#first step to freedom tbh

[fayes-fics]

Second Son

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: The second son is, for once, the first choice...

Warnings: none really... mild angst, family dynamics, love at first sight.

Word Count: 2.9k

Authors Note: Request fill for anon here, about Benedict being the second choice for everything.... until his love turns up. Thanks for this request; I hope this is angsty enough for you anon. Im not sure about it tbh. Sorry that it's taken more than three months to get to it on my WIP list. Unbetaed. Enjoy <3

Benedict Bridgerton was born into privilege and can have few complaints. Except perhaps that he is always second. The spare. The just-in-case option. Being a familial insurance policy lends one more freedom than the burden of being the titled first son, perhaps, but it also feels like your whole existence, in some respects, can seem like a contingency plan.

____

His stomach swoops with excitement as the arrow pierces the target dead on the bullseye. And on his first ever archery lesson, just after his twelfth birthday.

He turns around to see if anyone is there to witness his triumph, but it goes unmarked. All his young siblings gathered around Anthony, patting him on the back for his achievements in doing the same moments before. Being a good shot is an essential skill for the next Viscount indeed. The fact that he has been receiving instruction for months already and this is Benedict’s first lesson hurts a little.

But he doesn't bother to bring attention to his arguably more impressive feat. It seems pointless now. Wordlessly he shrugs and walks towards the target, plucking out his arrow and starting again. Perhaps next time, they will notice.

____

“Is that the new Viscount Bridgerton?” Benedict hears a young girl murmur as he sweeps into the first societal event of the season, the spring following his father's death. 

“Oh no, my dear, sadly not; I believe that is one of the brothers,” her mother replies, acting as if he has no sense of hearing, even trying to ignore it as he is, surveying the crowd.

“Such a shame,” the young girl huffs, “he is so very handsome.”

“Yes, dear, but sadly not titled. We can do better,” her mother chides, moving them along out of earshot.

He will never get over how cutthroat the Ton can be, a part of his tender seventeen-year-old heart sinking. Not that he had a potential interest in that girl, more the principle that he will somehow be rendered as an also-ran, at best a consolation prize, for the rest of his life.

What is most galling, perhaps, is that, when his mother needs their presence the most on a night like tonight, the new VIscount is nowhere to be seen. Has not even bothered to show his face, running off to some spurious gambling den and brothel, spending the night indulging himself rather than facing society. 

So here Benedict is, stepping up to play the dutiful son that his elder brother should be. Being the support their mother so desperately needs at her first event as a widow, her arm looped heavily through his, her whole bodyweight seeming to use him as her literal pillar of support. As he escorts her around the room, he is filled with admiration at her brave face. He can see the overwhelming sadness in her eyes every time the word dowager is invoked, and his heart cracks a little at the loneliness he can feel emanating from his mother’s very soul. 

“Tis a shame the Viscount did not deign the first event of the season worthy of his patronage,” she states pointedly as she sips champagne.

“I am sure he has very good reasons for his absence,” Benedict replies soothingly, covering for his errant brother, attempting to shield their mother from the truth of his philandering ways. Benedict knows it is Anthony’s way of dealing with the responsibility of the title of Viscount being thrust upon him so young. But sometimes, just sometimes, Benedict wishes he could escape his grief in such a manner, Anthony taking his turn attending a stuffy ball and playing guardian to a grieving woman. Their burdens may be different, but the wish to escape them is often not, Benedict realises.

____

She catches his eye at a garden party at Aubrey Hall. She is a pretty young lady, maybe eighteen to his twenty-three, with bright eyes and a sweet, happy face. She makes his palms slightly sweaty. He watches her from a distance, uncertain how to approach or what to say, feeling a little tongue-tied, even. 

Just then, Anthony materialises at his shoulder.

“Who is that pretty young thing?” Anthony asks, tracing Benedict’s line of sight.

“Miss Bradstreet,” he replies, watching as she turns to face the sun, closing her eyes, basking in its warmth. The light captures her cheekbones perfectly, and he itches to have his sketchbook and capture her likeness. He would very much like to get to know her better.

“Let's go provide a warm welcome,” Anthony smirks, clapping a hand on Benedict’s shoulder and practically dragging him across the lawn.

Benedict reluctantly follows, a flutter of excitement as her eyes land upon them as they approach. 

“Miss Bradstreet,” Anthony swaggers. “Viscount Bridgerton at your service; I am so very pleased to be your host today,” he bows.

Benedict's stomach plunges as he watches her practically melt into the lawn right there, virtually swooning at Anthony’s feet.

“Oh, and this is my brother, Benedict,” Anthony adds, almost as an afterthought. 

She flicks her head to the side briefly to politely acknowledge Benedict before returning to Anthony. All of her undivided adoring attention on him as he regales the story of his latest hunting triumphs upon her insistence. Benedict heaves a sigh and watches as yet another young lady he likes chooses his brother over him. He is almost used to it now, but it doesn't stop the sting every time.

____

Your world grinds to a halt as you see him. He is descending the stairs with what you assume is the rest of his family. He is very much in the middle of a tight circle, walking behind what appears to be his mother and perhaps older brother. Quite the most beautiful man you have ever seen, your heart pounding in your ears, your throat suddenly dry despite the lemonade in your hand. You assume they must be the hosts, seeing as they are the very last to enter the ballroom here at Bridgerton House, and there is no announcement of their name.

“Who is that?” you whisper, leaning towards your elder sister. She has been out among society for a year and knows the Ton better than you.

“That is the Bridgerton family, of course,” she replies. “Illustrious in the extreme. Our hosts for this evening. The Viscount there is the most eligible bachelor of every season… and every season, he has resisted a match. So I wouldn't bother if I were you,” she sniffs.

“Which is the Viscount?” you check, your eyes unable to leave the beautiful man with a cravat tied in the most unconventional fashion.

“The one with his arm looped with their mother, the dowager Viscountess, naturally,” your sister rolls her eyes as if patently obvious.

“And what of the others?” you inquire keenly, realising the man you admire cannot be the one your sister is referring to. “Do you know their names?”

“I do not,” she admits, “such things are not really important when one is looking for a titled husband,” she points out airily. 

You nod, knowing the responsibility your sister must carry as firstborn to find a suitable match that can provide for your widowed mother and, indeed, perhaps yourself and your younger sister should neither of you be able to find a husband. You don’t envy her position one little bit. 

You are, however, desperate to get closer to the most beautiful man you have ever seen. And so you spend your evening working towards them, in as polite of a fashion as you can, your stomach in knots of excitement to know him.

“Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton, it is an honour and a pleasure to meet you,” you curtsy, heart pounding as he now stands a few feet away, unable to look at him so close by.

“Hello, my dear and you are?” she asks politely.

“Miss y/n y/l/n, it is my very first season; I am so honoured to be here,” you explain. “I must provide the apologies of my mother, Mrs y/l/n, who could not attend tonight due to a cold, but she is so very thankful for the invitation.”

“Oh, of course,” the viscountess smiles. “I am so sorry to hear of her illness; please pass on my best regards… Anthony!” she turns to her side to grab the attention of a man. The viscount’s head whips around from where he is in discussion with another. “Come meet Miss y/l/n,” she needles pointedly. “Miss y/l/n, this is the Viscount Anthony Brdgerton, and he is so pleased not only to make your acquaintance but also for your presence here tonight,” she welcomes on his behalf, and you do not miss the subtle nudge in the ribs she gives him.

Then his regard is drawn to you. He is handsome certainly, and you appreciate his polite but absent-minded greeting. His attentions are obviously elsewhere, but then you cannot fault him as yours are the same. Your gaze strays over his shoulder to the man who first captures your attention. And your breath is stolen by how his hazy blue eyes stare intently at you.

____

Benedict is twenty-six years old when he is struck by lightning. Not literally. But that is the sensation that runs through his body when he first lays eyes on you—politely introducing yourself to his mother and thanking her for your invitation to this ball. 

He thought he knew what attraction was until this point. He thought he knew the depths to which one could fall in love in an instant. He was an utter fool. He looks at you, and at once, everything is so quiet and loud all at once. He is desperate to know you in a way he has never felt. To grab your hand, take you somewhere, and ask you a million questions to get to know your soul. He also wants to kiss you so much that his lips tingle. And inside, his lungs want to scream as his mother does the natural thing and introduces the beautiful, polite young lady to her most eligible son… Anthony. 

Then his heart jolts as your eyes stray from Anthony and meets his, your pupils dilating in a way that makes his lungs too small to inhale air. It is the first and only time a young woman has had Anthony’s full attention and has looked away from it. And to him, no less. The tidal flood of chemicals in his system makes it feel like he is vibrating in his very shoes.

____

You try your best to be polite and look at Anthony as he speaks, but your sight is drawn to this other man like a moth to a flame. From appearance, the second son, as you are the second daughter. A flare of understanding and sympathy in your chest as to how that is. You want to grab his hand and run away with him.

“My lord,” you find your voice and snap your eyes back to the Viscount, “would you do me the honour of introducing me to the rest of your wonderful family?” your ask, almost timid.

He looks temporarily taken aback, as if mystified why anyone in the Ton would care about the status of anyone beyond his mother and himself. You smile at him expectantly and do not miss, from the corner of your eye, how the beautiful man’s face is awash with surprise at your request.

“Oh, most certainly,” Anthony seems to snap out of his temporary stupor and turns to introduce his siblings in attendance. A tall, baby-faced young man stands to attention as Anthony moves from left to right. “This is Colin; he has just returned from his travels in Greece,” you nod and smile politely, knowing nothing of the subject. “And this is my sister, Eloise; it is her first season, and she is not in the slightest bit happy about that,” he adds dryly, and you can't help but giggle and feel a kinship with the spirited young lady who returns your wry smile. “My eldest sister, the Duchess of Hastings, who is visiting us,”

You curtsy and bow your head. “It is an honour, your Grace,” you add, and she smiles sweetly at you, her arm looped in her mother's.

“Obviously, you have met my mother,” he continues, and suddenly he is the last in the line. You feel your palms clench, sweaty in anticipation of learning his name “... and this is my brother, Benedict; he hopes to be an artist.”

You are finally brave enough to meet his eyes again. He is so achingly beautiful that the rest of his family, indeed the whole ballroom, melt away from your view—he is all you can see.

“Oh, I adore art,” you stutter, mesmerised, offering your hand to him, the first and only person in the family you do so to. Unseen by you, your gaze only on one man, Anthony’s mouth drops open in surprise.

Nothing can prepare you for when Benedict’s gloved hand gently touches yours, him bowing to kiss the back of your hand. You catch a woody citrus scent that makes your mouth water as he does so. And then you feel the warmth of his lips through your glove, and you are utterly undone.

“Miss y/l/n,” he rumbles quietly, the sound making your insides melt even more; it's deep and resonant and makes every inch of your body tingle.

“Please call me y/n,” you murmur, moving closer, knowing how scandalous that might be, but seemingly unable to stop yourself. He has a hypnotic hold over you that you don't want to fight.

“Only if you shall call me Benedict,” he breathes, and it takes Anthony clearing his throat to make you spring apart, suddenly remembering where you are.

____

His lips touch the silk of your glove, and he is gone. 

Already planning a future, his mind supplying images of you at his cottage out in the country, the lady of the house. Tending to the herb garden, reading happily curled up in front of the fire in the drawing room, fearlessly plucking a bow as you stand in front of joint archery targets gently teasing him for losing to a girl, and finally, the image that truly knocks the wind out of him, you naked under him, desperately moaning his name as you move together, entwined in ecstasy.

He hears your sharp inhale, and his heart skips at the idea you feel it too. That you are the first woman ever that sees him and not Anthony. Really sees him. Not as the second son. Not as a consolation prize. 

And when your body seems to sway towards him, he is already mentally asking his mother for a betrothal ring from her grandmother, which she said she is keeping just for him.

____

“Benedict,” his name feels wonderful in your mouth, like a gift from the heavens. “Please, may we take a turn around the gardens?” you implore, the boldest you have ever been in your whole life. 

“It would be my very greatest pleasure,” he responds.

And you know with absolute certainty you have met your husband, the father of your children, your very future. 

____

“It is not as if this is my show….” he sighs.

“You should not do that, darling,” you say affectionately, ruffling his hair as you move to fix his cravat; it definitely needs to be more jaunty, in your opinion.

“Do what?” he breathes, his wedding ring catching the light as he places his hands gently over yours and stills your motions.

“Think of yourself as second,” you argue, running your hand over his cheek. “This gallery opening may feature others' work too, but you are the star of the exhibit,” you reassure, tilting his forehead down so it rests upon yours.

There it is again. That look that always floors you. Even now, a year later. Like you are the most wondrous creature, and he can scarcely believe you are his.

“Never forget, you will always be first to me,” you utter fiercely, watching his eyes soften with devotion. “And not just me….” you guide his sizeable warm hand onto the swell of your belly, “to us. We love you so much, Benedict,” your tone is ardent, wanting him to believe he deserves this recognition, that he should believe in himself the way that you do.

“I love you, too,” he responds quietly, reverentially. “So very much. Both of you are my whole world,” his voice choked with emotion, and you throw your arms around him and squeeze hard, wanting to telegraph just how much he is the very centre of your universe.

An hour later, you clutch your hands over your chest as you watch him being brought onto the raised stage and introduced to the crowd as they applaud him and his work rapturously, awaiting to hear him talk of his art. As he does so, you stroke your belly unseen under your cloak, beaming with pride for your wonderful husband.

____

He sees your face in the crowd, and as ever, it calms him, especially at this landmark moment. So as he finishes the speech that he has rehearsed for days now, he decides to do something perhaps unconventional but something he seems unable to resist.

“Lastly, before I allow you back to your champagne,” he jests, finally at ease with the attention and recognition. “I want to thank my life’s inspiration, the very reason I stand before you today. My wonderful wife. Thank you, my love, for being the light of my life; for always making this second son your first choice. You will always, always be my first choice. I love you.” 

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheep

[pilfappreciator]

I just saw your request guidelines! how about a John Dory x gn!reader that babies him? he's all abt being the leader and bossy and such, it would be cute when he turns soft and lets the reader baby him.

Ah yes, love me some middle-aged dumb jock "all about that van life" squating in the woods and interrupting strangers weddings for no reason ex-boyband member fluff 😘

John Dory x Reader: his ass needs pampering

Includes: GN! Reader, touch-starved John Dory, mentions of prolonged isolation, slight angst

🥽 It'll take some time (and lots of persuasion on your end) before John Dory even CONSIDERS the idea of letting someone else take the reigns

🥽 He was forced to grow up pretty quick when he was younger. He was the oldest of five and it didn't seem like any of them had parents to fall back during their childhood. Sure, there was Grandma Rosiepuff but it wasn't quite the same... and after Brozone started to take off in popularity, John Dory felt it was his time to step up as a leader

🥽 Obviously, having that kind of pressure on your shoulders while growing up in the public eye doesn't bode well for someone's self-worth

🥽 I feel like John Dory found comfort in being in charge tho?? Like he likes when things go his way so he definitely appreciated the feeling of control lol

🥽 BUT LIKE I SAID, this man CAN be talked into taking the backseat for once!!

🥽 Start out small. Maybe do little favors for him, like grabbing him a tool or item he needs before he goes for it himself, or holding doors open so he can walk through, or using your thumb to wipe some crumbs or sauce off his face (this guys a messy eater, don't even ATTEMPT to convince me otherwise)

🥽 Tbh he probably won't even notice what you're doing at first. He'll just be like "aw thanks babe :]" and move his ass right along

🥽 He'll only start taking the hint once you start escalating those favors. Next thing he knows you're offering to drive Rhonda so he can relax, or making his meals for him, or offering massages

🥽 I mean... he might not refuse that last one but that's besides the point shahlskdja

🥽 It's only when you start taking on some of his chores and usual manual labor that he starts speaking up

🥽 "Look, babe, I appreciate what you're tryin' to do but it's fine! I've got this!"

"No, it's cool, I'll do it."

"Seriously, you don't have to."

"I know! But I want to."

"Really, your boy's got thi---"

"You sit your ass down and enjoy that sandwich I made you, John Dory."

"Okay o_o"

🥽 Yeahhhh you're definitely gonna have to be firm with this man if you actually want him to relax. Maybe make his ass do a puzzle or something askjdhas

🥽 I mean it's not like you're taking away his whole sense of agency or anything. He still has the freedom to go and do as he pleases, it's just that now he's got you looking over his shoulder, ready to jump in once he so much as STARTS overworking himself. It's gonna take him some time to get used to being doted on. Fully expect some pouty looks being thrown your way and to hear him grumbling under his breath

🥽 BUT THEN YOU START ESCALATING EVEN FURTHER?? Suddenly you're buying/making him things he needs, like new tools or equipment??? Maybe you two are out on the town one day and you spot him eyeing something through the window of one of the shops, and a few days later—

🥽 "WHOA!! WHERE'D YOU GET THAT?!"

"Oh, I just saw it the other day and thought of you! :D"

"...Babe, that's a grappling hook."

"Did I stutter?"

🥽 John Dory starts coming around to the idea of being spoiled after that lol

🥽 I'm like 99% sure everyone in the fandom agrees that this man? This guy who's been living all alone in the wilderness and probably eating insects for nutrients for like 20 years??

🥽 TOUCH-STARVED AS HELL

🥽 I mean he was already pretty touchy-feely BEFORE you started pampering him... but then you start giving him more massages (specifically back/shoulder/foot rubs)... and getting him to lay his head on your stomach/lap after a long day... and running your fingers across his scalp all the while...

🥽 Better have a mop and bucket on standby cuz if this man melts any further, he'll be a puddle ;))

🥽 Definitely starts to seek you out after he's had a bad day/been in his head too long. Lay some kisses on his forehead pretty pls <33

🥽 WORDS OF AFFIRMATION!! DROP SOME PRAISE AND COMPIMENTS ON THIS GUY!!! I mean he probably got plenty of that during his Brozone days but most of them were aimed at his looks/music

🥽 I mean he's definitely not gonna complain if you call him a hunk but I digress

Not even gonna lie to yall... When the first teaser for the movie dropped I was like "Hmm... idk if the movie's gonna as good as the last one but at least Branch's long lost brother is hot"

ALKSHDJLKJAKSD IM SORRY BUT WHY DID THEY MAKE ALL THE CHARACTERS HOT WHAT THE FUCK

[thetxtdevil]

tbh i have a really recurring fake scenario of rich gf mc , like imagine her going to korea to see kai whenever she wants (or HE wants, sometimes letting his horny and dom self take over him lol).

So i have a request with that idea but i cant decide between it being abt Kai being all gloomy bc he saw a little too much of ppl commenting abt him in social media and the boys talk to mc to quickly come and her comforting kai (i think this is more a sub!kai idea lmao) oooor Kai being so horny that he asks her to come and she pops up to her private jet almost immediately

Any of both scenarios is fine or even if ur beautiful mind comes up w something else is fine i just want to read your writing with that idea lol

Please and thank you xoxo

Went with the gloomy subby/switch kai and reader "comforting" him maybe in the future I'll fulfill your second part 😏

content: smut, restraint, a bit of spit, edging, mirror, switching roles, and no one care about protection...

word count: 1.2k

--nsfw--

Kai's rich girlfriend is Kai's sugar mommy, she's Kai's female version of Christian Grey. You absolutely adore him, when you first met the tall idol you thought you'd have to pull an intimidating front until he absolutely folded in front of you. He's so cute.

Although Kai is in a respectable K-pop group and gets paid good money, you buy him everything. You found out the boys were still sharing rooms with bunks, you bought a penthouse for them and so you can get dirty alone with him. You saw that Kai broke the screen of his phone, you bought him two new phones. one for everyday use and one to keep both yours and his nudes AND whenever he wanted to visit you, you always had expensive cars and jets take him whenever he pleases. The only condition is that Kai is to not share the relationship with the public because what would it do to your boss girl business reputation if people found out you were down bad for him.

Worst part about being an idol is that people share everything that is on their mind especially rude comments. They have the freedom to say what they want but sometimes the words were too cruel. Kai is already insecure with his looks but when the comeback photos came out his mind bolded the hate comments among the many good ones. Nitpicking every comment, he got gloomier, smaller, distant. He stopped picking up your calls, stopped texting you, and you were quick to contact Soobin asking if Kai is safe.

For the comeback there was one interview held at a conference room at a hotel. Questions upon questions finally the session came to a close. The boys were set to go back to the company's building but someone stops Kai from leaving. A man in a suit looking like a secret agent to others but Kai knew exactly who he is. "Ms. y/n requests to see you."

"She- she's here?!" Kai had different emotions going through his mind. Initially excited to see you but then he remembered that he was basically ghosting you. Breathing deep to calm his nerves Kai follows your assistant to a room on the highest level of the hotel. Kai looks at the door then looking back at the assistant who stands there with no emotion detected on his face. Twisting the handle Kai opens the door to be welcomed by darkness.

A huge hotel room with window walls looking out above the city of Seoul. He steps closer to look at the view in awe and realize a figure sitting at a lounge chair near by. There you were, your pin-striped pants exaggerated the length of your legs crossed as the matching blazer adorned your arm holding your head up. Kai's eyes meet yours noticing your annoyance, the disappointment.

"I-i'm sorr-" Kai starts but is cut off by your abrupt movement out of the chair. You walk further into the room Kai following behind. "As much as I want your explanation" you say as you halt in front of the king sized bed, "I think we should go straight to business." You turn to look back at Kai his dark bushy hair covering his wide eyes. Smirking at his gaped lips you pull him into a kiss. Kai immediately melts into your touch bending down to get closer to you.

Your hands brush through his hair on his neck, slipping down lower on his chest, grabbing onto the material of the jacket to take it off. Detaching your lips you stare deeply into Kai's chocolate orbs, "on the bed now." Kai is obedient, he lowers himself on the bed to get another surprise of a reflection of himself. "Do you like the view?" you say grinning wildly, "I've been seeing the disgraceful things people are saying on the internet, they're not true."

You coo as the man's lips turns into a frown. Leaning down connecting each others lips, each kiss was separated by reassurance and love yous. Taking his tie off along with all his clothes you take the silky material of the tie wrapping it around Kai's wrists. He whines and squirms as you restrain him. You leave him spread out for you to admire. Getting a taste, kissing, biting, from his collarbones down to his happy trail. You softly wrap your cold hands around his warm hard dick. "A-ah y/n-" you shush him as your thumb rubs the precum on his tip. "So handsome you know that right?"

Kai looks down, the darkness didn't do justice to hide his reddening face. You were fully clothed on top of his very naked restrained body. A trail of spit from your mouth goes down lubricating Kai's thick cock for you to jerk him off. You eat up every sound the man makes letting him fight the tie on his wrists and buck his hips into your hand. Just as Kai's moans get frequent and pitched you let go.

A long whine fills the room Kai pouts even harder. "Be patient, my love." Standing up from the bed Kai watches you undress. He licks his lips seeing your matching lacy white lingerie, as stark difference to your dark attire. Knowing how much Kai loves this set on you, you leave it on straddling his hips. His chest rises and falls fast as he watches your dainty fingers push the panties to the side to have Kai's tip feel how drench you are. The sight of Kai leaning his head back in pleasure is heavenly. You so badly wanted to leave possessive marks on his sculpted jaw but you can't, you shouldn't.

Finally letting your cunt swallow Kai's length whole you rock your hips. Your head then falls back, the fullness electrifying your body. Opening your eyes to see yourself fucking Kai, you huff "Kai, look up." Kai slowly opens his eyes to witness what you were seeing.

This fueled his fire, you yelped in surprise when your whole body was slammed onto the bed. Then you reflection was of you surrounded by white sheets and Kai's toned back and bottom on top of you. You watch as Kai slips out of his tie then to put his hands the sides of your head. Kai wastes no time to thrust deep and fast into you. Kissing you deeply surly bruising your lips. His hands caress your legs guiding them over his shoulders to have his dick hit a sweet spot. You couldn't help but to cling onto his broad back, scratching it until it tore skin. The disconnection from the two of you were being realized as you both tire your bodies.

It seemed that Kai forgot the deal as his head buried into your neck. Teeth biting down at a spot that made you whimper. You didn't care at that moment the way he was making you feel was too good. He thrusted harder, reaching down to rub your clit getting you close. Your pussy clenches with each friction of your sensitive nub making it difficult for Kai to continue. Cumming on his cock it wasn't long until he came undone.

Kai flops down rolling to the side to not to squish you. You turn your head to look at him and he does the same. Brushing his bangs out of his eyes you say, "don't ever ignore me again." Kai nods making you smile and give him a peck on the forehead. Now you need your assistant to find the best make up team to cover up your hickey and maybe Kai's hickeys after tonight...

A nuisance,

TxT's Devil

taglist: @inkigayocamman, @naoristerling, @incogrio

[ssajemilyprentiss]

In the air

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x reader 

Warnings: Smut, angsty-ish, reader is a bit cold/lacks emotion, Emily is a bit out of character lol (just this once), mentions of death (you know the regular cm stuff), sexual tension (or more like an attempt at it lol), curse words, eating out, vaginal fingering, nipple/breast play, dirty talk, use of pet names, degradation, praise. Let me know if i forgot something - Also MINORS DNI

Summary: When you get brought in for questioning at the FBI and they have Emily interrogate you - the tension between you is instant.

Wordcount: 2k

A/N: Um hello I guess, I’m back lol. It has been a hot minute since I both wrote and posted on here, and tbh I am a lil scared doing this again. Even tho I love posting and writing I have been so uninspired and unmotivated for so so long for some reason. But I will try to post more, can’t make any promises tho lol. 

The beginning of this has been sitting in my drafts for god knows how long and I wanted to do something with it so here I am doing it lmao

Also a reminder if it has been forgotten, english is not my first language - and I would deeply appreciate your thoughts and opinions on this, thanks besties <3

This was requested by the lovely Jas @rafetopia​​​ (you requested this such a long time ago so you have probably forgotten it, and i can’t find your ask either, sorry about that lmao) who wrote the following: “so what if you wrote a blurb or one shot with emily (or jj tbh i don’t really care i love them both) and there are some murders and the reader is the suspect and there’s a hot interrogation session (i’m a sucker for it) but the ending is up to you like if she’s innocent or not (only if you want to lol) i didn’t want to make it too specific so you still have freedom 😅”

I decided to go with Emily for this one, hope that’s fine Jas (also hope it's fine i added the smut lmao) thank you for this request and i hope this turns out the way you wanted to <3

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You let out a deep sigh, crossing your legs for what felt like the hundredth time. The dark, pale interrogation room at the FBI headquarters was freezing cold and you feel yourself getting goosebumps from the chilly atmosphere. How long had you been sitting here? An hour? Two? Who knew? No one had told you anything yet, and none of the agents who showed up and arrested you had come in. Just as you’re about to uncross your legs the door opens and a grey-haired goddess of an FBI agent steps inside the room, her commanding presence immediately taking over the room. She takes a seat across from you, not saying anything. She stares deadpanned at you but all you can think about her eyes - dark brown, almost black, and you feel how you could get lost staring into them. The next thing you see is her nose, straight and pointy - one of her defining features for sure. Your eyes move on to her lips, they are full with a hint of red - red is definitely her color. You keep staring at her lips, biting your own lower lip as you do. You sit in silence for you don’t know how long, until she breaks the silence by clearing her throat. Your eyes shoot up from her lips into her eyes once again, and you see a sly smile forming on her mouth before she starts talking:

“My name is Supervisory Special Agent Emily Prentiss, I’m a profiler with the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit” she takes a breath before continuing “do you know why you’re here Ms. Y/L/N?”

“Actually I don’t” you reply, your lips forming a small smirk “but please agent, do enlighten me”

“You are here on suspicion of murder” 

“Murder?” you retort, raising an eyebrow

“Correct, murder” she replies, tossing pictures on the table - but you keep staring into her eyes. 

“Look at the pictures” she demands

You do, and see yourself in all of them - together with different women. You look up at the agent again with a blank expression. 

“Do you recognize the women in the pictures?” she asks

“Well yes I do” you reply

You point to one of them “That’s me right there” 

“‘I mean the other women” she retorts annoyed

“Oh, silly me” you chuckle “well yes I recognize them too”

“Go on” she says

“Well, as you can see I’ve met them all” 

“Doing what?”

“Do you really wanna know that, Agent Prentiss?” 

“Go on” she encourages you “What about her?” she asks, holding up one of the photos

You look at the photo for a while, it’s of you and one of the girls you had met - what was her name? Mia? Sophia?

“She was a pleasure”

“How come all the women you have met turned up dead just a few days after meeting you?” she asks, her tone accusatory 

“Don’t know” you reply, shrugging your shoulders

“This isn’t a game Y/N, people are dead” she says, venom lacing her tone

“Don’t you think I know that?” you scoff “well I didn’t kill them”

“Where were you on these dates and times?” she asks, sliding a piece of paper with them written down towards you

“Well I can tell you that on all these dates I was very busy” 

“With what?” she asks

You bite your lip again before answering “Well I was with my very good friend Izzie”

She sighs “And you were doing?”

You lean back in your chair, keeping your eyes fixed on hers as you do “You know the usual - shopping, drinking coffee, eating”

“Eating what?” she asks

You chuckle lightly “We were eating a lot of things, if you know what I mean” you say as you raise an eyebrow at her. You see how she takes a second, thinking about what you’re saying, but if your answer startles her - she doesn’t give it away. 

“To be fair Y/N” Emily sighs “I’m getting kinda tired of this” 

“Likewise” you reply, crossing your arms

Emily leans across the table, staring into your eyes. Her hands firmly gripping the table, and you imagine them gripping your body instead. You are woken from your fantasy by her hot breath right next to your ear. You feel the hairs on your arms raising and how wetness starts pooling between your legs.

“So why won’t you just tell me the truth, like a good girl” she whispers, nipping lightly at your ear

You take a sharp breath, exhaling shakily and not daring to move a muscle. 

“Tell me Y/N” she whispers again “do you want to be my good girl?”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. She chuckles lightly and tuts

“None of that now, I want to hear you say it” she whispers

You whimper lightly and swallow, just as you’re about to open your mouth the door opens and you and Emily get away from each other, she sits down in her chair composing herself. You sit back in your chair, feeling out of breath. You lock eyes with a tall grumpy agent who stares deadpanned at you. 

“You’re free to go Ms. Y/L/N” he says

“What?” you ask, shocked

“You’re free to go” he repeats “your alibi checks out”

You get up from the chair and as you’re about to leave the room you stop right by Emily’s ear and whisper:

“That was fun, we should do it again sometime” 

You don’t give her time to reply, swiftly exiting the room. On the way out you feel all the other agents staring at you as you walk past them, but all you can do is smirk - thinking back at the moment you just had with Emily - and how you need to get rid of the wetness between your legs the first thing you do when you get home. 

/

The sun was shining outside the BAU, and you close your eyes taking a deep breath. You felt your phone vibrating in your pocket, picking it up you see your uber is on its way. You close your eyes and exhale once more, but before you know it someone is behind you and pushes you against the wall of the building, their hand on your throat. You feel your air supply being cut off and open your eyes in panic, and there in front of you is the grey-haired goddess of an FBI agent once more. She releases the pressure against your throat a little, but keeps her hand steady. You gasp for air as she leans towards you. 

“Listen here you little slut” she says “I don’t think you’re as innocent as you make it look, but to be honest right now I don’t give a fuck”

You don’t answer, focusing on your breathing

“But what I’m more interested in right now is to keep our little party going” she says, backing away “If you want to?”

You raise an eyebrow at her, but can tell from the look on her face that she is serious. You chuckle, looking down at your feet with a sly smile - you look up again, meeting her brown eyes and reply:

“I’d never thought you’d ask”

/ 

She pulls you inside her apartment, dragging you towards her bedroom. She pushes you against the wall once again and presses her lips against yours. You moan into her mouth as your hands caress her body, reaching her breasts. 

“Let me take your shirt off” you pant into her mouth

She pulls away and you pull her shirt over her head, and then do the same with yours. You take off her bra while she does the same with yours. She trails her kisses along your neck, and you throw your head back, giving her full access. She stops by your pulse point, sucking hard on it. You close your eyes and moan as she does, your hands finding her breasts. You start rubbing one of her nipples between your fingers, causing her to moan against your neck. She keeps trailing kisses further down on your body and reaches your breasts. She takes one of your nipples in her mouth, circling her tongue against it. 

“Holy fuck” you breathe out “keep doing that”

She chuckles lightly against your nipple before pinching it lightly with her teeth, making you yelp. 

“Lay down on the bed” she says

You obey, laying down on your back

“You’re so wet for me, aren’t you?” she asks, smirking

You lick your lips and nod, staring up at her. 

She lowers herself, trailing kisses along your stomach down towards your pussy. You feel your clit pulsing and wetness dripping between your legs. 

“Spread those legs for me” she says, and you obey instantly “let me see that pretty pussy of yours” 

She starts kissing your inner thighs slowly, just brushing over your clit lightly when she switches from one leg to the other. 

“Please” you pant, putting your hands in her hair directing her towards your clit “Please stop teasing and fuck me”

“As you wish princess” she says and start sucking forcefully on your clit, making you moan hard of the instant pleasure she gives you

“Such a good girl” she says against your clit, and you thrust your hips forward, looking for more. She chuckles softly and starts licking up and down your slit, and she easily slips two fingers into you - thrusting them slowly. 

“Harder please” you pant “I’m gonna cum”

She picks up her pace, her thrusts becoming more determined, and your eyes starts fluttering from the overwhelming pleasure that is approaching you

“Cum for me” she husks and circle your clit once more, your orgasm washing over you like a wave of pleasure 

“Fuck” you breathe out as she starts lapping up your juices

She kiss you and you taste yourself on her tongue, and then you flip her over - with her underneath you this time

“My turn” you coo and lick your lips, pinning her wrists above her head as you caress one of her nipples with your tongue

"So perfect" you murmur "Perfect tits. Perfect ass. Perfect everything" 

You work your way down her body, kissing her 

“Please” she breathes heavily “I need you”

“Where do you need me?” you ask, kneading her breasts once more 

“Inside” she whimpers “your fingers inside”

You lick a line along her slit, tasting her wetness 

“My my” you chuckle “do I make you this wet?” 

“Yes” she groans “please just fuck me”

You slide two fingers inside of her, thrusting them slowly as you lower yourself towards her clit and take it in your mouth. She moans deeply and arches her back, and you start picking up your pace. 

“Please” she breathes “need more”

You add another finger smoothly, and let her adjust a little before you start thrusting again, and you curl your fingers at her g-spot and start circling your tongue on her clit again - feeling her walls clenching against your fingers

“Yes” she cries out “just like that, I’m cumming” 

You pick up the pace, flicking her clit harder and thrust your finger faster. 

You feel her orgasm taking over, and she cries out from pleasure. You keep thrusting, helping her ride out her orgasm. When she has calmed down you slip out your fingers and take them in your mouth, cleaning her juices from them - and you moan once again from her taste. 

The two of you crash down on the bed next to each other, panting heavily. 

“That was good” she whispers

“So fucking good” you reply and she chuckles at you, turning her head towards you

You stare into Emily’s dark brown eyes once again, the first thing you had noticed about her when she walked into that interrogation room what felt like an eternity ago. Whatever lies behind those beautiful brown eyes is one mystery you would spend your entire life solving. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist: @rafetopia / @ssa-sapphic  / @sweetmidnights / @alexbllake / @emilyprsntiss / @sleep-deprived-athlete / @jemilyssecretlover /  @star-stuff-in-the-cosmos / @cmslvtt / @phatcrackdad / @rookie-prentiss (this taglist is sooo old, so i'm sorry in advance if you don't want to be tagged, just let me know and i'll delete you <3)

[drac-kool-aid]

Seward's bone deep desire to run away from the asylum is not exactly surprising. There have been a lot of really good meta posts about how the return of Van Helsing into his life is the turning point where we see the caring and good side of him and how we can interpret his life as a student in Amersterdam as one of freedom and happiness. How he is part of the tragedy of manners, how strict social expectations allow Dracula to persist, and how they only exacerbate the unhappiness of the characters.

And I think the tragedy of Seward is that, really, he should not be the head of an asylum. It's a job that brings him no joy, and he's BAD at it. We can all recognize that if your first reaction to going back to work is "What if I just leave it all." That isn't a healthy work environment.

Now, in the modern day, the ability to pick and choose a work environment, even to leave one that is damaging your mental health, is a privilege. (IT SHOULDNT BE, but it is). And, although it is definitely reaching crisis levels in modern times, major changes in your career have almost always been difficult (unless you are really rich, or a particular brand of academic in the 17th-18th century, or both).

Seward can't just leave and become a surgeon. To give up the lofty position of "Head of an Asylum" would be unthinkable in the 1890s, especially for a reason like "Being here is basically turning me into the Joker." Like, how would Seward explain that in polite society? Would they accept that reasoning? Would they create salacious gossip if they didn't? Can Seward leave his position without losing a great amount of social capital?

Probably not.

His rise to head of an asylum, as many have pointed out, was meteoric, to say the least. It has afforded him status and respect and also left him deeply, deeply fucked up. And he can't leave!

I think his desperate attempts to quantify Renfield's behaviors into a new mental illness are telling in this regard. Maybe he is too used to having to meet some sort of expectation, and now he thinks this is the logical next step (It's NOT, but I digress). The feeling of having to keep performing above expectations, grasping at straws to do so, and subsequently burning oneself out (as well as others around you) and engaging in unethical practices? Idk. It sounds like something that would happen today. (tbh there are probably a ton of Sewards out there today, as there are still systemic problems within the mental health system that allow for the dehumanizing and abuse of patients).

It doesn't excuse his behavior. Nothing he does to Renfield is excusable, but I think it does explain some of the *why*. He isn't just cruel for cruelty's sake.

So, tldr I guess: I think reading Seward as someone who got stuck on a career path that he realized was unfufilling and that he ends up hating. Social conventions restrict him from just quitting without and a (socially acceptable) good reason to do so, and a lifetime of being regarded as one of the smartest people in the room means he can not allow himself to fail. Unfortunately, this also means he can not admit when his actions or his ideas are wrong when it comes to his job.

(But he can show that uncertainty FOR Lucy, and TO Arthur and Van Helsing, which speaks his trust and love for them)

[mikashisus]

connections between venti and arlecchino that i found particularly interesting, a rambling 🗣️

ARLECCHINO STORY QUEST SPOILERS‼️‼️

(these r just some cool things i found kinda sus and interesting. this was for fun.)

1. first, my thoughts on clervie — specifically what she says in response to learning about mondstadt:

2. the similarities between arlecchino and venti regarding “freedom”:

venti fought for freedom that was earned, and eventually became the god of freedom shortly after he earned said freedom.

he also tested vennessa. he tested her by saying he could grant her freedom and waited to see if she would leave the cell with him, but she didn’t. she stayed and showed him how freedom was meant to be earned, not given. venti was more than satisfied with her answer and left.

venti has shown time and time again that he believes freedom is meant to be earned. at least, that’s how i see his character and his ideals.

now i want to bring up what arlecchino said towards the end of her story quest. i find it interesting how she also believes that freedom is meant to be earned, not given.

pretty interesting.

3. now for my own personal rant and theories:

“freedom” itself is always being mentioned in this game. it started in mondstadt, the nation embodying freedom. the god of freedom himself entered the fray and showed us what freedom truly meant.

liyue was “freed” from their own god, who saw it time to step down from his position as archon and left the task of ruling & protecting liyue to the humans.

wouldn’t say there’s much freedom in inazuma tbh. unless you count the people being “freed” from the vision hunt decree and the sakoku decree.

nahida being freed from the hands of the sages/akademiya.

furina being freed from her curse and the act she played out for 500 years.

i wonder if we’ll see any freedom in natlan too.

ANYWAYS, ALL THIS TO SAY (i didnt mean for this to become a venti rant, i have constant venti brainrot) — i believe that venti and freedom play an ENORMOUS part in the lore of the game and we haven’t seen anything yet.

i am a firm believer that venti is one of the most important characters in this game. bro has lore in literally every nation, maybe with the exception of fontaine (iirc, there hasn’t been anything in fontaine calling back to barbatos).

he even has lore in the chasm and enkanomiya, which says A LOT. i haven’t finished the remuria world quest yet, so idk if there’s any lore about him or istaroth sprinkled there too. tbh i wouldn’t be surprised if there was.

everything always comes full circle when it comes to venti. he’s everywhere, which is pretty cool to think about when you realize that he’s supposed to be the embodiment of the wind, which is everywhere all at once and can hear everything.

which brings me to my last point —

4. this voiceline from arlecchino about the wind.

hmmm.. 🤨

[albi-mander]

So back in 2023, you contributed to a thread dragging the ASOIAF series. And for like two paragraphs in the middle of your post, you gave an example of LotR, and how the Ring makes you invisible -> promises freedom from accountability. That's a take I've never come across before, but it makes so much SENSE; do you've a post specifically talking about that? Because I think that that specific point got passed over with, well, the rest of that very long thread, but I want to make sure people see it.

Oh my god I vaguely remember that post—I've probably rambled about the Ring at some point or another on here, but I have exactly zero chance of finding it again tbh. Don't worry, I'm pretty sure it's all in my head though, so, what the hell, let's go over it again.

The Ring can do a lot of weird shit, but its primary ability—or at least the one we actually interact with the most—is invisibility. Which, sure, I guess that's pretty potent if you're clever about it, but that's...extremely mundane by fantasy standards?

It's not exactly something you'd expect the Ring of Power, resident symbolic representation of tyranny and main accessory of Satan, to offer as one of its core abilities. The Ring is supposed to promise its wearer power, control, domination... Surely it has something a bit flashier than invisibility, right? Why is that part of the opening sales pitch?

Well...because that's the first step you take towards becoming a tyrant. You don't start at wanting mind control or mass destruction. You start at, "How can I do this and get away with it?"

THAT is what the Ring really promises. Not just power, but power free from accountability. The power to do whatever you want and not get caught.

[naavispider]

Here's a little plot-less drabble for you all 🥰 I'm sad Prager didn't get more screen time tbh

Usually, Spider Socorro was at the front of the pack. Usually, he wouldn't slow down for anything. He'd hide any weaknesses as he swung through the vines, leaping from tree to fallen-tree, desperate to be seen as equal.

Not today however. After days of confinement in a too-small cell and exposure to that horrendous mind machine, his body was slower than he was used to. Weaker.

He was used to being overtaken while out exploring the forest - that was just par for the course when you grew up with Na'vi - but the recom squad were fast even for their size. No, Spider corrected himself. It wasn't their speed that he wasn't used to. It was their attitude. They wanted to be ten steps ahead, yesterday. Their push to find the floating mountains was relentless, never stopping to rest or recoup. It had been fun at first - fuelled on by the taste of freedom Spider had run rings around them. But they had stamina that Spider's time in captivity had sapped from his bones.

"Keep it moving," Quaritch's hand pushed him on from behind, making him stumble in the twilight. Spider hissed in response, turning around to glare at the recom. "You're not getting tired on us are ya?" Quaritch responded, his tone light but with an undercurrent of concern. "Not after playing monkey all afternoon?"

"Maybe I'm having second thoughts," Spider stressed, knowing it would cause a reaction.

"Now you just stop right there." Quaritch's cold hand grabbed him forcefully by the shoulder and spun him around so he was facing the squad. "You wanna go back to being Ardmore's labrat? That's fine by me."

Spider shook Quaritch's hand off.

"I'll radio it in right now, just say the word." The man raised his hand to his radio and waited for a response he knew he wouldn't get. "No? Didn't think so. So you'll keep moving, and you'll pick up the pace."

Spider glared at the recom. He knew the others were watching too, but he only had venom for the Colonel in this moment. The throbbing headache in the back of his skull stopped him from antagonising Quaritch further. "Teylupil," he muttered, before receiving a rap on the back of his head for his efforts.

"Cut that shit out."

"Would you rather I cuss you in English? Cuz that's fine too!" Spider growled over his shoulder as he led them on again, putting an extra jump into his stride so he was out of Quaritch's reach.

Z-dog whistled from behind, unable to stop herself from laughing at his disrespect. "Damn, is he ever gonna wear out?" she asked no one in particular.

"Nope," Wainfleet chuckled. "Kid's like his old man."

Up ahead, Spider wondered what exactly the relationship between Wainfleet and Quaritch was. They seemed close in a way that the others weren't. He was pretty sure nobody else in the squad would have mentioned Spider's father.

"Keep talking out of your ass, old man!" Spider called back.

"Old man? I'm technically younger than you, you know!"

After another hour of trekking in the right direction, night had truly begun to fall, and Quaritch was forced to concede that they'd have to make camp.

Since the mind machine, Spider had been plagued with headaches at least daily, more often that not bad ones that lasted for hours. Norm had called really bad headaches 'migraines', and Spider knew this must be what they were. Once the recoms chose a spot to settle down, Spider couldn't hide it anymore. He sat down next to a tree trunk, resting his head against the cool bark. He took deep, steady breaths to try and calm the pressure radiating from the very centre of his brain. His eyes felt like they might be squeezed out of their sockets if this continued for much longer. The thought didn't help with the nausea.

It was a little while later that a voice made him flicker his eyes open.

"Spider?"

Instantly he knew it wasn't Quaritch or Wainfleet. For one thing, they'd probably just shake him awake in a decidedly less cautious manner. He felt the urge to groan at the voice, but nothing came out. Opening his eyes he saw the concerned face of one of the other recoms. The man had the barest hint of stubble and was wearing a bandana around his head. Spider didn't know his name yet. Or if he did, he'd forgotten.

"What?" Spider asked roughly, pissed off that he'd been roused. He'd been so close to sleep...

"Are you okay?"

Spider looked at the recom suspiciously. He narrowed his eyes without moving his head.

"I don't know if you know, but I'm the squad's field medic. My name's Prager."

"Okay..."

"You're not looking too hot. What's wrong?" Prager offered him a warm smile, and Spider found his usual stubbornness disintegrating. Maybe Prager could help...

"My head. It's pounding since the..." Spider had never found out what it was actually called. He substituted the name of the machine for a wave of his hand.

Prager nodded, pursing his lips. "Have you had these frequently?"

Spider nodded as slowly as he could to not make it worse. "Only since then."

"Any other symptoms?"

Other than being weak all the time? Other than constantly feeling on edge? Other than worrying that his every move could get him sent back until they pounded his brains to mush and he finally died? "No."

"Okay," Prager concluded. "Let me go get you some painkillers."

Spider watched him go, still shocked that someone had cared enough to ask. From the other side of the fire he could see Quaritch looking in his direction, his brow creased. Whatever. Spider could not bring himself to care what the recom thought right now.

After a minute, Prager returned with a small pill bottle. He handed it over to Spider to open. "Take two. They're strong."

“Thanks,” Spider muttered, the throbbing in his head too overwhelming to allow him to feel embarrassed. Prager passed him a water bottle and he easily gulped them down before resealing his mask.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Spider raised an eyebrow at him. “I didn’t know you cared so much.”

Prager grinned. “Why don’t we just call it medical curiosity.”

Spider smiled back, resting his head back against the tree trunk as Prager took a seat next to him on the ground. He could tell the medic cared. “Do you know if it’s gonna get better?”

Prager considered this. “Depends. Have you noticed it getting worse?”

“Pfft, not really. But it’s not got better either. They’ve really gone and fucked my brain.”

“The scans showed no lasting damage. But I think that’s only because the colonel stopped them before they could really get started. Another round and you’d be a lot worse off.”

Spider didn’t respond, watching Quaritch across the fire. Quaritch had saved him from the machine. But what did that show? Did Spider owe him anything because of it? So far he’d always thought no.

Spider said nothing.

"Let me know if anything changes,” the medic said, before heaving himself up to his feet and leaving Spider in peace.

[krewekreep]

How He Would Really Be (or) Baby Daddy Red Flags

I might also name this Baby Daddy Red Flags 😂😭 I don’t know

Actually this is gonna be a lil fun text post series that’s slightly fan fic but moreso a Drabble that’s acknowledges our collective delusion. It comes from a tumblr experience I had I’ll elaborate on and link later:

First Off: Alucard (Hellsing / Hellsing Ultimate)

He’s an OG baby daddy tbh (I’m black I know I’m using og wrong, it’s been butchered beyond redemption. Oh well. 😭) he’s truly part of my “damn this type is not good for me in real life.” (LMAOAOAO)

I love yall but alucard (hellsing) is so overtly and dangerously yandare (one of my main men so im not judging) but I am amused by coding to him to be “mean to everyone but me” if he in character grew that true of a bond with you. 1. You’re never going outside or out of his site like actually 2. You could do whatever you want INSIDE but like don’t try to leave 😭 3. You’re literally never gonna be independent again like fuck him just eavesdropping all the time he’s gonna be lurching over you so bad your back is to his chest every other step 😭

I can absolutely see him getting “mad” at you when his affection INEVITABLY gets overwhelming. I could see Alucard wanting to dress you, bathe you, and while it can seem hot that’s pretty…👀 he also would absolutely put you in a situation you think he won’t save you from but does. Likewise any public outing requires hand holding the entire time. Don’t worry he’s strong enough to maneuver you as he needs but I get annoyed when men just use their strength randomly with me 😭 not negative but like okay big boy wtf 😂

He’d throw you to the wolves and have you likely in some real ass traumatizing fake dangerous scenarios to save you and make you that much more dependent on him. This is literally Vlad the Impaler (for those who watched Ultimate, plus that form is genuinely so fucking hot omfg.) he lowkey did this to Sera mind you 😭 he literally will let Anderson scare the fuck out of you cause they’ll both have the hidden agenda of mutual amusement (like their literally bros if they stopped being intolerant of each other LMAOAOA)

That is a man of overreaction, self indulgence, self righteousness, and performance…have fun. 😀

Again…you think he gonna let you have any freedom? Your choices will be faux independent my loves. You’re his and I imagine (me @ 12 Jesus I needed another baptism) you likely wanna be his 😭 but yeah girl all men are burdens he’ll just be a really parental, controlling one. Plus he old as hell and will likely wanna lecture your young mortal ways like ew shut up grandpa. Only way out is linking up with Sera and Integra. Sera will sneak you out and have safe fun with and Integra will be sure to demand Alucard leave you both alone. You’ll be supported and protected but def link up with the girlies to keep him in check.

(This actually literally amuses me so much and feels very sex in the city for no reason lmaoo) + who else is actually gonna be the worst to be with? (Gojo, all tea all shade)

[dollgxtz]

This chapter was so intense, and it gave me shivers reading it. The whole time she was acting, he knew it; I KNEW IT. He’s not a fool or stupid to fall for it however it’s sad to see her be like this and I’m afraid she’ll get more depressed if she discovers later that he was aware of all this acting and played along, my favorite two scenes (the first one I was tearing up while reading it) was when he dragged Xavier to the window to see her and was mocking him as if he was saying she’s fine and well while you’re here risking your life for her, the second scene while they were at the library and she was searching through the pages to find away to get rid of the baby only to find out that he was 10 steps ahead of her and he got rid of them, the moment of silence stretching out whenever she asked him something that might benefit her (like when she asked him for a tour of the house or the pregnancy books) I was like I know he’s seeing through her especially when u once said he can read her mind when she make eye contact with him and whenever that happens I was screaming at my phone for her to not do that 😭 and yes it’s quite ironic for him to give the stray cats more freedom than his kidnapped fiancée and I guess that makes sense for him cause cat needs him for food but she doesn’t, she lived her whole life freely and one day she got kidnapped by someone who justifies it by saying it’s for her safety as if she’s not an adult who had her whole life ahead of her, don’t get me wrong I love Sylus; he’s the reason I’m playing the game in the first place, and I love the way you write him; it shows how much of a hypocrite he is. HE KNOWS SHE’LL NEVER LOVE HIM CAUSE SHE WAS ALREADY IN LOVE WITH SOMEONE ELSE, and my poor, poor Xavier tried to save her but couldn’t because Sylus had the upper hand with his evol, but I’m positive that he won’t give up that easily either, but by the time he comes back, he’ll see her obviously pregnant, and idk what will both him and MC do if that ever happens, but god, I teared up reading he was paying her rent so she has a place to come too😭😭😭 you’re exceeding my expectations every single time!! Good job 🫶🏻

I’m so happy you enjoyed the chapter!! I love writing Yan!Sylus’s pov’s they are by far the most interesting to unravel. Writing such a complex character has been SO refreshing and fun!

I’m glad someone noticed the irony with the cats and the fact that Xavier has been paying Readers rent for her apartment 🥺. Broke my heart to even write that.

Yan!Sylus was lowkey smart about the book thing tbh, but poor reader when she realized she had been outsmarted before she had even realized it AGAIN 💔

I know if that were me I’d probably just start bawling on the spot 🤣

[bhaalsdeepbat]

Some Astarion Endings Thoughts. This is mostly just analysis ramblings and going over the endings and how Ascended Astarion and Spawn Astarion differ.

You have the free the spawn ending, where the cycle of abuse is ended and the Player Character chose to give the other spawn a chance to either be the monster they were made to be OR try to be more than that. And it isn't a perfect solution because, yes, they're rabid, starving vampires. There is always a chance that choice goes wrong, especially if player choices led to the Gur being wiped out AND the other 6 spawn being killed during the ritual.

Mercy killing, not sacrificing the spawn, is seen as an equally good choice, though it's complicated for the reasons stated above. None of the Spawn are there by choice and mercy-killing them takes away the freedom and autonomy that Astarion was very lucky to have even experienced. It's a hard decision, but the characters recognize it was either this or risk unleashing a HOARD of ravenous Spawn. The Underdark is uniquely qualified to be home to 7000+ hungry Vampire Spawn, but not everyone is going to go down there. In fact, if you send the spawn there, you find out not all of them even make it to where they decide to settle.

Mercy killing the spawn ensures no one else can be hurt by any of the spawn, whether it be their bloodthirst or violence as a reaction to the cruelty they experienced. However, the spawn made by Cazador ARE all innocent people. If you play Oath of Devotion Paladin and mercy kill the spawn, you will break your Oath because every single victim of his is just that. A victim. Astarion has a few moments throughout the story where he tries to convince the player - and himself - that not all of Cazador's victims could be innocents, but they very much are.

Astarion desperately doesn't want to see himself in them. The spawn in the cells are a reflection of what he was like when Cazador had him locked in that tomb or when Cazador had him starving on bugs and rats, and he has NO idea what he looks like anymore. I'm not even sure he's fully convinced he doesn't look partially like that tbh

The third option for Astarion's spawn ending is to just leave the other spawn in their prisons, which is seen as a really fucking cruel fate. Killing them is better than just leaving them there to starve for the rest of their eternal lives. This is also Astarion's cruelest choice, the one he makes to spite the player AND the other spawn because of how helpless he feels if he's not properly convinced to give up the power that was just within his grasp. If he cannot be fully free of Cazador and the pain he caused, then none of the other spawn can, either.

Regardless of the player's decision on what to do with the spawn, if Astarion is kept a spawn, he's able to empathize with the other victims of Cazador and see himself in them. He is forced to contend with the fact that NONE of them deserved to be caught in Cazador's cruelty. In his Spawn ending, he sees the other spawn for what they are: victims of a cruel man trying to play power games by using people as pawns and currency.

Ascension is meant to represent locking into the cycle of abuse. For Astarion, this first step is achieved by sacrificing over seven thousand souls. This move alone changes the Spawn from representations of himself, and the depths of the horrors he experienced, into currency to trade for the power to ensure he will never be in that position ever again. Rather than victims of the same horrors, they become a necessary price to pay in service of elevating him to a station above their own.

And he does see himself as a being above everyone else once he Ascends. He sees mortals as cattle. Potential pets or food, but animals that need to be herded all the same.

This includes Tav/Durge.

The whole plan to seduce Tav/Durge was born from the person Astarion was while still reeling from two centuries of of Hell. It was habits and survival instincts from living under Cazador that start to unravel when the reality of it all starts to set in. You catch peeks of who he is behind his carefully constructed mask of charm and prepared scripts, poison delivered with sweet words and a perfectly composed smile.

When he confesses, he wants to give Tav/Durge something real, but it also a mirror to what will happen in his diverging pathways. If he remains Spawn, he can give them something real. They're equal, loving partners. Ascended Astarion sees their partner as a potential pet to be loved, lavished, but ultimately owned.

The ownership is for a couple of reasons. One is so that he can ensure he has someone who will never turn on him. It's clear he has an alignment shift to being straight up evil and wants to conquer...and he talks about it in front of Faerun's best monster hunters. He needs to make sure Tav/Durge isn't included in that. He also wants to make sure they never leave him. Since he never faces what Cazador did, nor does he face the fact that things ARE changing and it's generally a good thing for people to grow and relationships to change with that growth, he wants to make sure things remain in stasis. Spawn Astarion trusts Tav/Durge to not do anything to hurt him and trusts the future they have together, whatever that may be. Turning them into a Spawn when Astarion Ascends ensures that there IS no change. Ever. Tav/Durge and the relationship are quite literally frozen in time.

Once Astarion Ascends, he stops seeing any of his companions as anything but potential pawns. His Origin Ascended ending provides an excellent glimpse at how he views the companions. Their collective strength is just ripe for plucking and he isn't afraid to make them spawn by force. I think the coldness the player can comment on after he Ascends is because he no longer feels any kinship toward the companions. He can create a script and run through it, but there won't be warmth where his beating heart is still rotted to its core.

Ascending him also starts him on the path to becoming another Cazador. If you go into the room with Vellioth's skull AFTER the ritual, rather than before, you get specific interactions with the various items that are WILDLY different from Spawnstarion (who also reacts differently depending on if it's before or after the ritual).

Astarion shows hesitation if taken into the room BEFORE the ritual, because he's forced to see the names of the people he has to sacrifice to ascend AND he sees how pathetic Cazador is when it comes to Vellioth. If you interact with the list of names or Vellioth's skull after choosing NOT to ascend, Astarion shows more remorse and empathy.

and as a side note THAT is who he is beneath the burden of his pain, when he is able start freeing himself from it. cazador's symbol is the knot of rats. Astarion sees the knot and cannot see himself in it, even though he himself is just one of the rats who happened to escape.

Ascended Astarion, on the other hand, is flippant. There's a list of names of ALL the spawn he sacrificed to ascended, and he just. He doesn't take seriously AT ALL that he just sent all those souls to be tormented in the Hells. Ascended Astarion never sees himself as a rat to begin with. He sees himself as a victim, but the others caught in Cazador's trap were all unfortunates and other bad words he can use to make them seem less deserving of empathy (empathy that he no longer has, when he ascends imo)

Astarion spent the first two acts feeling like he needed to rely on them for protection because he never felt his own strength was enough, even though his kit is fucking BROKEN. Ascending him affirms that he wasn't strong enough to protect them in any meaningful way as is, and also that no part of him was enough as just a spawn. He doesn't want to continue to rely on the player for protection, but Ascended Astarion is more than happy to make the most powerful beings in Faerun his spawn so they can keep him protected. All that power from the ritual, and he wants an army of powerful Spawn to do the dirty work for him.

As an extension of this, turning romanced Tav/Durge into a spawn is to make sure he has complete control over the one person he views as stronger than himself. Slaying Cazador is something he always credits to the player. Ascended Astarion is constantly haunted by Cazador and what he did. Tav/Durge was the one being stronger than him, which makes them a threat if they ever turn on him. Now, he knows he has one person he can always trust.

He even starts laying out the building blocks to potentially set rules similar to the ones Cazador had for his spawn. The way he starts mentioning them is very manipulative, too. They're statements made to seem like he's just expressing the depth of his devotion (still creepy), but he's really setting up being able to reiterate the rules without it being weird once the tadpoles are dealt with. He's fully aware that the tadpole will prevent Spawn!Player from being completely under his control. It's why you can break up with him before the end, but then he refuses to let the player go at the very end.

Spawn ending, when not romanced, Astarion decides to just travel by himself and become a hero. He doesn't find another group to travel with. He goes by himself. Spawn Astarion recognizes his own strength, embraces his Vampirism, not as something that taints him, but as a power to be unleashed on the real monsters. HE does the dirty work.

I love love love exploring both endings and I love the way Astarion's character can grow depending on player choice, then completely branch into two different ways once you hit the Ascension vs Spawn choice.

ty for reading my ramblings. I know this wasn't a straightforward analysis or anything, and def doesn't have an actual conclusion or like. point beyond character exploration. a lot of these thoughts are just me thinking character through so i can write them better. i want to explore these aspects of him, but I do ramble things first to get general characterization thoughts out.

[zenkindoflove]

Elucien and Sarion Parallels

Ever since I finished HOFAS, I can't help but think of all the parallels between Elain x Lucien and Sathia x Tharion. It's definitely not a coincidence and it makes me have big high hopes for both ships in the future of their series. So I made a big list of all the ways their characters and situations are paralleling each other. HOFAS spoilers under the cut.

This is the most obvious parallel. Both Elucien and Sarion are strangers finding themselves in a romantic entanglement. Elucien's mating bond snaps as soon as they meet each other, effectively making them strangers who are soulmates. Sarion is a marriage of convenience trope, where before ever speaking to each other, they both agree to marry so that Sathia doesn't have to marry one of the Murder Twins. Both have to essentially get to know the other one under the circumstances of having a romantic bond between them.

Tropes Are Troping.

There are tons of similarities in the actual situations that Elucien and Sarion first meet. They are both in a throne room, standing in front of an evil Fae King who is putting Elain and Sathia in a very high-stakes, traumatizing, nonconsensual situation. Before Elain is turned Fae and before the mating bond snaps, Lucien protests what is happening to her, leading to his bondage. He breaks through the bonds once she is dumped onto the floor, running to her to cover her with his jacket to preserve her modesty and provide her with his protection. As the CC crew bargain for Sathia's freedom, which is going nowhere fast, Tharion offers himself to marry Sathia so that she doesn't have to be shackled to one of the Murder Twins forever. He's effectively, like Lucien, the only one who takes the extra step to protect her.

Meet Cute.

Given the trope that Elucien and Sarion are both in, both couples effectively belong to one another right from the start. Lucien and Elain are often referred to each other as mates and Lucien's internal thoughts claim her as his mate. "Mine. You are mine, and I am yours. Mate". In Tharion's POV, he very quickly labels her as his wife and seems comfortable embracing that label for her. Literally, one of my favorite parts about these tropes is how these romantic and intimate labels now have such a distinct and powerful punch against the background of the tension behind the trope.

My Wife/My Mate

This section really deserves a bullet point list because omg, there are so many parallels in these two characters.

Lucien and Tharion

-Redheads

-Flirty rakes who like to "dally"

-Depicted as having lots of low-commitment sexual encounters before they meet their love interest.

-This part of their characters seems to be a defense mechanism to protect their hearts.

-As soon as they do find their love interest which is an instant high-commitment, they are both singularly focused on them and loyal. Feyre states Lucien no longer enjoys the company of females now that he's a "mated male" and we no longer see Tharion flirting with or hooking up with any other characters.

-They're both self-loathing, broody sad dudes who don't have high opinions of their worth. Lucien: "I am seventh son of the Autumn Court" And a whole lot of nothing. Tharion: Captain Whatever. More like Captain Worthless.

-Both jump around in their allegiances after finding themselves in abusive power struggles. For both characters currently in their respective series, they've jumped from court/queens several times, and essentially find themselves aimless and without homes, relying on the generosity of their friends to hopefully take them in and see their worth.

-Both have had someone they love tragically taken from them that greatly affects their motivations and self-loathing.

TBH there are probably a ton more but this is just what I'm thinking of on the fly.

Elain and Sathia are a shorter list but I think that is only because we know less about them than Lucien and Tharion respectively.

Elain and Sathia

-Both are a more traditional feminine archetype. They're described as beautiful, petite, with many characteristics associated with upholding tradition and fulfilling more stereotypical feminine roles.

-Both are shown to value marriage and seek it out from men with power and influence. Elain with Graysen and Sathia in the HOSAB bonus chapter when she asks about Cormac.

-Both fall madly in love with their first love. Sathia says her separation from Collin is her "Ordeal". Elain is shown to be horribly depressed and desperately runs to find Graysen the first opportunity she gets. As Sathia does once she sees Collin again.

-Both are described as having some "vapid" traits that makes people underestimate them. Elain's interests in gardening and cooking is dismissed. Sathia is described as a fairly stereotypical rich and prissy girl who Ruhn thinks only cares about her manicures and clothes.

-Speaking of that underestimation, we see at different points in their series that characters around them are often surprised when they reveal that they are actually quite intelligent, thoughtful, and brave.

-Both have a moment of "standing up" for their love interest. Elain's famous "His name is Lucien" line and Sathia standing up to the Viper Queen on behalf of Tharion when they meet her in the alley.

-There is of course a bit of a difference between them. Elain is described as being more timid. Ruhn refers to Sathia as "a predator". So they both take a bit different approaches to how they fit into their social groups.

Elucien and Sarion both enter into their romance trope with other love interests either in their pasts or currently that they're involved with. Lucien has Jesminda, who he still loves deeply and mourns her death. Elain has Graysen, who she is engaged to but her turning Fae puts a big wedge in their relationship. Sathia isn't with Collin but clearly still loves him. It's unclear how far their relationship ever got. Tharion is the only one who is emotionally "unattached" but he is very much still in the web of the River Queen's daughter and his 10-year long engagement of duress to her.

It's complicated.

In both cases, Tharion and Lucien are effectively unattached. Maybe it's complicated but they are more free and open to the bond they now have to this stranger. Elain and Sathia are not, however. Both Elain and Sathia show that they still have a deep commitment to their former loves and take similar actions by giving into their most romantic fantasies and running after their first loves to try and save the relationship. We know for Elain, that her seeking out Graysen was the nail in the coffin for them. With Sathia, her situation with Collin is left very open ended. But both are full of angst and both show that Elain and Sathia are very romantic at heart and commit deeply to the men that they love. Both Tharion and Lucien are shown to be very understanding and not possessive of Sathia and Elain. Lucien is not present for Elain seeing Graysen but he gives her space to work through her feelings and it's known he's met Graysen and doesn't think highly of him yet its implied he has left him alone. Tharion does not go after Sathia as soon as she leaves to find Collin and even hopes that should he die she'd be free to marry Collin if he can get away from the Viper Queen.

She is still in love with her ex.

Now we don't know how Elain or Sathia truly feel for Lucien and Tharion. We have neither of their POVs. We do however see Tharion and Lucien's POVs and at least based on actions alone, Lucien is clearly more interested in pursuing the mating bond than Elain is at the moment. When Sathia leaves to find Collin, Tharion spends a lot of time with her letter and its said he can't stop thinking about her as he makes his way to help Bryce with defeating the Asteri.

He falls first.

Lucien and Tharion both go to "rescue" their love interest. Lucien desperately wants to leave Spring to make sure that Elain is okay after her trauma in Hybern. He still doesn't trust the Night Court and has no idea what they're doing to her. He crosses Prythian with Feyre, going into Autumn Court where he knows they could kill him on the spot and where he experienced some of his worst traumas. But he braves it all just so he can see Elain once and make sure she's okay. He's fully aware she has a fiance and may not want anything to do with him. Tharion, after the Asteri are defeated, is seen in his last chapter of HOFAS returning back to the Meat Market where the Viper Queen holds a bounty on his head and essentially owned him as her slave. But he returns so he can make sure that Sathia is not in danger. Similar to Lucien, he's returning to the place of his trauma, risking it all with little expectations that Sathia will "choose him"

Damsels in distress.

Lucien is an emissary and he is well known for his social skills. Elain similarly has been described as being very charming and sociable, able to befriend servants or nobles. It's a common head canon amongst Eluciens that Elain and Lucien, once they start spending time together, will find themselves in a situation where they have to act as emissaries and Elain will impress Lucien with her natural skills. We see this scenario play out with Tharion and Sathia when they try to convince the River Queen to protect some of Crescent City's most vunerable members. Tharion is impressed at how skilled Sathia is when talking to the queen, able to charm and "speak her language" which is that of nobility and politeness.

Emissaries.

Prediction: I have a feeling that not only are both Elucien and Sarion end game, but I think their end game is going to be mirror images of where they started. Elucien started with a mating bond and I think they will fall in love and choose to marry each other. And the reverse, Sarion started with a marriage but I also think they will fall in love and the mating bond will snap between them. It would just be such a cute additional parallel to how SJM has set up their characters and story arcs.

[guaxinimraccoon]

You've always been a talented artist, but lately I cannot get over just how much you've improved??? The colors and composition are incredible!

Any art tips you'd like to share?

AAAAAAAAA YOUR ART IS FANTASTIC TOO!! You're also so talented, thanks for being so wholesome 🥺❤️

OMG tbh I've been having a lot of free time since I graduated from college and that allows me to practice more, I've been studying art stuff that I like since then!

I've been trying to make more grayscale thumbnails and different color options for the most complicated pieces, they help a loooot but I'm kinda lazy with them ngl

Also, I used to be very attached to making a super polished lineart and coloring, now I've been focusing more on having fun you know? No specific art style, just freedom, fun and drawing the way I want to at that moment

BUT the coolest thing that has helped me to feel more satisfied with the final outcome of my art is to just play around more with colors. I want some blue here even if it doesn't make sense? Splash blue on this bitch. Oh some pink here would be nice? Pink them all, idc!! I love stylizing with colors in a messy and random way and I've been allowing myself to do that more without worrying too much about realism or strict lighting and shadow rules.

But of course, you need to have strong drawing fundamentals to break the rules, the first step to any artist is to understand how stuff works so then you can mess with them as much as you want

I'm also LGBT and smoke weed, that doesn't help me with anything, just pointing out how much of a walking artist stereotype I am

[ochasuyu]

my thoughts on eri in heroics

not to eri-post again but i've seen a few tweets talking about how her not pursuing a heroics career is most realistic & better for her, towards the point of hostility towards people who do believe she becomes a hero in the end i don't hold any bad feelings towards people who find comfort in the interpretation that she chooses to pursue music instead of heroics, but! we see through jirou's backstory that eri could very well pursue both, and i frankly think it's unrealistic to say that she wouldn't i personally believe that writing off the very repetitive ways we've seen heroic acts from eri in order to give her the ending of a "normal, peaceful girl" does less for her character! the very first time we see her, she's visibly hurt and terrified, yet she still steps back into the hands of overhaul in order to protect mirio and midoriya from what she views to be harmful to them. this continues when overhaul uses nemoto's confession quirk on her, and she walks away from her potential freedom because she doesn't want midoriya to die. again, when she tries to run off during the war to go fight, and then again, when she literally saws off her horn in hopes of helping midoriya in some way.

combine all of this self-sacrificing attitude and ways that her body seems to move without thinking of her own safety (like another hero i know) and the fact that she was raised by heroes? (not to mention the fact that she'll be a hero student in the midst of a much more peaceful time than those who saved her, so she'd get a more proper experience & time as a hero student instead of being thrown into a war as a child soldier) that girl not going into heroics seems less likely than anything else tbh ,,, long story short you can rip hero student eri out of my cold dead hands

[loving-n0t-heyting]

When I went to the hospital after my botched hanging in college, my stay actually extended across two psych wards within the same institution: the third floor (where I was admitted first), and the second (where they transferred me for a while before eventually releasing me). The former was for the really severe cases (the homicidals, the suicidals, the dangerously psychotic), while the latter was divided into the half for “chemical dependence” and the half for extremely sad college students. In my case, they sort of graduated me from the third to the second as an intermediary step before release once they thought I was no longer an imminent threat to myself

As you can probably infer, the limitations on yr personal freedom on the third floor were a lot more severe: it was the one with the strap down bed in the isolation chamber, no access to yr own clothes, everything locked down, no razors or worthwhile pens/pencils. On the second, the atmosphere was friendlier, they let you visit the cafeteria for meals and take supervised walks on the grounds, and there were a few more little indulgences in what you could keep and use. And ofc you saw less use of physical restraints etc

But the more I reflected on my time there, the clearer it became how much more tolerable the third floor was. One difference was pretty straightforward: while you had to attend a certain amount of group therapy there in order to graduate down a floor, they didn’t force you to attend any particular sessions, and didn’t bug you if you wanted to spend yr time in yr room reading instead. On the second, you were obliged to attend every single ludicrous session every day, on pain of being stripped on yr right to eat in the cafeteria downstairs.* (Ofc you might say, Well that’s still an improvement bc upstairs you could not eat ANY meals in the cafeteria; this response totally fails to understand how stigma and isolation practically function)

But this merely points the way to the real difference between the two. The third floor had a sort of manifest, monomaniacal teleology, and every deprivation of yr personal freedoms served to optimise for this variable: the function of the floor was to keep you from injuring yourself or others. Everything else followed, in bloodlessly paperclip maximising fashion, from this basic goal. And while I could not and cannot agree to this optimising heteronomy of the ward’s institutional will, I could at least understand it, to an extent even respect it

The aims of the second floor, by contrast, were very nebulous. This went along with the staff clearly enjoying a higher opinion of themselves, and all the condescension to go along with that. The pretence of individual respect and affirmation suffused all the minor privileges with a vague sense of indebtedness, though ofc the staff would never put it that way. They would say, instead, that respect is mutual and trust is built interpersonally, meaning that their letting me eat shitty fake eggs straight from the basement dining hall once a day entitled them to my simpering perpetual deference. Where one storey above they sensibly anticipated fear in accord with conditional threats, here they expected gratitude in response to tenuous privileges

When I explained this to my gf, she replied that a lot of my stranger political impulses could probably be described metonymically as attempts at moving from the second floor back to the third. Which is pretty perceptive tbh

[itsgrimeytime]

The Nurse (Part Fourteen) || Rick Grimes (TWD)

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14...

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Taglist: @strnqer @1985bitch @curlycarley @imaginemyfavoritefics @crazytxgradstudent @addisonnie @whos6claire @taylvvrr @quicksilversg1rl @catt-leya @1tsk1tty @hopefulatrocity @fuseburner @idkseraphine @emo-potato-virgil @mcuclintasha @8crazy-freak8 @peepeepoopoobutt @crazyunsexycool @alixxhere @allthetroubleiveseen @dxrkymxrchy @taylormarieee @maackiimoo

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker

Summary: Before all this, you were a nurse. A nurse who had patients, one of which was a man in a coma. A sheriff, you think, it was all kinda fuzzy now. When it all went sideways, you set up what you could for the man - but had to leave. You’d always wondered where he’d ended up; until in your search of shelter, you run into a familiar face.

TWS: mentions of death, survival instinct, injury pain, gun violence (just violence in general), gunshot wounds, swearing, and all things typical of TWD.

[[A/N: I just thought he looked pretty here tbh. So, that's my reasoning. Hope you enjoy lovelies !! Thanks for reading !!!]]

Something was bothering you, you laid in your bed at night -staring up at the ceiling like it would help you eventually get to sleep. It didn't, nothing did.

You were up and walking before you could think any different, feet dragging along the concrete, as you stepped outside -eyes a wonder as you peered out into what you recognized to be the early mornings.

You remembered why, as you sat out there -chill making goosebumps all along your arms, why you knew such an arbitrary feeling.

It was after your first ever shift as a nurse, you'd been on trauma which was packed full almost every hour. You didn't have a break until 2 am the next day, and when you finally left the third day, it was early.

You spun around in a circle, breathing in the fresh air like it was water and you were in the desert. It kinda felt like that. Your friend, you couldn't remember their name now, had laughed and joined you.

"Freedom!" you yelled out, and took a big swig of your coffee -more of a habit at this point.

"How much coffee have you had?" she asked, swinging the keys around her fingers, eyebrows furrowed.

"Too much," you answered and got into the car.

You sighed, rubbing your arms up and down your sides -the chill of the night was strong then. It was something you felt comfortable with, even despite your lack of sleep -you knew these mornings. They were familiar.

Your eyes landed along the fence, watching the walkers -a few of them seemed to sense you, even from far away. Head tilted, skin decomposed, jaw thrashing you merely looked, eyes lashing along the skin. There was something in you merely disgusted that you were used to them, used to it all.

You remembered the first time you'd ever seen one, scared and curious all in one. And the second, the fear, the grief, the loss-

And then they were everywhere. Everywhere you looked.

"Hey."

You startled in place, something shocked in your bones, and you matched his eyes. It was Rick, wondrously tired Rick with a heavy sort of look in his blue eyes, curls a bit off, and voice a grumble in his throat.

"Hey," you finally responded, tightening your arms over your sides -the chill shaking through your bones, "-you okay?"

"'Could ask you the same," he echoed trailing near you for a second, eyes lingering on your arms -where you rubbed absentmindedly, "-Ya cold?"

"You're not?" you laughed, slightly.

"'Can fix it," he muttered, slowly -sleep slurred and something in your heart warmed, "-C'mere."

You moved to him, and he, with ease, wrapped around your back -strong arms meeting around your waist and head nudged on top of your own. He pressed a simple kiss to the top of your head, rubbing into your hair with his chin -sleepily.

"Better?" he asked.

"Better," you hummed, gathering your arms onto his, "-always better."

"What are ya doin' up?"

"Can't sleep," you answered, dancing with his sort of gentle sway, "-I just... Every time I close my eyes, I see..."

You fell silent, you didn't need to finish it. He knew.

"Y'er not there anymore," he hummed, pushing his lips to kiss your head again -tightening his arms just slightly, "-I'll do whatever you need for me to prove it to ya."

"I know I am," you sighed into the press of his lips, "-I just keep thinking that he might... that he might come back."

"If he does," Rick echoed, something cold and distant, "-you're not alone. I won't let 'im touch ya, or anyone."

"Rick, you can't-" you started, turning towards him in your grip, "-you can't promise that."

He looked at you for a foggy moment, soft eyes bubbling over your skin, a gentle sort of gaze fuzzy -something flashed in his eyes, "You think he's really coming back, don't ya?"

He could read you like a book, you couldn't sleep -all you could think about was him coming back and taking what he would've earlier. If you hadn't stepped up, what he would've taken, all the lives-

Something in your stomach twisted.

"He's not finished here," you echoed, a little lost, "-I just. I know he isn't and I'm..." Scared, your brain finished.

He'd take you first, you just knew it. Kill you in front of everybody or make you watch, it was personal. So, so personal.

"Stop thinkin' too hard," he hummed, using his hands to wipe away the creases along your eyebrows, "-I can see it."

"I can't," you frowned, "-I can't get it out of my head."

He frowned for a moment, before leaning forward, kissing your cheeks with languid little movements -eyes piercing over your face.

"I wish I could make ya feel better," he spoke genuinely, in the low timber of the early morning, "-I wish so badly I could help you. Take it all away."

"Rick," you breathed out, smiley, "-whatever you're doing it's not working."

"Sure 'bout that?" He asked, kissing over your pulse -racing in your chest, he certainly could feel it, "'Cause I think it's helpin'."

You laughed, moving your chin to give him more access -eager to feel the burn of the stubble on your skin. Anywhere. It's like you remember him for every second he wasn't there -wonderful sort of buzz, "Can't argue with that one, Sheriff."

He laughed, a light press of his lips to your jaw, "Look at me, darlin'."

And so, you did.

Rick held your chin with his hand -gentle with calloused fingertips, "I won't let 'im hurt you."

"Rick..." you echoed.

"No, I," he spoke, cradling your face, "-I need ya to know. I know you said you can't let me, but you have to know that I can't let you."

"Let me what?"

"Do it again," he hummed, something far off and distant, "-ya can't do it again. Sacrifice yourself, I won't- Look, I can't."

You frowned, cradling your fingertips under his cheekbones, "I'm right here."

"I know," he grumbled, "-I know."

You took your hands to trail over his skin dusting along the stubble, holding his face in your hands -you spoke what you felt, "I love you."

"I love you too," he echoed, soft and slow -you watched the words rumble out of his lips, "-so much."

"So much," you smiled, leaning your head forward onto his shoulder -warmth taking over your skin, you distantly wished you could stay here forever. You yawned into his skin, and you knew he felt it.

"C'mon, darlin'," he pulled you back but didn't let go of your hand -intertwining your fingers, "-let's go to bed."

"I can't," you resisted, "-I can't sleep without the-"

"You're not goin' alone," he hummed, "-come lay with me."

You laughed, a bit in disbelief, "In the prison bed?"

"Yeah," he smiled, pulling you further, "-'m sure we can both fit. Not like I want ya too far anyway."

You laughed harder, "Whatever you say, cowboy. I'm not gonna complain-"

"Good," he grumbled out and guided you back inside.

The peace was good while it lasted...