemond on edge, and with a high-pitched moan, his hot load hits her face, painting a few parts of it white, she sticks her tongue out while so and shut her eyes as her hand continues to caress him. She smiles, swallowing his spend that fell on her tongue and gathering the amount that landed on her face. 

"So good," she praises him, licking her fingers clean. "So fucking good." She gives his head another lick, making him whine due to sensitivity.

She giggles and get up, Aemond immediately tasting himself on her lips in a messy and lecherous kiss. Lowering himself to her feet the prince grabs the ends of her dress and removes it anxiously. Her choice of dress was a very simple and easy to take off one, and she didn't bother to wear a shift underneath tonight either, aware of the sinful activities she planned to indulge in, leaving her completely bare now. Aemond stares at her nakedness with a pleasant hum and blown eye. Out of breath he says, "We need to go somewhere else for now on" as he picked her up all the way to his quarters.

"Go to bed and spread your legs for me." He commands as he discards her dress somewhere. 

When her back hits the bed, she immediately opens her legs to him, hand provocatively touching her breasts, there's no shyness, only a burning desire to be seen by him. She bites her lips as she notices how his violet eye has turned almost all black now. He fists his cock a couple of times at the sight of her, one he wishes to never forget.

He makes his way toward the bed, kneeling in front of her. Bringing her body forward, he leaves a trail of kisses on her inner thighs, which makes her shudder. "I have longed for this sweet cunt so much…" 

His middle finger parts her folds, gathering her juice next to her hole and then coming back up to circle her sensitive bud. She moans with the touch, brows furrowed and lifting her hips slightly, and she can hear Aemond chuckling. "So wet for me it's pitiful, truly." He continues to touch her teasingly, fingers pressed tightly to her heat as he runs it around. She can only hums in response, already lost in her pleasure, she feels completely on fire.

"Do you know why?" He moves his hand away, pressing his lips to her clit in a light kiss and making her whimper with the action. "Because it knows it belongs to me." He spits on her cunt crudely before immediately lapping on it, her back arching involuntarily as her moans get louder.

His warm tongue twirls between her folds slowly, making her whimper and bite her lips harshly, it feels like a dream, her face immediately twists in pleasure as shivers run down her spine with the sensation of his lips on her sex. Aemond sucks her clit, making her gasp, her hands going to his silky hair as she presses his face even further in her cunt. Aemond's tongue slides all over her pussy as he sucks and licks her as if it was the air that he breathed. He closes his eye for a second, groaning lowly against her parts due to his own enjoyment.

His tongue teases her hole before coming back up to suck harshly on her sensitive bud unabated, she watches him with hooded eyes, his name on her lips like a prayer.

He continues lapping on her, one of his hands holding her cunt open to give him better access. "You're doing so good, my beauty." 

He spits on her one more time, mouth devouring her sex. He easily inserts two fingers into her soaked cunt, and she cannot control the sounds that leave her lips anymore. He curls his fingers inside her as his tongue whirls on her clit, his pumping speeding up as she jerks her hips against his face and hand. It's so exceptional, his long fingers reaching a place she cannot on her own. In an urge to grab something, one of her hands squeezes her breast as she whimpers uncontrollably. She opens her eyes to see he's already looking directly at her as his tongue moves side to side on her. She bites herr lips so hard it draws blood.

Getting up on her elbows, she watches as he gives her long licks up and down, then twirls it around her bud again and sucks into his mouth, his fingers inside her not faltering, she relishes in the stimulation on both her core and clit, making her eyes roll back as not one coherent thought crosses her mind. She feels goosebumps all over her skin and pathetic gibberish leaves her mouth. Aemond continues to work her on, his darting and thrusting getting faster and making her moans break. She can feel her release building up on her lower belly as she shuts her eyes, cunt clenching tightly around his fingers, and she is so ready for it, to let it go and cry in pleasure, she is close, so close… and he stops, pulling away.

She looked at him with a mixture of confusion, anger, and frustration. He chuckled at her, licking the fingers that were inside her seconds ago.

"I need you to sit on my face." 

Her stomach tingles upon hearing his words and she can only nod, moving aside so he could lay on the bed. When Aemond is settled, she straddles his face, holding onto the cool headboard and being careful as to not put all of her weight on him, she lowers her cunt to his mouth, immediately gasping when she does so. Aemond holds on to her upper thighs tightly, keeping her in place and moaning into her heat as he starts licking her fervently once again.

She can't help herself as she grinds and rolls her hips on his mouth, hands pinching her nipples as her pace quickens. Aemond doesn't leave an inch of her cunt out of his affections, sucking her hard as he groans against her in delight. When his tongue started to make circles with a lot of pressure onto her cunt, she is moaning so loud she is certain the whole inn could hear her, but that was far from being a concern to her. She needs to hold on to the headboard again, knuckles whitening with the force she puts on it. His name is on her lips as a mantra now as she bounces on him, her stomach churning and feeling dizzy. Then, his tongue is all around her again, relaxed and hot as he works his magic with purpose. 

She keeps her eyes locked on Aemond the whole time, the sight of him under her and satisfying her desires only adding more intensity to her pleasure. He looks so pretty and alluring like this, his adorable lips so keen to make her happy, eating her out so well and good, she bites her lips again while smiling down at him, she grinds more relentlessly now, not even trying to be careful, the feel of his mouth paired with the faint brush of his chin and the tip of his nose on her cunt is the best thing she has ever experienced. 

Her high comes down abruptly and feels like a million stars exploding at once, a long scream on her lips. Her head falls back, black dots covering her vision as her legs tremble. She cried as Aemond continued to lap on her sensitive cunt, kissing it multiple times after. Admirably her legs didn't fail her and she managed to get off his face, body falling limp on the bed. The ceiling above them is spinning as her heart palpitates in her ears. It takes a minute for her breath to stabilize, and when she looks to her side she sees Aemond grinning, chin glistening with her juices and they both laugh at each other out of bliss.

Aemond moves to hover over her, his mouth finding hers in a long and deep kiss, her legs wrap around his waist as one of his hands squeezes her breast before cradling her face. Their lips move harmoniously together, tongues caressing one another. It's so soothing, she feels so at peace and so light, just as the sound of the wind passing through the trees. There is no rush, only long kisses and pecks, hooded eyes, and silly little smiles. It's not sexual, it's not innocent, it's two people taking their time with each other. She lost track of time in her consuming passion, too occupied in the sheer joy of the prince's soft lips and naked body pressed against hers.

Slowly but as expected, the kisses start to grow needier, her breathing becoming erratic and her womanhood pulsating. Her grind against Aemond's stiffness and he sighs deeply, his mouth moving to her neck as he sucks and bites in her sensitive spot making her shiver, trailing down to her breast, he puts one in his mouth, twirling his tongue around her nipple. He pulls back a little, holding his hard cock and running it between her folds before he calmly and gently slides into her.

Her eyes close with the feeling, the stretch his girth gives is simply extraordinary and so fulfilling. She starts whimpering as he settles in between her legs, nothing and no one else could make her feel this way, to reach that specific point. Her cunt clenched tight around him, he's so big and it feels amazing.

"Fuck, sweet thing," He breathes out. "You feel even tighter than the last time."

He starts to thrust on her slowly, and her eyes roll back again, gasping loudly as she relishes the feel of his cock inside her, so marvelous. Aemond lets his face fall on the crook of her neck, to feel her soft walls around him an absolute blessing in his opinion, his moans are so low if she was a little bit louder yourself she wouldn't be able to hear him. 

"So good…" she moans, she has missed this way too much.

"Mhm, yes, very good." He holds onto her hips strongly and her legs parts even further.

He starts to go even deeper, his hip finding a steady pace that makes her feel as if she is flying. His grunts become loud, and his hand leans her leg up to her chest as he starts to pound on her more fastly now. "Fucking perfection. You are so perfect."

She holds her leg up to help him, already a moaning mess. The cracky bed hits the wall repeatedly and she is sweating a lot, her hair sticking to her forehead. It is such a great sensation she is torn between seeking her peak and wanting it to last forever, to feel him inside her forever. It seems Aemond feels the same, because now and then when the prince believes her or himself to be close, he'd stay still inside her, completely out of breath, and hold a few seconds before starting again, a few strands of his silver locks falling into her face as he does so.

His lips wrap around hers messily, tongues locked as he keeps thrusting and grunting. His familiar scent, a cologne custom-made because he is just that snob, mixed with his sweat turns her on even more.

He parts from her for a minute, kneeling on the bed and then turning her around with impressive force and grace, her back instantly arching for him while the side of her face is pressed to the mattress. She can hear him chuckle before he slaps her ass hard, and she whines, core clenching. 

"You little whore," He presses the tip of his cock to her entrance and she wiggles. "My perfect little whore." 

He thrust into her cunt, the new position making her euphoric, and she started to meet him at his pace, she whimpers almost pitiful. Aemond's hand grips her ass, his shoving only quickening by the second, he laughs a bit seeing her eagerness, and then he halts, letting her do the work for a while. He stares at his cock disappearing inside her cunt with a wicked glint in his eye and he masters all of his self-control to not go feral. 

"Yes, yes, yes," He encourages. "You're so good at this, gorgeous. Keep on taking my cock like the sweet whore you are, oh yes." 

His words make her groan, core tightening around him as her movements grow faster and harder, so much his cock slips out of her cunt once, but she is quick to insert it into her dropping hole again, the wetting sounds of skin against skin nothing but obscene. Aemond watches with a smirk the way her parts are milking him, hands caressing and squeezing her butt as she leans back on his length. 

Soon he takes control again, starting to thrust on her aggressively and steadily. She screamz, the rattle of the bed growing even more strident now, and she becomes a babbling mess, biting into her hand to try to prevent her loud moans from being heard, a tear falling from the corner of one of her eyes. Aemond laughs amusedly.

"Oh my, you love this, don't you?" 

"Y-y-yes," she stutters, brows furrowed, fist tight on the linen sheet.

"Fuck, you are heavenly," Aemond says. "And all mine." 

"Muhm," she agrees. "All yours, only yours." 

He slaps the cheek of her ass again. "My princess," His paces become faster. "My fucking queen." He leans down, lips kissing her cheek.

In a blink of an eye, she is on her back again, Aemond's managing her body too easily. She brings both her legs up as he inserts his manhood into her, his hand wrapping around her neck as he thrust into her ruthlessly.

She can only moan, holding onto anything she can grasp, it's almost too much and she feels completely wobbly, it feels as if he was made in the most perfect size to send her to the seven heavens and back. His cock hits her cervix unrelenting, his fist tightening around her neck until she can barely breathe, the lack of air only increasing her pleasure, and then…

The coil inside her snaps in a shattering wave, her whole body shaking. It's as if she had left her body entirely and were floating around, her vision whitening and audition failing you. When she comes back to her senses, Aemond is grunting lowly and thrusting into her, her cunt wrapping around his cock amazingly, with a husky and strained moan, his face twists in pleasure, eye shut and mouth agape as he spills his white tea deep inside her, filling her up and she moans just by watching him. His thrusts get sloppier and weaker as he rides off his high until his body falls on top of hers, with hitched breath and trembling slightly. She smiles, one hand caressing his hair and the other his back, his skin feels almost burning under her touch.

She feels suddenly exhausted, and all she wishes to do is close her eyes and succumb to slumber. Aemond looks up at you as if guessing the line of your thoughts: the prince was accustomed to you getting sleepy after your passionate activities.

"You may sleep, my beloved," His knuckle brushed against her cheek.

She smiled softly at him and nodded. He got off her, and they both wrapped themselves with the thin blanket. She rested her face on Aemond's chest, one leg over his body. The prince hugged her closer, caressing her back and her thigh. He sighed contently.

As they quickly fall asleep, Aemond stares at her, the crickets outside the small window and the cackling of the fire are the only noises reaching his ears. He smiles pleased upon her sleeping form, realizing no matter marriage or time, this is where she will always belong: with him, in his bed, in his arms, where her heart truly lies.

[words-after-midnight]

Five things I never get tired of writing.

Open tag!

Thank you @rsdan for tagging me. 😊

1. Foreshadowing. I love narrative symbolism in general, but my forte is absolutely foreshadowing, and that's because I've had a lot of practice with it from a young age. Life in Black and White - my main project since I was 17 - being an ending-centered story (ie. the ending is the "point" of the story, and impacts your perspective in a way that your first and second readthroughs should each be a fundamentally different experience - think Lehane's Shutter Island, if you've read it/seen the movie), it is foreshadowing-heavy. Foreshadowing begins from the first page and permeates the story - it's present structurally, in titles, in motifs, in symbols, in formatting, and in the text and subtext of the story itself. Number of readers who have guessed my ending before I wanted them to? Zero. I'm really proud of this, especially considering how blatant some of the foreshadowing is, lmao. Anyway, thinking of good foreshadowing and executing it in a story never gets old for me.

2. Motifs and recurrent lines. I love to use motifs as representations of different aspects of a story and/or its themes. Motifs/symbols present in Life in Black and White include:

- Midnight

- The moon/moonlight

- Storms and wind

- Candles/fire

- The number twelve

- Clocks/time

- The butterfly effect

- The song "It Came Upon A Midnight Clear" (yes, the Christmas song)

- Examples of recurrent lines: "Something's wrong"; "dead silence"; "is something burning?"

3. Dialogue between characters that have good chemistry and/or an interesting dynamic. Dialogue is one of my strengths and favorite things to write, and I absolutely love writing character relationships where the dialogue/banter just flows effortlessly. Fun fact, this factor was single-handedly responsible for my character Jeff's promotion from guest comic relief character to major character, and ultimately to antagonist of Life in Black and White. His chemistry with my protagonist was immaculate from their first written interactions. Despite the fact that I have extremely complicated feelings about their relationship, I absolutely love writing their interactions. I usually get all of the dialogue for their scenes first, write it down in sequence, and then fill in the blanks with tags and descriptions/body language as needed.

4. Dark queer relationships. A centerpiece of most of my stories is relationships (not always romantic in nature) between queer characters that are toxic, abusive, or otherwise unhealthy. Some will say it's bad representation, but it's these kinds of intense, complex, and dark relationship dynamics that I personally find interesting to write. Luckily, this is not at all reflective of my real-life relationships, and I do have "healthy" queer relationships in my fictional universe - they just typically are not the focus of stories. Don't forget that I'm a crime and horror writer. My characters aren't always good people, so it naturally follows that their relationships are not going to be beds of roses, either.

5. Character-driven stories. This is kind of funny because my long-form stories are pretty much always predominantly genre (usually some combination of crime fiction and horror/horror subgenres), but they typically have at least a bit of a literary-esque narrative style or format, because I really love focusing a story around 1-3 central characters and making those characters super complex and fleshed-out. The con of this approach is that my "side" characters (and their relationships with the central characters) often wind up seeming lackluster in comparison, but I pride myself on creating memorable central characters that readers find fascinating, because I work super hard for that result.

[valgasnewsthings]

Cure cystitis.

 I want to fight this strong ache. 

Answer's  Gynaecologist, Dr. Shupenjuk.

Am having aches in urine bladder,  first symptoms am felt three years ago, thus  doctor found inflammation for urine bladder. Diagnose is right after common blood test. Doctor prescribed me cure for three days with expensive antibiotics, symptoms are stopped, but in half years disease returned. And on the last time hurt  regularity, fours attacks felt. Am not eating spicy meal, limiting in sex life, using remedies, apply warmer to urine bladder region, but these are not work. And if stops hurts, but for a short time,after attacks are repeating.

A hurt in belly low is very strong, and weaned every 20 min at guests or work is not comfortable. Am interested in self cure cystitis with herbs, and how to prevent his.

A very spreading inflammation disease for urine bladder is cystitis, women's are often having, than males.That in women structure for urinary system is different, and cystitis having office employee, weak life having and women on  bad weather wearing short skirts or jackets.

Cystitis having chronic and acute. And chronic  is entering are often till 3 times and more /year recidives and constant, and not disappearing symptomatic. Reasons for causing acute and chronic cystitis ,which lead to chronic are:

Infection diseases  as transferring by sex way, and chronic  niduses infections in organism are not cured teeth, with caries, any chronic diseases, and data tests will allow knowing for infection agent. And maybe is bowel stick, protea, and often are finding infections transferring by sex way.Causing cystitis are chlamydias, trichomonads, pale treponema , candida, fungus for urinary bladder, and finding agent is signa about a gynecologic disease in patient. Every from theirs changing structure for vaginal s microflora, thus later infection entering in urinary ways, thus a cure cystitis doing with a cure gynaecologist disease of infection nature, thus here using antibiotics, which prescribing individually.

Weak immune system. Cure cystitis in weak immunity as in diseases is needing directing to his removing, antibiotics here not effectivity. Immune system of organism depends from bowel microflora condition, which sensitiveness very to the different external factors For strengthening immunity and preventing many diseases as and cystitis is needing restoring bowel microflora /preveling   bifido and lacto bacterias over probation -pathogen flora . And here checking attention on the date for remedy expiration a remedy with useful bacterias, and not expiration  are 20 days. And not forget about a meal with a sour milk bacterias, theirs needing using after meal, that sour environment of stomach not destroying useful bacterias.

Changing for vagina mucus and  urethra canal. Deficit for estrogens and often using spermicides and not matching contraception , inflammations in organs for small pelvis, and  propensity to hard stool, kidneys diseases leading to tissue of urine bladder are staying  soft  and con susceptible for infection .

Problem with hygiene. As tampons, pads change very often, and rub  and wash need in one direction, as to the front-back, such an often  agent for cystitis is bowel stick.

Spicy meal and alchokol.After spicy meal and alcohol with urine are secreting substances, irritating for walls a urine bladder.

Toilet problem with. An often overflow urine bladder leading to his tension and loosing elast, normal urination frequency for women for one time in 3-5 hours.

Preventing.

By these reasons, causing cystitis, doctor advices keeping these rules as on acuting time and for avoiding repeating inflammation.

1.Cure diseases  for sex sphere, and chronic inflammation diseases, regular visit gynaecologist, urologist, and if a not having visible occasion.

2.And for regular mechanical cleaning urinary ways from products are  microflora vitality and for preventing inflammatory process use a regime for often urination as in 2-2.5 hours on the wakefulness time.

3.Avoid problem with stool, as diarrhoea or hard stool.

4. Keep right hygiene for sex organs.

5. Avoid  over cooling.

6. Fight stresses, or try to avoid, all diseases are from nerves.

7. Add sport.

And for preventing as with risks factors are showed before you can drink cow berry and ranberry morses, they are antibacterial on urinary ways affecting and preventing cystitis.

And for preventing cystitis using herbal diuretics , they are preventing breeding bacterias and decreasing aches. These are infusions of bear berry, cudweed, herb horsetail field, leafs chamomile, these infusions drink on courses from 3-4 months till one year.

from Valga s health news,gardening,and cooking ,and beauty . https://ift.tt/25IRX4C via https://ift.tt/K3ed7sf

[darkilk]

└ The surprise and delight in those baby browns~ 

Cr: Arashi ni Shiyagare 15.09.2018

[nekropsii]

Hi I love your thoughts on fanon stuff. Any thoughts on John/June??

Hi!! Glad you like what I have to offer!

I think people are forgetting the fact that when someone transitions, they are the same exact person, just with a different presentation.

A lot of people act like John and June are effectively different people when that’s quite literally not how that works. I’ve seen a good amount of people basically make June be Jade 2.0, when June is actually just… John, post transition. Meaning… they’d have the same personality. And the same exact problems.

June is not going to stop being a bit of an asshole just because she transitioned. She is going to be the same person she used to be, with one more thing figured out about herself. Transitioning isn’t a psychological cure-all, it’s just a big step into truly being comfortable with yourself. June is not Jade. June is June. John is John. Jade is Jade.

… Also, related topic, but some people do not know what “queer coding” means, because I see a lot of people say that John has always been trans coded, which is just... Patently untrue. June would have never even been considered if it weren’t for that one fan who won the ability to ask for it. Coding is intentional. John’s detachment from toxic masculinity and his father is more telling of his nature as an Heir of Breath than is is any level of coding. Sure, you can read it that way, but that doesn’t mean it was intentional at all. Which means it isn’t coding. This isn’t some genius-level writing equivalent of a long con, it was unintentional, and it’s an angle I’ve only ever seen taken after that reveal happened.

[thefanficmonster]

Love For The Faceless

Corpse Husband x Youtuber!Reader(Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff 

Summary: Y/N is a YouTube gamer who has recently gained a much larger following thanks to the streams she does with her friends. Naturally, considering her faceless and bodiless nature, people are starting to get curious about her. When she finally follows her friend Corpse’s example, a lot more than her hands is revealed.

Requested by anon, you know who you are 😉 Thank you so much for placing a request and hope this fic fulfills the expectations you have for it.

“Hey!“ I greet the lobby as I finally hop into the Discord call after quickly saying ‘hi‘ to my audience.

I’ve been a YouTuber for four years now and I’ve only recently started streaming, encouraged to do so by my best friend Rae. She’s the one who got me in multiplayer games such as Among Us and Phasmophobia which led me to meet her amazing gaming squad that consists of some of the most famous names on the platform. They are all wonderful people and I will forever be in Rae’s debt for introducing me to them. However, becoming friends with Felix, Sean and the rest of the team brought not only a more fulfilled life, but also a small boost in following. Who am I kidding, it wasn’t small. It was overwhelming, terrifying even.

My YouTube channel had a little over a million subscribers at the start of quarantine and now....now it’s closer to three million. Speaking of three million, I’m about to reach it any day now and it’s really hard to believe. I’m a gaming youtuber and I’ve never considered changing my genre despite expecting to not get any attention whatsoever, with all the big names on the platform. I was convinced not even as many as a hundred people would stumble across my videos and now here we are.

My OG subscribers are very supportive of my sudden growth and are defending me when my newer fans ask for a face reveal or whatnot. While we’re on that topic I might have to mention that not even my YouTube friends, and that includes Rae have seen my face. I’ve been faceless and bodiless for the entirety of my time on social media. Some claim I do it to grab more attention or for dramatic effect, but the reason is beyond that. I’m not shallow. Actually, shallow people are the reason I don’t show my face. I’ve never been the prettiest, but my middle school bully thought that I wasn’t lacking self confidence enough. As a result, I ended up with a not so handsome scar on my right cheek that starts from the corner of my mouth and nearly misses my eye. Yeah, it’s a long and pretty noticeable scar that has thankfully become less and less obvious as the years have progressed. Still, it’s not something I’d like to show to my viewers.

Eight ‘hi’s greet me back, each making my smile grow wider. “Sorry I’m late guys. Technical difficulties.” 

“Don’t worry.“ Rae’s voice dominates over the rest, “Corpse still isn’t here so we’re waiting for him.“

I mute myself on the Discord call and take a look at my comments. I’m most flattered by the comments about my voice. Seeing as how they don’t have much to compliment about me other than my content, they make the nicest comments about my voice, personality and humor. Those comments are the ones who warm my heart most. Even when people in my day to day life compliment my appearance I can’t find it in me to believe they are being genuine. I’d like to believe these amazing people are being one hundred percent honest when they tell me they like me for who I am and not for what I might look like.

“Sorry I’m late guys.“ A deep voice causes me to even physically jolt, switching my focus from the comments to the Among Us lobby where my eyes land on the newly materialized black avatar.

“Hi Corpse.“ Rae greets him.

“Hello mister who broke Twitter!“ Sean laughs, provoking the laughter of the rest of the players.

“Yeah, congratulations man. That’s a big deal.“ Felix chimes in.

“Thanks guys, but I think you’re forgetting we’re talking about a picture of my hand.“ Corpse chuckles timidly. I have noticed how shy he gets when someone gives him a compliment - like a snail slowly withdrawing in its shell. I find it adorable.

“That’s what makes it even better!“ I unmute my mic, sending my own congratulations.

“While we’re on that topic...“ Rae begins, waiting for the rest of us to shut our traps, suggesting she has something important to say. “Y/N, do you ever plan on doing a reveal like that? Not a face reveal. Just a body part reveal.“

I have no problem talking about the subject with friends but I get nervous when I’m supposed to discuss it with my fans. Seeing as how everyone, including myself, is streaming right now, I get a bit of a stutter in my speech. “Haven’t thought about it yet. But I guess a body part reveal is harmless.” I cringe immediately after letting the words leave my mouth, “That sounds so weird.”

Rae knows that I’m not too fond of my face, but I haven’t told her about my scar yet. I let almost all people I’ve met online think I’m using my lack of appearance for effect. For the mystery of it all. Mysteries attract people which equals attention. Attention equals views and the domino effect continues.

“Just a suggestion. No pressure.“ Rae adds quickly, knowing full well I get anxious when the subject is brought up in front of cameras. “Let’s get this game started, shall we.”

                                                          * * *

The idea dwells in my mind, sitting on the back burner even after I disconnect from the Discord call. I’m sitting in my gaming chair, which was a gift for my two million milestone, and weighing out the pros and cons of the action Rae suggested I take.

“It’s a picture of your fucking hand, dummy. How bad can it turn out?“ I say out loud, shaking my head at my indecisiveness. “You’ll be fine.”

In a blur, two pictures are already posted on my Instagram. The first one captioned ‘Took a leaf from my friend’s book. Did I do it right @ corpsehusband?’ and the second ‘Thanks, Rae. These are on you.’

Rae’s POV

As I’m watching a movie in my living room, I get a notification from Instagram, informing me that Y/N has posted for the first time in a while.

I scoff, “More like the first time in forever.”

The first thing that comes to my mind is the possibility of her reaching that three million milestone that’s been long time coming. I bring the glass of water that’s sitting on my coffee table to my lips, taking a sip as I tap the notification. The picture I see makes me hurry to put the glass back down so I don’t drop it. Y/N’s hand. Her fingers are covered with several thin rings each. And here I thought Corpse had too many rings, this girl has at least two on every finger! 

Then my eyes land on the second picture she has posted only minutes after the first and my heart drops. I struggle to get the water that’s been sitting in my moth down my esophagus while my mind is struggling with the task to comprehend the picture I’m looking at. 

Another hand is resting on top of Y/N’s. A hand also covered in rings but fewer and larger. The nails are painted black. 

I think I know who it belongs to.

Before I can even finish the thought, I’m dialing Y/N. She picks up after the second ring, sound cheery as ever as she greets me. “Hey Rae!”

“Don’t you ‘Hey Rae’ me!” I practically scream. I hate being kept in the dark about anything ever so this is just driving me mad. On top of all, she’s my best friend, for fuck’s sake. “Is that Corpse in the photo with you?!”

“Ugh....“ the cheeriness to her voice is all but gone now.

I go on with my rant, not giving her the time to reply. Not that she would reply. I bet she doesn’t know what to say. “So he knows where you live?! Or was the picture taken at his place?! He knows what you look like?! You have seen him! He has seen you in real life but me, your best friend, haven’t!!! You are breaking Covid 19 protection laws to take pictures?! Are you fucking serious, Y/N?!”

There’s a long moment of silence which frustrates me even more but I literally have run out of things to yell and the power to be angry. I mean, I still am, I just can’t express it.

“Rae, sweetheart, please calm down. You’re scary when you’re mad.“ This girl has some fucking nerve! She’s on the verge of laughing!

“Listen here you...“ 

“Rae, please stop scaring my girlfriend.“ That oh so distinguishable, oh so familiar voice interrupts me.

I am flabbergasted, for a lack of a better term.

“Now that we’ve got you quiet, I can explain.“ Y/N pics up the conversation, “Corpse and I have been dating for six, almost seven months now. We started dating around Easter after talking for quite some time. We moved in together at the end of September. All thanks to you, Rae. You’re the best.” She pauses to breathe in real quick, “There, all caught up?“

I’m in no less shock than I was before she explained. Actually, I think I might be even more confused now. It all just feels like a fever dream. “Yes...no. I don’t fucking know! I need details, Y/N!”

“Details later.“ Corpse makes his presence known once again, “We’re watching Family Guy right now. Talk to you later.“

“Love you, Rae!“ Y/N calls out before the line goes dead.

My arm goes limp, dropping my phone on the couch next to me. 

“Motherfuckers” I mumble under my breath.

Y/N’s POV

It’s been a week since Rae has stopped talking to both Corpse and me. I know she just needs some time to cool off. In the meantime, the rest of our friends were informed and, as oppose to Rae, were nothing but supportive and overjoyed. I bet Rae feels the same way though. Sean, Dave and the rest of the gang have confirmed that she’s incredibly happy for us and says she noticed a spark between me and him since day one, but she can’t help but be mad at us, and especially me, for not telling her sooner.

“Any regrets?“ I remember Corpse asking me when we hung up on her after dropping the bomb.

“Not being able to see her face when she saw the picture.“ I beam at him, feeling as content as ever.

He laughs, agreeing with me before leaning down to kiss me.

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios

[cartoonfangirl1218]

TOH Coven Headcanons

Plant: Plant witches are much like they’re chosen discipline, patient, sturdy, when knocked back down they come back up again season after season.

Just like plants, they have a variety of jobs as herbalists in tandem with the Healing Coven, chefs with the Potion Coven, and coming up with natural weapons and defenses in the jungle of the Boiling Isle. Plus contributing knowledge of the fauna and new discoveries.

They are one of the foremost experts of poisons, love perfumes, etc. and so there is a black market for their expertise as well as a black market for rare and exotic plants though there are societies that are working to keep those plants for science and research.

Illusions: Illusionists are very sociable, like to be in front of a crowd, many are entertainers or work with special effects and such on crystal ball with the Bard Coven. Some have joined companies in making virtual reality games. They also make the best parties/clubs that are like a masquerade/moulin rogue/funhouse/great Gatsby combo.

Though they do gripe about being looked down on as all style and no substance, they do tend to lean to being overly concerned with the appearance/aesthetic of something and forget about the function

Make great con people, what with the whole deception. Big fan of false fronts, and distracting with the right hand while using the left.

There are some forbidden spells like ones that are pre-cursor to the Grom monster and hallucinatory/insanity spells available on the black market. Belos has a supply of his own illusionists to use these in the conformatorium on any dissidents so when he releases them, their accusations against Belos’ civilized orders will be dismissed as crazy talk.

Bard: Bard are the creative backbone working with the Construction and Illusion Covens in filling galleries with art, clothes, and entertainment. And as Raine demonstrated, they bring protest art.

Bards are talented, creative, ambitious, introverted (some), outgoing (some), mad geniuses (debatable), and sometimes all in their heads. But most of all dedicated to whatever craft they choose.

Since they are sometimes just dismissed as artists, they can sneak in anti Belos themes, and motifs into their work and make witches think about the regime they are living in. However, Belos also employs his own bards to spread pro Coven and pro Belos propaganda.

Bards not only can bewitch the audience with their music, but in battle, can disorient them, and deafen them (much as Raine did) and as a classic, cause uncontrollable dancing.

Beast keeper: Beast keeping witches are compassionate, fierce, empathetic, and at times, feral, when some of them get tired of the oppressed society they live in and retreat with their animals in the wild without human interaction for miles.

Just like the plant Coven, beast-keepers scour the Boiling Isle to study and collect knowledge of beasts in their natural habitats as well as bring them back to tame.

Not only do the beast keepers make pet shops and zoos, they also work on the Boiling Isle as defense against rogue beasts that sometimes venture from the wild into towns.

It goes without saying that there is a mythical animal black market among the upper classes that a dedicated group against beast abuse is trying to curb.

Beast keepers also help train palismen and as conservationists since the increasing population build new houses verging on animal habitats.

Healing: Healers tend to be homebodies, they’re compassionate to their patients but also no nonsense when they need to be in order to keep their infirmaries in line.

Though it goes without saying they’re are some that develop a god complex when there is the fate of witch’s life in their hands. And shadier ones will sometimes only help if their exorbitant fees are paid.

Not only do they run the hospitals, heal broken bones and such, but they also work as “mind healers” for trauma, PTSD and other mental illnesses in need of therapy.

The healer Coven also works with the Beastkeeping and Abomination Coven in creating aids for those with disabilities.

Potion: Potion witches are inventive, curious, quick to grasp complex formulas, have a mind for memorization and tend to be multi taskers.

Potions is one of the most diverse and most censored with guidelines to prevent performance enhancement and/or would infringe on someone else’s rights (illegal potions like love/mind control/death/increase energy/increase strength/etc.) Though the enforcement of those guidelines can be waived away with a well placed bribe.

Potions also tend to be a risky business since one needs wealthy backers to fund your experiments in new potions and you need willing participants for your potions or else one can drink them all themselves and hope the results aren’t fatal.

Potions work within almost every Coven from dyes/paint for Construction Coven, medicine for beastkeeping and healing, growth for plants and more.

Oracle: Oracles have a slight tendency to be control freaks, what with their ability to see the future and thus have expectation for how things should go. However, they also can be objective and open minded as they are more aware that the future is open to interpretation and change.

Their balls cannot only see the future but they can scry and see a witch’s current whereabouts and see bits into the past.

It goes without saying, master oracles can summon tremendous power to see the whole past coming from a witch’s possession. Or help control someone’s future but these spells are advance and require great amounts of energy and access to ancient texts.

With their abilities to see past, present and future, they make great stock estimates, judges, historians and have a booming business for the superstitious and overly cautious that want good luck charms to prevent dire fates.

They are also the owners of most of the casinos, cage match betting rings and lotteries.

Construction: Construction witches are disciplined, loyal, hard working, creative and not afraid of hard labor. They can work as house builders and sculptors/jewelry makers to erecting forts, defenses and participating in grudgy games and cage fights.

As Dana said they are sculptors and artists themselves so they can be seen working in tandem with the Bard Coven.

But with their ability to traverse difficult terrain and manipulate it, make them excellent adventurers and artifact finders. In fact, they and the Plant Coven often hold camps to teach witches how survive in the wild.

Construction also makes up a good bunch of Belos’ toughest guards alongside Abomination.

Abomination: Abomination witches are witches with iron wills who stand their ground as they bend and mold their creatures to obey their every whim. Like Darius and Alador, they are creative in thinking of new ideas to bring more potential out of their servants

It is one of the most profitable covens with plenty of opportunities as it acts as the industrial backbone of the Boiling Isle, providing countless servants, disability aids and weapons for battle.

Abominations take a great amount of energy from the witch as not only do they have to bring out this goo out of thin air at times, Abominations are slow and unable to think for themselves so the witch has to do both for it, and use more energy to make it bigger and do more complex orders.

[cinnamonest]

The slut Kokomi ask- I was literally thinking to myself while wandering around the sangonomiya shrine that, Kokomi when not being a girl boss is definitely sitting in there getting absolutely railed by her little boy toy Gorou, I definitely see her as the brains of the duo, and he really is just a dumb thing with a big dick to her, at first she just uses him as a stress reliever, this is just casual sex to her and nothing more, but to Gorou he believes that she loves him and he already worships her so there’s not a doubt in his mind that it’s love. Eventually Kokomi will have to explain to him that it’s not love, she knew this conversation would be coming but chose to hold off because if it went wrong where else was she going to get good dick? Effectively making her situation worse by letting his feelings fester, when she first tells him he’s taken aback, probably in denial that her excellency would play with his feelings like that and not be truthful with him. At the end of the conversation she’ll probably try to break it off saying that it was her mistake and unprofessional in the first place, and I can imagine him snapping after hearing that, lunges at her and drags her to the nearest wall just to fuck her against it, she’s always encouraged him to be a bit rough because she knew he would never actually hurt her, oh how that backfires on her now, he thinks to himself, “he’s the dominant one in this one sided relationship of his, even if he’s worshipped Kokomi for a while, he gets to call the shots and how dare she think that she can just abandon him like that.”She won’t have time to protest when her face is shoved against the wall with her ass up, by the end of it she truly will be fucked out, every hole was used and abused by her sweet little general Gorou. From that point on, Kokomi may be the grand strategist that leads her army, but behind closed doors she’s just his dumb little cock slut, honestly he prefers her this way, it feels nice to be on the receiving end of all that worship he blindly gave her, he deserves it at this point, at least from his pov.

(I am a firm believer in the wife Kokomi agenda, how’s she gonna walk around in her cute little outfit, her innocent little girly aesthetic, those shorts???? There’s no way she’d last long without getting non-conned by someone, and she’s an army leader???? Gorou thinking to himself: “doesn’t she know that women are supposed to answer to men” I also believe the Gorou has the same kind of sexist mindset as Razor, the, it’s just the way things are in nature mindset)

Y'all this tweet is so cute though

Another follower of the Wife Kokomi Agenda excellent, the one true way

Can you blame her? I mean boy is basically a living bad dragon dildo with that knot, and he does all the moving too! He's the ideal sex toy! I'd use him too ngl. Poor thing, he has such a teeny tiny brain to go along with that massive cock and all 3 brain cells are consumed by Kokomi-ism. Head empty only her excellency

He has a duality, an inconsistency of thought, both sides due to his canine nature. On one hand, worship and loyalty! Like a doggie to its master, he just!!! He could spend all day talking about how much he loves her!! Poor Resistance soldiers, anyone who is like "hey Gorou why do you like Kokomi" is immediately subjected to the standard 4 hour presentation he has memorized and rehearsed to give at any given moment. His tail wags uncontrollably when she comes into a room, his eyes are wide and bright. He has the most obvious crush in the world.

But dogs can also be... Aggressive when they feel threatened. Even the sweetest, most loving dog knows how to bite. When something tries to take the person they love away from them... Even if that thing is the person themselves... But his doggie brain rationalizes that if he just shows her how much he loves her, she'll love him back. That's how it works.

The best part? It takes the knot a while to stop swelling, so even after she's thoroughly bred, twitching and panting and numb, with dazed eyes and a belly swollen (dogs cum a LOT), they're still locked together, and she couldn't pull away even if she wanted to, the knot is snugly fit inside. It keeps her plugged up so no cum spills out. That way she can be bred with all his puppies and then she'll love him forever. But for now, since he physically can't pull out, he can wrap his arms around her and hold her tight and nuzzle into her neck while she numbly twitches, his fluffy tail wagging back and forth the whole time.

And yesssss I love that he WOULD have that mentality! It's not even really intentional or derogatory, a lot of it is just pre-programmed into his brain. His human side wants to be respectful but... his instinct is to breed. He doesn't so much intentionally see her as a lesser out of disdain or arrogance (he does kinda worship her at the same time after all), so much as he just looks at her, and his brain registers only hips, thighs, waist, tiddy (which is her fault seeing as how much she shows those things off). Thighs that act like cushions for his hips, hips and waist for handlebars and holding babies on the hip, tiddies for feeding, for his pups (and him) to suckle on... How can he not look at her and see a puppy-making machine?? His animal instincts don't pay mind to feelings and all that, it just registers that there is a very much unbred, non-pregnant female who would be very suitable for breeding in front of him. So that instinct kinda takes over any rational thoughts he could have had. And she's supposed to be a puppy machine, in his instinctive brain, that should be her priority, since she's the one that carries them, she should forget about all that other stuff.

Male dogs can be aggressive towards the females, too, when it comes to forcing them to do what they want... to the point of grabbing them with their teeth and dragging them away, too. Especially if the female is trying to interact with another male dog... You can't blame him for getting mad and dragging her away. Or grabbing her and growling when she doesn't do what he wants. He apologizes later, but in the moment it's just instinct. She's the weaker mate, of course she should do what he wants.

Unfortunately, our boy's cum is highly potent... Unlike with Razor where it might be a coincidental chance, with Gorou there's a 100% guarantee he'll end up breeding her with at least four or five puppies, minimum. Poor Kokomi is gonna be a busy mom. No time left for war strategy and all that, only nursing and playing with the... Fish-dog babies.

[juniorgman187]

Fighting Fire With Fire (Reid Fic)

Summary: Reader must lower her pride after a date goes wrong and the only one who can rescue her is her mortal enemy - Spencer Reid.

A/N: This was a beast of a fic to write. It’s been in my WIP since September, and I managed to go from 11 pages to 22 pages in three days. It is now my longest fic thus far. I am insanely fucking proud of it and I hope it does well. Category: Angst Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: allusions to ‘catfishing,’ allusions to abduction, dub-con to taking provocative photos, alcohol, mentions of bruises, jealousy, carrying hug which implies weight of Reader (lmk if I missed anything) Word Count: 11.7k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

I tried to play nice; I really did, but there was no getting through to him. Everyday started and ended with us fighting fire with fire.

Maybe the reason the two of you butt heads so often is because of how similar you are.

That’s what the team would say when Spencer and I got into one of our daily (sometimes hourly) arguments. 

They constantly encouraged us to get to know each other so that we’d finally see the likeness, and until recently, I wasn’t opposed to the idea. I was willing to do whatever it took to get him to like me. However, as previously mentioned, my willingness quickly dissipated in light of recent events. 

Voluntarily spending more time than necessary with him would be a recipe for disaster no doubt. 

Somehow, in a matter of a month, Reid decided that he simply did not enjoy my presence, which was the nice way of putting it. 

To be more crass, he loathed me to no end.

Initially, I was operating under the assumption that he wasn’t fond of change, and with me joining the BAU, the change was too much too fast for him, but after four weeks, his attitude toward me never deviated. Yet again, I made another excuse for him, arguing to myself that people are allowed to not like me. I could respect that, but where he lost my respect was how he made a conscious effort to remind me of how much he despised me. Even when I was at my nicest, he still treated me like a scelerate. 

If there was a prize for gaining a mortal enemy in the shortest amount of time, I guess I already won that without even trying. He hated me with a burning passion, for reasons unbeknownst to me, despite the fact that all I’d ever try to do was be his friend. 

For far too long, I kept denying the part of me that knew making peace with him outside of work wouldn’t go well and it’d simply go down in history as another failed attempt of mine to form a bond with him, so it was at this point that I decided to face the facts. 

He didn’t make it easy for me, either. It was hard having to be kind to someone that was only ever out to get me. 

He would constantly correct me but only after I said something incorrectly, just so he could prove me wrong. 

“If each police officer patrols a street, we’ll be able to cover the entire comfort zone.”

“Actually, we’d need three more officers if we want to cover the entire comfort zone. There’s still 2.347 miles that are unaccounted for.”

I never understood why he couldn’t just say his piece before me so that I didn’t look like an idiot, but I suppose that was the point. 

And he had this infuriating, unwarranted habit of judging my taste in cinema and literature. Anytime I told Emily or Derek about a movie I saw or told Rossi about a book I read, he felt compelled to share his antagonistic opinions as if I asked for them in the first place. Sometimes even spoiling the endings for me!

“Rossi, I just started reading Doctor Sleep!” I was so eager to tell Rossi that, so much so that I’d become blind to one dark cloud’s own eagerness to ruin the fun. 

“The hotel burns to the ground, but the ghosts don’t die with it.” 

He said it with such monotony and nonchalance, not even bothering to look up from his own book to watch my reaction to his menacing act. He just didn’t care!

The list of reasons not to like him truly did go on and on, so it was almost insulting how people would compare the two of us. 

They’d bring up the congruence in intelligence, the same affinity for reading, and closeness in age, but it only made me madder. The last person I wanted to resemble was Reid, except today, I gained another glaring similarity to him.

“Look at you two. Did you plan your outfits or something?” Emily playfully pointed out after I walked into the conference room. 

I eyed the doctor sipping at his cup of coffee who swiveled around in his chair to see what everyone else was seeing. Just from a short glance, I spotted his navy blue button-up with white polka dots that was nearly identical to the color and print of my dress.

“Well, looks like one of us has to go home and change.” His lips grew into a mischievous smirk behind the rim of his mug. 

Was that a joke? Did Spencer Reid make jokes now?

“Ha ha. Very funny.” I facetiously remarked, taking the only open seat at the table which was next to the jokester himself. 

“I’m kidding. You look really nice today.” He alleged without a hint of irony. He was complimenting me now, too? It was so unfamiliar that it felt like uncharted territory, possibly even a trap.

“Why? Because I’m dressed like you?” I wasn’t going to fall for his words now, maybe the version of me who would do anything to gain his approval would have. She would’ve smiled and said ‘thank you,’ but this me was going to challenge him if that was the last thing I ever did. “Bit of a narcissist are we, Dr. Reid?” 

“Mmm maybe,” He wagered, tilting his head from side to side as if to contemplate the possibility. “Or maybe I just really think you look nice.” 

Without even thinking, my heart skipped a beat. I was utterly repulsed by how I let his words have any effect over me. I couldn’t believe that he’d actually managed to fluster me with mediocre flattery. 

It felt like years that I had to sit next to Reid at the round table before Hotch dismissed the team for the flight.

30 minutes later, and we were on the jet. I’d taken one of the seats at the table opposite Derek and Emily, with Spencer beside me. 

Little things like this I could handle, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before he started bothering me. Morgan was listening to music and Emily was turned around in her seat, facing the back to talk to Rossi. Reid was playing himself in chess, and it took all of my self-control to not be a total asshole and knock the board and its pieces over and into the aisle. Luckily, I had a good enough distraction. 

Grant: can you ft tonight?

Me: we’ll see. i might have to work overtime. 

For the months that I had been talking to Grant, I was deliberately ambiguous about my job because I wasn’t exactly keen on telling him that I worked for the FBI and that I might not be able to FaceTime him since I was in the process of investigating a series of homicides. That’d surely scare him away and I was never one to flaunt my government job anyway.

Grant: you look stunning today

Me: you haven’t even seen me today 

Grant: don’t need to. 

Grant: you’ll always be stunning to me. 

“Who keeps texting you?” 

I looked up from my screen to see Reid fixated on his game but still engaged in my business. 

“No one,” I harshly replied, making a conscious decision to turn my phone on vibrate so he wouldn’t hear the chime of my text notifications.  

With one nimble side glance, Reid eyed my screen. I nudged him away with extra force.

“Nosy much?!” 

This stunned him. He wasn’t used to my coldness, he probably expected me to smile in a chagrined manner and not confront it - as I would have done - but now I was fighting back, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he liked it. 

I knew he could read fast, but how he managed to look at my phone so quickly it was like he never even moved his eyes - I didn’t know. Somehow, though, he managed to capture Grant’s entire username, and I didn’t doubt that he caught my entire conversation with him, too.

“Who’s Grant?” The name rolled off his tongue like he was insulted to even be saying it. 

“No one.” 

He didn’t respond soon after I said this, which I misinterpreted as a little victory for me since I almost believed he was going to drop the subject, but in true Spencer Know It All Reid fashion, he just kept going. 

“‘You look stunning today B-T-W. You haven’t even seen me today. Don’t need to. You’ll always be stunning to me.’ Doesn’t really sound like a ‘no one’ to me.” His recitation of my entire PRIVATE conversation with Grant embarrassed me. 

Did I forget to add his eidetic memory and speed-reading ability to the list of reasons not to like him?

“Shut up!” I nudged him, this time using much more force than the last. I was becoming more and more inclined to push over his ridiculous chess game so that he’d finally take me seriously. 

“Oh, really clever by the way. Vaguely insinuating that you ‘might not be able to call him because you’re working overtime’ just so you don’t have to disclose the true nature of your job.” Spencer’s sarcasm was thick.

“Are you just jealous because the only date you’ve been on was a fake one with a serial killer and not even your actual girlfriend while she was alive?” My reference to Cat and Maeve caught the attention of the entire jet. 

Each member mentally rolled their eyes thinking ‘Here we go again.’ And if that wasn’t their reaction, they were certainly cringing at the fight that was ensuing. 

Things had been suspiciously good between the two of us today so it was about time we argued. We were due for our daily quarrel.

“Oh, that’s right! The only girls who like you are victims in our cases.” Now this comment was referring to Lila and Austin. (I had Penelope to thank for filling me in on all of Reid’s ‘entanglements’ after I was first reassigned).

“Really? You wanna go there?” He sassed back, diverting his attention away fully from his chess game now. “Do you know how many people get ‘catfished’ when using online dating websites? Or the statistics on how many people are raped, assaulted, or murdered by said ‘catfish’?” 

“I’m not stupid, Reid. He and I have been talking for months. We’ve been on calls and Facetime before, too. We’ve just never met in person. Sound familiar?” 

“What Maeve and I had is not at all comparable to what you and this ‘guy’ have. And just because you’ve seen his face before doesn’t mean he’s not a serial killer or operating under an alias.” 

I had to scoff. Who was he to label our relationship valid or not?

“What’s it to you anyway? We all know you’d be ecstatic if this guy turned out to be a serial killer or catfish. You’d get to rub it in my face and say ‘I told you so.’” 

This touched a nerve. He hated it when I attacked his nice-guy facade. 

“Is it so hard to believe I’m actually concerned for your wellbeing?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Fine. If you think I don’t care about you, then don’t come crying to me when you realize he’s not the guy you think he is.”

“Oh, trust me, I won’t! It’s not like you’d be able to protect me anyway, Pretty Boy.” I sneered, using Morgan’s nickname for him as an insult got to him, and I could see it in the way his jaw clenched and his nostrils flared. 

Hotch had to interject now. “Alright, (y/l/n), Reid, that’s enough. We need to focus on what’s actually important.” 

I settled back down in my seat, facing forward and avoiding eye contact with Reid. 

“Have fun on your date,” He muttered under his breath. “Hope you survive it.”

Bastard.

For the rest of the case, I was on edge. Deliberately avoiding him was a much harder task than one might think. I had to wait at least ten minutes for my coffee, so I wouldn’t be at the machine when he was there, and if I had to guess, he probably took longer just to make me wait in agitation. I had to awkwardly squeeze into a new spot beside Rossi and Hotch when we were delivering the profile. I had to ask not to travel in the same SUV as him. 

And this exhausting routine went on for days. In fact, I’d managed to almost go the entire case without interacting with him. That was until Hotch sent us both in the field to apprehend the unsub. 

“Are you sure?” I asked with clear reluctance. 

“Are you questioning me?” Hotch replied sternly. 

“No, sir.” 

I was already on thin ice being the new recruit, so I knew better than to question any of Hotch’s orders. And as miserable as working with Reid was, I figured he’d at least ease up on the hostility when we needed to be professional. Evidently though, even in the field, he wasn’t willing to work together with me. 

It was a quick decision, not careless in the least, however. The unsub had locked himself in his warehouse and refused to leave unless we were brave enough to drag him out of there ourselves. The ultimatum he gave specified that only one of us could do it and we both agreed that I should go in, seeing as he’d underestimate my strength as a woman, and I’d have the upperhand when I inevitably apprehended him. 

However, he also explicitly told us that I couldn’t come in with a gun - it had to be an even playing field. 

“You are not going in without a gun,”  Reid ordered. 

“We don’t have time to argue about this - I have a spare on me, okay? There are three hostages in there, two of which are children.” Without giving him a chance to respond, I handed him my gun and holster.

Had I let him waste a single second more of my time, we wouldn’t have been able to save the three hostages and successfully arrest the unsub. I saw this as a victory and I was almost willing to celebrate it with him, but it wasn’t long before he let our enmity tear us apart again. 

When we got back to the precinct, I went to the locker room to change, then suddenly, Hotch came in. 

“I’ve been informed that you went in unarmed against a fellow agent’s orders. This matter will be discussed in my office when we get back. I should warn you, (y/n), you do not want to make this mistake again.” Hotch left me with those foreboding words, and I knew, I knew immediately that Reid was to blame for this.

If I took a look in the mirror of my locker, I wouldn’t have been surprised if I saw that my face was turning a bright shade of red. I was fuming - bursting at the seams from the anger building within me that was desperately fighting to escape. I could imagine myself as a cartoon character with steam blowing out either of my ears. I was about to go on a rampage, and no one - absolutely no one - could stop me. 

The last straw was hearing him come in. This was my opportunity to unleash what was already boiling. 

“What the hell, Reid? ‘(y/n) went in unarmed.’ Seriously?!” I undid the velcro on my vest so hastily out of my blind rage that the spiky side of the velcro strip nearly sliced my finger. “Are you trying to get me fired?” 

“If that’s what it takes to make you realize how stupid of a choice that was, then yes, I do.” He was so calm and collected in his inflection that it angered me all the more. 

“What are you even talking about? What ‘stupid choice’? You knew I had a second gun on me. And even if I didn’t carry it, I still would’ve had my vest on. I wasn’t going in unarmed or unprotected, so why would you tell Hotch that?” 

“In the time it would take you to assess the danger, react, and then reach for the gun at your ankle, the unsub would’ve been able to shoot you twice - if not more. That’s going in unprepared, which is going in unarmed.”

I scoffed in disbelief that he was actually reprimanding me. “Are you kidding? This is all based on a technicality? Did your eidetic memory somehow forget about what happened with Maeve? Because my memory didn’t. I know for a fact that you went into that warehouse without a vest or a weapon. And unlike you, I had a spare and my vest. AND I actually apprehended the unsub. Did you stop Diane?”  

This crossed a line and I knew it, but it was too late to take it back, and clearly, it was much too late to repair any relationship I had with him. We were far beyond the point of no return. 

He was so mad that he didn’t even answer me. The only response I could gauge was from his body language, which by the looks of it, all the signs of anger were plain on his face. He clenched his jaw so hard I could hear his teeth grind. Even his nostrils flared so primitively. His eyes narrowed down at me with a glare that said, ‘I’m the predator and you’re the prey.’

“Yeah, exactly.” I spat when he stayed silent. 

I turned around, starting towards the exit, but I was too furious to stop there, so I spun around and unleashed the remainder of my wrath that had been dying to come out. 

“Look, I get it. I’m the new kid around here, and it sucks when someone new comes in and changes up the team dynamic, but any mistake I make, or any mistake Hotch thinks I make, could send me packing. You’ve been working in this unit for years, and even if Hotch questions your choices, he won’t reassign you. He won’t even threaten it. He’s willing to overlook your mistakes because he knows that what you have to contribute to the team is too vital to let go, but I haven’t even had my chance to show him what I have to offer. So when I do make a mistake, there is nothing for me to fall back on, nothing to redeem me, and no safety net, but you? You have years of experience on your back to break your fall. So don’t you dare act like you’re doing me a favor by reporting my ‘mistake’ to Hotch. You might be costing me my dream job, and if you think that makes us friends - think again.” 

I stormed out of the locker room seeing red. 

This war was far from over. 

_ _ _

“You’re clenching your fists again,” Emily said under her breath. I was grateful that she said it in a hushed tone, otherwise she might’ve revealed my lingering anger to the whole jet, which wouldn’t have been good. 

I immediately unclenched them, opening up my hands to reveal small, dark C shaped imprints on my palms from where my nails had dug into them. 

I should’ve expected that she would’ve learned at least one of my tells by now. I did have many after all. Cheek biting, fist-clenching, leg bouncing. 

“Something bothering you?” She probed quietly. 

She set her book down to give her undivided attention to this conversation. That was enough to tell me that an excuse like, ‘Nothing, I’m fine,’ would not suffice. She wouldn’t be satisfied until I told her the truth, which I surely did not want to tell. So I settled for a half-truth.

“Hotch wants to talk when we get back.” 

From my peripherals, I saw her knit her brows together in confusion. “Is . . . is that it?”

“Mhm.” I lied. 

“But that’s not enough to warrant the fist clenching. Cheek biting - sure - you do it when you’re anxious, but not fist-clenching. You only do that when you’re angry about something.” 

“Oh, so you have figured out all my tells,” I smirked.

“Pfft, I figured them all out the first week you got here, but I won’t tell you the rest, otherwise you might try and hide them from me,” She joked. 

I shook my head playfully. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m just worked up about something - it’s nothing you need to worry about though.” Habitually, my eyes looked right up in his direction. I caught a glimpse of him sprawled against the couch, sleeping. He was lucky I wasn’t ranting about the little stunt he pulled earlier to Emily. He should be thankful that I was even trying to protect his reputation to her at all. 

“I get it if you don’t want to talk about it, but it does help. Take it from me, someone who really only trusts myself, you shouldn’t hide what you feel.” 

What you feel. 

I clung onto those words. 

What was I really feeling? 

Was I upset that instead of receiving praise for the arrest I made, I was scolded like a child? Was I angry that Hotch believed what Reid had to say about my “problematic behavior” instead of believing in me? 

Or did I feel betrayed that despite my best efforts to build a bridge, Reid was tearing it apart brick by brick? Burning it to pieces with the fire of his rage?

“Thanks.” I bleakly said to Emily. I would’ve told her the truth, but it didn’t feel necessary at that moment. If anything, it just would’ve reflected badly on me. 

Truthfully, she was the closest thing I had to a friend in the BAU, and if I wanted a permanent spot here, I needed to make more of them - and fast. 

“Hey, (y/n), we’re all going down to O’Keefs tonight to celebrate. You wanna join us?” Morgan asked, walking up the aisle and crouching down beside my seat to talk to me. 

“Oh, I wish I could, but I have to talk with Hotch when we get back,” I explained, smiling politely. 

“We can postpone the meeting till first thing Monday morning. I need to go home and be with Jack, anyway,” Hotch added. 

I didn’t realize he could hear me from where he was sitting, which made me all the more nervous that he might’ve overheard the entire conversation between me and Emily earlier. 

“Looks like I’m free,” I looked back at Morgan. “Does the offer still stand?”

“Anything for you, sweet cheeks.” He winked. 

Judging from the lightness of the atmosphere, everyone, except maybe Hotch and Rossi, would be celebrating at O’Keefs - including Spencer. 

I think I might’ve actually preferred to be scolded by Hotch tonight, instead of being silently glared at by Spencer, but it was already too late to revoke my confirmation of presence. 

Because, if Hotch could hear me from where he was sitting, then Spencer could, too. 

He already heard I was coming, and there was no way I was backing down.

_ _ _ 

In spite of the fact that I could barely hear myself think over the loud chatter and blasting music, I could still feel the rage radiating off of Spencer. You would think with how long his nap was on the jet, he wouldn’t be so cranky, but I guess he just couldn’t sleep off his disdain for me after our minor altercation. 

I wondered if the team could see it, too. The way he was burning a hole into me with his fiery stare. The tension was palpable, as it has always been, but remember - I’m not the one who wanted it that way. 

He started this. I was only making the feeling mutual. 

“So what about you, (y/n)? Are you seeing anyone?” 

I tried to hide my growing smirk behind the rim of my beer, but I knew I couldn’t hide much from them. Of course, right across from me, Spencer was glaring at me expectantly, waiting for the answer he already knew. 

“Oooh, look at her - she’s blushing! Spill.” Penelope ordered, beating her palm on the table so enthusiastically it shook all the drinks on it.  

“Well, there’s this one guy I’ve been seeing for a while,” The second I started speaking, I noticed Spencer rolling his eyes. I figured his apprehension was the only response of its kind that I would receive, but I was very mistaken. 

“How did you two meet?” Penelope giddily asked, nearly jumping up and down in her seat. 

“A dating app, actually.” 

The table went completely silent, and I immediately felt my stomach drop. It was as if I’d just said something very wrong. With just a quick glance in front of me, Spencer was basking in this. 

What a dick.

Emily hesitated to ask. “...Have you two met in person before?” 

Now it was my turn to hesitate to speak. “No, not yet.” 

I took another sip of my drink even though I wasn’t thirsty. I just wanted to hide any part of my face I could to shield myself from the five sets of eyes burning holes into me now, rather than just the one. Trying to make matters better, I spoke all too quickly, nearly sputtering on my beer. “I’m completely safe, though. Nothing sketchy’s going on, I promise.” 

“Of course,” JJ agreed. “We totally trust you,” neglecting to attach the cliche, ‘It’s him we don’t trust.’ But if she had, it would’ve spoken everyone’s bubble thoughts right about now. 

“Just be careful, mama.” Derek’s response felt the most sincere, and I honestly believed he was happy for me, but it didn’t change how much their judgement initially stung. 

For the rest of the night, I didn’t talk. No one noticed. 

Except maybe the last person I wanted to notice. 

I quietly slipped away somewhere in the night when the conversation was at its highest precisely so they wouldn’t question where I was going or if I was okay. If they had asked, the truthful answer to the former would’ve been ‘just outside to get some air’ and the latter ‘no.’

The cool breeze drifted through the door like rising fog and for the briefest moment in time, I felt suspended in the space around me - I’d finally caught my breath. That feeling wouldn’t last long, though. 

I’d intentionally gone outside to compose myself until I came back a person who wasn’t on the verge of tears, but apparently, trying to pull myself only resulted in my falling apart. A ball of yarn unraveling is the closest comparison I can draw to what I must’ve looked like, crying quietly on the street.

“I figured I’d find you here.” 

It was the mere sound of someone’s voice that shocked me, but it was the person whose voice it was that led to the frustration that followed. 

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be inside talking to the team of people who also agree with you about Grant?” 

He was too much of a nuisance to warrant exchanging eye contact with so I simply stared forward as I spoke and wiped the tears away that were still pooling on my lower lash line. I hoped he hadn’t actually seen me crying, but from what I could tell, he was probably standing there long before he said something. And if he was truly looking at me as deeply as it felt like right now, then he’d have noticed my bloodshot eyes, flushed cheeks, and unending sniffling. 

“Is that why you disappeared back there? Because you’re upset they didn’t exactly like the idea of your relationship?” The pain in the ass really tried, he really tried to get me to look at him by facing me and making these gestures with his hands that should’ve gotten my attention, but instead, I stayed put leaning against the wall, keeping my line of sight straight ahead. 

“(Y/n), they weren’t insulting you or judging you -”

“Then why did it feel like it?” For the first time since he’d joined me, I’d looked at him. I didn’t even mean to and I had every intention of denying him that privilege for the entire duration of our conversation, but as soon as I asked him my question, we locked eyes, and I saw it written all over his face. 

He felt sorry for me. 

Now, he could clearly make out how distraught I was from this unobstructed view of my face that was kindled by the dim, flickering yellow glow of the streetlight beside us. And he kept staring, looking into my eyes to read me just as easily and just as quickly as he read a book. 

“All we want is for you to be safe,” His voice crackled momentarily, and it actually touched some part of me for how genuine it sounded. “We weren’t trying to judge you or to insult you, and I’m sorry if it felt that way, but if we want your safety, and you tell us about something that could be potentially harmful, then of course we’re going to be apprehensive about it. That’s how people that care about you should react.”

“So are you saying that I don’t care about myself because I’m engaging in something risky?” Isn’t that the most ironic statement of this year? The definition of our job was risky, and even if this wasn’t the safest relationship on the planet, it was nothing like what we put ourselves through everyday being in the field. 

“No, that’s not what I’m saying -”

“So what are you saying?” I dared. He shook his head and sighed like he was about to give up, but I needed an answer. “No, please, do continue. Finish what you were gonna say. Since you apparently know everything, 187. Please go ahead - tell me what you think I should do.” 

Tell me what you really came out here to say, I ordered him with my eyes.

“I think I respect you more than you respect yourself, and that’s really saying something. Because if you actually liked yourself as much as I do, then you would realize that subjecting yourself to this nonsensicality of a long-distance relationship is not only dangerous - but insulting to your worth, too. You deserve more than that, (y/n).” He couldn’t have been clearer when he murmured a low and firm, “Much more.” 

The world was spinning on its axis too fast for me to process anything he said before snapping back at him. “So what exactly is it you want me to do?”

With utmost clarity in both annunciation and intention, he told me, “Break up with him.” 

Not a shadow of a doubt in his words. 

Then, like the phantom of the opera himself, he vanished back into the bar, but even if he had stayed, I wouldn’t have had anything to say to him. I was simply rendered speechless.

Circling back to my previous argument, I questioned once more why was it any of his business anyway? I was allowed to do as I pleased and I most certainly did not have to listen to him. And I didn’t. 

But I should’ve. 

_ _ _ 

My Monday morning meeting with Hotch wasn’t nearly as fire and brimstone as I thought it would be. It did however feel like the equivalent to an “I’m disappointed in you” parent speech. In some ways, I related to the average teen who was grounded. Except instead of my phone being taken away, it was my freedom. From now on, I could only follow executive orders that had been given to me. At least for the time being. 

It was clear that, deep down, some part of Hotch knew what I’d done was the right call, but he couldn’t give me any favors. Not until they were deserved on my end. 

Walking onto the jet after our meeting, however, felt more juvenile than the punishment itself. I was a kid again, re-entering my classroom after using the restroom, only to have all eyes on me as I came through the door.

As per usual, the only empty chair was next to Reid. There’d been too many instances of this happening to think it was just a coincidence. At this point, I had to assume it was by design. Whose design however? That I didn’t know.

“Hello, trouble,” He sang when I took my seat. 

I could only assume that this new nickname was based on what took place in Hotch’s office - thanks to him, need I remind you - but I didn’t care to know the origin because that would require talking to him, and for several reasons, that was the last thing I wanted to do. The first of which was what happened less than three days ago. An event we both hadn’t mentioned yet, and I hoped we never would. 

I took every preventative measure in the book. I changed seats with JJ. I moved to the couch. I even started reading in the little hallway between the kitchenette and bathroom of the jet to avoid sitting beside him, but against all my best efforts, he always found a way to bug me. When there’s a will, there’s a way. After exhausting any real reason he had to talk to me, he had to get creative. 

“You’ve been on that same page for four minutes and twenty-seven seconds.” I heard him say when he walked up to the kitchen to reach for the pot of coffee. Almost expecting I’d ask him what he meant, he added the explanation casually. “It never takes you more than three minutes and twelve seconds to move onto the next page. So either you’re not understanding the material or you’re not actually reading.”

It was utterly hilarious of him to imply that either of those things were definitely the answer. “What if I’m just taking my time reading this page, genius? Ever thought of that?” 

His eyes turned into slits as he leaned in closer to examine me. “You’re blinking rate just increased, too.”

“Stop!” I screeched childishly, pushing him away by his shoulders in an attempt to get him off my back, but he was far from off my back. No, he was right against it. More specifically, his hand was on the small of it. 

Leaning in so close that his lips were practically pressing on the shell of my ear, he whispered, “Come find me when you’re ready to tell me the truth.”

He didn’t need to know his words or actions had any sort of effect on me, so I kept the most stoic facial expression on, and I didn’t say a single thing back. He turned back around to leave with the hand on my back being the last thing to go. His lingering touch caused a shiver to run down my spine while paradoxically burning my body from the friction. 

I was disgusted with myself for having let him elicit any sort of reaction from me, even if he wasn’t aware of it. 

“Yeah ... well, d-don’t expect that to be anytime soon,” was my poor attempt at a retort to shut him up.

“Whatever you say, trouble.” 

_  _ _ 

Personal space can be a wonderful thing. Much less so when it’s invaded, however. 

After what felt like the longest flight ever, all I wanted was to take a shower and go to bed. My wishes were granted when I was able to wash off the stress and exhaustion and slip into a blush pink satin pajama set Grant sent me that I’d been meaning to wear. The plunging neck of the tank top was lined with lace and adorned with the tiniest little bow at the center. To match the shirt, the hem of the shorts were lined with lace that trailed up the small triangular slits on the side of the shorts, where at the vertex of them was the same little bow detail. For such a pure and innocent color as baby pink, you’d think it’d be somewhat less revealing. The longer I started at myself in the mirror while wearing it, the more aware I’d become of the intentions behind why Grant had sent it. 

How cute, I thought, rolling my eyes.

Gifts should always be appreciated, if for no other reason than the effort put into it, but this just felt slimy. There was obviously no valiant romantic intent behind the negligee, which spoiled the delight of receiving something out of the blue from him. What’s worse was that I wasn’t even sure how to thank him for something like this. 

Me: thank you for the pajamas. they’re so cute!

Lying was easier over text message, in case you were wondering what the perks of a long distance relationship were. 

Grant: good, I’m glad you like them. are you wearing them right now? 

But sometimes, when you should lie, you don’t. And you regret it later on - take it from me. 

Me: yeah, they’re super comfy

Grant: great! i wanna see them on! take a pic 

As if to compensate for the indisputable hatred I had for this lingerie and what it stood for in our relationship, I did the only thing I could think that would make him think I really liked them. That I felt good in them. 

I took pictures - not your ordinary, run-of-the-mill, Yelp review pictures, though - provocative ones. 

In the same breath I went to take them, though, Spencer’s words rang through my head. 

You deserve more than that. Much more. 

Shaking off the thought of Spencer, I decided against what the little voice in my head that sounded too similar to his would’ve said. 

To add to the illusion, I situated myself within the hotel sheets and used the front camera to capture my chest that was very much on display in this top. In the middle of rolling around the bed, trying to find the angles that wouldn’t show my face of dejection, the door opened. 

Instantaneously, I clawed at the sheets until they wrapped around me like a towel. I was ashamed to admit they provided more coverage than these ‘pajamas’ did.

My shriek of shock must’ve sounded familiar to the stranger intruding on me because no sooner did I scream than they questioned, “(Y/n)? What are you doing here?”

Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. 

“Spencer, what the hell are you doing in here?” I grumbled, struggling to maintain a tight enough grip on the sheets that would keep them from falling and unveiling a sight I desperately did not want him to see. 

“I asked you first.” 

Boy, if you only knew how badly I wanted to slap that smirk right off his face. “This is my hotel room obviously. Your turn.” 

Returning just the same tone, inflection, and vocals, he imitated me. “This is my hotel room obviously.” Like one of those magic tricks he’d show Henry or Jack, he miraculously flashed a room key between his index and middle finger that wasn’t there before. 

“No, that’s impossible.”

“I opened the door, didn’t I?” That damn smirk was still there when he asked this. Maybe, just maybe, if it hadn’t been so condescending, I would’ve thought his sarcasm was ... attractive. Disgusting, I know. 

“Well, if you actually plan on staying here, then you’re sleeping on the floor or the couch, got it?”

My question went unanswered until I turned around to follow where he’d traveled in the time that I spent pondering how this happened. Now perched at the window, sitting on the arm of the chair in a way that chairs weren’t meant to be sat on, he continued to stare silently at me. 

“What? What is it?” I urged. 

“What’s going on with the …” He made a side to side sweeping motion with his key card. “Bed sheets?” 

Consciously, I shimmied the fabric further up my body. Seeing as there was virtually no way to escape an honest answer, I confessed. “If you must know ... I’m wearing p-pajamas.” My own body was rejecting the shameful admission causing the word to stumble out of my mouth. 

He didn’t need to know any more than that to gather what kind of garments they were. He already figured it out.

“Did Grant give them to you?”

I almost rolled my eyes at the implication. “What makes you say that?” 

“Because I know you,” He punctuated every word perfectly. “And I know that you wear big shirts and sweatpants to bed because you don’t see the point of spending money on clothes that are only made for you to sleep in - especially if they’re clothes that make you uncomfortable like these ones clearly do.” 

Although, I greatly despised the fact that there was even a little bit of a chance that I might’ve agreed with him, I still defended Grant. “It was a thoughtful gesture.”

“Thoughtful, right,” He scoffed. “And which head was he thinking with?” 

I was baffled he had the gall to say such an innuendo. “Spencer!”

How dare he? So what if Grant bought me something provocative because he was physically attracted to me? At least someone was. 

Despite the ferocity plain on his face, he chose not to pursue this conversation. Visibly biting back on words he knew would hurt me, Spencer managed to sound remarkably genuine when he promised me, “I won’t look if you don’t want me to.” 

I want you to, was my very first thought. Oh, God, that’s so fucked up, was my second. 

He underlined his sincerity by turning fully around until he was facing the window. “But we should probably put the sheets back on the bed if you plan on sleeping on it.”

He was so patient as he waited for me to remove the cloth from my body. It almost made me feel guilty. He didn’t grumble or gripe, nor did he pressure me to do it at all. So by rights, there should’ve been no reason for me to take so long to let the barrier fall - he wasn’t looking at me. But I was just so goddamn embarrassed. 

This wasn’t me, and even he knew that. 

“You can turn around now,” I mumbled quietly once my safety net of a bedsheet had abandoned me. My arms were crossed over my chest and my thighs were pressed so tightly against each other as if to limit the surface area that Spencer could scrutinize. 

That never came. 

He did look, I could tell that much. But it wasn’t a look I’d ever seen before. It wasn’t rage or annoyance or pity. It was a look of lust. 

A look that made me positively weak in the knees. A look far more sensual than even my racy garments. 

“I’ll just sleep in Morgan’s room tonight, okay?” He offered once he finally broke out of his incapacitation. Grabbing the two opposite corners of the sheets that I was holding, it was a team effort as we arranged the covers where they belonged. It was probably the longest period of time we’d ever worked together without fighting or talking at all for that matter..

Not a single word was exchanged between us while Spencer gathered his things to leave for Derek’s. The room started to feel dangerously empty in the stillness. 

When he slipped past me to make his way out, I caught his upper arm, successfully pulling him back around.

I could’ve been sweet, I should’ve. But that wasn’t our thing. So I settled for what came naturally to us and what would set off the least amount of red flags - I didn’t play nice. “As long as you promise not to hog the entire bed with your behemoth body, we can sleep together -” Catching the words as soon as they came out and what they could’ve implied, I began backtracking. “Sleep in the same bed. Sleep as in rest. Not sleep as in … anything else.” 

Then, in one of those rare moments- he laughed. He actually laughed. Like a real, hearty, sudden laugh. “I know what you meant, (y/n).” 

I’ll never forget the smile that followed the world’s greatest laugh either. 

Oh, God, I’m so fucked up. 

_ _ _

Spencer’s POV

Domesticated animals are smarter than we give them credit for. Studies have shown that pets can actually sense time; They know when it’s time for their owner to leave for the day and when they’ll be coming home, too. 

Animals aren’t dumb - and neither was I. 

Like a dog sniffing out their owner’s imminent absence in the home, I could tell (y/n) was leaving the hotel room for the night. If her current state wasn’t convincing enough, then her behavior throughout the entire day supported that theory just as well. 

Whether it was her phone, the clock on the wall, or her watch, she was evidently keeping a close eye on the time. She did it so often, though, that you would think she would just use simple deductions to figure out what time it was by estimating the time it was when she last checked, but nope. She rarely let more than a minute go by without monitoring the clock.

My suspicions didn’t end there. What’s more suggestive was the anxious fidgeting. She had her tells of anxiety - everyone does - but this was a level of stress I’d never seen her exhibit before, not even in the field. 

She kept cracking her knuckles, even when she’d exhausting all the popping noises she could from them. Her leg-bobbing was another big tell, too. I tend to sit on tables rather than in the chairs at said table, allowing me to feel the earthquake occurring on the precinct floor. Her leg was bouncing up and down so vigorously it was practically shaking the room. 

I would’ve asked her what she was so impatient about, but I feared I already knew the answer.

Grant.

And if I never heard that name roll off her tongue again, it would be too soon. 

That didn’t mean I couldn’t ask where she was going, though.

Pretending to read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, I barely let my eyes venture far off the page when I loudly asked from the window seat, “So where are you going tonight, trouble?” 

The faintest sound of a chuckle erupted in the bathroom, most likely from the nickname I hadn’t let die yet. 

“Nunya,” was her ever-so mature answer. 

I didn’t want to give her the chance to say ‘nunya business’ like I knew she would, so I quickly interjected with a monotone, “How clever of you.” If she wanted to be a child about this, then so be it. 

“Let’s see. You brought your good heels out of your suitcase, which you only wear on special occasions. And you put on a different perfume than the one you usually use, so I’m assuming it’s new. ... If I didn’t know any better, trouble, I’d say you’re going on a date.” 

She peeked her head out of the bathroom doorway to say, “You’re creepy, you know that?” 

Seeing the small portion of her face that was embellished with a smile would’ve been enough if only I knew what dress she was hiding in behind that wall. I had yet to see that part of her ensemble, but if I had to guess, it would break my heart. 

“Just saying,” I casually lied while clearing my throat. 

“Well,” I heard her begin from within the bathroom. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Grant is meeting me tonight.” 

Kill me now.

“I thought Grant lived in D.C.” Not that that would change much if he was already here. 

“Yes, he does, but he’s driving all the way here to meet me. Seeee,” She drew out the word. “Would a serial killer do that?” 

I refrained from giving the obvious answer: Yes. 

“Well, I hope you don’t plan on bringing him back here. Otherwise, that’d be terribly awkward, don’t you think?” My allusion to the possibility that Grant would come back here to find me in her bed was borne from the intentions that were a complete contradiction to the words I’d just spoken. It, in fact, wouldn’t be terribly awkward. No, it would be fun. For me at least. 

I would have loved to have seen the look on his face, and the worry on hers as she tried to explain who I was and why I had any right to be in (y/n)’s gravity. 

The room went silent again while I stayed on the same page of my book and, unbeknownst to her, waited for her to enter the room. How long she was taking was starting to worry me, though. 

“Need any help in there?” I called out.

“Nope,” She said through a strained voice that proved she was indeed struggling with something. 

“Really?” I asked once more to give her another opportunity to lower her colossal pride. “Cause it sounds like you need help.” 

“Nope. I’m good.” Liar. 

I knew her too well. I counted down to the exact second when she finally scrambled to ask, “Can you help me zip up my dress?”

“Yyyup.” I’d already resigned to the fact that I would have to help her, bouncing happily off the bed when she finally admitted it and letting myself lose the page I was on as I tossed the book haphazardly behind me. 

I was forced to join her in the bathroom for it was already hard for her to humble herself enough to ask me for help, so she certainly couldn’t be expected to lower her pride again and walk out to a place more convenient for me. 

The first thing I noticed was that it was a space clearly not made for two. It was so cramped that I ended up right against her in order to fit. The second thing I noticed was how she made no movements to distance herself. She was so close to me that I could actually see the little hairs on the back of her neck standing up from where my breath ghosted on the area. The sterile smell of hotel bathrooms had been replaced by the flowery, aromatic scent of her new perfume, and my heart broke all over again. 

Using the back of my fingers, I cast a barely-there caress on her neck to stroke her hair out of the way to clear the path of the zipper. The little hairs on the back of her neck stood up again. 

She liked that.

“So do I get to know where you’re going?” I reached for the zipper on the small of her back. “For safety purposes, of course.” 

“Aww, you looking out for me, Dr. Reid?” She teased in a seductive tone while gathering her hair into a makeshift ponytail that for the shortest second recorded in time might’ve reminded me of a constantly recurring intrusive image. 

“Always, trouble.” 

The zipper fastened with absolutely no resistance all the way to the top. My eyes flashed to the mirror to catch her expression, which told me everything I needed to know. 

What a pretty little liar. She didn’t actually need my help. 

Comprehending that the realization dawned on me, she gave me what she knew would shut me up. “We’re going to The Rooftop at Lamont’s.” 

How effortlessly she slipped past me without a thank you or a glance in my direction served as a rude awakening.

“Well, you should take an umbrella with you. It looks like there’s gonna be a storm tonight.” This was my small way of coming to terms with the reality of the situation. 

“Eh,” She waved my suggestion off with a dismissive hand. “We’ll be fine. Oh, and don’t even think about stalking me!” She warned before exiting the room.

In the blink of an eye, she was gone - my peace of mind having left with her. 

_ _ _ 

The amount of sleep you need varies for each person and is affected by several factors. However, for most adults, 7–9 hours per night is the ideal amount. And I was slowly reducing that optimal quantity, hour by hour, until there was none left. 

I would continue to sacrifice my sleep so long as I was awake for her return. If she’d asked why I was still up, I would lie. Though I wouldn’t look half so pretty as she did when she lied. 

Losing rest seemed like such a small price to pay to make sure I was fully alert in the event that an emergency happened, even if I would suffer the consequences in the morning. But hey - that’s what caffeine is for, isn’t it? To re-energize oneself after staying up to guarantee one’s enemy’s safety. 

Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly why Kaldi invented coffee in 750 A.D. 

Besides the thunderstorm, my mind also made great company for situations like these. Granted, the visions it would project kept me up for a reason - they were all so awful. 

There was simply no projected reality where things would turn out alright. 

If she had the time of her life on her date, she would come back to throw it in my face that I’d been wrong, and her admiration for Grant would have deepened. 

Or if he stood her up, she’d be devastated, but instead of letting me console her, she’d push me away as easily as she always did.

In a more neutral instance, perhaps she would admit it wasn’t as great meeting him as she thought it would be and the relationship would fade out for innocent reasons. Even if that seemed like the most favorable circumstance, she would eventually grow to resent me for planting the seed of doubt in her head in the first place.

But nothing- nothing I could have imagined would be as treacherous as what actually happened.

At exactly 1:09 a.m, my phone started to ring. I can’t explain to you what it was, but I just knew - it was her calling, and it wasn’t even her number.

“(Y/n)? Is everything okay?” 

If she said something beforehand, I couldn’t hear her because the storm was too loud and her voice was too quiet. “Did I wake you up?” 

I reassured her with a tone I didn’t even recognize. “No, no. I was awake. Why? What’s up?” The line went quiet again, forcing me to prompt her to speak in order to find out if she was still there on the call. “(Y/n)?”

“Spencer ...” She choked out a hoarse sob. “I need you. I need you to come get me, please.” 

My eyes clenched shut at the dreadful sound of her sorrow, and I jolted into action. After scrambling to gather the keys to her car that she’d left behind, I fled the room faster than ever before. 

“I’m on my way, (y/n). Stay right there. You’re at The Rooftop at Lamont’s right?” 

The poor thing took the longest pause in history, either from shame or disorientation. “He threw me in the back of his car and drove me all the way to D.C. I …” Her breath caught on her dry throat again. “I, um, I managed to escape and now I’ve barricaded myself in a payphone booth. I haven’t called the police yet. You were the first person I thought to call. I just, I just needed to hear your voice.”

My knuckles turned an unfamiliar shade of white when I gripped the steering wheel, picturing her caged up in a rectangular box, dialing my number instead of 911 just so she could hear my voice.

“Everything is gonna be okay. I promise you. My ETA is 1:28. That’s in 19 minutes. Are you okay being there for that long or do you want to find somewhere safer?”

I could no longer distinguish the difference between talking to her right now and talking to a victim in distress. I was speaking with the same tone and inflection but feeling a sharp pain in my chest that wasn’t there before. 

“I can stay here. Just ... don’t hang up, okay?” The fact that the possibility of me abandoning her over the phone even crossed her mind was more than enough to get me to drive well over the speed limit. 

The list of traffic infractions only grew from there because honestly? Screw my safety or anyone else’s. Her’s was the only one that mattered. She was the priority. 

She was my priority. 

Throughout the entire call, I kept repeating, “You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.” Frankly, it was something we both needed to hear. 

It was both the fastest and slowest 19 minutes of my life. Time no longer felt real when I finally found the payphone booth that boxed in my troublesome girl. No sooner did I drive up to the sidewalk than I ran out of the car to sprint the short distance to free her from her coop.

“(Y/n)!” I shouted, swinging the door open and throwing caution to the wind in the process. Immediately, she dropped the phone, not even bothering to replace it onto its receiver. 

The pouring rain had stripped her of her dignity. Mascara ran down her face in pigmented streams of black. Her curled hair was dampened into strings. But worse of all, it hadn’t washed away the darkening bruises on her skin.

“Oh my god, Spencer!” She cried as she ran into my open arms. 

Her body collided with mine in such a gentle manner that I had to wonder how that was possible at all or if it was a figment of my imagination. Was our collision actually that gentle or did it seem that way because of how good it felt to have her arms and legs latch around my entire torso, crossing and connecting somewhere in between?

With one arm under her thighs to hold her up, I pulled her impossibly closer to me by cradling the back of her head with the other hand. 

Her small hands found their way into my hair, a new sensation I tried not to indulge in so as not to let my attention stray away from the little life I was holding in my arms. 

She was so cold. 

Shivering from my warm embrace, her teeth chattered as she whispered, “I’m so sorry, Spencer. You were right I should’ve listened -”

“Shh, it’s okay, (y/n),” I said with the hopes that I could make the pounding heart that was thumping against my shoulder settle down until it reached her standard heart rate of 67 beats per minute. 

After a second of just holding her wordlessly, she spoke again. 

“I don’t wanna fight.” She surrendered so easily to me that I could hardly believe this was her at all. 

“I don’t wanna fight with you either.” 

That was entirely true. Fighting with her was the last thing on my mind. The first was getting her into my car. 

It was easier that I imagined it would be, but then again, it’s easy to do things when you’re motivated in this way. 

Before I loosened my hold on her to shut the passenger door, she squeezed me a little tighter, as if to be absolutely certain this was real and not some cruel dream.

“Thank you,” She hummed into the crook of my neck. From where her shoulder was digging into my throat, I couldn’t exactly respond verbally, so I settled for rubbing my hand up and down her back comfortingly. 

“Let’s take you home,” I basically said to myself seeing as it was too quiet to be discernible. 

“No,” She shook her head rapidly. “Take me to your apartment.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to go back to the hotel right now. I need to be somewhere I feel safe.”

My apartment is closer than the hotel, I reasoned, pretending it was the logic of it that made my heart swell and not the statement I would fixate on for the entire duration of the ride there. 

I need to be somewhere I feel safe. 

And that’s wherever I’m with you.

_ _ _ 

Reader’s POV

Porcelain wall tiles gleamed back at me, mocking my wretched misery. They were much prettier than me, but then again, anything else would be prettier than me right about now.

I certainly wasn’t the belle of the ball in my bare naked state. The fact that I was sitting in a pool of my own washed off dried blood didn’t help either.

I would’ve looked away from the bright white walls, but where else were I to look? Into the pair of eyes that I was deliberately avoiding? The ones that were staring a hole through me right now? No. I couldn’t bear to meet those eyes. So I kept looking forward at the mean walls - those mean, mocking walls.

“Is the water warm enough?” He asked, dipping a finger into the bathwater to test it himself. 

I watched as his hand snuck into the tub and swirled around some water, causing soap bubbles to revitalize. 

For a reason I didn’t know nor could remember at this given moment, Spencer drove me to his apartment. That memory of why I was here was fuzzy, but the rest following my arrival was more vivid. Perhaps because it was all unfolding right now.

“I think I should go,” I murmured. The bathwater had gone cold, and the silence was too deafening. If I didn’t leave now, then I would be trapped forever. 

I leaned forward with my knees still pressed to my chest to protect my modesty while I tugged on the silver drain plug of the tub to release the suction.

“You can’t go home. You’ll be alone again, and who will be there to help you that time?” 

“I don’t need anybody’s help.” I responded curtly. 

“Then why did you call me tonight?”

“Why did you answer?” 

He was stunned by how I didn’t miss a beat with my question, stunned enough to purse his lips in contempt. “Should I have declined your call then? Said ‘no’ instead and let you fend for yourself? You know what - my bad, (y/n). I sincerely apologize that I care about you.” 

I scoffed at his factiousness. “No, what you should’ve done is whatever the hell you wanted to do. But clearly, since you said ‘yes’ and came to my rescue like I’m some victim in a case - you wanted to be there. I could chalk that up to you having a hero complex, but I think it’s time for you to admit you just wanted to see me at my worst so you could throw it in my face like you’re doing right now.”

He clenched his jaw in fury, muttering under his breath, “I should’ve left you in that booth.” 

This crossed a line, but I was just as ready to cross it, too. 

“But I bet you liked saving me. Seeing me as a damsel in distress that you could white knight. You like that, Spence? Does my weakness settle your deep rooted fear of inadequacy in strength?”

Shouldn’t have done that. 

For a second there, I was sincerely scared of the response I might’ve just elicited, so I shot up from the tub and grabbed the towel on the rack, quickly wrapping myself in it and avoiding Spencer’s gaze the entire way out of the bathroom.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Judging from the loudness of his voice, he was right on my heels, following me close behind. 

“You’re smart. Figure it out.” 

“God, why do you have to be such a pain in the ass? I don’t want to leave you like this.” It never failed to amaze me how he could both show disdain and concern for me in the matter of a sentence. 

“Well, you’re not leaving me like this - I’m leaving you like this.” My clever remark angered him more.

Seemingly from out of nowhere, Spencer called out from the end of his hallway, “What are you so scared of?” 

Reaching the end of my rapidly fraying rope, I spun around to throw my arms out to my side in just the same defensive manner as he did. “Nothing! Maybe I just don’t wanna be stuck in the apartment of the man who hates me! Can you blame me?” 

He ran a hasty hand through his hair, pulling at the strands out of pure irritation. “Why do you keep saying I hate you? How can any of what I’ve done for you tonight suggest that?”

He’d chosen his words carefully and for that, he was smart. His inclusivity of the word ‘tonight’ meant I could only reference his actions from the past few hours, which wouldn’t help my case, as opposed to the months and months that he’d given me the cold shoulder, which would have helped my case. But again, he was smart - he had me in a deadlock. I couldn’t accept defeat, but what could I possibly argue against his point? 

My body literally shook from the power of the deep groan that tore through my chest. “God, what do you want from me, Spencer?” I wanted nothing more than to be far, far away from him, but my body was resisting all those urges. Lunging forward, I pointed the sternest index finger at him, staring the most unforgiving glare into his soul. “Tell me - tell me what you want! Because when I was nice to you, you-you treated me like shit. And then when I stopped being nice to you, you still treated me like shit. So what -” I had to laugh to alleviate the sheer rage I was feeling. “What the fuck do you want from me? Because it’s like no matter what I do, it’s just not good enough for you!”

His eyebrows had furrowed and his eyes softened. He didn’t look angry whatsoever. No, he looked hurt. 

“Not good enough for me?” He leaned down to my level to look right into my eyes. “You are everything … everything to me.”

With one last breath, I cried out in anguish, “Then why? Why do you hate me so much?” 

He gulped back the lump in his throat - the last barrier that kept him from telling the truth. 

“I ... I never hated you. I just need to be in control of my thoughts and feelings at all times, otherwise, I feel-I feel like I’m going crazy. Like I’m on the verge of a psychotic break that I’m genetically predisposed to have. But when you came around - I lost all my control. You were inhabiting my dreams, you were stealing my sleep, occupying more and more space in my brain until there was no more room left to take. God, I think about you all the time, and I literally cannot physically stop it. I have no control anymore,” and somehow him saying that sounded something like an ‘I love you.’ 

“The only thing I could control was how I treated you. I thought being awful to you would get you to despise me enough to make me despise you, too, and while it was easier to be angry at you, it was so much worse having you hate me.”

“I never hated you, Spencer.” Never. 

“You should have,” He rasped. “I know I don’t deserve you, but I wish to spend every day proving that I want you. Oh, I want you so bad,” He sharply inhaled through gritted teeth, and I unconsciously laughed in return. His pain wasn’t funny in the least. What was amusing was knowing that he had the same excruciating longing for me that I had for him. 

“I don’t want control anymore if it means I can’t have you.”

He leaned in so carefully that I almost didn't register the movement at all. Our hearts were pounding to the same synchronized beat. We were the shore and the tide one in the same. Our breaths would draw in and out, in and out, as he held my face so gently. We were still the shore and the tide, but more than anything we were drowning in the ocean of ourselves. The rising waters of his admiration threatened to flood every empty nook and cranny of the room until it swallowed me whole. All I could feel was him, everywhere, filling absolutely everything. 

“Wow ... I finally got you speechless,” The cocky bastard hummed happily, letting his words vibrate on the smallest part of my lip.

“Oh, shut up,” I declared through a smirk I needed to fight off before finally closing that nearly imperceptible gap between us. 

All the forces in the world couldn’t tear us apart after we connected. They were no match for the force Spencer’s hands had as they pulled me impossibly closer. The pressure might’ve even been unbearable had it not been for the velvety pair of lips giving me back all the oxygen it stole from my lungs just seconds ago. They were so soft, like freshly washed sheets, like biting into cotton candy, like floating for the first time, feeling utterly weightless in water. It’s sweet, it’s so effortlessly sweet. 

Not nearly as sweet as the words that followed our parting. 

“Not enough for me?” He repeated, recalling my previous claim. “You’ve had me since the day you walked in, trouble.” 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

fingers crossed this fic doesn’t flop!

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[raggaraddy]

Jealousy

Summary: Wanting to get even and teach Jimin a lesson, you quickly learn that he isn't one to share. Ever.

Trigger warnings: Non-con, assault, abuse, violence.

Jimin

Yandere! Jimin Playboy! Jimin

Every time Jimin took you out, you loved the attention. You loved the way everyone knew Jimin and that they all treated him like he owned the place. And by extension you. You were his girl and there was a kind of prestige that came with that as they all fought for his attention and approval.

But tonight you'd had enough. You were sat in the lounge watching through the club to yet another interaction Jimin would have to apologize for later. He was a natural flirt, and everyone, man or woman, would always make aggressive advances towards him. But it was the way he made those advances back that really annoyed you.

You weren't insecure enough to get hung up on some desperate girl rubbing her hands on him. He loves you, you know that with all your heart. But as you watch him lean in, you can see him clearly press his lips against her neck, his hand wrapping around her back to pull her in.

Slut!

You knew he would be near tears begging for your forgiveness later, but you'd had e-fucking-nough.

How would he like it?!

You scan through the club, a vindictive plan in mind. Throwing back your drink you pick out the most attractive person you can find. Tall, gorgeous, well dressed. A man that surely would make any other feel insecure.

With no wasted movement, you barge through the dance floor, pushing through the sea of people to the bar.

"Hi," you all but shout over the blaring music. "buy me a drink?"

His eyes roam down you for a split second. Instinctively you push your chest forward, pulling down the bottom of the dress to lower the neckline a bit more.

Your obvious, near desperate advances, work as well as you hope. After half a drink and some small talk, you grab his hand pulling him to the dance floor.

Jimin has abandoned the floozy by the bar and is now back at the lounge. You have to drag the man around a little further to make sure it will be possible for Jimin to see you two.

All too suddenly, however instantly and well-received, you press yourself into the handsome man toy. Pressing your ass against his crotch, swaying your hips, and rolling them into him. His hands grip onto your hips and it isn't long before your all but dry-humping among the crowd.

After a few minutes and a change of song, you notice Jimins attention from the corner of your eye.

You take the man's hands and guide them teasingly over the hem of your dress, lifting it and letting his fingers ever so slightly run up your bare thighs.

With Jimin's attention on you, it's now time to pay him back.

Twirling to the beat, you turn to the man. You wrap your hand into the back of his head and pull him to you locking your lips against his. The kiss lasts only a few seconds. You break it leaving the man gaping as you turn with a wink leaving him stranded alone in the middle of the club.

Returning to the VIP lounge, Jimin storms towards you. He grips your arm too tightly, pinching your skin as his nails dig in. "What the fuck are you doing?" He yells over the power of the music.

"Owch!" You yelp making a scene of it and yank your arm back, stepping away from him.

His hand chases you back and grips into your upper arm even more aggressively. His eyes have turned dark with pure rage. He drags you a step, pulling you towards him as he moves in the direction of the exit.

"Jimin, stop." You squeal and flail and try to pull away from him, seeking to gain the attention of the people around to maybe shame him into stopping his roughness.

He doesn't let up, turning and continuing to drag you. You slam your curled-up fist into his shoulder in further protest.

Spinning back he slaps the back of his hand against your cheek dazing you.

Your cheek quickly burns. The action finally gaining the attention of the people surrounding you. But unfortunately, they all seem to actively ignore the situation. Watching the two of you through the side of their face.

Too stunned to react, you stumble behind him, as Jimin continues to pull you the remainder of the way out of the club.

Reaching the outside, your ears throb in the sudden absence of the deafening bass-heavy music. The cold of the early morning hitting your skin, making you realize he had forced you out without collecting either of your coats.

"Y/n" In the isolation of the car park, he throws you into the side of his car. The unsure footing from your stilettos is exacerbated by his sudden forceful actions and you slam into the door and fall onto the unforgiving concrete. Your thigh and palms grazing on impact.

Jimin squats over you as you lean back against the car. Your eyes brimming with the sting of approaching tears.

"How dare you let that guy touch you!" His hand flings out and smacks your cheek again. You squeal and bring your hands to your head in protection. He grabs at your arm and throws it down, creating an opening for him to slap you again. It knocks you down to the ground, and you stay down trying to shield yourself from him but he grabs you, lifting you back upright, pinning your arm to the car.

You can't believe how crazed he has become. He's been demanding and impatient, sometimes a little rough, but never anything like this. He's certainly never struck you before. You're so used to him being charming, kind Jimin.

But this can't be something new. No person can suddenly change like this. You're not sure how you could have missed something so dark inside him.

You twist your body over, facing your forehead towards the floor to limit his ability to strike you again with little effect. He lands two devastating blows, one after the other. The silver of his ring catching your brow on the second smack.

As blood starts to pour down your face he finally seems satisfied.

He lets your arm go, allowing you to slump back.

You're in too much shock to cry, but tears are silently streaming your face.

He doesn't pause, continuing his violent demands. Grabbing your under your arm he lifts you back to your feet, he slams your face down over the hood of his car.

Your stomach drops as you hear the buckle of his belt open.

"Jimin, stop." You whine, reaching back to push your hand against his chest.

His powerful grips smothers yours slamming you back face-first into the flexing metal.  His hold on you pinning your arm to your back.

With forceful motions he shoves your dress up, tearing down your underwear.

You can't believe what you think he is about to do.

You hear him spit into his hand, his cold touch rubbing it against your exposed opening.

He slams into you too quickly and too forcibly making you squeal in pain.

"You're mine only, Y/n." He snarls. "Don't you ever forget that!"