#i offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MISTER BABYGIRL ARE U CRAZY SIR

[wulfhalls]

YOU PIERCE MY SOUL. I AM HALF AGONY, HALF HOPE.

[fastasyoucan1999]

i love u p&p..but you will never have what persuasion has

[magicrealisms]

I also love you very dearly, but you don't accept my love and there is nothing I can do about it. You don't know how to be loved, no matter how much I want to love you.

I don’t think you’d be here if you believed that. But what am I supposed to do? My hands are tied, the ball is in your court. I can only wait and repent, and I did. You cut me off, with reason, and I respected you. I respected your decision. I still do.

I do love you. I am very sorry. I can’t fix that, and I still live with it. I miss you, and I think about you, and I hope you are well and happy and safe, and I hope I didn’t hurt you too much.

And if you’re settled with the fact that your love is wasted on me, then I apologize once more. I can’t give it back, it will always be with me, and I’ll always be with you, or whatnot.

[affableramen]

kinktober. you walk in on them relieving stress

early relationship, explicit content (18+ only), smutty

wriothesley, neuvillette, pantalone, ayato

Wriothesley

The duke was relaxing on his couch in the living room, a glass of whiskey mixed with fonta on the fancy glass coffee table next to him. His expression was one of bliss, and he was letting out silent grunts while his hand was moving quickly between his thighs. He was not naked; all he had to do was unbutton his trousers and he was feeling extremely comfortable. 

You entered the living room, but unlike your boyfriend’s calculations, you arrived a tad bit earlier than usual. He was just going to finish his quite lustful leisure to blow off some steam since his job was hell of stressful. When you came into the room and saw the glass of whiskey you did not quite expect to see your boyfriend doing that. Wriothesley is passionate in bed with you, but he always keeps his desires and emotions in check. Seeing him sprawled out on the sofa and jacking himself to the leakage made you quite perplexed immediately. You could not say that you were not aroused at this so private sight of your man. You decided to simply watch, more so it would be rude to not let him get a release he worked so hard on.

“Baby… I’m coming—I’m coming!” you could swear you heard your man whimper, but hell did he know you were standing right behind the sofa bed, staring at him fisting himself with rapid pace.

Upon Wriothesley releasing, you hugged him from behind, your mouth to his ear, gently grazing against his skin.

“Fuck—archons! You were looking!”

“I couldn't deny myself.”

Wriothesley turns to face you.

“You tease. I wanted to offer you a romantic evening tonight, but since you already saw me embarrassed… We should skip dinner and go instantly to the best”, he smooches you, pulling you onto the sofa lazily, “part.”

Neuvillette

Neuvillette wasn't exactly a lustful man and he didn't indulge sex too often, but one specific day he turned out to be extremely horny. His body was just boiling, it wanted to feel your touch, it wanted you. Though you were in your appartment and he felt most lonely. To call you and say that he wanted some intimacy for tonight in his opinion would sound improper. Instead Neuvillette chose to suffer by himself. He was lying on his sofa in the living room, a thick book rejected on the coffee table as he was palming himself quite eagerly. Rare moans would escape his lips to the vulgar thoughts of you.

And there it was — a knock in the door. Neuvillette almost fell from the sofa, but ultimately gathered himself, pulled his trousers back and went to open the door.

“Hi, I’m sorry it must be an improper of me to come so late. I just got into the rain and… you know, your house is much closer to the court than mine… I’m so sorry again, monsieur.”

Neuvillette stared at you with widened eyes.

“Of—of course, my dear. Why don’t you come in? I must say I wasn't expecting guests tonight but—I-I assure you you’re most welcome here at any time.”

The nervousness betrayed Neuvillette and you saw one button of his trousers undone, altogether with his white shirt.

“Forgive me. I was just going to take a shower.”

“I’m sorry once again, I hope I didn't ruin the evening for you.”

“Goodness no. Not in the slightest.” Relieved, he walks you to the kitchen. “Please, you must be hungry. And cold.” He touched your shoulders, your coat was indeed soaked. “Allow me to take it off for you and please do help yourself to some tea. My butler just prepared some for himself but most certainly forgot about it. Here, I’ll fill the cup for you…”

Even though Neuvillette was acting incredibly strange and if you could say lewd, he put lots of efforts to remain a perfect gentleman in your eyes, and that warmed your heart to enormous extent.

Pantalone

With his head thrown back and his Adam apple moving as he breathes heavily, Pantalone is lying in the softness of his own king-sized bed, a lovely evening behind the curtains. He is quite sure that you’re still downstairs giving orders here and there to his cook and the butler while he is talking his time to relax. He went completely mad seeing you in the new outfit today; and even though it was formal, perhaps it was about your charm and charisma that drew him insane so badly. After all, you were not at all a stranger to him, and seeing his girlfriend looking with such finesse and uniqueness of taste just brought Pantalone to the state of a lustful fool who was doing that in his own bedroom.

“F-fuck—for God’s sake—” he breathes in and out but it doesn't help much. His eyebrows are furrowed and his face muscles strained. He didn't want you to see that big damn bulge in his black trousers (that did not help him at all). It was an offence. It was extremely embarrassing for him. He couldn't let you see how much lust he was holding inside. He didn't want you to feel that he only wanted you for that outfit! But he didn't know that he’d be only embarrassed more when you entered the bedroom.

Lucky for him the lights were off and you didn't see what exactly he was doing, however the suggestion was on the surface. Pantalone quickly steadied his frail hands and looked to the side, giving you a most grave, serious expression. 

“I’m coming for dinner soon. Just need to finish some…” he clears his throat, “business calls.”

You smile sincerely. Lucky for the two of you, you pretended like nothing happened. You didn't mind him jacking off, not at all, but you also wanted to let him believe that his act was spotless. 

“Hope they won’t keep you late too much, Lone. I’ll be waiting downstairs darling.”

Ayato

You were just passing through his office door when you pushed it open and see your boyfriend on his chair, turned to the window, not a single piece of him seen. Your gaze falls on his desk where a half empty tissue box is placed. He abruptly turns on his leather office chair and almost jumps seeing you. His thin hands move quickly to pull the boxers up, though he does not have time to clasp his belt.

“What are you doing here? Why didn't you knock?”

“You are quiet. Impressive”, you could not do without your cocky smile, you just had to tease this smooth old bachelor who was being extra naughty in his own office.

Ayato finally does his trousers back and adjusts his tie. He coughs in his hand, but the flushed cheeks and his veiny hands betray his sleek façade.

“Don’t do that ever again.”

“Don’t jack off in your office when it’s unlocked. Anyone could barge in, darling.”

His face grows pale and he nervously wipes the sweat off his forehead. 

“Goodness—was it—unlocked?”

You smile, thinking there’s nothing else needed to be said. 

“Actually Kamisato Ayato, you are so lucky to have me so polite a girlfriend, otherwise you’d get yourself in a situation”, you stop, a dreamy expression on your face while poor Ayato grips the edge of the desk until his knuckles turn white. “And hopefully, you were thinking of me.”

“It was you. Your ass. Those—god damn tight skirts you wear”, he sighs, calming himself with each second more and more returning to the familiar gentleman-like behaviour. “You wanted to talk, I presume? My break has just finished. You’re late. We’ll talk home.”

“Why, you want to get rid of me so badly. Let’s see if we do continue our conversation later. In the bedroom. ” You leave his office with a proud smirk that is difficult to contain.

[littledovesnow]

a growing family

request(s): Reader and Coriolanus have a little fight, and Reader blurts out she's pregnant. AND corio when you tell him you’re pregnant? maybe even him going to the doctor with you?? I love ur fics <3

word count: 2.1k

content warnings: pregnancy, little angst (like a smidgen of it, you gotta squint to see it), little bit of mean coriolanus

You stared at the calendar that was pinned to the corkboard, heart hammering in your chest so bad you could hear it.

“No, no, no.” You mumbled, running a hand through your hair, getting stuck in a few tangles.

Not wanting to face your husband when he got home, you grabbed your purse and headed down the grand staircase and out of the apartment, walking over the Corso’s small grass area and up to the Snow’s apartment.

Knocking on the door, you looked at your chipped nail polish until the door flung open, Tigris appearing on the other side.

She had a wide smile on her face, but it fell as soon as she saw your expression. “What’s wrong?” She asked, pulling you into the apartment.

You looked down the hall to see if the Grandma’am was home. “You have to promise not to tell your cousin.”

Tigris’ eyes grew, and she looked you up and down. “What? Why? What are you-”

“I’m late.”

It took a moment before Tigris’ head snapped up, eyes meeting your own. “You- have you gone to a doctor yet?”

Shaking your head, you let out a tearful laugh. “Are you kidding? As soon as anyone sees me walking into an obstetrician’s office, they’ll run to the Capitol News fast as lightning. I want to tell Coriolanus myself; I don’t want him to find out from the paper.”

Tigris frowned. “How late are you?”

“A couple weeks. I lost track of time, and I was stressed so I assumed it was just late. But then I was taking a shower and the smell of my body wash made me want to throw up. And- oh my God, my boobs hurt so bad.”

Tigris laughed, sending you an apologetic look. “You’ll need to tell Coryo soon. I think he wants to go out to some of the Districts and do some press soon.”

It was true, Coriolanus had brought the idea up the other night at dinner, wanting to start gathering a following for the upcoming election now that President Ravenstill had announced he would be stepping down due to his poor health.

Nodding, you toyed with the loose hem of your jacket, tears coming to your eyes again. “I know, I’m going to. I just don’t want him to get mad. We’ve always talked about starting a family once he’s more established in the field.”

Tigris said your name softly, grabbing your hands. “I know Coryo, and I know he won’t get upset. Maybe if you keep this a secret any longer he’ll get a little disgruntled, but he won’t be mad.”

You appreciated the older Snow more than you thought you would, giving her a tight squeeze. “Thank you, Tigris.”

-----

Coriolanus closed the door to the apartment, letting out a sigh as he tried to keep his work and home life separate.

He called your name, walking into the kitchen with the bottle of wine he wanted to surprise you with.

Entering the kitchen, he frowned when he didn’t see you where you were usually humming to something on the radio, looking in the fridge or preparing dinner. As much as he offered to hire an Avox to cook and prepare meals, you declined it; stating you liked being able to make whatever you were hungry for.

“Love?” He called, setting the wine down and moving down the hall to the bedroom, worry growing in the pit of his stomach when you weren’t on the chaise with a book in your hand, as you sometimes were when he worked a little later than usual.

He heard a shuffle in the bathroom, behind the closed door.

“Sweetheart, are you alright?” He asked, opening the door slowly, stepping in when he saw you sitting against the tub, hair pulled back crudely.

“Hi, Coryo.” You threw him a smile, though it looked more like a grimace given your current situation.

Kneeling down, Coriolanus moved some of the hair that was still growing out from the bangs, frown on his face. “What’s wrong, why didn’t you send for me? Dr. Gaul would’ve let me leave. She’s got a soft spot for you, you know.”

You leaned into Coriolanus’ hand, small groan coming out of your mouth. “Didn’t want to bother you. It’ll pass in a few minutes.”

“And how are you so certain about that?” Coriolanus mused, rubbing your back as you leaned over the porcelain bowl once more.

Once you were sure you were done, you slowly rose, Coriolanus with a careful grasp on your hip to keep you upright.

“Because,” you took a swig of the water glass you had poured earlier, spitting into the sink basin. “I felt like this yesterday, too.”

Coriolanus’ hand moved to your forehead, feeling for a fever. “You don’t feel feverish. Perhaps it’s that new jam you’ve put on your toast this morning. Did you have it yesterday, too?”

Looking at him in the mirror’s reflection, you simply nodded, even though you did not. “Yeah, probably just a bad batch.”

Coriolanus helped you to the bed, hand moving along your jaw in admiration. “Why don’t you rest, I’m sure I can scrounge up some soup.”

You nodded, watching your husband’s retreating figure as he disappeared down the hall.

Once you were sure he was out of earshot, you leaned your head against the wall, one hand going to rub on your not-yet-visible bump. “You’ve gotta give me time to tell him.”

-----

It had been two days since Coriolanus found you on the bathroom floor, and he continued to believe that you simply had a small bout of food poisoning, none the wiser to the true reason you were ill only a few times.

Currently, you were sitting next to him, across from the Plinths, who insisted on weekly dinners at their apartment, only a few floors below you and Coriolanus.

An Avox went around pouring wine, pausing when you held a hand over your glass. “None for me, thank you.”

Ma Plinth looked between you and the bottle of wine. “It’s your favorite?”

Smiling, you were going to explain when Coriolanus spoke up for you, comforting hand on your thigh.

“She’s been a little ill the last few days, some food poisoning.”

Not believing it for a second, the older woman simply nodded, letting the Avox pour her another round.

“Coriolanus,” Strabo Plinth spoke up, leaning forward to talk business. “Have you given any thought about visiting the Districts? It would do you well to stop in before you officially start campaigning.”

Though only Capitol residents were eligible to vote in the upcoming election, many candidates made sure to stop into a majority of the Districts to show they aren’t afraid of the rebels, that they can control them if need be.

Coriolanus nodded, setting down his utensils. “I am, yes. Dr. Gaul and I had been talking about a good time for me to take a short leave. It looks like I’ll be able to go in few months, plenty of time before the campaigning will start.”

You mulled over the sentence for a moment, telling yourself now was as good a time as any. “If you go then, I won’t be able to go with you.”

Three sets of eyes focused on you, varying degrees of confusion swimming in all of them. “Why? It will be autumn, perfect season for photography of Panem’s future leading couple.”

Coriolanus quickly thought over any important dates in your family, none that arose during the time you two would be on the train. “It’ll only be a few weeks; we’ll be back in time for your sister’s birthday.”

You smiled at the blonde, looking at Strabo Plinth as he spoke up.

“A man can’t properly campaign without his wife there, how will the Capitol view you as a First Lady if you’re not by his side?”

“Yes, and perhaps seeing a united front will help lessen the threat of another rebellion.” Coriolanus nodded, clinking his glass of whiskey with his late classmate’s father.

Mrs. Plinth, eyes narrowing, seemed to figure out what the men did not. “Honey, why don’t we save this conversation for a better-suited time? I’m sure I can talk to Ravenstill and get him to set up a meeting time between the three of you.”

Strabo Plinth and Coriolanus both seemed content with that, shifting subjects to something you weren’t interested in.

You sent a grateful look to the woman across from you, who simply nodded in return.

-----

“I don’t understand why you don’t want to go visit the Districts with me.” Coriolanus snapped, fingers hastily undoing the tie he despised wearing.

“Coryo, I do want to go with you. It’s just that time won’t be good.” You carefully removed the numerous hairpins from their position at the nape of your neck.

The blonde man grumbled, pulling his shirt from where it was tucked into his trousers. “If we go any sooner or later it’ll be a bad time for my campaigning! Too soon, the news will have moved on to something else, like- like Flickerman’s new parrot!”

You rolled your eyes, struggling to unzip the dress you wore. “Can you-”

“Go any later and it’ll impede the speeches and galas and events I need to be in the Capitol for!” Coriolanus’ voice raised, and you paused to look at him, hand still trying to grab the zipper.

“Coryo.”

Coriolanus threw a hand up, face growing red from anger. “Do you even want me to become President?! To be able to give you all you want, to never have to worry about money, food, anything?”

You were at your wit’s end, hand finally falling from your back. “I do, Coriolanus! I do want you to be the president. But if you travel to the Districts at that time I can’t go with you because I’ll be too pregnant to go with you!”

There was a silence so loud you didn’t dare breathe. “What?” Coriolanus whispered, eyes meeting yours. “Pregnant?”

Nodding, you were once again trying to unzip the dress, huffing as you gave up for good. “Yes, and I had a special dinner planned but you just had to go and ruin it.”

Coriolanus silently moved behind you, carefully unzipping the dress and letting you use his hands for balance as you stepped out of the skirt. “You didn’t have food poisoning, did you?”

Shaking your head, you felt your eyes water. “No.”

You must have looked like a fool, standing there in your undergarments, husband behind you with his dress trousers and socks still on.

“I’m sorry for yelling. I- I’m sure we can still visit the Districts before the election, just a more abbreviated tour than planned.”

You laughed, a watery, light laugh. It was music to Coriolanus’ ears. “Whatever you want, Mr. President.”

-----

Your knee was bouncing rapidly, the only telltale sign of your anxiety.

Coriolanus had gone forth and scheduled an appointment with the Capitol’s best obstetrician, going to far as to personally thank them for agreeing to see you at such an early time. He also laid out the threat that if anything were to happen to you during the pregnancy that could have been stopped, the obstetrician would never see their family again, but that wasn’t for you to worry about.

“Love, you don’t need to be nervous. I’ll be with you.” Coriolanus mumbled, hand moving from behind your chair to your thigh, thumb rubbing soothing circles on the side.

“I know, I just- this is our first child, Coryo.” You looked up at him. “I can’t help but be nervous.”

Coriolanus smiled, pressing his lips to your temple. “You’re going to be a wonderful mother.”

The nurse came out and escorted you two back to the exam room, instructing you to pull your shirt up as she squirted gel onto your stomach.

You and Coriolanus watched her every move, anxiety sky-rocketing as she frowned at the screen.

“What? What’s wrong?” Coriolanus asked, hand gripping your own.

“I just- let me get the doctor to confirm, give me one moment.” She didn’t look back as she left the room, leaving you and Coirolanus to soak in an anxiety-filled silence.

Only a few moments passed before the nurse returned, doctor in tow, and she also moved the wand around. “Ah, yes. You are correct.”

“What?” You asked, eyes flitting between the medical professionals and the back of the computer.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Snow. You’re having twins.”

-----

a/n: send requests here

[incognita-soul]

I've spent all afternoon thinking about the line from Wentworth's letter "you sink your voice, but I can distinguish the tones of that voice when they would be lost on others" and about how that really is the most important part of the letter. Yes "you pierce my soul" and "I have loved none but you" and "I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago" are all more swoon-worthy. But the whole point of Persuasion is how Anne suffers because none of her friends or family acknowledge her needs or anything she says. She is made small by everyone around her. She is persuadable because she has been stripped of her agency; not by the circumstances of her life, but because the people in her life have talked over and down to her so much that she has stopped resisting. She knows that she won't be heard, so she just stops speaking. But then Wentworth hears her voice! He hears her, sees her, and he loves her for who she is, not what he wants her to be. I think Jane Austen knew exactly what she was doing by including that line. It's so subtle in such a purposeful way.

Thanks for coming to my ted talk

[mercy-burning]

A Kindness You Can't Afford

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Summary: Something that started out as 'stress relief between co-workers' is now a little concerning to you, but for some reason you can't help but keep letting Spencer walk through your door... Rating: Mature (18+) Content: Strong language, unprotected sex, rough sex, fingering, blink-and-you'll-miss-it choking, squirting (As always, let me know if I missed anything!) Word Count: 2.7k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: @imagining-in-the-margins sent me lyrics to Hozier's It Will Come Back to entice me to write something for her monthly challenge (which is themed Friends With Benefits), and then this happened. You can thank her for this. And also Emily Henry, because I read Happy Place and Beach Read back to back recently, and DAMN IT if I wasn't itching to do some romance-writing of my own. Sure, this one is less romance and more porn without plot, but I digress. The inspiration is there and that's all that matters. Plus I've started working on something else that probably won't see the light of day for a long while, but it's nice to feel the motivation. I'm starting to feel like myself again :) I don't know how long this creative sparkling cloud of dust is going to last, but I'm grateful to be living in it, if at least for a little while. It feels good to be there again <3

Enjoy!!

*******

There's a small pit in your gut that only deepens when you hear a knock at the door. A chill permeates your nervous system and sends you off on shaky limbs until you reach it, and as your palm comes in contact with the cool metal of the doorknob, you're disappointed to discover that the contrast does nothing to comfort the hot and clammy skin. Unless the person behind the door turns out not to be who you think, you will not know that comfort.

You open the door anyway, already used to this feeling of unease. It's a feeling you've come to tolerate, and sometimes even crave in desperate moments. Tonight has not seen one of those moments, but you suppose that doesn't really matter because you've already agreed to his terms, and unless you call it off, you're stuck. You've seriously considered doing it a few times, but something deep inside tells you he might not like it very much, and you're unsure of how he'll react.

It isn't a risk you're willing to take.

And so, you meet Spencer Reid with a bright smile, pretending not to know why he could possibly be outside your door past 9pm. He looks a little sleep deprived, but it's nothing new. Your work is exhausting. It was a major deciding factor and is the driving force behind your agreement in the first place. A way to relieve stress. Somewhere along the way, it seemed to have turned into something darker, though in retrospect that darkness has always been there. You often think back to the first time you initiated intimacy— how excited you were that he seemed willing to take you up on the offer... How your head swam through glittering mist and your heart beat quickly at his words.

"God, Y/N, I need you to be sure... Because once we go there, once you let me in... Even after I leave, I'm always going to be there... You're going to feel me everywhere you go, and that's a promise..."

In the moment it even sounded romantic, and in some twisted way, it might still be. But you don't want to let your brain misconstrue this whole situation. You've promptly decided to take it for what it is and accept the fact that he has some deep��desires he needs to expel, and you're just a convenient companion for the journey.

"Spencer, you're here late..."

He exhales through his nose. "No later than usual."

"Right... Come on in." You widen the door and confidently step aside like you wouldn't know any different.

Rather than let you close the door, he'd taken your words as an invitation to make himself at home, pushing it shut with his foot and jolting you forward with it, subsequently pulling you towards him. His hands are quick to guide your face to his own, and without a second more in passing, the night has officially begun.

Electricity is immediate, sizzling through your core at Spencer's drive. It's true that when you're alone, it's difficult not to overthink the situation and rope the emotional and logical side of it to the forefront of your mind. But being with him like this dissipates the thinking entirely. All you know is that it feels so good, and it's absolutely worth all the turmoil you put your brain through.

It's worth it when his tongue possesses your own and coaxes the most sinful, desperate noises from the depths of your chest, and when your delicate fingers find purchase in his hair. It's worth it when your back is up against the door with his knee wedged between your thighs. It's worth it when his hand glides down your jaw until each finger curls around your neck, not choking you but simply resting there like a necklace would. He squeezes gently for a second each time you twitch your hips, desperate to feel friction, and you whimper.

You've come to learn that the more noises you make, the more he rewards you with... well, more. So it doesn't take very long for him to decide that enough is enough, and he pulls away from you to turn you around. You brace your arms on the door and lean your head to the left so he can work.

Warm lips attach to your neck as nimble fingers snake around your front and dip below the band of your lounge shorts and underwear. Your insides hum to life, and your legs naturally spread apart a little further, making Spencer laugh against your skin. You half expect him to tease you, but the surprise leaves your body in the form of a rather whorish Oh! when he spreads you apart and glides his fingers through your warm cunt. He explores you thoroughly, circling and spreading and plunging his fingers inside you, until eventually he continues a slow and steady pace running up and down your clit. You can feel it in his breath, in the way it stutters over your neck— He's about to give you your first orgasm of the night. If his skilled hands wouldn't do it (which you know they will), his words definitely would.

"Mmmm, I love how warm you are, Y/N," he slurs into your neck. Then he lightly nips at your shoulder and quickens the pace and pressure on your clit. "And how fucking messy you get for me..."

You know what he wants, but even if you hadn't, it still would have happened. The first time he made you squirt, he'd been determined to do it again. And again. In every different way possible. Over the course of your stress-relief-escapades you've come to learn that this particular way (with his hand down your loose-fitting shorts) is his favorite. He never strives to do it anymore unless you're wearing a pair. Perhaps it's the sounds, or the feeling of your damp clothes and the desperate need to peel them away in favor of something more solid, but it's become your favorite way, too.

Your nails scratch at the door as you pant and sigh your way through an intense building orgasm, and Spencer leans forward with you, using his free hand to assist in holding you up as he furiously works at your clit with the other. His chin rests on your shoulder as he huffs out, "Go on, baby, let it out..."

He knows you're close, and those final encouraging words seem to snap the coil tightening inside you. Your thighs tense for just a second before you feel every wave of pleasure crashing into every limb. And then, you're able to relax and ride it out, letting him hold you up and pull the orgasm out of you like magic. It's wet, it's warm, and it's fucking sensational...

You can practically see the wild look in Spencer's eyes even if you couldn't actually see him at all. His presence is always, as promised, so inherently there, that even now it's a vivid image. His pupils are an empty abyss, and if you look too closely you're sure to fall in. Hell, you're not even positive that you haven't already fallen in, because the thought of calling it all off when it feels this good seems, simply put, wrong. Why would you ever want to deprive yourself of this feeling? His possessive, damn-near monstrous way of loving you as concerning as it is, had taken you to the highest places you'd ever known. Even if it isn't 'love' on paper, you certainly love it anyway. And he must love it, too, otherwise he wouldn't keep coming back.

He only comes back because you let him in in the first place, the rational part of your brain tries to reason, though it can't quite break through the fog of lust. At this point, it's so thick that you aren't sure it's ever going to clear.

Not that, right now, you'd mind...

Once your breathing slows and your legs gather the strength to pivot, Spencer removes his hand from your shorts and gently guides you to turn around. His lips are on yours immediately, and he's tugging at your shorts and underwear to pull them down. They drop to the ground and without a second to spare, he tugs you along through your living room and over to the couch. It's practically a straight shot to the bedroom from here, but apparently time is not a luxury he can afford this evening, because you barely have time to anticipate what his next move might be before he makes it.

Mouths still attached, the two of you nearly fall on the couch, and Spencer's weight covers you like a blanket. His hips pin yours down and his arms have taken to pinning your own above your head. He nips at your bottom lip and pulls away for a moment, but you chase him, trying to lean up and keep kissing him and whimpering when you can't.

A low laugh exhales from his chest. "And I thought I was the needy one in this relationship..."

He shifts then, getting up and kneeling between your bare legs to start undoing his pants. Meanwhile you lift your shirt over your head, grateful you'd already ditched the bra earlier in the afternoon. Less time to waste.

Seeing you completely bare from head to toe and ready for him seems to amplify that animalistic quality in Spencer that's so unlike the aura of the boy you met years and years ago. Whether he had that quality before he'd met you is unknown, but it's hard to imagine. You like to think that you and you alone have single-handedly created this primal sexual being simply by expressing interest in what youcould offer him amongst the joint understanding of the daily hardships that leech onto a BAU agent. Regardless of the truth, the sheer sense of power it fills you with... In every deep stroke of his cock, in every mark left behind, and in every praise sung, there is this irreplaceable strength that you cling to long after he's gone.

No hard truth would ever take that feeling away, and so you can't help the grin that manifests at his urgency. You can tell he wants nothing more than to sink into you immediately; he visibly struggles for a moment before opting to fully slide his pants and underwear off together until they're tossed over somewhere into the abyss. You half-expect him to whip his shirt off to join them, but instead he lunges forward and covers you again, muffling your whimpers with his mouth as one hand guides himself into your slick cunt.

You can feel the rumble in his chest the moment he's all the way in and you clench around him. He rests his forehead to yours and kisses you deeply before asking, "You ready for me, Y/N?"

The low echoing tone in his voice seems to answer in the momentary silence that follows.

You better be... 

It sends a chill down to the marrow of your bones.

You barely whisper out, "Yes," and before the last letter leaves your mouth, Spencer has pulled back and snapped his hips forward, starting a slow and brutal pace inside you. Your legs spread wide naturally, giving him all the room in the world to position himself to handle you however he wants. He opts for holding your breasts in his palms, holding himself steady and pinning you down firmly to the couch cushions.

It doesn't take long for your eyes to start their descent to the back of your head, until they flutter shut and you're seeing stars behind closed lids. His pace quickens, still hard and determined, and yet you know he has more in him. Part of you itches to whine and beg for him to go farther, to push him to his limits and make him fuck you until you're nearly unconscious and delirious. And truthfully, that's still a high possibility, but you also wouldn't mind staying like this forever.

Then, one of his hands shifts and glides up to your neck again. You open your eyes and find Spencer staring down at your body with hair falling down in front of his face and sweat forming on his brow. His mouth hangs open and then grins when he catches you staring, the sight making you sigh out and grip the bottom hem of his shirt with your fingers for any kind of stability.

You're teetering on the edge of another orgasm, and by the way his face is slightly scrunching you can tell that he's not far behind you.

Just the flash-forward thought of him filling you up sends a jolt through your body, and before you know it, your legs are tensing again, and you're yelling out his name in broken syllables as a flood of warmth spreads through your body. For a split second you wonder if you've both come undone at the same time, but this feeling is different and more intense. Familiar.

The sounds filling the room only confirms your conclusion, and then Spencer's words as he pauses and feels you twitching around him.

"Twice in one night, huh?"

You force yourself to look at him, to see the unhinged pride pooling in his eyes as you finish and wait for him to follow suit. It both empowers and frightens you at the same time, an odd combination of feelings that you're sure to have a crisis about in the morning. But for now, you can't help but lean back and watch the ceiling as Spencer grips your hips and starts fucking you relentlessly into the couch.

Finally, he pauses at the hilt inside you and holds himself there, stuttering out expletives and coming. He pulls back and then forwards a couple times, gently rocking himself through it, and then his grip on your body loosens and you're able to pull him down to you.

You wrap your legs around him to keep him still, unwilling to let go of this feeling quite yet. It's there— that strength that he gives you, whether he knows it's there or not.

And in about an hour after you wash up and go to bed, he will be gone, and that strength will slowly fizzle out overnight, and like clockwork, you'll long to feel it again some time after the concern runs its course— After you replay the night in your head, over and over, analyzing every look and every touch and every reaction. After you frighten yourself into believing that he must be in tune with some level of evil to use you for rough sex and then leave you alone during the day and act like it never happened, even though it's literally what you agreed to.

The back and forth will only make living harder, and so you'll push it all away and focus on work. Until Spencer eventually brushes your arm with the back of his hand as he passes you, or hands you a cup of coffee with a kind smile, and then you'll come right back to wondering how such a gentle soul could hold such intensity. It will unnerve you until you tell yourself that it's just the complexities of the human condition and that every soul contains multitudes. You see it every day. It's not uncommon. It's completely normal.

The thought will calm you enough to get you through the rest of the afternoon, and when you get home, you'll settle in for the night without a second thought. You'll make dinner, watch a show, read a book, endlessly scroll online, or talk to Penelope about whatever show she's watching... You'll keep yourself busy.

And then the sun will set. Your house will grow quiet. You'll start to feel it: the small pit in your gut that only deepens when you hear a knock at the door. You'll meet Spencer Reid with a bright smile, pretending not to know why he could possibly be outside your door past 9pm.

So, yes. For now, you will hold onto him a little longer and bask in the afterglow of this exercise in 'stress relief'. Because even if it doesn't mean anything greater, and whether there's even anything within Spencer's motivations to decode in the first place... This moment in time, each time, is the most relieved you ever feel.

Your fingers flex gently over his shoulders, and through the soft, even exhaling of his breath across your cheek, you know for certain he feels the same.

*******

PERMANENT TAGLIST (tags not working are struck out): 

@starrylang @xoxospencerreid @lovejules888 @awesomebooklover17 @yourmisosoup @gubswh0re @venomsvl @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @umbreonwolfy @hotchandspencearedilfs @spencerreidsmommy @abby2661 @youabitchhhh @reidsbabe @shemarmooresfedora @donald4spiderman @moonlight-2-6 @chaoticcatie @flipperpenguins @muffin-cup @centiaaa @foreveryoungxx3 @happymangospot @matthew-gray-gubler-lover

If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist, feel free to message me or leave a comment and I’ll get on it right away!

[fr0stf4ll]

Flavours of Prythian

Coming from that request

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; Y/N, a talented restaurateur’s life is turned upside down when she forms an unexpected bond with Azriel, the mysterious Spymaster of the Night Court. Befriending Elain, who confides in her about a male she’s trying to win over, she eagerly helps her new friend — only to discover the male is none other than Azriel. When the bond between her and Azriel snaps at first touch, she’s torn between loyalty to Elain and the undeniable connection she shares with the shadowy warrior.

word count ; 7.8k

warning; //

notes; Yoo everyone, here is my first one shot ! Thank you again for the request<333 Should I do a more general taglist so that you guys can be permanently on it. Enjoy it, see you <3

---

Prythian was a land of many wonders, from the towering peaks of the Illyrian mountains to the lush, rolling hills of the Spring Court. But for you, the true magic of the land was found in its kitchens, markets, and the rich flavors that each court had to offer.

You had always been drawn to the culinary arts, even as a child. Your curiosity led you to travel across the courts, tasting the distinct dishes of each region, learning from the most skilled chefs, and uncovering the hidden culinary gems that most would overlook. You spent years journeying from the Day Court, where spices danced like sunlight on the tongue, to the Winter Court, where hearty stews and warm bread were a staple against the biting cold. In the Night Court, you discovered the delicate balance of flavors that mirrored the starlit skies above, and in the Summer Court, you indulged in the rich, vibrant tastes that seemed to capture the very essence of the sun-drenched beaches.

Your travels weren’t just about satisfying your own cravings; they were a quest to bring the best of Prythian’s diverse cuisines to others. And so, you did the impossible—you opened a series of restaurants, each one in a different court, each one a testament to the culinary traditions you had learned and made your own. Your establishments became a haven for those seeking not only a good meal but an experience, a journey through Prythian’s tastes and textures without ever leaving their seat.

Your flagship restaurant, nestled in the heart of Velaris, was particularly special. It was here, in the City of Starlight, that you combined the flavors of all the courts into a menu that was as varied and enchanting as Prythian itself. Word quickly spread of the remarkable dishes served within, and soon, it wasn’t just the citizens of Velaris who came to dine—High Fae from every court sought out your creations.

One such evening, as you oversaw the final preparations for the dinner service, the door to your restaurant swung open, and in walked a familiar face—Elain Archeron. Elain had been wandering through Velaris, taking in the beauty of the city, when the warm, inviting aroma from your restaurant had drawn her in.

Elain was known for her gentle nature, her love of gardening, and her keen eye for beauty in all things. But tonight, she was here for something different—a new experience, a chance to explore another form of beauty through the culinary delights that had been whispered about throughout the city.

As Elain took her seat near a window overlooking the Sidra, she immediately felt at ease. There was a sense of comfort and warmth in the restaurant, and it wasn’t long before you found yourself walking over to greet her. She looked up with a warm smile, her eyes bright with curiosity and a touch of shyness.

“Welcome,” you said, your own smile reflecting her warmth. “I’m Y/N, the owner and chef here. It’s a pleasure to have you.”

Elain’s smile widened, and she nodded appreciatively. “I’ve heard so much about this place, I just had to come see for myself. The aromas alone are worth the visit.”

You chuckled, feeling an instant connection with her. “I’m glad to hear that. I’ll make sure the food lives up to the expectations.”

As the evening went on, you found yourself returning to Elain’s table more than once, the conversation flowing easily between the two of you. You talked about your travels, the different courts you had visited, and the inspiration behind some of the dishes on the menu. Elain, in turn, shared stories of her own—of her love for gardening, the peace she found in the quiet moments spent among the flowers, and her growing appreciation for the little joys in life, like a perfectly prepared meal.

There was something comforting in the way you both connected, as if you had known each other for much longer than just one evening. By the time dessert arrived—a delicate pastry inspired by the flavors of the Summer Court—you and Elain were chatting like old friends, the conversation punctuated by shared laughter and the occasional appreciative hum as she tasted each new dish.

As the night drew to a close, Elain hesitated for a moment before speaking. “I’d love to come back,” she said, her voice soft but sincere. “Maybe we could do this again sometime?”

You smiled, genuinely pleased by the idea. “I’d like that. You’re welcome anytime, Elain.”

Elain quickly became a regular fixture at your restaurant, her visits growing more frequent as the two of you bonded over shared stories, laughter, and the occasional glass of wine. It wasn’t long before your casual conversations began to take on a more personal tone, with Elain confiding in you about her life, her hopes, and her dreams.

One evening, after the dinner rush had died down and the restaurant had settled into a peaceful hum, Elain arrived with a particular glint in her eye. You noticed it the moment she walked in, her steps lighter, her smile brighter. She took her usual seat by the window, and you didn’t waste any time joining her, a knowing smile on your face.

“Alright, Elain,” you said, sitting down across from her. “You’re glowing tonight. What’s going on?”

Elain blushed, her hands fluttering nervously in her lap. “It’s nothing, really… Well, maybe it’s something. I don’t know.”

You leaned in closer, eyes wide with curiosity. “Come on, you can’t just leave me hanging like that. Spill!”

She bit her lip, hesitating for a moment before finally giving in. “There’s… this male,” she began, her voice soft but filled with excitement. “I’ve been trying to get his attention for a while now, and I think… I think it might actually be working.”

You couldn’t help but squeal in delight, clapping your hands together. “Elain! This is amazing! Tell me everything—who is he? How did it start? What’s he like?”

Elain giggled at your enthusiasm, her own excitement bubbling to the surface as she began to share the details. “He’s… well, he’s different. Reserved, I guess you could say. But there’s something about him that just draws me in. He’s kind, in his own way, and he has this quiet strength that I really admire.”

You listened intently, hanging on her every word as she described this mysterious male who had captured her attention. It was clear that she was smitten, and you couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement for her.

“So, what’s the plan?” you asked, your mind already racing with ideas. “How are you going to win him over?”

Elain smiled shyly, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. “Well, I thought… maybe I could start by cooking for him. You know, something simple but special. He loves good food, and I think it might help him see… well, see me.”

You practically jumped out of your seat with excitement. “Elain, that’s perfect! And you’re in the right place—I can help you with recipes, tips, anything you need. We’ll make sure this meal is unforgettable.”

Her eyes lit up with gratitude. “Really? You’d help me?”

“Of course!” you replied, beaming. “This is what friends are for. And besides, I love a good love story. We’ll make sure he can’t resist you after this.”

From that moment on, the two of you were inseparable. Elain would visit the restaurant every few days, sometimes to try out a new dish, other times just to chat and share the latest developments in her budding romance. The more she talked about this male, the more you could see how deeply she cared for him, and it made you all the more determined to help her succeed.

You spent hours in the kitchen together, experimenting with different ingredients and techniques, crafting meals that were not only delicious but also filled with meaning. Elain would watch you work, her eyes wide with admiration as you explained the significance of each spice, each flavor, and how it could be used to convey emotion.

“There’s a language in food,” you told her one afternoon as you kneaded dough for a loaf of bread. “Every dish tells a story. When you cook for someone, you’re sharing a part of yourself with them. It’s intimate, in a way.”

Elain nodded thoughtfully, her hands busy chopping herbs for the soup you were preparing. “I never thought of it like that, but it makes sense. I want him to know how I feel, even if I can’t always find the words.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection for your friend. “Then we’ll make sure every bite he takes is filled with love.”

As the days turned into weeks, Elain’s visits became a highlight of your day. She would burst through the door, her eyes sparkling as she recounted her latest interactions with the male who had stolen her heart. You would listen with rapt attention, offering advice and encouragement, celebrating every small victory and reassuring her during moments of doubt.

“He loved the soup,” she told you one evening, her cheeks flushed with happiness. “He said it was the best thing he’d ever tasted. And I think… I think he’s starting to notice me.”

You grinned, feeling a surge of pride. “I told you, Elain. No one can resist good food, especially when it’s made with love.”

She laughed, her joy infectious. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Y/N. You’ve helped me so much.”

You waved off her gratitude with a smile. “Nonsense. You’re the one doing all the hard work. I’m just here to cheer you on.”

But the truth was, you had come to care deeply for Elain and her happiness. It wasn’t just about the food anymore—it was about seeing your friend find the love and connection she so deserved. And as she continued to come back, sharing her hopes and dreams, you couldn’t help but feel that you had found something special too.

Your friendship with Elain had become a source of joy and fulfillment, a reminder that sometimes, the most meaningful connections were forged in the simplest of moments—over a shared meal, a quiet conversation, or a burst of laughter that echoed through the night.

And so, as the seasons changed and the nights grew longer, you continued to help Elain in her quest to win over this mysterious male, knowing that whatever the outcome, you had found a true friend in her. A friend who had come into your life unexpectedly, but who had quickly become an irreplaceable part of it.

Weeks had passed since you and Elain had first started crafting meals together, each one a carefully planned step in her quest to win over the male who had captivated her heart. Every visit, every dish, brought a new story, a new glimmer of hope in her eyes. You were genuinely happy for her, thrilled to see her so full of life and excitement. So, when she asked if she could bring him to your restaurant for dinner, you couldn’t have been more supportive.

“Of course, Elain!” you’d said, flashing her an encouraging smile. “I’ll make sure everything is perfect. It’ll be a night he won’t forget.”

You’d spent the entire day preparing, selecting only the finest ingredients and crafting a menu that would showcase the very best of what your restaurant had to offer. You wanted this night to be special for her—special for them. You had no idea how special it would become, for reasons you never could have imagined.

As the evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting the city of Velaris in a warm, golden glow, Elain arrived at the restaurant with a male by her side. You couldn’t quite make out his features at first, but the way she clung to his arm, her eyes bright with anticipation, told you all you needed to know. This was the one.

As they stepped into the softly lit dining room, you finally got a good look at him—Azriel, the shadowsinger of the Night Court. You had heard of him, of course, through whispers and stories, but nothing could have prepared you for the moment your eyes met his.

Elain beamed as she introduced the two of you, her voice filled with warmth and pride. “Azriel, this is Y/N, the wonderful chef I’ve been telling you about. And Y/N, this is Azriel.”

He extended his hand to you, his expression polite, reserved. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said, his voice deep and smooth.

You reached out, intending to greet him with the same friendly courtesy you offered all your patrons. But the moment your hand touched his, something shifted in the air—a sudden, overwhelming rush of heat and energy that took your breath away. The bond snapped into place with such force that it nearly knocked you off your feet.

For a split second, the world around you faded, and all you could feel was the pull, the undeniable connection that tethered your soul to his. His eyes widened in shock, and you knew he felt it too—the bond, the realization that fate had just entwined your lives in a way neither of you had expected.

But as quickly as the bond formed, reality came crashing back down. Elain was standing there, her eyes full of hope, completely unaware of the storm that had just erupted inside you. She had no idea that the male she was so clearly infatuated with, the one she had been working so hard to win over, was now bound to you in a way that went beyond anything you could have ever imagined.

Panic surged through you. How could this happen? How could you possibly accept this bond when it would mean shattering the friendship you had built with Elain, when it would mean taking away the one thing she wanted so desperately?

You couldn’t. You wouldn’t.

With a forced smile, you quickly withdrew your hand from Azriel’s grasp, the warmth of the bond lingering like a phantom touch. “It’s nice to meet you too,” you managed to say, though your voice sounded hollow even to your own ears.

Azriel’s gaze lingered on you, confusion and something deeper flickering in his hazel eyes. But you couldn’t let yourself look too long, couldn’t let yourself feel what was brewing inside you. Not when Elain was standing right there, her happiness hanging in the balance.

“Please, take a seat,” you said, stepping back and motioning toward the table you had specially prepared for them. “I’ll make sure everything is perfect.”

Elain smiled, oblivious to the turmoil in your heart, and took her seat. Azriel hesitated for just a moment before following suit, his eyes never leaving yours. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, the unspoken questions hanging in the air between you, but you didn’t dare meet his eyes again. You couldn’t.

As the evening went on, you did your best to stay professional, to act as if nothing had changed. You brought out dish after dish, each one more exquisite than the last, all while ignoring the fire burning in your chest. Every time Azriel tried to catch your eye, every time he tried to speak to you, you found a reason to turn away, to focus on something—anything—else.

Elain chattered on, completely unaware of the tension building between you and Azriel. She complimented the food, praised your skills, and even mentioned how much Azriel seemed to be enjoying himself. And through it all, you kept up the facade, kept pretending as if the bond snapping into place hadn't turned your entire world upside down.

But it was getting harder. With every glance Azriel sent your way, with every quiet question he tried to ask you in passing, it felt like the invisible thread between you was pulling tighter, demanding to be acknowledged. Yet, you refused to give in.

As the night dragged on, the tension between you and Azriel grew unbearable. He could sense it—you knew he could—but Elain remained blissfully unaware, happily recounting the gossip from the latest happenings in Velaris, smiling every time she caught Azriel glancing her way.

Azriel's eyes kept drifting back to you. Not once, not twice, but every time you approached the table, as if he couldn’t stop himself. You could feel the weight of his gaze burning into you, the way his expression darkened each time you brushed past him without so much as a word. He knew you were avoiding him, and he didn’t like it.

When you brought out the final dish—an indulgent dessert meant to close the evening on a sweet note—Elain excused herself to step outside for a moment, leaving you alone with Azriel for the first time since the bond snapped.

You could feel his presence before you even turned around, the quiet intensity of his gaze. And as you set the plate down in front of him, you knew you couldn’t avoid this confrontation any longer.

“Y/N.” His voice was low, barely more than a murmur, but the way he said your name sent a shiver down your spine. “We need to talk.”

You swallowed hard, keeping your eyes firmly fixed on the table in front of you. “There’s nothing to talk about,” you said, your voice cold and distant, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions raging inside you.

Azriel leaned forward, his voice dropping even lower. “Don’t lie to me. You felt it too.”

The bond. He didn’t have to say the word for you to know what he meant. It was a truth that hung in the air between you, undeniable and impossible to ignore. And yet, you had to. You had to protect Elain, to protect your friendship, no matter the cost.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lied, your heart aching with the effort it took to deny the pull you felt toward him.

Azriel’s expression darkened, his hand curling into a fist on the table. “Don’t do this, Y/N. Don’t shut me out.”

But you couldn’t let him in. If you let him in, if you allowed yourself to even consider what the bond meant, you would be betraying Elain in the worst way possible. How could you even think about being with him when she had spent weeks confiding in you, trusting you with her feelings for him?

“No, Azriel.” You stepped back, your voice firmer this time. “I can’t.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, frustration simmering just beneath the surface. “Why? Because of Elain?”

You winced at the mention of her name, the weight of guilt pressing heavily on your chest. “She cares about you. A lot.”

Azriel's expression softened, understanding dawning in his eyes. “Y/N, it’s not like that between Elain and me.”

But you shook your head, refusing to let yourself believe it. “It doesn’t matter. She’s my friend. I can’t—I won’t—do this to her.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you was thick with tension, a storm of emotions swirling just beneath the surface. Azriel opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, the sound of the door opening broke the silence.

Elain re-entered the dining room, a bright smile on her face as she made her way back to the table. “Sorry about that,” she said cheerfully, oblivious to the charged atmosphere between you and Azriel. “What did I miss?”

You forced a smile, masking the turmoil raging inside you. “Nothing,” you lied, your voice steady even though your heart was breaking. “Just making sure everything’s perfect.”

Elain beamed, clearly pleased with how the evening had gone. “It really has been perfect, Y/N. Thank you so much for everything.”

Azriel’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he finally looked away, the tension in his jaw clear as he nodded in agreement. “Yes… thank you.”

You nodded once, offering them both a stiff smile before excusing yourself from the room, your chest tightening with every step you took away from them.

As you retreated to the quiet of the kitchen, your hands bracing against the counter, the reality of what had just happened began to sink in. The bond had snapped. Azriel was your mate. And yet, you couldn’t—wouldn’t—accept it.

You had promised yourself you’d never hurt Elain. And if shutting down every advance Azriel made, if pushing away the one person the Cauldron had chosen for you was the only way to keep that promise, then that’s exactly what you would do.

Even if it tore you apart.

Back in the kitchen, you leaned heavily against the counter, your hands gripping the cold marble surface as you tried to regain your composure. The bond had snapped, and with it, any sense of stability you had managed to hold onto throughout the evening. The world felt off-kilter, like you were standing on the edge of a cliff, teetering on the brink.

One of your sous chefs, a sharp-eyed female who had worked with you since the restaurant’s inception, noticed your pallor. She set down the pan she was holding and approached you, concern evident in her eyes.

“Y/N,” she began cautiously, her voice gentle but probing, “are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You forced a nod, though you knew your expression wasn’t convincing. “I’m fine,” you murmured, though your voice was shaky and unsteady.

She frowned, clearly not buying your response. Her eyes scanned your face, taking in the unusual paleness of your skin, the way your hands trembled slightly as you gripped the counter. “You don’t look fine. Do you need to sit down? Maybe get some air?”

You shook your head, trying to brush off her concern, but the weight of the bond pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe. “No, I’ll be okay. It’s just… been a long night.”

She hesitated, still studying you closely, before glancing around the bustling kitchen. “But, Y/N,” she continued, her tone turning more inquisitive, “it’s strange. You always insist on preparing Miss Elain’s meals yourself, especially when she’s bringing a guest. But tonight, you didn’t even touch the preparation. You left it all to us.”

You froze at her words, the reality of what had happened sinking in even deeper. She was right—normally, you would have insisted on handling every detail of Elain’s meal, wanting to ensure that everything was perfect for your friend. But tonight, when it mattered most, you hadn’t been able to bring yourself to do it.

The truth was, the moment you realized Elain was bringing someone special, you couldn’t bring yourself to touch the ingredients. You had let the staff handle everything because deep down, some part of you knew something was about to change—something you weren’t ready to face.

“I…” you started, but the words caught in your throat. You swallowed hard, trying to find some semblance of an explanation. “I just thought… maybe it was time to let you all handle it. You’re more than capable.”

She tilted her head slightly, her frown deepening as she searched your eyes. “Are you sure that’s all it is?”

You nodded again, more firmly this time, even though the lie tasted bitter on your tongue. “Yes, I’m sure. I trust all of you with the kitchen. You don’t need me hovering over every detail.”

She didn’t seem entirely convinced, but she didn’t press the issue further. Instead, she offered a small, supportive smile. “Well, if you ever need a break, don’t hesitate to step out. We’ve got things under control here.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I appreciate it.”

With a final nod, she returned to her station, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the crushing weight of the bond you were trying so desperately to ignore.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment as you tried to push away the overwhelming emotions swirling inside you. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the image of Azriel’s eyes, the way they had widened in shock and recognition when the bond snapped into place. You couldn’t forget the warmth of his hand in yours, the way the world had seemed to narrow down to just the two of you in that fleeting, life-altering moment.

But Elain… you couldn’t do this to Elain. You couldn’t shatter her hopes, her dreams, just because of a bond you had never asked for. So, you did the only thing you could—you steeled yourself, pushed down the emotions threatening to break free, and vowed to keep your distance from Azriel, no matter how much it hurt.

You would be there for Elain, just as you always had been. You would help her win over the male she had been trying so hard to impress, even if it meant denying your own heart in the process.

Because that’s what friends did. They put each other first, no matter the cost.

And as you stood there in the kitchen, surrounded by the comforting sounds of sizzling pans and clinking utensils, you made a silent promise to yourself: you would protect Elain’s happiness, even if it meant sacrificing your own.

—

Azriel sat in the sitting room of the townhouse, surrounded by the familiar faces of the inner circle, yet he felt completely out of place. The evening had been an unexpected whirlwind of emotions, leaving him reeling from the bond that had snapped so suddenly and without warning. He had come here to find solace, to clear his mind, but every thought seemed to spiral back to you—the way you had looked at him, the way you had recoiled after the bond had formed during dinner at your restaurant.

He couldn’t understand it. How could something so significant be brushed aside so easily? He had tried to reach out to you, to understand what was happening, but you had shut him down, leaving him to grapple with the weight of the bond on his own.

The others were chatting around him, the sound of their laughter and conversation filling the room, but it all felt distant, muffled. Azriel’s mind was too clouded to focus on anything they were saying. He was trapped in a loop, replaying the moment over and over in his head—the spark, the connection, the way your eyes had widened in recognition before you quickly masked it.

He was so lost in thought that he almost missed it when Rhysand mentioned your name.

“You know, Y/N’s restaurant is one of the best in Velaris,” Rhys was saying, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smile. “Feyre and I went there a few nights ago, and it was nothing short of incredible.”

Feyre nodded enthusiastically, her eyes lighting up at the memory. “The food was amazing. Every dish was like a work of art. She really has a talent, doesn’t she?”

Mor, who was lounging on one of the couches, joined in with a grin. “That’s not even the half of it. Y/N’s got restaurants all over Prythian—one in each court, if you can believe it. She’s become a bit of a legend in the culinary world.”

Azriel’s heart sank further as they continued to praise you, each word driving the knife deeper into his chest. It wasn’t that he disagreed with them—he knew you were remarkable, talented, someone to be admired. But right now, every mention of your name was like salt in a wound that was already festering.

Cassian, who had been listening with a smirk on his face, finally spoke up, his tone playful. “Sounds like Az here missed out on one hell of a meal tonight. Maybe he’ll have to go back and get a taste of what everyone’s raving about.”

Azriel tensed, the comment hitting far too close to home. He knew Cassian was just joking, but the implication—the reminder of what had happened tonight—was too much to bear. Without a word, he pushed himself up from his chair, his movements abrupt enough to draw everyone’s attention.

“Az?” Feyre called out, concern lacing her voice as she watched him head for the door. “Are you alright?”

He didn’t trust himself to respond. Instead, he muttered something about needing some air and quickly left the room, the weight of their gazes heavy on his back as he made his escape.

As the door closed behind him, an uncomfortable silence settled over the room. Everyone exchanged glances, clearly taken aback by Azriel’s sudden departure.

“What’s gotten into him?” Rhysand wondered aloud, his brows furrowed in confusion.

Cassian, never one to let an opportunity for humor pass by, snorted and shook his head. “Probably just realized he’s been a brooding mess all night and couldn’t handle the idea of someone actually having a good time.”

Mor chuckled, though there was a trace of worry in her eyes. “Or maybe he just can’t handle the fact that Y/N’s cooking is so damn good, it knocked him off his game.”

Rhysand sighed, glancing toward the door Azriel had just walked through. “He’s been off since he got back tonight. Maybe something happened.”

Feyre bit her lip, her expression softening. “I hope he’s alright. He seemed… different.”

Cassian, ever the optimist, leaned back in his chair with a lazy grin. “He’ll be fine. Az is tougher than all of us combined. He just needs some time to brood in his room, and he’ll be back to his grumpy self in no time.”

The group shared a few more laughs at Azriel’s expense, but the concern in their eyes never fully faded. They all knew Azriel well enough to understand that when he withdrew like this, it meant something was seriously bothering him.

Azriel’s footsteps were heavy as he made his way to his room, the quiet of the hallway amplifying the thoughts swirling in his mind. As soon as he entered, he shut the door behind him and leaned against it, closing his eyes as he tried to block out the noise, the chaos of emotions inside him.

He couldn’t shake the feeling of your hand in his, the way the bond had snapped into place like it had always been there, waiting. The connection was undeniable, and yet… you had denied it. Denied him.

Why? The question gnawed at him, refusing to let him rest. He had seen the recognition in your eyes, the brief moment when you had felt it too. But then, you had shut down, shut him out as if the bond meant nothing.

It was more than just confusing—it was painful. Azriel had spent centuries in the shadows, watching from the sidelines as his friends found their mates, found love. He had accepted his place, accepted that perhaps it wasn’t meant for him. And then, in the span of a heartbeat, everything had changed. You had changed it.

And now… now he was left in this strange limbo, caught between the undeniable pull of the bond and the walls you had erected between you.

Azriel’s fists clenched at his sides as he fought the urge to storm back to your restaurant, to demand answers, to make you acknowledge what had happened. But he knew he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t force you to accept the bond, couldn’t force you to feel something you clearly weren’t ready to face.

With a frustrated sigh, Azriel pushed off the door and crossed the room, heading to the window that overlooked Velaris. The city was peaceful, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, but his mind was anything but. He rested his forehead against the cool glass, his eyes scanning the distant lights of the city below.

“Why?” he whispered into the empty room, his voice tinged with a desperation he rarely allowed himself to feel. “Why won’t you let me in?”

But the night offered no answers, only the quiet whisper of the wind as it brushed against the windowpane.

—

The next day passed in a blur. You threw yourself into your work, letting the familiar rhythm of chopping, stirring, and plating distract you from the turmoil brewing inside. The restaurant had been busy, as always, with customers filling every table, their laughter and chatter echoing through the dining room. But despite the bustle, you couldn’t shake the heavy weight in your chest—the bond that you were trying so desperately to ignore.

When the last customer had left, you sent your staff home, insisting that you would handle the closing on your own. You needed the time alone, needed to clear your head without the distraction of others around. As the front door clicked shut behind the last of your employees, you finally allowed yourself to breathe.

The kitchen was quiet now, save for the soft sound of the knife in your hand as you prepped ingredients for the next day. The rhythmic motion of slicing through vegetables was soothing, almost meditative. But as you worked, you couldn’t help but feel the tension still coiled tight in your chest.

You were focused on the task at hand, chopping carrots with practiced precision, when a voice cut through the silence, making you freeze in place.

“I bet you could be good with a sword with how you work that knife,” came the familiar, deep voice, tinged with a hint of amusement. “Personally, I wouldn’t want to be those carrots.”

Your hand stilled mid-slice, the knife hovering just above the cutting board. You knew that voice all too well—Azriel.

Slowly, you turned to face him, finding him standing just inside the doorway to the kitchen, his expression guarded but his eyes full of determination. He had changed out of his usual leathers, dressed instead in a simple tunic and trousers, but there was no mistaking the intensity in his gaze.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The tension from the previous night hung heavy in the air, thick and suffocating. You could feel the bond thrumming faintly between you, a constant reminder of the connection you were trying so hard to deny.

But you knew why he was here. You had been avoiding him all day, refusing to even think about the conversation you knew was coming. But now, with the restaurant empty and the two of you alone, there was no escaping it.

You set the knife down on the counter, wiping your hands on a nearby towel as you steeled yourself for what was about to happen.

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to stay calm as you faced Azriel. The tension in the room was almost palpable, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy between you. You had been dreading this conversation, but there was no avoiding it now.

“You shouldn’t have come back,” you said, your voice firm, though you could hear the tremor in it. “We can’t do this, Azriel.”

His brow furrowed, confusion flashing in his eyes. “Why not? Y/N, you felt it too. The bond—it snapped into place. We can’t just ignore that.”

You shook your head, your heart aching at the look on his face. “I’m not ignoring it. But I can’t—I won’t act on it. Not when Elain… Not when she’s been trying so hard to win you over.”

Azriel’s eyes widened in realization, and he took a step closer to you, his expression softening as he reached out. “Y/N, I think there’s been a misunderstanding. Elain wasn’t trying to win me over… not in the way you think.”

You hesitated, frowning as you tried to make sense of his words. “What do you mean? She’s been telling me everything, Azriel. How she’s been trying to get your attention, how much she cares about you… I can’t do that to her. I won’t be the one to hurt her like that.”

Azriel sighed, running a hand through his dark hair, clearly frustrated but determined to set things right. “Y/N, you don’t have the full story. Elain… she’s not interested in me like that. She’s been trying to make Lucien jealous.”

You blinked, taken aback by his words. “Lucien? But… he’s her mate. Why would she do that?”

Azriel nodded, his expression softening as he saw the confusion in your eyes. “Yes, he’s her mate. But they’ve been going through a rough patch lately. Lucien’s duties as emissary for the Night Court have kept him away, and Elain’s been feeling… neglected. She thought that by spending time with me, by pretending there was something more between us, she could get a reaction out of him. It was never about me, Y/N. It was always about Lucien.”

You felt your heart drop as the realization hit you. “So, you were just helping her as a friend?”

Azriel nodded again, his gaze steady as he took a step closer to you. “Exactly. I was only doing this to help her. I never had feelings for her in that way, and she knows that. We were just… playing a part to get Lucien’s attention.”

You swallowed hard, the pieces of the puzzle starting to fall into place. “She didn’t tell me any of this.”

“She probably didn’t want to worry you,” Azriel said gently. “Or maybe she wasn’t ready to admit it to herself. But I promise you, Y/N, there’s nothing between Elain and me. There never was. She’s still trying to figure things out with Lucien, and I was just trying to help her.”

You looked away, your mind racing to process everything Azriel was telling you. You had been so sure, so convinced that you were protecting Elain by shutting Azriel out. But now, with this new information, everything felt uncertain, like the ground had shifted beneath your feet.

“Azriel, I…” you started, but the words caught in your throat. You didn’t know what to say, how to respond. You had built up walls around your heart, walls meant to protect both you and Elain from the pain of betrayal. But now those walls were crumbling, leaving you vulnerable and confused.

Azriel took another step closer, his voice gentle as he spoke. “Y/N, please. Don’t shut me out. Let’s talk about this—really talk. Give me a chance to show you that this bond isn’t something to be feared. It’s something that could be… everything.”

You stood there, trying to process everything Azriel had just told you. The confusion, the guilt, the realization that you had misunderstood everything—it all came crashing down at once. You looked away from Azriel, your gaze dropping to the floor as you struggled to make sense of it all.

“Okay,” you finally muttered, more to yourself than to him. “Now I actually feel like a dumbass.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them, and you cringed internally. But when you glanced back up at Azriel, you found him staring at you with wide eyes for a moment—before a warm, rich laugh escaped him. It was a sound you hadn’t expected, a sound that cut through the tension and made your own lips twitch into a reluctant smile.

Azriel shook his head, still chuckling softly. “You’re not a dumbass, Y/N. Just… someone who cares a lot about her friend.”

You let out a shaky breath, your shoulders relaxing slightly as the weight of the misunderstanding began to lift. But even with the air between you lightened, you couldn’t shake the lingering worry, the uncertainty of what this all meant.

“I just… I don’t know you that well,” you admitted, your voice quieter now, more hesitant. “And this bond… it’s a lot to take in. I was so worried about Elain’s feelings that I didn’t even stop to think about how I felt. About how to navigate this.”

Azriel’s expression softened further, and he took a careful step closer, making sure not to crowd you. “I understand. The bond is… overwhelming, especially when it comes out of nowhere. And I know we don’t know each other well yet, but that’s something we can work on. We don’t have to rush into anything, Y/N. We can take this one step at a time, if that’s what you need.”

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze fully for the first time since the bond had snapped. There was no pressure in his eyes, no demand—just a quiet patience that made your heart ache with a strange mix of relief and something else, something warmer.

“But… what if this doesn’t work?” you asked, your voice small, the fear you had been trying to suppress finally finding its way out. “What if I can’t be what you need?”

Azriel’s eyes softened even more, and he shook his head gently. “Y/N, you don’t have to be anything but yourself. The bond doesn’t demand perfection—it’s just a connection, a starting point. We figure the rest out together.”

You swallowed, feeling the sincerity in his words. The fear was still there, gnawing at the edges of your mind, but it was tempered now by something else—a tentative hope that maybe, just maybe, this could work.

“Okay,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him, but Azriel caught it nonetheless.

He smiled softly, his wings shifting slightly as if in relief. “Okay,” he echoed. “One step at a time.”

For a moment, you both stood there in the quiet of the kitchen, the bond humming faintly between you. It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t without its complications, but it was something. And for the first time since the bond had snapped, you felt like maybe you could handle this—together.

Azriel extended his hand, not as a demand, but as an offer. “How about we start with something simple? A walk, maybe? Just to talk, get to know each other.”

You hesitated for a moment, the anxiety still lingering, but then you nodded slowly, reaching out to take his hand. His grip was warm, reassuring, and as his fingers closed around yours, you felt a little of that fear ease away.

“Yeah,” you agreed, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “A walk sounds good.”

And as you both stepped out of the kitchen, hand in hand, you couldn’t help but feel that maybe—just maybe—this was the beginning of something worth taking a chance on.

[local-diavolo-anon]

i'm back!

ok so 2/3 days ago i found this youtube video where op turned Springtrap (or well, William Afton) into a fully build DnD character, and if i say so myself: things got out of hand fast

so here is my take on DnD Springtrap and specifically on that build (adding more infos under the cut for who is interested, i suggest to watch the video first)

starting with saying that unless you're playing in a scifi setting, this build is either not for you or to be modified, since in later levels spells are heavily centered around technomagic and electronic devices; personally when i will play him i will probably tinker around with the chosen spells and cantrips to make him less violently niche and/or more versatile

which kinda saddens me because it takes away not little of the characterization but, given most dnd stories take place in a medieval fantasy or high fantasy setting, a cantrip like On/Off or a spell like Remote Access are NOT particularly useful; so i will go for more psychic damage or necromancy oriented abilities, maybe i might take more than just 4 levels in artificier as well (especially given that again, all of those warlock spells at later levels are all technology oriented) but i need to see what those offer

however it is a kinda tank-y build given that with a shield on you can get up to a 27 of Ac, so even with low damage and not much hp you would not struggle too much to stay alive, and i like that!

as for the character himself, i put too much effort into my interpretation not to share it, so if anyone wants to play this guy as well, i fabricated a possible backstory that might come useful:

The character goes by the name "Dave Miller" (or whatever variant you want to use), and was originally a human artificier who created constructs for a living, mainly with the goal of offering aid to who needed it for whatever reason.

After losing part of his family to some kind of accident he became terrified of death, so with age he started replacing his own body parts with machinery to delay his last days (which made him a cyborg), until the point where he was very very close to become just a robot.

There however he ran into an issue, that being that a robot need a power source, and his own heart and lungs could not sustain a whole robot by themselves.

Through particular and very much not illegal experiments tied to necromancy he discovered that the life force of a living being could be shared, and used as a form of fuel. (possibly: age lived of the creature used= amount of extra months you get)

Here comes the second problem: this only worked with intelligent creatures, and more specifically, it worked best with creatures of your own race, which meant that he either went around murdering people or he found another solution. Non same-race creatures worked as well but not as good and there were not easy to find in the middle of a city and with a shop tied to your name.

And here is where and WHY he'd join a party of adventurers: after some time, his reserves or fuel were running VERY thin, and running into a group of adventurers was a god sent because by joining their party he essentially got a free pass to kill whoever he wanted, and reduce them to a dried raisin after sucking some life force out of them. Doing so you learn that the mowe powerful the creature is, the more energy it produces as well.

Your goal, that you as the player are following, when role-ing your character? essentially slay whatever powerful BBEG your Dm throws at you and suck all of that juicy fuel out of them, so that you can return to your little shop in the middle of the capital and return to create and sell whatever weird construct, doll, or robot comes to your mind for another few decades undisturbed.

And this is it. I think this might be a good backstory that could fit pretty much any setting you want to play this guy into, be it classic dnd or some scifi futuristic thing.

of course you don't NEED to use this one line per line, make up your own without looking back if you don't like it lol, dnd is the "make up shit and have fun" game after all!

Edit: also no his outfit makes no sense, i just went with vibes and decided a tanktop dress shirt, a twin tailed gilet and suspenders OVER said gilet was a good choice.

[hotjaneaustenmenpoll]

WHO IS THE HOTTEST JANE AUSTEN MAN ? THE FINAL

Propaganda...

Captain Wentworth (1995):

Ciaran Hinds has that perfect ruggedness yet friendliness to his face that makes him the perfect charming Wentworth. And all of the longing that he manages to convey in his eyes is so hot.

Wentworth may be angry/resentful with Anne but in general he is charming and the best friend you could ever have. Ciaran gets the pleasant parts of his character and brings them out, while keeping a guarded coolness (protective camouflage) with Anne.

64.media.tumblr.com

GIF by molinaesque

I dunno if this counts as propaganda or not, but Ciaran Hinds has a face that looks like it was jackhammered out of a shale cliff.

If a line like 'I am half agony...half hope' comes out of a face like that you know that man has a soul for poetry.

I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant. You alone have brought me to Bath. For you alone, I think and plan. Have you not seen this? Can you fail to have understood my wishes? I had not waited even these ten days, could I have read your feelings, as I think you must have penetrated mine. I can hardly write. I am every instant hearing something which overpowers me. You sink your voice, but I can distinguish the tones of that voice when they would be lost on others. Too good, too excellent creature! You do us justice, indeed. You do believe that there is true attachment and constancy among men. Believe it to be most fervent, most undeviating, in

F. W.

I must go, uncertain of my fate; but I shall return hither, or follow your party, as soon as possible. A word, a look, will be enough to decide whether I enter your father's house this evening or never.  

This is propaganda for the next round because I need my boy to be a finalist! But this letter is all the persuasion I need to know that he is a winner

Ciarán Hinds in this is a whole other level of "a good man" He makes Anne's decision at the end so much more perfect.

LOOK

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HOW

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HE

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YEARNS

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The yearning the yearning - JLM gives a great look but Captain Wentworth is the king of longing stares. He's trying sooo hard to hate her sooo hard to get over her - 8 years and he thinks he's ready to face her and move on but no he has to notice she's exhausted on the walk, that her nephew is being overwhelming, that she should be dancing and not just playing the piano for everyone else. And even though he's jealous later on when Mr Elliott gives her an "admiring look" in lime he's pleased for her because he knows she deserves to be admired and cherished even if he's angry that he wasn't able to be the one she let admire and cherish her. I just this man - he loves Anne so much and it's so so hot.

Propaganda for Captain Wentworth.

I've always loved Persuasion and so I was voting for him in his polls anyway, but I had never seen the 1995 adaptation. So because of this blog I decided to check it out.

Well. Now I'm obsessed. I came into this tournament fully expecting to vote Firth Darcy to victory. Ciaran Hinds suddenly showed up and sparta kicked him to curb. His every look, every gesture is laden with longing. He's so tender with Anne but then the barely restrained rage in his voice when he speaks to Lady Russell. He's rugged and manly yet tender and considerate.

I BURN, I PINE, I PERISH

If you're wondering why you should vote for Wentworth 95 in the @hotjaneaustenmenpoll, it's because he's got something hot for everyone.

Do you think it's hot when a man dresses up fancy? He looks very dapper in his uniform! Or do you find it more sexy when a man is more casual, a little mussed up, maybe even a little grimy? He does that perfectly too!

Do you find men hot when they're being tender and restrained? Or do you find men hot when they're losing control a bit, maybe getting a bit passionate with anger or jealousy?

Do you like a refined man of culture? Or a rugged outdoorsman?

A warm smile? Or something more broody?

Someone who's the life of the party, boisterous, laughing, charming? Or the strong silent type, serious, calm, mysterious?

Hinds's Wentworth does all of these sexy things brilliantly! You cannot lose with him, he's got it all!

II ranked Wentworth as the #1 Austen man in terms of fuckability, and I stand behind that when it comes to Wentworth 95 versus Knightley 09.

Is Wentworth 95 angry sometimes? Yeah. But that's hot, at least coming from Ciaran Hinds' ruggedly handsome face. Have you heard of makeup sex? Tell me Wentworth 95 and Anne don't have the most scorching hot angry makeup sex imaginable 🥵

And yet Wentworth 95 is also super tender! The slow, gentle, worshipful way he kisses Anne at the end?? So beautiful and hot. The longing way he looks at Anne in silence. The way he is so solicitous of Anne's comfort to put her on the carriage with his sister! You can just tell he's gonna take the time to worship his wife in bed.

And let's not forget that he writes the most romantic letter ever written! The depth of passion in this man, my god! 🔥💕🔥

This is not a who is the better man contest, or who is the more faithful to the book, or who would you most want to marry. This is a hotness contest, and Wentworth 95 is so fucking hot.

Mr Darcy (1995):

Colin Firth (1995) is book Darcy brought to life. He uses tiny gestures and looks to communicate with us and Elizabeth… his struggle is so subtle but so palpable. A beautiful asshole with a creamy nougat center. Just perfect.

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Those heart-eyes right up above☝️? Hot!

Passive-agressively drinking tea? Hot!

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The way he rushes over to see Elizabeth at Pemberley on those delicious long legs of his with that slutty wet curl hanging over his forehead? Hot!

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Fencing? Hot!

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The way he is so concerned about Elizabeth crying and takes her hand even though he shouldn't? Hot!

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This dimple-y smile of pure joy because he knows he's married to Elizabeth freaking Bennet? Hot!

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Colin Firth Darcy is simultaneously immaculately put together and entirely falling apart internally. The wet shirt scene is so iconic not (only) because ‘oooh almost-shirtless sexy man’, but because it’s a metaphor for how he’s absolutely falling apart!!! This is a private moment, when he doesn’t think anyone can see him. And then he bumps. into. Lizzie. At his house!! And the entire sequence that follows with him rushing out still doing his jacket up to catch her before he leaves. They are both on the back foot and it’s THAT moment of confusion that opens a more honest dialogue between them.

Without Firth in a lake you wouldn’t get Macfadyen in a downpour!

There's a reason why Colin Firth is forever known as Mr. Darcy above all other roles he's had and will have! Even ignoring the wet white shirt, which has become A Thing now, he is so hot with his curly hair and his little half smiles and his intense looks of longing and his legs that go on for milessss.

This cannot be real. My fellow Jane Austen people. Without Colin Firth’s Darcy we wouldn’t have 90% of modern JA content. He opened a door and there was no turning back for modern culture. There would be no MacFadyen standing half undressed in a field at dawn without Firth jumping into a lake first. There would be no hand flex if there hadn’t been Firth doing his best impression of a man undressing Elizabeth Bennet with his eyes and hating himself for liking it. There would be no Bridgerton without Bridget Jones. Let’s face it people. We wouldn’t be here having these arguments if Colin Firth had not been Mr Darcy.

Colin Firth understood Mr. Darcy in a way no other actor ever has. He is awkward as fuck in a way that comes across as snooty and judgmental on a first watch-through, then can be read as awkward and longing on a second time. His performance had such depth while looking extremely shallow at first glance. This man WAS Mr. Darcy. (I love 2005, as well, and I love Matthew McFayden, but he was awkward for awkward sake.) Colin Firth made Darcy's awkward look snooty and aloof.

THE socially awkward Darcy is the 1995 Darcy - look at him coming and sitting in awkward silence with Elizabeth pointedly asking her if she wants to live a long way from her family (to obvious relief) and then abruptly leaving - vote for him please 😭😭😭😭

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Colin Firth served so much as Darcy that when they did Bridget Jone's diary, they brought him back.... AS DARCY. The smoulder. The angst. The man is the quintessential Darcy.

“Firthing” is an actual term that is used now to describe someone yearning intensely. It is named after Colin Firth’s Mr Darcy performance.

Colin Firth all the way. He's known in our household as Owl Eyes because in every frame he's mooning over Elizabeth Bennet. Unsurpassable, unmatched, golden television (and some of the worst dancing you've ever seen).

Colin has beautiful, touchable curls.

Link

My high school English teacher was very into using movies to teach alongside literature, which was a great teaching tool. When we read Pride and Prejudice, he used both 2005 and 1995 for various scenes. What stands out to me all these years later was when it got to the part when Lizzy went to help Georgiana after Caroline dropped Mr. Wickham's name and Darcy gives Lizzy this look:

My teacher stopped the film and pointed at Darcy's face and said, "See that? That is THE look. If someone ever looks at you like that, you know they're in love." And what is hotter than that?

Also this teacher had two cats named Lizzy and Darcy. Not relevant to the poll but I wanted you all to know about them.

Colin Firth dazzles and amazes in the nuanced performance that just blows all other attempts away.

The best thing about the Colin Firth wet shirt scene is actually the scene that follows where him and Lizzie are both just dyinggg of embarrassment but Darcy pulls himself together refuses to lose his advantage and runs to get dressed and chase her down before she leaves - just the mix of cringe and hopefulness at seeing her again is so well done and so attractive!!! (this is just the bit where he's running after her but I love it all!)

[munson-blurbs]

Emperor Geta x Concubine!Reader

Summary: The emperor catches you in the library, going against his direct orders, and there is a price to pay for your disobedience.

WC: 1.2k

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), unprotected p in v, degradation, mention of spit, breeding kink if you squint, jealousy, Geta is horrible but we like it.

A/N: "Augustus" is the term that a concubine would use to address the emperor. Thank you to my favorite history nerds, @lokis-army-77 and @offensiunculae, for their help in ensuring accuracy.

Divider credit to @saradika

“What are you doing in here?”

The sharp voice drew you from your reading. You tried closing the book and hiding it beneath the marble table, but you knew you’d already been caught. There was no safe place to lay your gaze. If you looked at him, he would yell at you for daring to look an emperor in the eyes; if you looked away, he would berate you for your cowardice.

You chose the latter option, heart catching in your throat as Geta’s footsteps drew closer.

“Aren’t you supposed to be preparing for the gala?”

“I–” You steadied yourself, hoping your words didn’t fall apart before they could even leave your tongue. “All of the preparations are finished, Augustus.”

That was the wrong answer. You should have excused yourself and found another task, if only to keep busy. His fingers, free from the calluses that marred the hands of gladiators, gripped your chin with a possessive force.

“Look at me when I speak to you, concubine,” Geta snapped. His dark eyes radiated flames that scorched you with a single look. “You know you are not to be here. Ever. You are to stay in your quarters until you’re summoned.”

You nodded, humiliation heating your body. “My apologies.” 

Geta ignored you and yanked the book from your grasp, turning the pages with careless abandon. He never cared for reading, or for education; why would he, when power was handed to him upon a silver platter? 

“What purpose does this serve you, concubine? Are you so dissatisfied here that you need to lose yourself in other worlds?”

“No, Augustus.” The lie was too fast, and you knew he caught it, in spite of his remarkable ability to only focus on his own needs.

The emperor’s smile was wicked. “After all I’ve provided for you,” he purred, “you can’t even offer me the truth?”

Tears stung in your eyes; a sob lodged in your throat rendering you unable to speak. It was no matter for Geta, who insisted upon capturing your words for you. “It’s her, isn’t it?” A chuckle emanated from his diaphragm. “You had me all to yourself for some time, and now you have to share my affections.” His thumb brushed your chin again; this time, you could have sworn there was an ounce of compassion in his touch.

“Yes, Augustus.”

Geta tossed the book aside. “And so your solution was to directly defy my orders? Is that how you sought my attention?” He leaned in so his forehead pressed against yours. “This library is off-limits for concubines.”

“So I’m meant to sit around and wait for you to summon me?” The retort could have earned you a smack to the face, and you braced yourself for the impact. 

Yet it never came.

Instead, Geta’s smirk deepened, his hand enclosing your wrist. “That is exactly what you are meant to do,” he growled. “You are nothing more than a common whore, and yet you are audacious enough to expect the treatment of a wife.”

“That is not what I–”

“Tell me what you believe you deserve.” His words clipped yours. “To be adored? Revered? Worshiped?” The last suggestion drew a heinous laugh. “You want me whispering in your ear, making remarks of your beauty and the desires you stir within me?”

Honesty mingled with shame as the tears slipped down your cheeks. 

“Say it.”

“Yes!” Embarrassment strangled your confirmation. “I want you to myself. I want us to share a marriage bed. I want you to tell me that you need me.”

One tooth scraped over his lower lip. “That’s what I thought.”

A gasp escaped you as he tugged you closer, nose grazing yours. If you lacked the knowledge of prior experiences, you might have anticipated a kiss. 

“Bend over the table.”

You did as he ordered, bracing your forearms on the cool marble. Geta gripped the hem of your tunic, pushing it above the curve of your ass. His palm hit your flesh with enough force to bruise; though you couldn’t see his face, you knew your yelp brought to it a smile. 

“This is all you’re good for.” He fumbled with his own garments, hissing as his erection made contact with the air. You heard him spit on his cock, rubbing the saliva over the shaft. “And you know it, too. You may fill your head with these inane writings, but you know you simply want to be filled with me.”

His words sent lust rippling through you, amplified only by the head of his cock nudging at your entrance. You felt yourself stretch around him, his wanton moan the only betrayal of his dominance. 

One hand grabbed your waist and the other wrapped around your neck, squeezing as he yanked you closer. 

“Is this what you’ve been brooding over?” He delivered another swift spank when you whimpered your yes. “You’re so pathetic, resigning yourself to an object. My object.”

You clenched around him at the identifier. His object. No matter that he was not yours. You were his, at least in this moment. 

Geta rocked himself with pounding thrusts that sent his pelvis colliding into your rear. “Say that you’re pathetic. That you’re weak for me. That you would do anything for my seed.”

You found your voice in time to comply. “I’m pathetic, Augustus. I’m weak for you. I would do anything for your seed.”

He laughed at this. “I could do anything I wanted and you would let me, so long as I attend to you.”

“Anything you wanted,” you echoed. Your climax was building; just a few more moments until it shrouded you in pure pleasure. “Anything for you.”

“How utterly pitiful.” Grunts punctuated his taunt. “I might be inclined to feel sorry for you if I possessed that capacity.” He withdrew until just his tip was inside you and promptly slammed back in. Empty, so horribly empty, and then deliciously full.

Geta’s groans echoed throughout the library, growing louder as his own orgasm neared. “Take it, take it all, my little whore.”

He spilled into you with harsh, sloppy thrusts. The hand around your throat restricted your airflow to its minimum; you ached to cry out his name, even his title. He only loosened his grip once he was completely spent.

He held you in place as he caught his breath, carefully pulling out so the evidence of his release stayed within you. “Ready yourself for the gala,” he said tersely. “I will send for you when the time arrives.”

“Yes, Augustus.” You moved to leave, but your insecurities hooked their talons into you and drew you back. “Does she also get your seed?” His other concubine. The other woman he kept around to bring him pleasure.

Confusion marred Geta’s smug expression for a second, but he quickly composed himself. “She hasn’t earned it.”

You nodded, trying not to let pride swell your head. She hasn’t earned it, but you have. “Thank you, Augustus.”

His acknowledgment was an unintelligible grumble, but you could have sworn he let his gaze linger for a beat longer than he had before.

--

Tagging some people who might be interested:

@happilyeverafterforme @daisy-munson @strawbbzombwie @mrsjellymunson @eddiesxangel

[hannieehaee]

18+ / mdi

content: newrelationship!jeonghan, very soft, afab reader, fluff, smut, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 1276

a/n: im in love with him if that wasnt clear already

masterlist

it had only been two weeks since jeonghan had finally made you his.

he had pined after you for a bit, not fully realizing the extent of his feelings for you until a month prior, when he decided he just had to have you and decided to act accordingly, sweeping you off your feet soon after.

you were the prettiest, most perfect thing he had ever had. your relationship was brand new, which made everything even sweeter. he couldn't get enough of you, or you of him.

today had been the first night you spent over at his place, having fallen asleep on his couch halfway through the movie without realizing. he didn't have the heart to wake you up, being too enamored by the sight of your adorable form curled up against the couch, folded like a ball due to the cold. upon realizing your state, he had covered you up with a blanket, allowing you some warmth while he left to prepare you a tea for whenever you woke up. when he came back a few minutes later, he found you disoriented, barely processing the time. it wasnt that late yet, but he still insisted you stay since you seemed so exhausted. after five minutes of jeonghan whining at you to stay, you agreed, also accepting the shirt and sweats he gave you to wear to sleep.

his intentions had been completely pure, only wanting to hold you through the night, guaranteeing himself the soundest sleep he had ever had. and he had been right, as he had never known comfort such as the one he found tangled with you under his covers.

waking up had also been an experience, falling for you all over again upon seeing the softness of your expression as you rested. he decided, once again, not to wake you and fell back asleep in your arms.

a few hours later, you woke up, not offering him the same courtesy and softly waking him up.

"hannie? hannie, wake up."

"hmm?", he was half asleep as he responded, but your soft voice had immediately sitting up, putting his attention on you.

suddenly, you weee very shy, halfway hiding under your blanket, "i stayed over ..."

"yeah, baby, i know," he chuckled, "we went through this, remember?"

"isnt it too soon?"

"hmm. no," he went to hold you in his arms, "been wanting to keep you to myself for a while now," he kissed at your cheek as he said this, drinking in your adorable giggles at his affection, "now come with me so we can make some breakfast, yeah?"

it was easy for you to agree with him, now getting up and heading to his kitchen, where he allowed you to take charge due to his less than favorable cooking skills, claiming he'd help you out and follow your every order. in usual jeonghan fashion, that had been a lie. the man was simply too affectionate for his (and your) own good, simply opting for hugging you from behind as you made some eggs to satiate the both of you.

his touches had been completely innocent in nature, only giving you a few pecks on your cheeks as he held onto you. he got a bit more daring soon after, however, now deciding to reach uncharted waters and begin leaving breathy kisses along your neck.

you seemed to not be in disagreement, even tilting your neck so he could have more room to kiss you. you couldnt help yourself in the soft moans you let out the moment he began to lick and suck at your neck. those pretty moans were all he needed to let his hands begin to wander across your torso, sneaking his hands under his your shirt as he rubbed them up and down your stomach, almost daring to touch your breasts before asking for confirmation as to whether or not it was okay for him to do so.

"can i, angel?"

"mhm ... anything you want, hannie ..."

"oh? anything?" he smirked against your neck, finding a spot that had you mewling at his touch before finally allowing his hands to find home on your breasts, not taking long to begin pinching at your nipples and feeling you up.

"uh-huh ..." unknowingly, you sensually pushed your ass back against him, making him moan out before beginning a slow grind against you, feeling gratification at your mutual humping.

"oh, baby ... my pretty girl. so sweet for me ..." he loved how soft and pliant you were; how just a few light touches had you losing all inhibitions and entertaining his want for you.

"can i have it, baby? will you let me take care of you?", he asked after a few moments of dry humping, realizing you were growing restless in his arms.

"hannie ... please ..." he didn't need further confirmation to turn you around in his arms, immediately going for your lips as he kissed you sensually, his tongue dancing with your as you moaned at the simple pleasure of his kiss.

he was now grinding against your front, making you whine against his lips, mewling his name in the softest gasps he had ever heard. you truly were the prettiest thing he had ever held in his arms. he wanted you more than anything. he only allowed himself the pleasure of your cries at the bare minimum of pleasure that dry humping was giving you for a few moments, soon opting to finally enter your warmth.

he asked you for permission before doing it, despite knowing you'd respond with enthusiastic consent. he just wanted to hear how badly you wanted him back. after a cry of 'yes. please, hannie!' that had his eyes rolling back at how precious you were, he finally plunged inside you, holding one of your legs up and wrapping it around his waist.

he ground against you in slow and calculated movements, immediately hitting at that spot that had you throwing your head back.

"my beautiful girl ... is that it? that's the spot, angel?", he didn't wait for a response, only ramming harder against you to elicit even louder moans out of you.

"h-hannie ..."

"i know, angel, i know. feels so good, huh? prettiest thing ... you take it so good, fuck. my gorgeous girl. wanted you for so long now. cant believe i have you," he adored the effect he had on you, groaning at the way you tightened around him every time he praised you or told you how into you he was.

"gonna cum for me, angel? gonna give it to me? yeah? wanna feel you, baby."

you didn't need any convincing to cum while in his arms, and neither did he, quickly pulling out to cum into the sink that had been right next to you, cringing at the thought of having to disinfect it, but having had to improvise in the moment.

"hannie, ew ... the sink?"

"yah! this is your fault! seducing me in the kitchen ..."

"me?! i was just making breakfast!"

"yeah! in my clothes? looking so pretty and fuckable? you knew what you were doing. it's okay, angel. i understand. i wouldve seduced you sooner or later anyways."

you rolled your eyes at his gremlin laugh, jokingly pushing him away when he approached you with dampened paper towels to clean you up a bit, then dragging your sweats back up.

"the eggs got burnt," you pouted at him, interrupting him from the kiss he was about to give you.

"angel, i dont care about some stupid eggs. let me kiss you, yeah?"

"oka– "

he hummed against your lips, enjoying the sweetness of your kiss. he could totally see himself enjoying this every morning from now on.

[ripdragonbeans]

The Boy // Aemond x Reader

Summary: Blood and Cheese are out looking for a son. A son for a son, they were told. They found you and your babe, instead. How lucky they are that your babe is a boy.

INFANTICIDE!!! DEAD DOVE; DO NOT EAT

TW: infanticide, killing of a child, graphic violence, guilt, daggers, beheading, blood, gore

“I think we should listen to Helaena more,” you told your dear uncle and husband, Aemond. “I do not know what she meant by the rats but she is correct that we should be worried about more than just dragons.”

“My dear wife,” Aemond adjusted their son, Aerion, in his hands, “we have no reason to fear them. They wouldn't dare attack us.”

Aeron cooed in Aemond's arms and nestled against him.

“Our son will be safe; Helaena’s children will be safe.”

“I simply worry that my brother might do something rash to avenge Lucerys,” you tread delicately, knowing the subject of your dead brother was a touchy subject.

“If it is Jacerys who will come to us I will not hesitate, wife. I hope you know that.”

“I am aware that you would do all you can to protect us, and I love you for that. Still, I worry.” You went to gather Aerion from Aemond’s arms and held the babe close to your heart. “Should anything happen to our child, any of the children here, I do not know what I would do. I would lose myself in grief, I think.”

“If you lose yourself to grief then I will be here to bring you back.” Aemond pressed a kiss to your forehead.

Aerion looked at you with wide violet eyes. You chuckled. “He has the same intense stare as youz my husband.”

Aemond leaned forward to get a better look at his son. “I'll take your word for it,” he smiled. “Shall we go to bed?”

“Let me put Aerion down and then I shall join you.” You pressed your lips against Aemond’s before he left the nursery to head to your bedchambers. 

Aerion, with his wide violet eyes, reached up and tugged a bit on your hair.

“My darling, you are going to be a handful when you become a man,” you laughed. 

Aerion smiled, tugging on her hair again and lightly smacking her, like all babes do. 

“Once you can control your arms I am sure you will make a fearsome warrior. But now,” you walked to his crib, “it is time to sleep, dear one.” Before lowering Aerion into his crib you kissed him lovingly on the forehead. “Sleep well, my dear boy.” 

You left the nursery to join your husband in your bedchambers, tired from the day. As you walked away you could hear his babblings. You smiled to yourself, ready to hear it again come morning.

Right before you entered your bedchambers you heard rushed footsteps. Confused, you followed the sound. No one should still be awake at this point. Maybe a few servants finishing up their duties but that should be it. There was the possibility of the noise being from Aegon, as well. He did wander about the castle at night every now and then. Then you heard the voices.

“Are you sure it's this one?” One male voice asked.

A deeper voice replied, “do you see any other son? We have to take one and we can't find Prince Aemond.”

You sucked in a breath. These were no servants. No, they were assassins, most likely sent by your mother to even the score. You were left with a choice, take a chance to save your son, or run to alert a guard.

“Let's take this one, then,” said the first voice.

Their footsteps slowed as they snuck up on the crib. Dread dripped down your body. They were not going to take your son.

“Step away from my boy!” You yelled as you burst into the nursery.

There were two men, one scrawny with a mustache, and the other one built with muscle welding two daggers.

Covering the crib with your own body you faced the assailants. “You will leave this place. I will give you money, my jewelry, if it means you will leave.”

The scrawny one strolled up to you as though he had all the time in the world. “And if we don't take your offer?”

You swallowed. “Then I will have no choice but to call the guards.” You took a few steps back.

The big man boomed out a laugh. “Guards? There's no one here to guard you. How do you think we got in? We simply walked through the door. There are none and you are at our mercy.” A sadistic smile crept its way on his face. “Grab her,” he ordered the small one. 

He charged you, grabbing your arms and twisting them behind your back. He tried to get you away from the crib but you held your ground. As terrified as you were, your instincts told you to stay with the babe as long as possible.

The big one sauntered up to you and ran the tip of the dagger down your neck. The sting of the blade was sharp against your skin. Blood pebbled out of the cut. You tried to calm your breathing but your heart was racing. You were going to die here. 

“You look very pretty with this red adorning your neck. Maybe we should add more?” 

He pressed the dagger against your collar bone, the metal cutting you. You wanted to scream for help but you needed their attention away from Aerion. If it meant that they take your life instead of his, then so be it.

Blood dripped down, staining your night dress. The big one leaned down and licked one of the wounds clean. The sensation was so horrible that you almost threw up. Tears brimmed in the corner of your eyes.

“Decadent,” he growled.

The skinny one holding you was getting impatient. “Are we going to take one of them or not?”

“Patience! Let me enjoy myself here.” He looked over you like a meal ready to be devoured. “Would you sacrifice yourself? Shall we take your head?”

“If it means my boy is safe then yes, take my head,” you tried to sound confident.

“You choose your own demise over your child’s? How sweet a mother’s love is.” 

He looked over the crib at Aerion. Aerion had still not fallen asleep, he was wiggling in his blankets. But when the man made eye contact with him, he started screaming. The big man smacked a hand over your son’s mouth. Aerion whimpered and struggled against him.

You shook your head. “Please, no. Not my son. Take me. Take my head instead,” you begged.

The little man snickered. “A son for a son we was told. Unless you want to tell us where Prince Aemond is.”

No. Not a choice. Your son or your husband. You can kill your boy or send them to your sweet husband sleeping in his bed. You began to weep. 

“You can't make me choose between my husband and my son!” You cried.

The men laughed coldly. 

“Look what we have here, huh? The wife of the fearsome Aemond Targaryen! What a way to break his spirits,” the skinny one cackled.

Your son or your husband. The love of your life or the light of your life. Your Aemond or your Aerion. Memories flashed before you. 

Meeting Aemond and slowly falling in love with him. 

The first time you and Aemond made love, the conception of Aerion, you two have figured. How lovely it was. Aemond filled you up so perfectly, you have never felt closer to him than that. When he kissed you down there, all you felt was pleasure. When you took his cock into your mouth you were proud of yourself for making Aemond feel good.

Giving birth to Aerion and feeling the grip of Aemond’s hand holding yours. There was so much pain but Aemond was there to help you. Many advised Aemond to not be in the room for the birthing process but you insisted he be there. Continually, he wiped the sweat from your brow and whispered encouraging words in your ear.

The day Aerion rolled over for the first time. Oh, how quickly you leapt up to find Aemond. He was amused by your happiness and humored you. While he may not have understood how big of a milestone this was, you know he felt great pride. Aerion was just now beginning to toddle about. His smile was always big and he was always looking at the world around him. 

With a shaking body and a painful stab in your heart you nodded towards Aerion. You have made your decision and will live in hell the rest of your life for it. Forever you will remember this and how you sentenced your child to death. “Take him. Take my child,” you whispered.

“Lovely,” the big one said.

With one quick moment, he took one of his daggers and sliced a cut into Aerion’s throat. All you could hear was the gargle of Aerion choking on his own blood. You wanted to look away but you forced yourself to watch. You did this. You killed your own child.

Then the big man began to saw back and forth. No longer was your boy crying, but there he lay, still alive as his head was being detached from his body.

“Aerion, my dear Aerion, I am so sorry,” you mumbled. 

“Remember, this was your choice,” the one holding you said. He tightened his grip on your arms and kneed you in the back. “Look at what you did.”

They were almost halfway through your boy's little neck. Tears trailed down your face. Forever you would remember this grave sin. This impossible choice.

After what felt like months, they finally finished. The big one grinned as he held the head of Aerion. The base of his head was dripping with blood. His violet eyes, once filled with wonder, were empty.

“Prince Daemon appreciates your service to the true Queen.” He motioned to the one holding you to let go. “Would you like to touch his face one last time?”

They were mocking you. Yet you were grateful for the chance to cradle your boy’s cheek one last time.

“Aerion, I am so sorry.” You cupped his face and stared into those dead eyes.

There was rustling in the hallway.

“We gotta go,” the little one ground out. 

The big one spat in your face. “Fuck the Hightowers.”

They stuffed your boy’s head in a sack and ran away, leaving you with a bleeding body and a broken heart. 

Lifelessly, you walked out of the nursery and to Helaena’s bedchambers. She would understand. She would help.

------

When you arrived at her door you knocked. When she didn't answer, you pounded. When nothing came you burst through the door and collapsed next to her on the bed.

“Helaena, wake up please,” you sobbed. You were shaking her awake.

Helaena’s eyes opened slowly. You thought that you’d surprise her with your presence but instead she looked sad. She sat up in bed and reached for your hand. Helaena rarely engages in physical contact so this startled you. You almost pulled away but she held on tight.

“Your boy. They killed him?” Helaena asked.

“You - you knew they would come?” You were stunned.

“I knew the rats would come but I did not know for whom. Only that one of the boys in this castle would perish.” She looked regretful. “I wish we could’ve done something.”

You leaned into her and began to cry the tears you’ve been keeping in. “They made me choose, sister. Aerion or Aemond. I feel disgusting.”

Helaena shuffled away, uncomfortable with so much physical contact, but she kept a hand on yours. She gave you a squeeze. “Go to him. Go to my brother.”

“Yes, Helaena.” You squeezed her hand back and left her bedchambers.

------

As you approached your shared bedchambers your heart began to speed up. Invisible ropes tied around your chest tightened, making it hard to breathe. You carefully opened to door to see your husband peacefully laying down on the bed with his eye closed. His breathing had not yet calmed to a slower pattern so you knew he was still awake. The sapphire gleamed brightly in the moonlight. You caught a hint of a smile. He knew you were here.

“You’ve been gone for a while, my dear.” Aemond opened his eye. “I was beginning to worry.” He caught sight of your red-lined eyes and tear stained cheeks. Immediately, he sat up.

“My love. My love, my love,” you collapsed at the foot of the bed. Fresh tears ran down your face. “I have committed a grave sin. I am so sorry. If you want me dead I will throw myself out of the nearest window.” You buried your face in your hands.

Aemond climbed out of bed and held your face. “Whatever sin you committed, I am sure you are still pure in the eyes of the Seven.”

You began to hyperventilate.

“Breathe, my love, breathe,” he whispered in your ear.

After a few moments of trying to find your breath again, you forced yourself to look at him. “He’s dead. Our boy, our Aerion.”

He did not respond for a few moments. “Surely you jest, my love.”

“No! I do not jest!” you pushed yourself away from Aemond and stood up. “Our boy is *dead because of me! They came from the dark and made me choose!” You fell back on your knees but faced away from Aemond. “They told me to choose between you and Aerion.”

“What?”

“These men, these dark men, made me choose between your death and Aerion’s! I offered my own head instead but they merely laughed.”

“You offered yourself?”

“What else could I have done, Aemond?” 

Strong hands grabbed your waist and turned you around.

“You could have come to me,” he said as he held you tight.

“If I had left they would have killed Aerion anyway.” Your arms wrapped around him and you buried your head against his chest. 

“If that is the case then Aerion was going to die even without your choice.” 

You let out a sob.

“But,” he gently tilted your face up to his. “You let him live a little longer. You gave him some time.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Now tell me who these men are, or what they looked like.”

“One was a skinny rat catcher, I believe, and the other was a bigger man, he looked like he could be a guard.” You swallowed. “They took our boy's head.”

Aemond nodded. “I will find these wretched men tonight.” His face hardened as he got up and released you. “Stay in bed, my love.”

“Will you take me to Helaena instead? I do not wish to be alone.”

“Of course. That’s a better idea. Quickly, we must go.”

Aemond escorted you back to Helaena’s bedchambers. He did not look at you but he held on to your hand tightly. As you approached the door he pulled you into a searing kiss, a kiss with a promise to find these bad men. Then he was gone.

------

When morning came, you found yourself on a chaise in Helaena’s chambers. Looking around, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Helaena was snoring softly in her bed and everything was fine. 

Then you remembered last night.

Your chest began to tighten as your body began to quake. Stray tears rolled down your face until they became streams. Helaena walked up to you in silence and held your hand.

“The rats are no more,” she said to you.

“No more no longer and yet they still cause such pain,” you whispered to her. Your body began to tremble.

“Hush, dear sister. Aemond comes.”

The door opened soon after and Aemond strode in with Aegon by his side.

“Niece,” Aegon nodded towards you. “I had them hanged,” he said gleefully. “Both men had been found. The guard easily gave up the rat catcher. You can see them outside now if you’d wish.”

“No, no, I do not wish to see the men who killed my boy.”

Aemond came to your side and took your other hand. “They are gone, my love, and our Aerion is at peace. The Silent Sisters have retrieved his head and are readying him for burial. One last journey, with you and me right by his side.”

“He shall go to the dragon pit?”

“Yes, and Vhagar will do the honors.”

You turned to Aegon. “Thank you for aiding Aemond in finding the murderers.”

“Of course, dear niece. This was the pretending Queen’s doing and I will not let them go unpunished.”

You gave him a watery smile. “My mother will not get away with this. For killing my babe she will burn.”

Aemond pulled you away from Helaena and into his arms. “For Aerion, she will burn.”

“For Aerion.”

[changetyre]

I'll never forgive myself II Mafia!Carlos Sainz X Reader

SUMMARY: Carlos's circle was small, extremely small considering his job and the fact he was a single father. You being the nanny to his son was the only person he had a different kind of trust a full, whole, and complete trust.

WARNINGS: Minor injuries, attempted kidnapping, screaming, angst/comfort.

A/N: Short but again please have patience with me cause I am slowly getting out of my block.

"Emanuel be careful!" You yelled to the 6-year-old kid at your care as he excitedly climbed up the stairs to the slide in the park close to home that you visited every day.

"Y/N Look Look!" Manu screamed as he positioned himself atop the slide ready to glide down.

"Wow! You're so-" You were distracted by the aggressive sound of tyre screeching.

You saw a black car stop in front of the park, two men getting out quickly hopping out the car as they rushed towards Emanuel.

"EMANUEL COME HERE!" You were faster than you'd ever done in your life towards him as you pressed the small button on the bracelet Carlos had made for you, a matching one adorning Manu's wrist. A panic button.

"Y/N!" Emanuel yelled your name scared as he sensed the sudden danger.

Emanuel was at the top of the slide and you were just able to reach it just before the men closed in.

"EMANUEL!" In desperation, you yanked him down from the top of the slide injuring him slightly in the process.

You clutched him tightly against your chest as you started running the men close behind you.

"SOMEBODY HELP!" You screamed in deep fear as you could feel the presence of the men right there.

You felt them clutch your hair and in pure instinct, you dropped Emanuel. "MANU RUN!" You yelled hoping to at least deter the men giving Manu a chance to run while Carlos and his men arrived.

You were yanked backward with force but didn't let your mind process the pain as you immediately clutched at both men holding them back from getting to Manu.

"PAPA!" You heard Manu's sobs although felt relief as you heard more tires screeching and soon after the men running away.

You rushed to get up getting to Emanuel.

"Manu, are you okay?" You held his face trying to examine him for injuries, your heart skipping a beat at the small bruise forming on his temple probably from when you yanked him off the slide.

"PAPA!" Manu screamed as he continued sobbing terrified. He got up running away towards his father who had quickly found his way to his son.

"Emanuel estás bien? (are you okay?)" Carlos examined his son as you did noticing the bruise, his eyes darkened in anger.

"Tras ellos! (go after them!)" He yelled at his men as they got in their cars to chase after the men.

"Carlos they came out of nowhere I-" You got up suddenly feeling the piercing pain shooting through your body from the way you were yanked back.

"You should've paid more attention!" Carlos screamed at you angrily as she held Emanuel trying to soothe him.

"Carlos I was-" Your attempts at explaining were futile.

"Why were you even here alone! You're fucking smarter than this! He got hurt and it's all your fault!" Carlos was seething, completely blinded by his anger and his terrified child in his arms.

"I'm sorry I-" This time you were fighting to talk through your own tears both of guilt and pain. Carlos had never raised his voice with you, even less after you started getting closer, crossing the line of boss-employee.

"Get in the fucking car!" He cut you off once more.

The car ride back to the house was silent except for the sniffles of both you and Emanuel.

"Y/n are you okay?" Emanuel asked from the car seat next to you on the back seat.

"I'm fine Manu. I'm sorry I hurt you." you held his small hand.

"It's okay, you were trying to save me." Manu offered you a small smile tugging at your heartstrings. "You're bleeding." He pointed out at your fingers.

You had some blood probably from cluthing at the men trying to stop them from getting to Manu.

"I'm okay." You quickly hid your hands away from him offering him a smile of your own.

You pulled up at the house and once again Carlos didn't say a word although you could tell he had significantly calmed down. He grabbed Emanuel taking him inside.

You watched them go taking a second to yourself as the pain you know felt across your whole body was presenting itself fully. You struggled to undo your belt and get out of the car with ease.

Once you got inside you could hear the shower running and you knew Carlos was getting Manu cleaned up giving you some time to clean yourself up before needing to look after Manu again...if Carlos would even want you to again.

Carlos POV:

"Manu, are you sure you're okay?" Carlos asked his son for the umpteenth time as he brushed his hair.

"Yes, Papa I just got scared but y/n protected me," Manu replied as he played with his figurines.

Carlos's heart ached knowing he was entirely too harsh on you but the terror that invaded his body was unlike anything he'd felt before when he saw you'd activated your panic button, it was something he wished you'd never had to use. As he drove to you and Manu a million terrifying thoughts raced through his head of what could be happening.

Once he turned the corner he saw the way you dropped Manu as the men yanked you back, you fighting to keep them away from his son. He was terrified for Emanuel but equally terrified for you which translated to anger. He was surprised at his own emotions taking over him, evidencing how much he truly cared for you.

"You were mean to her Papa." Carlos was snapped out of his thoughts. He looked at his son through the mirror in front of them, a frown on his son's face.

"I know Manu. I was very mean." Carlos admitted ashamed.

Once he got Manu to bed he knew he had to go see you. He walked to your room, he heard the shower running and he took the liberty to step in.

He saw your clothes, a few rips in them making a mental note to get you knew clothes tomorrow. He stripped before heading into your bathroom.

His heart broke at the sight of you. Watered blood rushed down your shaking body as you cried. Your back was facing the door so you didn't see him come in but the glass walls of the shower permitted him to see the fresh scratches on your back.

Carlos opened the shower door stepping in with you. You jumped when you felt his arm snake around your waist.

"Shh it's me, baby," Carlos whispered.

You continued crying, looking down and avoiding his eyes.

"I'm so sorry for screaming at you." Carlos turned you around gently careful not to hurt you further.

"I tried to protect him. I swear I did everything I could." Your eyes were puffy from all the crying you'd done which only broke Carlos's heart further. He hated himself for being the cause of it.

"I know. I know baby. You did, you protected him. He's safe." Carlos pulled you close kissing your temple and he felt you finally relax on his chest.

"I'm really sorry." You cried in his chest.

"No shhh. I'm sorry, I'll never forgive myself for screaming at you. I'm sorry I was just so scared." Carlos apologized again and again.

You finally looked up to meet his eyes, your crying dying down. You nodded accepting his apology. "My body really hurts."

Carlos leaned down pressing his lips to yours in a reassuring kiss. "I'll take care of you baby. Just let me take care of our family." He kissed you again.

[alasforher]

I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it

[askmrtorgue]

HEY! YOU THERE! WANT TO PLAY A TABLETOP ADVENTURE WITH A PROFESSIONAL STORYTELLER?

I'M MISTER TORGUE, AND THE NERD WHO HELPS ME LOG INTO THIS ACCOUNT ASKED ME TO DO AN AD FOR HIS SERVICES. I TOLD HIM I WOULD, BUT ONLY IF I GOT TO WRITE IT MYSELF. SO STRAP IN, DUMPSUCKS. IT'S PRODUCT PLACEMENT TIME:

--

DO YOU WANT TO PLAY DUNGEONS & DRAGONS BUT YOU CAN'T FIND SOMEONE TO RUN YOUR GAMES?

ARE YOU FED UP WITH A GAME MASTER WHO WON'T LET YOU STRAIGHT-UP MAKE OUT WITH THE VILLAINS OF THEIR STORY?

DO YOU WANT WANT TO LEARN TABLETOP RPGS BUT EVERYONE WHO TRIES TO EXPLAIN IT USES THINGS LIKE MATH AND SPREADSHEETS AND YOU CAN'T STOP THEM BECAUSE FATAL SUPLEXES ARE ILLEGAL ON YOUR PLANET?

THEN YOU NEED BENCOMPETENCE, PROFESSIONAL STORYTELLER AND GAME MASTER.

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THIS DEATH DADDY IS ABSOLUTELY ABOUT TO KILL ME AND I DON'T GIVEN EVEN A SINGLE F*CK.

NOT YOUR STYLE? NO PROBLEM, PLAYER, HE ALSO OFFERS TERRIFYING MURDER MOMMIES!

THIS WOMAN COULD DRINK MY BLOOD AND I WOULD SAY "THANK YOU"

OR MAYBE IT'S TIME TO EMBRACE EVERYONE'S TRUE SECRET DESIRE:

BE A MAGICAL GIRL THAT'S BAD AT ROMANCE!!!

BENCOMPETENCE ALSO HAS THIRSTY SWORD LESBIANS, A GAME ABOUT BADASS SWORDFIGHTS AND WARFARE IN THE GREATEST BATTLEFIELD OF ALL: THE HEART

WHEN OH WHEN WILL THESE TWO INCREDIBLE WOMEN ADMIT THEIR FEELINGS FOR ONE ANOTHER!??!!?

OR MAYBE YOU WANT TO KICK ASS, PACIFIST STYLE, IN THE NEW BLUE BOX ADVENTURES?!

TIME TO GO HIGH FIVE A DINOSAUR AND MAKE OUT WITH ALIENS!!!

BENCOMPETENCE'S GAMES ARE INCLUSIVE AF AND BEGINNER-FRIENDLY, BECAUSE GATEKEEPING IS FOR SH*THEELS AND TRASHGUZZLERS. WHETHER YOU'RE BRAND NEW OR HAVE PLAYED A QUILLION SESSIONS, YOU WILL BE RIGHT AT HOME. ALL THAT MATTERS IS THAT YOU GET IN THERE AND KICK THE NARRATIVE'S ASS RIGHT IN ITS D*CK.

HE EVEN HOSTS SEMINARS THAT TEACH YOU TO BE A BETTER ROLEPLAYER OR GAME MASTER!!

HE ALSO ASKED ME TO TELL YOU THAT SESSION 0'S ARE FREE, AND I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THAT MEANS!

WANT TO JOIN A TABLE? THEN LISTEN UP, F*CKTRUCKS, BECAUSE IT'S LIST TIME:

FIGHT OR MAYBE MAKE OUT WITH HOT EVIL VAMPIRES IN CURSE OF STRAHD (NOW AVAILABLE IN DEATH DADDY AND MURDER MOMMY)

I AM NOW STARING AT THE VAMPIRE AGAIN AND FORGOT THE NEXT BULLET POINT

JOIN THIRSTY SWORD LESBIANS AND BE AS BAD AT ROMANCE AS YOU ARE GOOD AT KICKING ASS

JUMP INTO THE BLUE BOX AND EXPLORE ALL OF TIME AND SPACE

SOMETHING ABOUT LEARNING HOW TO BE A BETTER ROLEPLAYER IN A PERSONALIZED LECTURE

THERE'S A LOT MORE TO SAY, BUT THE NERD WRITING THIS SCRIPT STARTED TALKING ABOUT CHARACTER SHEETS AND SOMETHING CALLED NARRATIVE AGENCY, SO I HAD TO BEAT HIM WITH A FOLDING CHAIR UNTIL HE STOPPED. YOU CAN HELP PAY FOR THE BODYCAST I PUT HIM IN BY SIGNING UP TODAY!

END OF ADVERTISEMENT.