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vampireids · 17 days ago

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perfect stranger

summary: lauren reynolds is dead, emily prentiss along with her, and spencer finds himself alone, struggling and in need of company (smut, angst)

warnings: former emily prentiss/spencer reid, exploration of grief, references to addiction and divorce, spencer acts questionably in this but he's struggling so forgive him, reader has some backstory, reader is referred to with she pronouns and wears makeup and a skirt, reader smokes cigarettes, spencer POV (third person limited). very, very angsty.

word count: 7.8k

a/n: the first half of this is quite spencer/emily centric in its themes, but the second half focusses more on the reader character. reader means everything to me and i am cradling her so gently. posting on mobile so let me know if there are any formatting issues!

Three weeks since Emily Prentiss had died and taken half of Spencer Reid with her.

Three weeks.

Three weeks that tasted of ash and bile, where no matter how brightly the sun shone everything still looked grey, where every smile he passed on the street seemed to be mocking him.

He hadn't had an easy life, not by any standard, but even he had been unaware of just how keenly he could hurt, just how painful and violent breathing could be. It was an agony that seemed to persist beyond any capacity a human being could feasibly endure, a constant bleeding wound in the cavity of his chest.

It hadn't been long before daydreams of oblivion took hold of him. Murmurs of a phone number he couldn't forget as hard as he tried sounded in his mind, growing louder and louder as days went by. If he called it, he could remember peace. More crucially, he could forget everything. A call, a deal, a prick, a push, and every screaming agony in his mind could go away. The sweet, muggy bliss of a syringe of dreamless sleep. It would be so easy.

A disapproving voice in his head that sounded uncannily like Emily pleaded with him to resist the allure. She wouldn't want him to submit to the urge. She'd want him to withstand the pain, to feel the burn of grief boldly and without reprieve, to let time heal him with all the swiftness of a wounded sloth.

But it had been Emily who had loved him enough to keep him grounded and sober. And without her, how could he ever be strong enough to do it? The constant craving for quiet had been drowned out by the sounds of her soft sighs as his body pressed against her, by the consuming sensation of her around him and on top of him and in the beating heart in his chest.

And slowly, an idea formed. He couldn't have Emily anymore. But he could find something close enough. Some approximation to act as a temporary sigil to ward off the ghosts at his door. It had been an old coping mechanism he’d turned to in the early days of his sobriety. Nothing was more deadly to an addict than solitude, so he’d sought out company where he could get it, in faceless women in bar bathrooms and parked cars.

It had worked before, and it could work again.

At the very least, it forced him to shower and put on nice clothes, to brush his teeth and hair and remember the feeling of being alive. With his face clean and his body dressed, he could almost pass for human instead of the walking gaping wound he felt like.

The bar was an old favourite of his. The lights were dim and low, the music soft and unobtrusive. It wasn't any kind of high class establishment, but it didn't need to be for his purpose. With any luck, he wouldn't be here long.

He walked to the bar and ordered a neat whiskey. Drinking in his fragile state was unwise, but he needed to feel the burn of it sliding down his throat to remind him he was still capable of feeling anything but grief. After a bracing sip, he took a seat on a barstool and surveyed the milling revellers. They all seemed carefree and happy in a way he resented, drinking and laughing and dancing with one another, lovesick like he’d once been.

One woman caught his eye on the other end of the bar. She was alone, like him. Nursing whiskey neat like him. Seeming just lonely enough to make his own crushing solitude feel less isolating. She noticed him watching her and smiled, a coy edge to it that made heat start to simmer in the core of him.

She wasn't Emily, but she had a similar fire in her eyes, the same challenge in her smile, a striking beauty to her face that stung as much as it excited.

If he could find her beautiful, then beauty was still attainable to him. Things could still be wonderful in some far off life.

He was so lost in his thoughts he didn't notice she'd stood, approaching him and sitting in the stool beside him.

“Waiting for someone?” she asked softly.

Yes, he thought, I’m waiting for Emily, and I’ll be waiting for as long as I live.

But for tonight, he would temporarily cease his waiting. So he smiled, shook his head, and said. “No. Are you?”

She grinned at him, and the expression was so reminiscent of Emily's sly smiles that it hurt. “I was. But I think I found what I was waiting for.”

The line was so cheesy and silly he couldn't help but huff out a laugh. “And what would that be?”

“Someone pretty. Someone who looks like they might have stories to tell.” She tilted her head. “You know anyone like that?”

“I might,” he shrugged. “I’m Spencer.”

She told him her name and he barely heard it but he knew he wouldn't forget it. He knew he was supposed to say something, so he breathed, “that's a beautiful name. It suits you.”

Her smile was like the sun and he almost believed he could feel warm again. “You're not so bad yourself.”

He’d never grown used to accepting a compliment so he ducked his head to hide his face. She was already talking again, saving him from the awkwardness of knowing how to reply.

“What brought you here tonight?”

The truth wasn't something he was ready to share with a stranger. He approximated it with, “I’m looking to feel a little less alone.”

Her hand on his was soft and warm. “What a coincidence. I’m here for the same thing.”

He couldn't fathom someone like her, so beautiful and confident and with such a warm presence, being lonely. So he raised his eyebrows. “You're really wanting for company?”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she laughed. “But yes. I am wanting for company. I just moved here.”

“What made you move here?”

“Nothing special about here. I needed to leave my life behind and threw a dart at a map of the states and moved where it landed. Well, technically it landed on Virginia, but I overruled that. This was close enough.”

Needed to leave her life behind.

She'd said it casually, but it was an interesting thing to note. Like him, she was lost, alone, hiding from something. Seeking comfort in the arms of strangers who wouldn’t stick around to fix her messes. He hummed thoughtfully. “Running from something?”

With a shrug, she murmured, “aren’t we all?”

“Most people,” he conceded.

“You?”

“I don’t like to think I am. But I don’t think I’d be here tonight if I wasn’t.”

She smiled at him slightly. He was only just starting to realise what else about the smile reminded him of Emily - the slight undercurrent of sadness to it. “That’s the nice thing about running.” she said after a pause. “Sometimes you look up and realise your feet took you somewhere good without you even realising it.”

“Are you somewhere good?”

“You’ll have to tell me,” she said softly, and leaned forwards, capturing his mouth in a kiss.

It took a moment for his brain to catch up with his situation before he was kissing her back. She tasted like whiskey, fiery and hot and intoxicating. He reached his palm up to rest it on her cheek and she made a soft noise of encouragement, sliding her tongue into his mouth.

The angle of it was awkward, their bodies angled towards each other and hanging off their barstools, but it didn’t make the kiss any less dizzying. It wasn’t Emily, no way to pretend for even a second it was, the taste of her and the shape of her and the feeling of her were all different. But it didn’t matter. It was company, and she was beautiful, and he knew in his heart Emily would want him to do this. She’d want him to find something that would help ease the pain. She would never want him to be lonely.

She pulled away and he gasped.

“Do you want to get out of here?” she asked breathlessly.

He nodded desperately, wrapping his hand around her wrist. “Yes. Please.”

“My place okay?”

“Yes. That’s perfect. Let’s go.”

She picked up her glass of whiskey and motioned for him to do the same. As soon as he did she wrapped her arm around his and linked them at the elbow, holding her drink aloft. It took a second to realise what she wanted, and when he did, he grinned. It was silly, childish, exactly what he needed. She nodded at him and, arms interlocked, they downed their drinks in unison. The liquor burned his throat like a sip of liquid flame and he struggled to keep his mouth neutral as he swallowed, watching as she wrinkled her nose. He couldn’t help his huffed laugh, giddy with the drink and the company.

She led him out of the bar, weaving them around the huddles of drunks and tables of friends in silence, and pounding guilt nestled behind his chest. Three weeks since the death of his lover, and he’d already found his way into the arms of someone else. What kind of man was he? Was his loyalty so thin?

But she turned towards him, glancing back with a mischief in her eyes that was achingly, throbbingly familiar, and he couldn’t make himself pull away.

He wasn’t a man of God. He didn’t believe Emily was watching down on him, in pain at the thought of him with another woman. She was simply gone. He couldn’t live for a ghost he didn’t believe in.

It was all hollow justification, really, convincing himself it wasn’t wrong to do the thing he already knew he would do. Her pulse under his fingertips was thrumming and alive, the sign of a heart that could pump blood and skin that was flush with warmth, and he needed to feel that. He needed to want something that could want him back.

The air was chilled as they stepped outside into the street and he stumbled into her as she came to a sudden stop. She giggled softly and wrapped her arm around him, steadying him and pulling him softly against her. Her body was a column of heat beside him, every breath she took causing her chest to rise and fall against him. Living, living, so alive, something real, something tangible. He’d known this woman all of 10 minutes and he loved her as much as he hated her for simply being alive.

It wasn’t fair on this poor woman, this beautiful woman, this kind woman to be drawing these constant comparisons. That thought, more than any other, almost gave him pause. He vowed to want her for what she was and not what she wasn’t. She was sweet, beautiful, haunted, said he had pretty eyes and looked like someone with stories. She had soft skin and lovely eyes, a smile that held secrets and promises that he wouldn’t get to know. He could want her for that.

She swung out her arm and a taxi pulled in beside them and they stumbled into the taxi, their bodies never leaving each other until she shuffled across the seat to the other side. Even then, her hand stayed on his arm and he revelled in the touch. She leaned forwards to share her address with the taxi driver and they drove into the night, the flickering street lights casting shadows on her face.

He couldn’t help it, he leaned forwards to kiss her again. Her lips were a temporary oblivion, something consuming to drown out the noise of his grief. A comfort in company, a reminder he wasn’t as alone as he felt. The guilt bubbling in his stomach was dulled by the softness of her lips, the gentle movement of her tongue, the sharp bite of her teeth on his lower lip. So different to Emily. Not different enough.

No.

She was her own person.

He pulled away with a gasp, her chest heaving to match his own.

“You’re good at that,” she mumbled.

He moved his thumb across her cheek. “So are you.”

She smiled and kissed him again, and he let himself sink into it, to feel the heat of another person against him, to let the sensations wash over him and through him and stir those familiar desires beneath his skin.

It was a quick taxi to her apartment and then he staggered onto the sidewalk like a man intoxicated. He was dizzy, though he only had the one drink. On a street he’d never been on before despite his years in the city, the buildings unfamiliar, his companion a stranger, and he felt like someone totally different. Someone else. Someone who could be casual and silly and risky and stupid. Not Spencer Reid. Not the grieving man.

His alienation from himself would be frightening if he had the fortitude to care. Instead, he called it a blessing and let his beautiful stranger pull him up the stairs.

Her apartment was four flights up, and by the time they reached her door, he was breathless. She laughed at the pink on his cheeks and he felt a hum of embarrassment course through him.

“Not laughing at you, baby, I promise,” she murmured as she turned to unlock the door. The term of endearment sent something hot running through his veins and his face only got warmer.

The door was pushed open, and she waited for him to enter before shutting it behind her.

Another moment of guilt and hesitation threatened to break him and he drowned it out by pulling her closer and capturing her mouth in a desperate kiss. She made a soft noise of surprise against him before melting into it, bringing her hand up to rest on his shoulder and pressing herself against him. It was soft and sweet and nothing he needed it to be so he deepened it, pressed her against the wall to gain the leverage to kiss her roughly. She let out another low sound of pleasure and it emboldened him, gave him the courage he needed to guide his hand up her thigh and under her skirt, running his fingertips along her hip.

She threw her head back with a soft “fuck,” letting her head rest against the wall as he moved his hand from resting on her hip to tracing over the line of her underwear and brought it down until it was ghosting along her core.

Her softness, pliability, was intoxicating and so different from what he was used to. Emily gave as good as she got, was bared teeth and strength and only going down with a fight. His beautiful stranger seemed happy to let him control the night, and he was grateful for it in that moment, grateful for the opportunity to have the control in the bedroom he’d lost over his life.

She gripped onto his shoulders hard as he pushed the panties aside and ran his fingers over the exposed flesh, spreading the accumulated arousal and circling over the sensitive nub at her apex.

He attached his lips to her neck, grazing his teeth across her collarbone and drinking in the sounds she made as he slowly inserted one finger, and then a second.

“Baby, god, feels so good,” she mumbled above him and the praise went straight to his cock, the taste of her skin against his tongue and the feeling of her around his fingers creating a dizzying cocktail of arousal in his abdomen. He was making her feel good, he was capable of creating pleasure in another, he could do something right even if his life felt wrong and hollow. He clung to that knowledge as he sucked a mark into her neck and basked in her whines.

Years of magic tricks gave him agile hands, a skill at profiling let him read a woman’s pleasure in her gasps and twitches, and it wasn't long before her moans were heightening in pitch and volume and her nails were pressing into his shoulders desperately. He felt a glow of pride as she came undone around him, moaning his name in shaking cadence. He pulled his fingers from her carefully and felt a bolt of arousal at the sight of her, her skirt rucked up around her waist, her cheeks pink and her eyeliner smudged.

“You have wonderful hands,” she murmured after a few moments of loaded silence.

He laughed roughly. “I’ve been told that before,” he mumbled, and didn't mention the woman who’d told him.

“Let me make you feel good too, baby,” she said, and her widened eyes and desperate tone made it sound very much like a plea.

His head was spinning, body alight with lust, too full of want for the guilt to make a dent, and he nodded. He was sick, sick, sick in the head, his agreement a condemnation of himself, and so he nodded.

“Yes. Yes, okay. Let's go to the bedroom,” he tried to speak through the dizzy desire and warring self-loathing and his voice came out thin.

She frowned, eyes big and concerned and placed her hand on his cheek. “Are you okay, baby? You don't have to do anything you don't want to.”

He shook his head almost violently, causing her hand to drop to his shoulder. He felt its absence like a wound. “No. Please. I want this, I want you.”

She still looked hesitant so he kissed her, feeling the tension leave her body as his tongue explored her mouth. The relief of her wordless acquiescence was physical. He needed this, he needed her, he needed his life to dissolve in a melody of moans until he couldn't remember anything but the present, until everything faded but touch and heat and want.

He couldn't bear the weight of his mind alone. She might be a stranger, but he needed her. And curse Emily's voice in his head chiding him softly both for using this poor woman and for so quickly finding solace in the body of another. He was using her, sure, but she was using him too. It wasn’t like she was in love with him, and he wasn’t in love with her either. It was a one night stand, not marriage. And he and Emily had never labelled their relationship, had never been able to communicate well enough to even discuss exclusivity and all of that aside, she was fucking dead so really she’d left him first and didn’t have the right to be judging him.

He was talking so much to the Emily in his head he was starting to remember that he was still in the window for schizophrenia.

He kissed the woman more desperately, drowning out that thought. She made a keening, broken sound against him, and it temporarily brought him to the present.

He took a hold of her wrist, still resting against his collarbone and stumbled back. “Bedroom, please,” he begged, too far gone to be self-conscious of the pleading tone.

She smiled, her pupils blown wide and her lips darkened from the bruising force of the kiss. “Come on, baby.”

She took a stumbling step towards him and he felt a surge of pride he’d taken her apart so thoroughly. He was still a man, after all, and she was a woman, a stupidly beautiful woman he was undeserving of, and it felt good to know he was bringing her pleasure.

He let himself be led like a lamb by its shepherd to her bedroom. It was clean, minimal, the bedroom of a flight risk who didn’t want anything tying them down. No photographs, no personal effects, nothing in the room that didn’t serve a utility.

The profiler in his brain was switched off by her hands moving to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them with nimble fingers. Once his shirt hung loose, her touch moved to his bare chest, tracing across the planes of his torso. He felt unavoidably self-conscious under her scrutiny, but she looked at him with such a heat in her eyes he couldn’t help but know she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

He still wanted to know what demons had led her to him, to seeking solace in the arms of a man she didn’t know, but he shoved the thought down. She was well within her right to want a one night stand, she didn’t have to be damaged just because he was. And besides, she’d started removing her own shirt, and it was hard to think about anything other than her chest, framed by a delicate black brassiere.

She caught his heated gaze because she laughed softly. “Like what you see, baby?”

He nodded stupidly. “God, so much.”

And then she was kissing him, walking him backwards towards the bed where he was all too happy to go.

His knees hit the back of the bed and he dropped onto it, looking up at her as she undid the button fastening her skirt and let it fall to the floor. Her underwear matched the bra, and she wore them well, the lines and curves of her silhouette enough to intoxicate him. He leaned forwards to kiss her abdomen softly and she gasped. Their positioning, her above him with his head against her stomach, was some strange parody of worship. In a way, she was a god to him. He was giving himself as an offering in futile hope of salvation, devoting himself to a beautiful concept of a woman. She was nothing real and everything wonderful. A perfect stranger.

Her hands wove themselves into his hair and he groaned out his oblation into her skin.

“I need you, baby, please,” she whispered into the still air of the room, and he was her willing servant.

He sat back, and before his hands could reach down to unfasten his pants, she was undoing them for him, her fingers trembling as she fiddled with his button and then his fly.

There was something unsettling about her movements, and he stilled. “You okay?” he murmured.

“Yeah. Yeah, just want you,” she mumbled as he shimmied out of his pants.

There was something she wasn’t telling him, but he didn’t have time to ask before she was dropping to straddle his lap, his cock only separated from her arousal by the flimsy fabric of their undergarments. He might have been a genius, but even he found it hard to think about anything much with a woman in his lap, her hips shifting against his and sending his senses into overdrive.

He begged a silent plea of forgiveness to the Emily in his head. She remained stonily silent. He took it as permission and put his hands around the waist of his perfect stranger, using his leverage to twist them both until she was lying beneath him on the bed.

“You’re beautiful,” he said softly, and the tender words felt like more of a betrayal than the sex.

“So are you,” she whispered, and he kissed her gently. The kiss was short, chaste, before his lips were moving - kissing down her jaw, the column of her throat, her chest, her abdomen, her stomach. She gasped softly as he reached the waistband of her panties, and he lingered there just a moment, looking up at the rapt expression on her face.

He noticed, not for the first time, how very sad she looked behind the desire. Maybe she knew he was thinking about someone else. More likely, she was thinking about someone else. It wasn’t his business. He understood what it was like to need to drown out the ghosts.

It was the echo of that thought that played in his head as he slowly pulled down her panties. Drown the ghost, make her feel good, bask in the warmth of another, remember what it means to live and breathe and feel. Simple instructions, a defined victory condition, something black and white and real. He tossed her underwear aside and looked up at her, propped up on her shoulders to watch as he exposed her.

He must have stayed there a moment too long, because she made a soft, plaintive sound and mumbled, “Baby, please. Don’t tease me.”

“Sorry,” he grinned, not sorry at all if it made her call him baby in that desperate, whining voice, and licked a stripe up her core.

She made a harsh, pleading noise at the contact, and he felt it like lightning under his skin. He pushed away the thoughts of the sounds Emily had once made, and moved to suck gently on her clit, summoning more sweet whines from her lips.

Her hands came down to twist in his hair and he groaned against her. He felt hot, shivery, alternating waves of lust and guilt rocking through him like a boat tossed about through the surf. Something about the sheer wrongness of it was only heightening his desire. His grief was getting tangled in his need and his body was turning all of it into heat and want.

Eventually, she gasped raggedly and used her grip on his hair to pull him off of her, looking down at him with eyes turned the inky black shade of lust. “Need you, now, please, baby,” she groaned, and what man could say no to that?

He nodded, dizzy and hazy, and lifted himself onto his knees. “Condom?” he managed to force out through the white noise of his mind, and she sat up to lean over to her bedside drawer, rifling through a little box to pull out a Trojan.

He pulled off his own underwear hastily as she unwrapped it, and hissed as she leaned forwards to roll it onto him. He hadn’t realised how hard he was until her soft hands were ghosting over him, and the touch felt like little lines of fire over his skin. He groaned thickly and let his head fall back as she stroked him experimentally over the latex.

He didn’t want to wait any longer, couldn’t risk being still when the thoughts of everything he was hiding from could come back. Emily was being quiet in his skull, probably furious at his betrayal, but it was still quiet, no voice in his head but his own. So, he gently pushed her back until she was lying against the pillow, and put his weight on one arm as he guided himself to the centre of her arousal. He teased for a bit, sliding his length along her a few times to hear her breath hitch.

Finally, slowly, he pushed in, his eyelids fluttering as he was constricted by the tightness inside of her. It hadn’t even been that long since he’d had sex, but after years of having it almost daily, his body had grown accustomed to a certain frequency, and the tight heat felt like home.

As soon as he was fully immersed inside her, he let out a ragged, hoarse groan. Her own thin whine was in harmony with his, the musicality of their pleasure intertwining as their bodies did.

His vision blurred as he started to move, the friction sending sparks up through his skin as she gasped his name underneath him.

“Oh, fuck, Emily,” he groaned in return.

He didn’t realise what he’d done until she stilled completely under him.

“Emily?” she said quietly.

It was like a bucket of ice water had been thrown over him, every nerve going dead with the shock.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, and it felt so inadequate to the scale of his mistake.

She swallowed under him, her throat bobbing. Something was playing out behind her eyes, something not even years of profiling could clue him into. Eventually, she shook her head, the movement minute.

“It’s okay,” she said softly. “I understand. I can be Emily. If that’s what you need, I can be Emily.”

The words broke his heart. Who was this woman? Who had broken her down to the point she was willing to contort herself to be another woman for a man she’d never met?

He shook his head. “No. You’re not Emily. You’re you, and that’s a good thing to be. Don’t- you don’t- I’m an asshole. My head is a mess right now, it’s nothing to do with you. You’re wonderful, you’re beautiful, you’re kind. I want you.

She smiled thinly and brought her hand up to rest against his face. “It’s okay, baby. It’s one night. I’m whoever you want me to be, okay? Whatever you need. Let me take care of you.”

He groaned slightly, a war in his torso as her words cast a sick sort of spell on him. The person he wanted to be fought the battle, screamed at him that she obviously had her own demons, that he’d be taking advantage of what must be a self-esteem issue, to be allowing him - asking him - to pretend she was another woman. “It’s not right,” he mumbled.

“Does that really matter?” she whispered. “No one’s watching. I’m saying it’s okay.”

“Why?” he said desperately. “Why would that be okay?”

“We’re using each other, that’s all this is, right? I don’t know your life or your last name or your job or your friends, you’re whoever I want you to be tonight. I can be whoever you need me to be. It’s only fair.”

Her words made a strange sort of sense, or maybe he was choosing to believe that to stymie the guilt bubbling behind his ribs. He was using her, plain and simple, no matter whose name he was saying. If she didn’t care, why should he?

Because you’re better than that, the Emily in his head murmured disapprovingly. But who was she to talk when she’d left him all alone, when she’d lied to all of them to follow a terrorist without thinking of the wound she’d be leaving behind. So he nodded. “Okay. Okay. Are you… Do you want me to keep going?”

“Yes. Please,” she said, eyes big and pleading, and he gave only another cursory thought to wondering if she was okay before starting to move again. She wasn’t Emily, there wasn’t really a way to pretend that she was, unless he closed her eyes and that seemed too sick even for him. But the feeling of it all was still so achingly familiar - the heat, the tightness, the slick sounds of bodies connecting and the shaking gasps of pleasure.

He couldn’t pretend she was Emily, but he could pretend he loved her and she loved him. And with the way she looked at him, her jaw slack in ecstasy and her pupils blown with lust, it wasn’t hard. She looked beautiful, genuinely divine in the throes of her desire, in that way people only do at their most unrestrained. He leaned forwards and kissed her, drinking in the sounds she made against his lips and revelling in her hand gripping his shoulder like he was a lifeline, the thread connecting her to reality.

“Baby, oh, baby, I’m close, please, just like that, fuck,” the words were mumbled against his lips, garbled among gasps and soft whines, and it took a moment to decipher what she was saying. But once he’d decoded it, he glowed in his pride.

“Come for me whenever you want to, sweetheart,” he groaned, “Let me make you feel good.”

His tone was tender, fragile, delicate, the words of lovers and not strangers, and maybe that was the fantasy he was fulfilling with her. One where he loved freely and received it in return like he never could with Emily and her shroud of secrets. He’d pretended with her, and he was pretending again now, playing the role like he was born for it.

And when, maybe seconds or years later, her noises climbed in pitch and she tightened around him, he pushed her hair out of her face gently and fucked her like he knew her beyond the feeling of her body and the sounds of her bliss.

Her nails dug into him, and she called him, “baby,” again in that sweet, overwhelmed voice, and it was that which pushed him over the edge to his own undoing, his rhythm faltering and stuttering as he twitched inside of her.

This, the release, the moment where the world stopped and all he could feel was beautiful, perfect pleasure, was why he'd gone out tonight. A simulacrum of hydromorphone all released in one, lovely moment. One addiction swapped for another, oblivions traded. Her hand ghosted back over his cheekbone as he slowed and stopped, his head leaning into her palm as he stilled.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he laughed, breathlessly, smoothing out her hair before pulling out of her with a wince.

She sat up and watched as he tied off the condom. “I know, but I want to. I needed this. Let me take that, I’ll bin it in the bathroom.”

He smiled weakly and handed it to her, watching as she walked into the little ensuite next to the room. She shut the door behind her, and he sat awkwardly for a moment, his nakedness suddenly visceral in the solitude of another person’s bedroom. He stood and found his underwear, discarded next to the bed, shimmying into them as he waited for her to be done. He never knew what to do in this part, never knew the etiquette of the afterglow. Eventually, he heard the toilet flushing and the sound of the tap running, and she emerged from the bathroom clad in a short white satin robe, tied loosely at the waist.

“I’m going to have a cigarette,” she said with a little smile. “Care to join me?”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” he said, his voice hoarse, and followed her outside to the balcony. It was nice, a wrought iron railing shielding them from falling into the city skyline, two chairs nestled around a small round glass table. On it lay a crystalline ashtray, stained with dead embers, and a small pack of Marlboro Golds.

She sat on the far chair, motioning for him to sit too, and picked up the pack, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it up. She took a long drag and let her head fall back as she exhaled the smoke.

“I know it’s a bad habit,” she said quietly. “But I can’t bring myself to quit.”

He tilted his head as he watched her take another drag. “I used to tell my mother every cigarette she smoked was 6 less minutes she’d get to spend with me.”

“The way I live my life, I’m not expecting that to be an issue,” she shrugged.

“How do you live your life to expect to die young?”

She gestured at him. “Bringing strange men I meet while alone at a bar to my apartment, for one,” she deadpanned, and he couldn’t help his exhale of a laugh.

“Mm, touche, I suppose,” he sighed. “What makes you like it?”

She raised her eyebrows. “The cigarettes or the strange men?”

“Both, I guess.”

“It’s the same reason for both. Makes me feel like I have some control over things. Forces me to… confront my mortality, to get comfortable with the idea of death. It can’t scare me if I’m inviting it.”

He frowned. “You’re suicidal?”

A long pause where she seemed to be thinking, her eyes fixed on the twinkling lights of the city around them. “No. I’m not. But I’ve spent a lot of time living in fear of things that are inevitable, and I’m tired of that.”

He couldn’t help himself from wanting to pry. It was like that, sometimes, in the afterglow of sex. After the intimacy, the bedroom could become a confessional. “What inevitabilities are you scared of?”

She sighed and took another drag of the cigarette. “I married my high school sweetheart a year after we graduated. Our relationship was… fine. Good. He was the only man I’d ever been with, the only one I knew how to be with. Even when I knew he was having an affair, I couldn’t bring myself to let go of him. He was an asshole, sometimes, and a cheat, but sometimes he was so wonderful. He worked and supported us the whole time I was in college, he’d plan these extravagant dates and trips for us, always remembered birthdays and anniversaries. And I’d been with him since I was so young, I didn’t even know who I was if I wasn’t his wife. Even when I knew he didn’t love me anymore and I barely loved him, I stuck around. In the end, he left me. He got the other woman pregnant and owned up to everything I already knew. I didn’t even have the guts to tell him that none of it was news, because I felt so pathetic for tolerating it. That night, I quit my job, threw a dart at a map and moved here. Just like that. I didn’t want to be scared anymore. I wanted to just… live.”

He was quiet for a long time. “I’m sorry,” he said eventually, and it was a pale pleasantry against the scale of her admission.

“It’s okay,” she murmured. “Not like it’s your fault. Just illustrating the point. I knew the relationship was over years before it actually was. But I was so scared of the unknown I refused to admit it. I’m not going to do that anymore.”

“That’s a good philosophy,” he said softly.

She smiled at him, the look stained with melancholy. “Yeah, I like to think so.”

The silence dragged, unobtrusive and comfortable as she ashed her cigarette and lit up a second. “Who’s Emily?” she asked eventually, and he startled.

He watched her hands as she let the cigarette dangle between her fingers. “It’s a long story.”

“I have time,” she pressed. “Story for a story.”

“I have a… stressful job. One where I have to travel a lot. And I had a coworker, Emily. We started sleeping together as a way to let off steam on tough days. I fell in love with her. I think she loved me too. We never said it. She’s a… flight risk, I guess, runs away at the first sign of anything emotionally scary, and any time things between us got too real, she’d freeze me out. I learned to keep my feelings to myself. But I was in love with her. There’s nothing I wouldn’t have done to keep her near me.”

“That’s hard,” his perfect stranger murmured. “Where is she now?"

“She’s dead,” he said flatly, as if keeping the emotions from his voice would stop it from hurting him. “She was murdered.”

“Oh,” she said softly. “Fuck, that’s- I’m sorry. That’s horrible.”

He shook his head, the ugly bitterness in his chest building up and spilling from his mouth. “She knew. She knew he was coming after her, she knew what he was capable of, and she never told me. I could have done something, and she took that chance away from me. And I’m so angry at her, but I can’t be angry at her because she’s gone. What use is it being furious with a ghost?”

“It’s normal to have mixed feelings when a loved one dies, baby,” she says softly. “In a way, she left you, even if she didn’t want to. It’s hard. It’s a breakup with no room for self-reflection and no way to change things. The loss of your future and the shadow over the past. There’s a lot of different stuff going on in your head right now. There’s no wrong way to feel about it all.”

He knew that, was intellectually versed on the complications and machinations of grief. He’d seen all kinds of people in the throes of their losses - mothers who’d lost children when their last words had been in anger, husbands whose wives had stormed out and never made it home to talk it out, children who’d snuck out and returned to find their parents dead. He was acquainted with the intricate weaving of love and guilt and grief, had read every study on managing loss, had sat in the room with countless people in the seconds after learning their loved one had been taken from them.

And yet, there still lingered a revolting feeling of wrongness in his grief. For all that he knew the way he was behaving and feeling and coping was normal - all of it, the sex, the cravings, the depression, the bitter, cruel anger - he couldn't help but sink into the belief he was wrong for all of it.

But the look on her face, wide eyed and earnest, her brows slightly furrowed as she watched him intensely, made him believe her. This was a woman acquainted with loss, he could tell. He didn't have to pry to know that. She understood him in a way the journal articles didn't quite seem to.

Maybe, for all his overreliance on academia to navigate the world, he needed people like everyone else did. Emily had taught him that loving was worth the agony of losing.

He was quiet for a while, thinking through her words.

“Why were you willing to pretend to be her?” he asked.

She pursed her lips. “I liked what we were doing. I didn’t want you to stop. And you seemed like you needed it.”

“That's it? I mean, I called you the wrong name, I would assume that would be a dealbreaker for anyone.”

“I'm not under any illusions about what this was. It was a beautiful thing, but nothing to do with who I am or who you are and what we deserve. Just… people fucking for the sake of it, like they’ve done through all of human history. I wanted it to be good for you, just like I could tell you wanted it to be good for me. It makes it feel better if you're both getting what you want. And I've been a lot of people for a lot of people. It doesn't bother me.”

It still didn't seem quite right to him, but he nodded anyway. He just watched her for a moment, watched the movement of her irises as she looked at the shimmering skyline of the city, the careless elegance of her cigarette drags, the way her robe split over where she crossed her legs to reveal the soft skin of her thighs. She seemed solid in a way he deeply envied, a steady contrast to his own flickering identity.

“Thank you,” he said softly before he even thought the words. “Tonight could have been a bad night. But it wasn't. This has been the easiest night since-” he swallowed, stopping the thought there. “I feel… lighter.”

She made a quiet humming noise in response. “I feel the same. You're a nice person to be around, baby.”

He flushed a little at the endearment, a little token of affection she seemed so at ease sharing. She was a forthcoming person, he was noticing - quick to give. Her thoughts, her kindness, her love. It was an interesting counterweight against a scarcity in her home that spoke to solitude and distance. In just the short time he'd known her, she had shown her share of little contradictions. Clearly self-assured, but willing to pretend to be another woman to please a stranger. Clearly loving, but isolated and lonely.

Before he could stop himself, he said, “I'd like to get to know you better.”

The statement was innocent - he truly meant exactly what he said. She was, in many ways, fascinating to him, and solving her was a welcome distraction from trying to solve his own issues. He liked being around her. But her eyes widened and then crinkled sadly.

“I'm not- you're sweet, baby, and you're handsome, too. Your Emily was lucky to have you. But I'm not ready to be anyone's love anytime soon. And I don’t think you're ready for that either.”

He shook his head. “Oh! No, I didn’t mean- no, I'm not ready for anything like that, I'm- I just meant… I don’t have many friends, or at least friends who didn't know her. And you said at the bar you were lonely too, and I just thought- I'd like to be your friend. If that's okay with you.”

She looked at him for a while, as if trying to find a double meaning behind his irises. Then, wonderfully, she nodded, her lips quirking up at the edges. “I'd like that, baby. Let’s be friends.”

He felt a strange sense of gratefulness bubble in his chest. This could be something good, even if it came from something bad. He held out a hand to shake. “Friends.”

She shook it with a little laugh. “Friends.”

Trying his luck, he added, “And if friends involves doing,” he gestured back towards the bedroom, “that, I wouldn't complain.”

She raised her eyebrows and ashed her cigarette. “Give me a second to brush my teeth and we can demo it, try out our new friendship arrangement?”

He nodded quickly. “Yes. Please. In the name of trial and error, I think we should definitely do that.”

She stood and leaned over to kiss him gently on the forehead. “Wait for me in the bedroom, baby. We've got some friendship to do.”

He watched her go inside. her robe swaying softly with her movements. Emily was quiet in his head, but the silence didn't feel reproachful. He allowed the grief to take hold of him for a second.

And then he followed the perfect stranger inside.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut #emily prentiss/spencer reid #spemily

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id-pack-archive · 10 months ago

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Plain text

NPTs based on Nagito Komaeda from SDR2!

Nora, Lucky, Bunnie, Theo, Frail, Necro, Servant, Clover, Boone, Faust.

Luck/Lucks, Bun/Buns, Ae/Aer, Ho/Hope, Grim/Grims.

The ultimate/SHSL lucky student, Prn whose luck precedes prn, The servant, The self-appointed ultimate hope, Prn who always believes in hope.

𓂃 ✚ 。 NPTs based on Nagito Komaeda from SDR2 !

Nora , Lucky , Bunnie , Theo , Frail , Necro , Servant , Clover , Boone , Faust .

Luck／Lucks , Bun／Buns , Ae／Aer , Ho／Hope , Grim／Grims .

The ultimate／SHSL lucky student , Prn whose luck precedes prn , The servant , The self-appointed ultimate hope , Prn who always believes in hope .

#theme | games #theme | anime #theme | manga #theme | luck #names #pronouns #titles

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apollodarling-writes · 2 years ago

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Simon Says...

MINORS DNI!!!

desc: Simon “Ghost” Riley decides to take Simon says a bit further...

cw: multiple creampies, unsafe sex, ghost was out here rawdoggin you without a condom or even asking if you were on contraceptives beforehand smh, afab reader but no specified pronouns, marking, rough sex, uhh a lil blood play cause i feel like ghost would kinda be into that, dom!ghost/sub!reader, manhandling, spanking, bruising mention, public play, a little degradation, praise, Ghost is kinda mean at first, i use the term ‘pretty’ but it’s meant to sound gn, it might be kinda shitty... sorry ;(, idk if i mentioned it already but ghost is a sadist in this, reader shows slight masochism btw, kinda??? blood drinking, some possessive themes, throat fucking, this is fucking absolute filth, ghosty boy goes feral, simon's orgasm hits real hard for him- it's prolly the mutual pining and finally being able to fuck you tbh, uhhh also pussy drunk! simon, and some cunnilingus, dumbification, virgin!reader

this isn't proofread. it's also prolly a little shitty at the end. I was rushing to get this out.

@willywonkagirly @darklordofthesimp @ifellinthebongebong @midnightlockhearth

Everything started with you challenging Ghost to a drinking contest. No one in the 141 Task Force had the pleasure of seeing the man drunk, and you would be the one to change that. Upon deciding the night was nice enough, and hoping that luck would be on your side, you had slung your arm over the man’s shoulder and proposed the idea. Surprisingly, with enough begging and batting your eyelashes halfheartedly, Ghost had finally agreed.

The rest of it was a blur. One moment you were flirting with Ghost, and the next you were being dragged to the bathrooms in the back of the bar, shoulders slamming against the cool metal of the divider.

“Ghost! What the hell?” You weakly protest, your words slurring together.

“You like to play games, don’t you?” The man growls, venom dripping from every word that leaves his lips.

“What are you-“ Ghost’s hand shoots out, gripping your jaw.

“Did I say you could speak, [Name]?” Your eyes widen as you gently shake your head. “Then don’t speak.”

You bite your lip as the Lieutenant purrs, “You learn quick don’t you, Angel?”

“Now, since you like to play games with me, what d’ya say to a nice ol’ game of Simon Says?”

Simon says?

You furrow your brows at the man’s choice of game, but agree nonetheless. With a slight nod of the head, you hear Ghost chuckle.

“We’ll start off simple, yeah?” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond. “Simon Says: Take off my mask.”

You blanch. “A-Are you sure, Gh-“

The Lieutenant clicks his tongue, followed by a disappointed sigh. Thick fingers wrap around the soft flesh of your throat as he ghosts his cloth-covered lips along your jaw, nipping at your flesh here and there.

“Are you gonna be good for me, or am I going to have to make you? I’d prefer that you be the good little bitch you are, but…” Ghost trails off for a moment, an arm wrapping around your back, pulling you flush against his broad chest, his other hand trailing lower and lower. “I don’t mind putting you in your place, Angel.”

His fingers just barely brush against your clothed clit- a promise of what’s to come if you’re good for him.

“Will you be good for me, Pretty?” Parting your lips as the man applies gentle pressure, you quickly nod your head. Ghost releases a sultry chuckle, butterflies filling your tummy as a result, and removes his grip on you.

“Good.”

The LT takes a step back, allowing you to shakily pull his mask off.

He’s beautiful, is your first thought.

The man had to be a god. With pretty, plush lips, dirty blond hair that’s grown out just a tad more than Ghost- no, Simon- would’ve liked, long lashes that frame his gorgeous ice-blue eyes… you couldn’t bring yourself to look away.

"Ya like what ya see, Sargeant?"

"You weren't kidding when you said you were far from ugly..." You murmur, causing the man to chuckle. His eyes meet yours, a hungry, lustful look swirling within. Simon reaches his hand forward, cupping your cheek and brushing the pad of his thumb against your lip.

"Simon Says: kiss me."

You inch closer to him, gently pressing your lips against his and wrapping your arms around the back of his neck. The man quickly takes the lead, tongue brushing over your bottom lip and fingers gripping the meat of your waist- surely, there would be bruises tomorrow. Simon kisses you heatedly, lifting one of your thighs and pinning it against his hip, biting your lip and tongue here and there.

"You drive me fuckin' crazy, love." He murmurs, pressing chaste kisses to your jaw, trailing down the length of your neck.

Ghost bites down on the apex of your shoulder, forcing a pained whine to erupt from your throat. He shivers at the sound and sinks his canines deeper into your flesh, reluctantly pulling away as you begin to squirm and licks up the droplets of blood leaking from the wound.

Simon's gaze drops to the bitemark he left- a pretty purple and red taking up a portion of your shoulder. Blood rushes to the man's cock, the pants he wears beginning to strain rather painfully against his flushed tip.

"Simon says: get on your knees."

You immediately obey, mouth watering at the promise those four words held. He hurriedly unzips his jeans, the imprint of his cock making you whimper. Your core pulses as he lowers his boxers, length slapping against his abdomen, the sensitivity of it causing a poorly contained groan to form in his throat.

One hand wraps around the base, roughly tapping your lips with the leaking tip, while the other tangles itself in your hair.

"Open."

You obey.

"Suck"

You obey.

Simon's hand guides your head, forcing his cock deep into your throat.

"Doin' so good for me." He groans. "Feels so fuckin' good."

Ghost holds your head in place as he comes closer and closer to his climax, length thrusting in and out of your throat. Heat pools in your tummy, thighs clenching together as one hand slowly reaches down to fondle your clit.

"'m gonna fuckin' cum. 'm gonna fuckin cum-" Simon groans, hips suddenly stilling and eyes screwing shut as his vision borders a delicious white. He shakily pulls out, fingers brushing against your cheek, and orders you to swallow all of it.

Just like before, you obey.

"Simon says: Strip."

Swallowing thickly, you begin to strip off your clothes. By now, your underwear was practically transparent- glistening in the dim lighting, the outline of your heat on display for the LT. He hooks a finger around the seams of the garment and tears the fabric from your body.

Simon is quick to replace the fabric- his tongue lazily drawing circles on your nub and fingers prodding at your slit.

"'m gonna make you cum 'fore I fuck you." Ghost murmurs his promise into the meat of your inner thigh, releasing a throaty groan as he relishes in the taste of you.

He coaxes one orgasm out of you.

Two orgasms.

Three orgasms.

Simon didn't want to stop. Between your fingers tugging harshly in his hair, the pretty purple marks blooming in the shape of his hand on your outer thighs, and the name carved into your tummy- Simon Riley was sure he was dreaming. The taste of you, the feel of you, the scent of you; everything was just too good to be true.

"Simon please- hah fuck!- need you inside me." You whine, hips bucking at just the right angle forcing a fourth orgasm from you.

"'m so proud of you, Angel. Did so fuckin good for me, yeah?" Simon stands from his kneeling position, picking you up and pressing your back against his chest- arms hooked beneath your knees and aligning your hole with his cock. "How about I fuck you dumb, hm? How about that, baby?"

"Please. Please, Si- I just need you. Need'ta be filled."

Ghost sinks you on his cock slowly, the pain from the stretch causing you to bite your lip and tears to prick your eyes.

"Si- I've never- I've never-"

"I'll be gentle, pretty. Just feel good for me." Simon begins raising you to the middle of his shaft, and sinks you down ever so slowly. Tension pools into the pit of your stomach, growing tighter and tighter, making you more sensitive as time goes on. Simon adjusts his angle, hitting a spot inside you that makes the tension crash down on you- your mind going blank and walls fluttering around Simon.

"Fuck-" Simon increases his pace- hips snapping into yours as he comes closer to his own orgasm. His hips never still as he spurts thick ropes of cum into you, fucking it back into you with each thrust.

Simon slams you on his cock, back pressed against the cool metal, as his hips snap up to meet halfway.

"'s too much Si-"

"Take what I give you, slut- oh god, 'm gonna fuckin cum again-"

Simon fucks into you faster and faster as he chases his own orgasm, forcing another from you. "'m gonna fuckin breed that pretty little pussy of yours. Need'ta make you mine-"

Simon cums a final time, dripping onto the floor as he gently pulls out from you, pressing a kiss to your temple and cleaning you up.

"Ya think they're fuckin?"

"Soap MacTavsish."

"Sorry, sorry."

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ayasuki · 1 year ago

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4th Bakugou x Reader Fanfic recs

note: if i put none/no title, the writer has not given the work a title :P

> • 𝑹𝒆𝒄𝒔 𝑳𝒊𝒔𝒕

all fics are smut

" tempting tempest " by lord-explosion-baku

shark!bakugou X mer!reader

warnings: mentions of noncon/dubious themes, slight violence, sexual themes

" he's lost " by xoxo-teddybear

bakugou x fem!reader

series 4 parts

warnings: angst, physical harm, cursing, accused cheating, katsuki’s insecurities, eventual smut

summary: y/n is so busy around valentine’s, her lack of attention towards her Pomeranian is causing him to freak out and do the worst of the worst.

" i warned you " by melticss

dom!bakugou x sub!fem!reader

warning: dirty talk, slut shaming, play fighting, oral (fem receiving) (male receving) sex, embarrassment

" on your knees " by luvrkay

bakugou x gn!reader

short

warning: blowjob

" drunk fuck " by lighterfluid1

two versions: bakugou x fem!reader | bakugou x m!reader

warnings: mentions of alcohol, they/them pronouns, drunk sex, lots of degration, aggressive sex, creampie, fingering, overstimulation, some dirty talk, edging, oral sex (both char. receiving), half clothed sex, anal (for m!reader)

bakugou x fem!reader pt 2 | bakugou x m!reader

warnings: they/them pronouns, masturbation, violence, mentions of blood, near death experience, anesthesia/medical drugs, top!receiving, creampie, dacryphilia, degradation, belly bulge, overstim, anal (for m!reader)

" dumb bitch " by dovkss

mean!dom! katsuki x bimbo!fem!reader

summary: after you pine after him for so long with no luck, Katsuki finally decides to take you as his; thanks to his best friend.

warning: dirty talk, oral (m receiving), rough sex, spitting, choking, breath play, degradation, hair pulling, manipulation, dacryphilia, edging, size kink, misogyny, yandere tendencies, kinda ooc, kinda dubcon-ish?, reader is drunk for the most part, katsuki is an ass; poor eijiro won’t take no for an answer and ends up getting fucked over bc of it; katsuki and ei are basically frenemies

part 2

warning: manhandling, blowjob (m receiving), degradation, slapping, public sex, possessive & controlling katsuki; choking & gagging, yandere themes, poor eijiro once again :((

" no title " by thatgirlgames

farm owner!bakugo x chubby cow hybrid!reader

warning: heavy lactation kink, tit sucking, cream pies, cow hybrids, moterboating.

" no title " by salimanderwrites

pro-hero!bakugo x bimbo secretary!reader

warning: boss x employee, reader is both a bimbo and a bit of a perv, bakugo is soft for reader and a soft dom, f and m masturbation, imagined freeuse scenario, imagined exhibition, phone sex, exchanging fantasies (office sex, possessiveness, blowjob, eating reader out), actual sex, praise, oral f!receiving, unprotected sex, brief pain from sex

" no title " by mhathotfic

neko!bakugou x fem!reader

warning: creampie

" bakugou wants to try anal " by 1-800-cybersaint

bakugou x fem!reader

warning: creampie

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thesongoficeandfir3 · 5 months ago

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The wolf, the raven, and the hunt ( the wolf, the raven and, the arrow part 2)

Benjicot ‘Davos’ Blackwood x fem!Stark reader

A/n: The long awaited part twooooo!!! I’m not gonna lie, I wasn’t planning on making a part two but since so much of you asked I just had to!

I hope atleast some of you like this because I know I don’t , I’m sorry for any grammar mistakes :/ 💔

Warnings: female reader, female pronouns are used, Canon typical sexism but not really, sexual themes alluded but not described, canon typical violence, sa is talked about but happens to no one, No deers were hurt in the making of this story, lmk if I missed anything

It was the earlier hours of the morning when the courtyard of Riverrun was hustling and bustling with activity. The hunting dogs are barking, the horses neighing, and the servants, stable boys, maids etc.. are all moving about urgently getting everything ready for the hunt that is about to leave.

You and your brother were supposed to leave the Riverlands a week ago, but a certain Stark had taken up interest in a certain Blackwood. That being Cregan and Alyssane of course…..

As you walk among the chaos of everyone preparing, you spot Benjicot sitting on a bench in the corner breaking his fast. After the archery incident you two had spoken here and there not as much as you hoped. The reason being him having to go back to Raventree for a few days for some urgent Lord of Raventree Hall business, but you’ll never admit that you were disappointed when he left.

As you approach him he shoveling food into his mouth not even noticing your presence until you sit right across from him.

“Seven hells Blackwood, you sure can put it away.” you

laughed resting your head on your chin as you looked at him.

“Wot can I say, I’m veruh hungrry.” He laughed back food still stuffed in his cheeks.

“Yes and very messy.” you say as you take the cloth near him wiping the food from the side of his mouth.

He raises an eyebrow and grins as you wipe the corner of his mouth and doesn’t bother to pull away. “Oh? You going to clean me up, My Lady? That’s quite the wifely task, no?” he taunts you.

“Please I do this for my nephew Rickon, who is only a year I might add.” you reply neatly folding the napkin and putting it to the side.

Instead of feeling offended that you were in fact just treating him like a child his grin just widened. “Aww well aren’t I in luck you’re the wifely and motherly type” he says reaching out to grab another chicken leg.

You roll your eyes to the sky at how fast his comebacks are. He snorts at your lack of comeback and continues to go the town on his chicken leg as if this was his first time eating in days which you knew not to be true giving his status.

“I wonder if you’re this hungry when it comes to other things.” You ask rhetorically taking a strawberry from his plate and slowly biting into it, trying to tease him back even if it meant you had to tread in dirty waters.

“I can assure you, Lady Stark, my insatiable appetite is... very much not limited to just food.” he smirks looking at you, his eyes slowly trailing down your figure not covered by the table. He then leans closer taking your hand with the strawberry eating the rest of it. You could feel his soft lips brush against your fingertips, he then darts his tongue out licking the rest of the strawberry’s juices from your fingers.

“It was a jest!” you practically yell as you felt your body heat up. You shoved his head away not expecting him to reply so fast and more so not expecting him to do that.

He laughs and sits back down in his chair, finishing his last chicken leg “Oh was it? My mistake, I thought it was a request…”

“So the hunt!” you quickly try to change the subject. “is there anything you riverlord do differently than us in the North?”

He shakes his head throwing the rest of his food to the ground near him and stray dogs quickly began to snack on it.

Not necessarily except we just have different types of game, but speaking of the hunt you’ll be riding with my party“ he says it more like a command that a request.

“Seven hells and why would I want to do that” your face twisted in disgust.

“Come now, it’s either spending several hours alone in the woods, with your love sick brother and my love sick aunt or you could spend the whole day with me and my much more entertaining friends.” he says before downing his cup of ale in one go.

You groan at the thought, already not liking when you sit near them during dinner in the great hall. You can’t imagine how’d they’d be in a more private area.

“Are they as dumb as you…..if that is even possible?”

“Lady y/n! I’m hurt that you even have to ask that,” he feigns shock. “of course they’re dumb, but we're also far more charming than the other options available to you.”

You giggle at his dramatics. “Very well then least I’d be entertained.”

He smiles as he hears your laugh, a warm feeling in his gut growing at the sound. “Oh, you won’t be disappointed, I have plenty of ways to entertain you I promise.”

You walked up to the carriage Benjicot told you to be and found him near it along with two other lads you knew to be lord Kermit and Oscar Tully. You only ever spoken to then once or twice but it was in a much more formal setting and it was with both your families so you did not know the two young lords well.

If your brother were to find out you ditched going with him and Aly, to go with three young men out in the woods alone he’d for sure strangle you but what he doesn’t know won’t kill him.

Realistically however, from an outside view this did seem like an extremely dangerous and wild thing to do. A highborn lady, who was still a maiden confined in a carriage with three other young men then going to an even more isolated place, the woods....Yet you did not for a moment feel like this was unsafe.

You may have called Benjicot psychotic many times but in reality you never truly meant that. Yes, he could be a bit crazy, but not in a way were it made you feel unsafe to be around him and you’ve been around men who made you feel unsafe. A prime example being lord Bolton and his sons who you’re sure crawled out of the seven hells themselves.

The Boltons always give you such an uncomfortable feeling and made you cling to your dagger tighter when they were near … but not Benjicot … he didn’t make you feel like you needed to be alert around him, you trusted him so by extension it goes onto Kermit and Oscar.

“Ah, she’s here, the Lady Stark herself.” Oscar, who you believed was the youngest , says as he approached you excitedly.

“My lords” you bow, though it was a more informal setting you still didn’t forget your manners.

They both bow respectfully before Kermit steps forward, clearly the more well mannered of the two lads “It’s an honor to finally meet you, Lady Stark. Benjicot has told us so much about you.”

“Has he now?” a small smile appearing on your face finding it cute Benjicot still talks about you when you’re not there.

Kermit and Oscar exchange a glance with each other before a wide grin appears on their face.

“Oh yes, he just wouldn’t shut up about you, going on and on about “Y/n Stark this” and “Y/n Stark that”. Kermit starts.

“He wouldn’t stop gushing about you” Oscar rolls his eyes pretending to be annoyed.

You laughed wondering what else they would spill. “Did he also tell you how I elbowed him last time he got too close?”

“He told us all about it the very same day it happened. He said he’d never been more attracted to a woman in his entire life.” Kermit says as he snickers.

Oscar grins and nods, then suddenly burst out laughing when another thought came to his head trying his best to get it out through the laughter.

“And… and he said he nearly threw himself on his knees and thanked the Sevens above that you’d touched him, no- no matter how violently it was.” the younger and clearly more immature Tully brother doubled down laughing.

Your eyes widen in amusement and Benjicot who was sitting on the stairs of the carriage the entire time, just giving you three a chance to familiarize yourself with each other immediately shoots up at what Oscar says. He stomps over and shoves the Tully lords away from you which caused them to laugh harder.

“Haha, ignore them they’re just being arseholes, come let me help you into the carriage” Benjicot throws them another glare putting you in front of him, using himself as a barrier so the Tully brothers don’t say anything worse.

You don’t speak on what they said for now… taking a mental note to bring it up later if you two have another one of your unofficial teasing battles. Benjicot takes one of your hands, leading you up the stairs to the carriage and the other on the small of your back. Once you make it to the top his hands stay there longer than they need to be, but then he quickly pulls away when he realizes what he was doing.

The carriage ride went relatively smooth enough. Kermit and Oscar both calmed down with embarrassing their friend and you all just spoke about different things, nothing in particular.

By the time you four reached the hunting grounds it was mostly set up and hunting parties were already making their way out.

“So how do you guys do this?” You ask stretching your muscles from the long cramped carriage ride.

“Oh we uhh we usually split up that way we can cover more ground.” Kermit lies and say but you didn’t know it.

“Huh? No we d-“ Oscar is about to say but quickly change his mind realizing what his brother is trying to do “oh yes! We certainly do.”

“Yes it’s the fastest and most efficient method. Plus it makes it more fun and exciting since we get to see who’s able to catch the most game.” Benjicot replies immediately catches on, silently thanking the brothers for their support.

“Oh well in that case,” you pretend to think looking between the three riverlords “I want to team up with Kermit.”

Benjicot opens his mouth about to argue but then when you laugh he relaxes.

“I only jest.” you say with a laugh and Kermit and Oscar laugh with you already liking you being apart of their little group.

The two of you are walking through the woods, the sound of other parties echo in the not too far distance from different directions. You can hear other hunters laughing and shouting, and dogs barking as they find a chase to follow.

“There’s far too many people here, all the animals have already ran off from the noise, but don’t worry, I know a place where we can go to hunt come on.” Benjicot says motioning for you to follow.

You two walk deeper and deeper into the woods doing a few twist and turns and soon come up to a tall old stone wall that stretched too far to just walk around it. Benjicot easily went over it, you have no doubt he’s done this many times. You handed him the hunting gear before you began to climb over. You sat down on top of the wall about to jump off, when before you could,he grabbed onto your hips lifting you down without a second thought.

You unconsciously hold onto his shoulders as he lifted you down and thought the moment was for a second your heart races as your chest was pressed against his. Once your feet hit the ground he held onto you just for an extra second but only to make sure you were stable.

“Did it look like I needed your help?.” You say faster than you could process and inwardly curse to yourself at the fact that was what you say instead of a simple ‘thank you’.

Benjicot fortunately just laughs and rolls his eyes playfully. “You know you don’t have to act so tough, I can see right through your cold northern ice exterior.”

“Wow so original comparing me to ice.” your voice laced with sarcasm.

“I can’t help it, you’re such a feisty, stern, tough, she wolf of the North. I’m trying so valiantly to melt that frozen wall you’ve built around your heart.”

“You somehow prove to me everyday why you’re the most annoying person in Westeros and even across the Narrow sea.” you mutter pinching the bridge of your nose at his horrible attempt to be poetic.

“You say things like that and yet you keep talking to me, it’s almost like you enjoy it Lady Stark.” He looks at you deeply trying to gape a good reaction out of you.

“Shut up and keep walking or else I’ll shoot you and call that my game. “ you try your best not to sound flustered pushing him forward.

You two soon made your way to a clearing with a river, its waters flowing past the trees. The only sounds being the rippling water, songs of the birds and the occasional sound of the whistling wind as it passed through the tall trees. You follow him as he stoops down behind some bushes near the river.

After a couple of minutes some birds and rabbits go over to the river for a drink, but Benjicot doesn’t draw his bow just yet. More time pass and a deer trots over going for a drink oblivious to you two hiding. It wasn’t such a huge deer were it would beat records but it wasn’t so small where it would not be a good catch.

His eyes gleam at the sight and he picks up his bow handing it to you. You look at him as if he was mad and push it back against him but he then just pushes it back to you.

“You know I am not near the level where I can actually catch game.“ you hated to admit it, but it was the truth.

“That’s why I’m here, I’ll be guiding you the whole time. I’ll make sure you don’t miss, now take the bow.” he gives you a reassuring smile pressing the wooden material to your hand.

You take the bow and ready it as if you were going to hit a normal target in the training yard. Benjicot moves closer to you, his shoulders pressed against yours as he looks at the deer and back to your bow to see if it was in line of fire. The position was no where near as close or…. Intimate as the first time he’s helped you with your archery skills. Feeling his warmth pressed up against you like this however, reminded you of it.

Eyes still on the buck ahead he reaches out and gently lifts your hand more to where he thinks is the better position, his large and callous hand a stark contrast to your smaller and soft ones. Your mind wonders back to that day in the training yard, your body reliving every detail. From his smell, the feeling of his hot breath on the shell of your ear, how he made you feel warm in the cold and how his words left a coil in your stomach.

Still thinking of the day you nearly miss when he gives you the command to shoot, only now remembering the deer in front of you. You let go of the bow without realizing it. The bow soars through the air and gets closer and closer to its prize but then hits the water mere inches from a head shot.

Benjicot lets out a frustrated groan and wasting no time the deer runs back into the forest startled. You slump your shoulders in great disappointment.

“ I’m sorry.” You mumble.

Benjicot looks over to you and see how disappointed you are. “Why are you apologizing that was your first hunt ever. You can’t really expect to hit it on the first shot do you?” He says in a casual tone standing up and dusting his pants off.

It had not even been a full year since you picked up archery yet you still couldn’t help but constantly get frustrated with yourself when you miss.

“I suppose but we’ve been here for so long and have nothing to show for it…. You were better off going with Kermit or Oscar.”

“Please, don’t be ridiculous. Kermit and Oscar aren’t going to find anything either. They’ve probably been walking around in circles and shouting at each other the whole time. If by the Seven they do catch something the poor beast was probably on its deathbed and wanted a quick death.” He shakes his head able to imagine the whole thing while throwing the quiver over his shoulder.

You laugh feeling a bit better, you haven’t known them for a long time yet you could definitely see that going down.

“Besides more importantly I picked you to go with me not Kermit or Oscar… you. Now come on let’s go see if we can find those idiots.” he starts walking ahead.

You two walk back through the path you came from and once you left the thick dense and woods you felt a drop of water on your head. You stick out your hand and a few more drops fall onto it causing you to frown.

You knew it was going to rain, when earlier you saw the dark pregnant clouds rolling in from the north, but you thought you’d make it back to camp my then.

Before you could comment on it a very familiar red and black cloak is thrown over your head momentarily blinding your vision. You lift it from your face and quirk an eyebrow looking at Benjicot.

He meets your glance and smiles slightly, amused by your bewildered expression. “What?, what kind of man would I be if I let you walk through the rain and get all wet and soaked?”

“Oh well Umm thanks.” you gulp as the rain starts to fall harder.

He adjusts the cloak, pulling it around you more to make sure it’s covering you properly. With you wrapped up in his cloak a surge of possessiveness runs through him. He’ll be damned if the sight of you wearing his clothes doesn’t send a warm tingling shiver all over his body. He clears his throat, trying to ignore the impure thoughts flooding his mind, and he tries to sound nonchalant as he responds “Don’t mention it… let’s keep going.”

As you continue on back to camp you glance over to him and see how at this point he is completely soaked. Compared to you who, save for a small part of your legs that your boots and his cloak doesn't cover, is dry.

You glanced back at him your eyes looking at the way how his dark wet hair sticks to his forehead and how his wet clothes cling onto him. He doesn’t notice how you scan over his body or how your gaze lingers a little too long on how his clothes cling to his frame fortunately for you.

By the time you reach camp the rain stopped. You walk him up to his tent where he’ll get changed into something dry before joining you for dinner. He already started to unbutton his doublet not wanting to bring the soaked material into his dry tent.

“I feel bad.” You say as water still rolls off of him, you felt so guilty he sacrificed his comfort for yours.

He glances down at you with a small smirk, trying to make light of the situation and ignore the uncomfortable feeling of his now wet clothes sticking to his body. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just rain, I’ll be fine.“ he says as he throws the doublet to the side.

“Oh right you’ll probably want this back.” You go to take off his cloak but he quickly stops you.

“No, keep it It’s alright. I’m going to change out of these wet clothes so I won’t need it,” he gently puts his hands on your arms to keep you from taking it off. “besides I think you should get use to wearing my house colors. ” Benjicot teases.

You scoff at his words but your heart flutters at the same time.

“You can’t go an entire hour without being a smart-arse can you Blackwood?”

“Only for you my lady, only for you.” he says as he walks into his tent.

You walked away from his tent going to find a place to sit and wait for him. You subconsciously pull his cloak closer to you inhaling the scent… it smelt of the forest mixed in with metal. Your mind starts to wonder throughout the day and think back on how kind and gentle Benjicot was.

You’re so engrossed by the cloak, you don’t realize you were about to walk into the group of drunken Bracken men, but at the same time they don’t notice you.

They seemed to be getting rowdy and rough with each other as men their age do. They were all boasting about how tomorrow they’ll catch an even bigger game and argued who was the better hunter.

The lord of Stone Hedge Aeron Bracken had the most say.

“Hey this sword is good enough for killing Blackwoods it’s well enough for killing a beast besides what’s the difference.” they all roar in laughter.

One of his brother’s then mocks him telling him how he’s never killed either teasingly pushing him. Aeron not suspecting the push stumbled back and at the same time you just so happen to be walking behind him which caused him to stumble right into you, you both crash to the ground.

You slightly groaned in pain at the weight of the man on top of you, Aeron quickly stood back up and looks down at you shocked and guilty for what he just did. He was about to apologize and offer a hand for what he just did when in a blink of an eye. Benjicot, who just turned the corner and only sees you on the ground with a Bracken looming over you acts before he knows the full extent of the situation. He roughly slams Aeron up against the tree and pins him there firmly, looking at him with a glare that could kill.

“What in the seven hells do you think you’re doing Bracken ? Picking on women now, is that it? Huh?” his voice low and threatening as he slams the male against the tree again, knocking some wind out of him.

You are shocked by the suddenness of everything and look around to see if anyone would intervene ,but no one seems to care as if this was a normal occurrence and the rest of the Bracken men look worried but don’t dare get up. You had heard of the Blackwood-Bracken conflict before, but you never knew how bad and often it was.

It’s taking everything in him not to run his sword through the Bracken’s neck,the only thing stopping him from doing so is the thought of you seeing him commit violence. He’s not sure if he’s ready to show you why they call him “Bloody Ben.”

You stand up rushing over to him. “Benjicot wait no- it was an accident I swear it’s fine!”

His angry glare softens ever so slightly when he looks at you, yet he still doesn’t release Aeron.

“He’s a Bracken bastard they thrive off of putting others down.” Benjicot already hated the Brackens as is, but the fact of all people they mess with you makes him angry beyond measure.

“Yea well not this time, I swear I’m fine, please let him go.” You truly did not want someone to get hurt for what was an accident. You wrap your hands around Benjicot’s arm trying to pull him away.

The urge not to at least punch the Bracken bastard in the face is hard for him to subside, but not wanting to disappoint you is even stronger.

He shoves him away from behind the tree. Aeron nearly falls at how hard Benjicot shoved him but catches himself walking back to his group where they immediately walk away in case Benjicot changes his mind.

“Cowards.” he huffs out a sharp breath and watches the men walk away, his eyes still filled with anger as he glares at the group.

“I’ll do it.” You say bluntly

He looks back at you and frowns a confused expression on his features.

“huh? You’ll do what?”

“ I’ll marry you.” You say without any hesitation.

He just stares at you for a moment, his heart stopping in his chest and his breath catching in his lungs. For a moment he just stares at you, completely lost for words as his brain struggles to wrap around the words that just left your lips.

“You…. Wait… I-I….” he stuttered not being able to complete a sentence his cheeks turning pink. “look I get we have this thing going on where we tease each other, but bloody hells Stark your killing me.” he says as he pretend to wipe his face to hide the blush.

“No Ben,” you pause saying his nickname for the first time and liking the way it feels on your tongue “I’m serious.”

The gears in his head starts to turn slowly and he stares at you for a long while just waiting for you to blurt out it was jest,but when you don’t he drops to one knee grasping both of your hands in his.

“I swear to the old and new gods to be a good spouse to you. I promise to always protect you, and care for you. I promise to worship and be devoted to you with my body, mind and soul….. so will you Y/n of house Stark be the lady of Raventree Hall….. will you accept these vows and become Lady Blackwood?” for the first time since you’ve met him he seems nervous.

“Yes I want to be Lady Blackwood.” you smile down at him.

His heart swells and a rush of excitement and nerves, but mostly excitement, flood through him. An enormous smile spreads across his face. He gets up and is about to pull you in for a hug when you stop him.

“But….” you raise a hand to stop him.

“But?” He asks nervously expecting the worse.

“I have a few conditions.”

“Like?”

“I want a traditional Stark wedding.”

He relaxes slightly, a small amused smile on his face as you declare one of your few conditions. He can’t help but chuckle slightly as he nods.

“Simple enough.”

“It has to be in the godswood not the sept.” you say your second condition

“Sure.”

“I want to be able to visit Winterfell a few times a year”

“Of course I know how important family is to you Starks“

“I want some of my ladies-in-waiting to be from the North.”

“ Very well, is that all or are there more demands? he says jokingly

“And“

“Andddd “ he says in a sing song voice.

“I want Visenya to live with us”

He quirks an eyebrow. “and that is?”

“My direwolf of course.” you say as it’s the most obvious thing.

He smiles extremely amused, but not entirely surprised you own a direwolf. “Well obviously,” he matched your tone “can’t have my special girl living without hers”

You open your mouth to speak again then realize that, that was all your requests you were fully expecting to have a bit of an argument not expecting him to agree so easily.

He noticed and smirks grabbing your hips and pulling you into him. “Why so surprised, I did say I’d give you everything and more the first time we met didn’t I?” he smiles his thumb tracing circles in your waist

Cregan then just so happens to be walking towards your direction and when he spots you two his face goes from disgust, to anger to confusion, then anger again which causes you to laugh.

“Before you go doing anything unwise Blackwood, I suggest you ask for my brother’s blessing first.” you laugh nodding your head towards the direction of your brother who stood behind Benjicot boring holes at the back of his head.

Benjicot body froze and you swear he got pale, he didn’t dare turn around to meet eyes with the wolf of the North and instead he slowly takes his hands off of you pulling them back to his sides.

“Danm, it was already hard enough to convince one of you” he mumbled.

#benjicot blackwood x reader #bloody ben #hotd fanfic #hotd season 2 #hotd x reader #hotd x y/n #hotd x you #davos blackwood #davos blackwood x reader #stark reader #bloody ben x reader #benjicot blackwood x y/n #benjicot blackwood #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon fanfic

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rpmusingsnmore · 4 months ago

Text

FANTASY SENTENCE STARTERS ( CRIME )

feel free to change any pronouns or subjects (or reverse by sending '+ reverse' ). this pack is themed around criminals, whether from guard / prison perspective, victims, passerby or the criminals themselves. vague enough in some ways to be used in unique ways. requested by an anonymous!

❛ what do you mean, he escaped? ❜

❛ how did you make it out? ❜

❛ now it's your turn. unlock my cell. ❜

❛ you can play the bait. ❜

❛ of course i know the way out. in theory. ❜

❛ i've never been in such a big place. they caught me pretty quickly. ❜

❛ how was i supposed to know he was royalty? ❜

❛ so i tried to pick - pocket the king — big deal! ❜

❛ keep quiet. turn out your pockets. ❜

❛ say a word && your life is over, filth. ❜

❛ i know who you are. you stole from the castle. ❜

❛ you're the escapee. i can turn you in. ❜

❛ don't say anything. please. ❜

❛ you have a long way to go before you earn my trust. ❜

❛ give me your coin, before i gut you. ❜

❛ you made your loyalty clear. ❜

❛ you could have gotten us killed! ❜

❛ what was that in your pocket? ❜

❛ did you steal that? ❜

❛ it's an ambush, i'm sure of it. ❜

❛ keep to the shadows. quietly — we'll get out of this. ❜

❛ you are a liar && a thief. i don't trust you. ❜

❛ how can i trust you when you do these things? ❜

❛ you put everyone here in danger! ❜

❛ hold your tongue or lose it. ❜

❛ are you afraid? ❜

❛ i could never trust a convicted criminal. ❜

❛ you're making this a lot harder than it needs to be, your grace. ❜

❛ oh, this? no, of course i did not take it. i ... found it. ❜

❛ a murder has been committed! ❜

❛ what did you see? did you see the traitor? ❜

❛ tell me the truth. was it you? ❜

❛ we can't run from them forever. ❜

❛ we will catch them. whatever it takes. ❜

❛ the king has been killed. ❜

❛ the queen was murdered. ❜

❛ a body has been discovered! ❜

❛ did you kidnap a member of the royal family?! ❜

❛ no, you must go! i will not be tied to your crimes! ❜

❛ why can't you just follow the rules? ❜

❛ please, don't hurt me. i will do whatever you ask. ❜

❛ i can tell you what you want! ❜

❛ please, please don't kill him! it wasn't him! ❜

❛ midnight, on the bridge. come alone. ❜

❛ leave a ransom note! ❜

❛ are the ropes too tight? ❜

❛ oh, shut up. you make a horrible hostage. ❜

❛ i'll play the part of the guard, you play the prisoner. we need to get them out. ❜

❛ i need to get out of here. ❜

❛ are you joking? why would you do that? ❜

❛ you can't seriously expect me to willingly go with someone like you. ❜

❛ you're a murderer! ❜

❛ you're a thief! ❜

❛ you're a con - artist! ❜

❛ i can't believe i trusted you. ❜

❛ i can't believe you fell for that. ❜

❛ how stupid do you think i am? ❜

❛ just how stupid can you be? ❜

❛ it was so easy, you never noticed a thing. ❜

❛ shhh. no one needs to know. ❜

❛ c'mon. you aren't going to turn me in. ❜

❛ don't be rash. there's still a way out. ❜

❛ what do we do? they're coming for us! ❜

❛ they know it was you! ❜

❛ you think you are invincible, but they're going to catch you someday. ❜

❛ go. get out of here before i change my mind. ❜

❛ i didn't see you. ❜

❛ fine. just go! ❜

❛ they're coming from the south, just so you know. ❜

❛ don't thank me yet, you still have to get away in full. ❜

❛ they aren't going to let this go easily. ❜

❛ good luck out there. ❜

❛ wish me luck. ❜

❛ i'll come back for you. ❜

❛ i will get you out, i swear it. ❜

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cozymoko · 2 years ago

Note

Wait you write for Kamisama kiss??? OMG Tomoe's been my crush for years 😭 omg if it's okay with you then can I have general yandere headcannons about everyone's favourite fox boy?? 🌕 Anon

YANDERE TOMOE HEADCANONS

Note: I also love Tomoe. Btw this might suck because I'm bad at general anything.

Pronouns used: feminine, she/her (for convenience)

WARNING(S): yandere themes, slightly suggestive

YOKAI

Possessive, Manipulative, Violent (to others)

AS A ROUGUE YOKAI, pledging his loyalty to others never truly appealed to him; to a woman nonetheless. Being a formidable demon never called for such requirements.

You were feisty, pointing the round end of your broom in his direction. You knew not of who was there, yokai or human but you feigned confidence. The trembling of your hands gave it away, you were scared as one would be. “Who's there?”

The pale moonlight peeked through the few windows lining the walls, carefully calling attention to your features. You were easy on the eyes and yet so hard to look at. Your eyes were glassy and narrowed into thin slits. Your legs shook violently in anticipation for him to reveal himself as you hugged the broom flush against your chest. Such a look didn't suit you.

Having mercy on you, he decided to cut his fun a little short.

As one does, Tomoe made his way to a brothel which he was fairly acquainted with. All in a pitiful attempt to find solace amongst the predatory gazes of the women occupying it. But alas, he could not. With every look upon their faces twisted into one that mimicked your own. Captivating and seemingly kind, tempting him to reach out and touch it.

Tomoe is no fool. His emotions are evident, terribly so. He longs for a human woman and there's no need to deny it. Your image has been engraved in his memory down to every last detail. Women who were not you could no longer soothe his mind as they appeared lackluster in comparison.

Thus, he sought after you. In the middle of the night, he was whisked away by the chilly wind in search of the woman. Your scent was heavy on his mind, leading him back to the small cabin you resided in. His footsteps were night, almost silent as he entered your home, searching for you.

To his luck, there you were. Rolled up in a cotton futon, lulled by the chirps of noisy crickets. Yes, he's decided; You are his and no one else's. Tomoe isn't one for sharing and he'll make sure you're aware.

Akura-ou was quick to find out about your existence, which was a pain within itself. He would toy with you just to get under Tomoe's skin. It's not every day you get to see your moody "counterpart" fall so hard for someone, let alone a human. Anyhow, those who've tormented you weren't as fortunate as Akura-ou, serving a far more unpleasant demise for their actions.

If not for you, Tomoe wouldn't hesitate to massacre every man who looks your way. Having good-looking women by his side is nothing he isn't used to, yet, you are different. As his woman, he wouldn't want someone to so much as breathe the same air as you. The mere thought renders him ill.

Although, if you ask him not to he'll try his best to listen to your wishes. Keyword: try. He would never want to upset you, oh not at all! However he's only "human", even he has his limits.

No matter how he may terrify you, running is NOT an option. You will never be too far from his grasp. As long as his heart is beating, no one will ever have his heart. The fox demon is a bit too eager to show how he got his reputation in the Yokai world. As his other half, why don't you sit down and watch for a while?

“Foolish girl, when will you finally understand that your efforts are futile? Your cries may pain me but if I must tie you down to keep you. Then I shall.”

FAMILIAR

Loyal, Overprotective, Posessive

BEFORE HE MET YOU HE WAS A YOKAI, drowning in a pit of endless grief. Though not a powerful God, you held enough power to help the lost kitsune. You, determined to save him, kissed him and made Tomoe you familiar. For that, he was forever grateful.

Sure his bloodlust has been soothed over the decades, but it doesn't cease to exist. However, betrayal has never crossed his mind. His loyalty to you runs deeper than the blood that courses through veins. He is bound to you for life and he will serve you until greeted by death's embrace

He still finds you to be a subpar God in nearly every aspect. You were so uncool and lame as you lacked elegance, lazy in comparison to many, and awfully forgetful. But it made you even more charming. Tomoe found himself growing fond of your minor habits, though still trying to push healthier ones upon you, they were sweet, or even cute dare he say.

If you so choose, you can touch his ears. What can I say, the thought has plagued his mind more times than he cares to admit. Intimacy with you is not exactly scarce, you dot on the fox quite a bit, however, he yearns for more of your attention, your time. Being your familiar for some years has honestly built up his confidence. (There was no way in hell he'd ask you that and earlier than now.)

You cannot have another familiar, not a chance. Tomoe will burn them to the ground if they even try to kiss you. If you've had familiars before him, fuck them. They can die for all he cares. All you have to do is ask and he will gladly do the honors. (He knows you won't, unfortunately)

No male familiars are permitted to sleep by your side, except him of course. He must retain his superiority somehow. Allowing them to see you so vulnerable is not an option.

For you, he'd do an ything if it's within his power. As long as it doesn't put you or your reputation in danger that is.

“You reek of that wretched Tengu, must you always converse with such lowlives, mistress? If my company is not to your liking please allow me to fix myself. I am your loyal familiar and you should know I'm also the best.”

#—🍁#x reader #yandere x darling #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere scenarios #yandere x y/n #yandere hedacanons #yandere tomoe #yandere tomoe x reader #tomoe x reader #kamisama hajimemashita headcanons #kamisama hajimemashita #kamisama kiss headcanons #kamisama kiss #yancore #yandere male #yanderecore

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dancing-with-draegons · 4 months ago

Text

A Gilded Cage

pt. 1

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Aegon's wife!reader (she/her pronouns, Lannister colouring)

summary: One night, alone in his chambers, Aegon's wife can no longer bear her husband's indiscretions. Aemond witnesses her outburst and is intrigued.

warnings: Aegon bashing (he's in a loveless marriage with reader), suggestive themes, dark themes, systemic sexism, reader has been raised to be a pretty doll and nothing else

word count: 2.9k

Aegon's wife has often seen him go into the city and return the next morning, still in his cups, with his doublet lost, his breeches unlaced and the rank smell of brothel all over him. It was always humiliating to find your husband unfaithful, but worse than the sting of infidelity was the public shame that came with it. She could see it in her ladies’ eyes: a mixture of glee and pity, to see one who had risen so high reduced to a spurned wife.

It had not always been so. When her father had given her to the prince in marriage, he had been proud. She had been the prettiest maid in all seven kingdoms with her golden curls and deep green eyes. A true Lannister. And Aegon had been charming. She had rescued him from a marriage to his own sister, all because her father had insisted that she be wed to the prince to forge the alliance Princess Rhaenyra had once turned up her nose at. And Otto Hightower had agreed, knowing full well they would need the westerlands in the war to come.

She had been so proud to wear the red and black and green of her new house, always chased with gold. And how she had loved Aegon at first sight! Her handsome prince. Her love. Her knight and champion. She had known before their wedding that he would be a wonderful husband, a doting father, and a great king, like his namesake.

The only fly in the ointment had been the prince's younger brother. Aemond had called her father greedy, and her a prize calf. Perhaps he had been annoyed that he would now have to wed Helaena, who was only half as beautiful as she herself. Or so her father had told her when she had come to him crying. Aemond was always kind to Helaena. She remembered how surprised she had been when she had first seen him with her, how quiet, how gentle he had been with her. She had doubted her father's words then, and anyway, no marriage between them had happened, so it had all been wrong.

Now, it was not Aemond who made her cry, though he still looked at her with derision. It was her husband, who'd sooner bed every unsavoury whore in the city than his charming and beautiful wife.

A few times he had lain with her, and it had been sweet enough. She had been well prepared not to expect the same sort of pleasure her husband felt, so it had all been well. To hear him moan and shudder had been enough for her. But now, he would moan for another woman, and find his release with her. And she would be blamed for the lack of an heir.

Had she known back then, when she had been a little girl despite her looks, how this marriage would turn out, she would have begged her father to wed her to one of his bannermen. But no such luck.

She was the prince's wife, and would be his queen should he ever ascend the throne, and would one day have to bear him his son. That was her duty.

Half a dozen times had she resolved to go to his chambers and seduce him, only to do her duty. She had had a nightgown made for that especially, daring and well-cut, so that everyone in the room from the seamstress to the guard had ogled her. It lay, folded carefully, in the chest at the foot of her bed, and a few times she had donned it only to lose her courage at the last moment.

She had envisioned it all: how she would enter Aegon's chambers, where he would be drinking with his knights and followers. How she would let the cloak fall to her feet and stand in all her beautiful glory before them. Aegon would rise from his chair then, not at all drunk yet, and, with his eyes on her, would send away his friends, who would leave reluctantly, eyes only on her. Perhaps one or two of them would stumble over their feet, too distracted by her beauty and she would help them up and chuckle good-naturedly. And once they were gone, Aegon would make love to her the way he had once, before they had even been wed, and fill her with his seed. A few moons later, she would give birth to his heir, and they would call the silver-haired, green-eyed boy Jaeson to honour their alliance, or perhaps Aegon, she had not quite made up her mind.

But for her dreams to come true, she would have to act.

That night, when her maid had combed her hair until it looked like molten gold and left, she put on the nightgown, fastened the hooks and laced it up tightly to cinch her waist and lift her bosom. It was more uncomfortable than a court gown, but it was a good pain, as she knew it made her beautiful.

She donned her green velvet cape to hide the revealing gown and set out to visit her husband.

Aegon had decreed that her chambers should be far from his, so as not to wake her at night, and the halls of the holdfast were draughty and cold this late in the summer.

At last, she reached his door. None of his usual guards stood vigilantly at the door but that meant little. Often her husband asked them inside to drink and gamble with him and his friends.

But as soon as she had entered, and closed the door carefully so as not to disturb the queen – and, in truth, not draw attention to herself in this state – she saw that she had come in vain.

The table was littered with cups and flagons of wine, playing cards lay in puddles of wine and ale, bowls of bread, oil and cold meat were becoming a feast for flies and other vermin.

She was too late. They had already moved on into the city, where now some whore earned her pay under him or on top of him, if he was already deep in his cups.

And it was all too much. The disgrace, the indecency of it all, and Aegon's sheer ignorance, worse, his open and downright disregard for her after all she had done for him.

She seized one of the flagons – no doubt fine Myrish glasswork with a brass handle shaped like a proud dragon – and threw it against the wall with all her might. It shattered not, as she had hoped, into a thousand pieces. The glass was thick and well made, and the flagon had only broken in two, the curved front with its spout now in the fireplace, the other half with the dragon handle on the soft rug in front of the fire.

This failure to truly wreak havoc only enraged her more, and a glass chalice and a finely carved clay bowl followed. Soon enough, the floor was littered with shards of glass and pieces of broken stoneware.

She was out of breath now from the effort, and her cape had long slid off her shoulders to pool at her feet like a forest pond.

Her heartbeat quietened as she took in the sight of destruction around her. There was no need to panic, no one would suspect her. It was like Aegon and his cronies to leave the chamber in disarray for the servants to clean up.

Not even Aegon would know. He would have forgotten the events of the night before sunrise.

At first, it had felt good, to see it all go to ruin, to see it broken beyond repair, just as she herself felt at times, when she saw them all laughing, when she was once again alone in her chambers, with no one to call friend, when Aegon had once again made her the butt of his joke, or flung some insult at her in his cups.

But now that the rage had abated, it left her cold and empty as a grave.

She turned towards the door to leave and froze.

Her good brother stood there, the door closed behind him, his one eye trained on her with an unfathomable expression.

She had never heard him enter. Had she just thrown something against the wall when he had come in?

It was just like him to stay and watch while she was at her lowest.

She loathed the way he looked, his moon pale hair smooth and silky, and bound back with a simple ribbon, his long, harsh, scarred face, his sensitive lips, and his one eye, periwinkle blue and staring at her.

How could a man so cruel be so handsome?

Now that she was facing him, he surveyed her attire dispassionately and she knew he had deduced why she had come here as swiftly as only Aemond could.

She would have felt better with her cape on but could not bend down in the tightly laced nightgown, and even if she could, her bosom would tip out of the low neckline and it would all look very grotesque and inelegant, so she stood still as a statue.

“He has long left for the city,” her good brother informed her tonelessly.

“Thank you,” she replied, though her tone made a barb of her gratitude. “My husband has left his quarters in quite a state.”

Aemond's lips pulled into a smile like a longbow. So he had been here for some of her performance. Good to know.

Would he tell on her? He loved her little, yes, but he hated his brother.

“Mh.”

“I meant to pay my dear husband a visit,” she said, because she loathed the way he shut her down with his cursed little hum.

“What is your excuse to be here?”

His gaze travelled over the broken cups in reply.

Of course, she must have made a racket.

“I was awoken by the noise, too,” she lied, daring him to object. “So I went to see if my beloved husband was hurt.”

His smile intensified. Naturally, he enjoyed himself most when he was playing cat and mouse with a mouse that gave him a chase.

“You should not have left the safety of your chambers,” he said, and that was the longest sentence he'd ever directed at her. “You might have got hurt.”

What a tragedy that would have been, his mocking smirk seemed to say, my brother's upstart wife struck down at his side.

“I'm now a princess,” she said, although they all still called her lady, but her father had said so, “I'm free to go wherever I please.”

“Free?”, his voice was delicately inflected and she thought he was being derisive, but there was something else there too that she could not place, “you are bound up like a fish in a net.”

“Well, if you are lucky, your own wife will one day make an effort with her appearance as well.” She put her hands on her hips and the fabric of her tight sleeves dug into the soft flesh of her upper arms.

Again, Aemond made no reply, though his smile had lost its amused edge.

For a long moment, he stared at her and fear rose inside her like a morning sun. He was known to be fierce and terrible when roused, and he could not bear being taunted. Aegon had done it once too often in the yard and Aemond had been pulled off of him, fists bloodied and mad rage in his eye.

She only noticed that she had edged away from him when her hip made sharp contact with her husband's dinner table.

Aemond turned around without warning, and it seemed he meant to leave –

“Why?” she asked, and Aemond halted with his hand on the door handle his back still to her.

“What have I done wrong? I have done my duty, I have smiled for him, dressed for him, I have done everything he wanted and yet –”

Aemond did not turn around.

“I shouldn't be asking you of all people, I know you think I deserve this for reaching so high. I'd wager you're pleased that he's humiliating me.”

“No,” he said at last, and turned around. “You should not.”

That was the straw that broke the mule’s back.

“Fine. You've always looked down at me and my family, but let me tell you that Lann the Clever has settled here many thousand years before the Targaryens. Let me tell you that my ancestors needed no dragons to conquer a kingdom, their wits sufficed. Go on, talk about how I am an upstart, greedy, ambitious. But remember that you were a boy when you set out to claim the largest dragon in the world, the dragon who lost his rider less than a week before. Look me in the eye and tell me I am overly ambitious, I am greedy, but know that you are the same. Do you think I do not see the way you look at Aegon, at the throne, the crown? Do you think I do not understand why you study the histories, philosophy, geography, like a young king should? Because you lust for a crown, just like I did. And let me impart this wisdom upon you: it is not worth it.”

She meant to storm past him but his hand shot out and suddenly, she was with her back against the wall, the door handle just out of reach, and a very angry Aemond Targaryen was towering over her with a thunderous look on his face.

A part of her, the one that logic and thinking did not reach, was cold with fear.

He would not harm her, she thought, not here, not her, his good sister. He knew she was the key to the west. He was no fool.

But he made no move to let go of her neck, her waist, and his body did not allow her so much as a twitch.

Gingerly, she tried to wrench free her left arm, caught between their bodies, but only succeeded in pressing it firmly against Aemond's hard stomach.

“Let me go,” she said and tried to push him away. Aemond was slim as a lance, though tall and strong, and he wouldn't move.

“You hate him,” Aemond said, giving no indication that he had heard her.

He seemed surprised by this revelation, as if it was somehow strange and unheard of that a spurned wife might loathe her husband with all her being.

The rage that was so close to the surface these days erupted once again: “Of course I do. Did you think you were the only one he humiliated? The only one he likes to make fun of, taunt, play fool's games with? Ever since one night, he was too soft to do his duty, he's taken it out on me, he's shamed me with his whores, taken them to bed, paraded them around the keep for all to see. He has a dozen bastards by now, but no trueborn son, and that is seen as my failure, not his.”

She had never told anyone about that night. How he had laboured on top of her, reeking of old wine and other things, how he had tried and tried to get it in with fumbling fingers, scratching her skin down there, bruising her thighs. And she had asked him to stop, to try again some other time, but he refused, told her to shut up and bear it silently.

“A son,” Aemond repeated softly, and there was something sinister in his tone. He was taller than her, though not by much, and she could not escape his gaze. Intense. Questioning.

And she understood.

A way to pay back years and decades of humiliation.

At the cost of righteousness, of morality, and, if it all came to light, at the cost of their lives.

She threw all common sense to the wind and kissed him.

~Aemond~

Her vehemence took him by surprise. He had never thought she would agree, let alone agree so readily.

For years had he loathed her, her and her greedy father whose bidding she did at all times. How she had revered Aegon, with large, bidding eyes, grateful for whatever shred of courtesy he bestowed upon her in his grace.

And Aegon had been pleased enough with his bride at first. That had angered him, too.

How perfect they had been, the golden prince and the golden princess.

But then Aegon had shown his true colours, as Aemond had long known he would, and his wife had not faltered. She had continued to admire him, be soft and gentle with him when she should have raged.

Raged as she had today.

Aemond was glad now that he had come. She was pretty but he had never had a taste for beauty. Had never had the opportunity to acquire it.

What he had seen…the heat of her anger, her destructiveness.

All her treacherous softness was gone, her simpering smiles, her honeyed voice.

He, and he alone, saw her how she really was. Raw. Angry. Wanting.

The ease with which she betrayed Aegon, the swiftness with which she had kissed him. Aemond could taste desperation and fury on her lips. It was a powerful aphrodisiac, he knew best.

He held her tightly as he walked towards his brother's bed.

#Aemond Targaryen x OC #Aemond Targaryen x reader #HOTD fanfiction #oneshot

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theyluvlyss · 1 year ago

Note

hi! i was wondering if you could write dating hc's for duncan and courtney (separate) please?

𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐨 𝐝𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐚𝐧 !

but unfortunately, I do not currently write for courtney :(. although, I hope you like what I do have written and that it doesn't discourage you from requesting in the future :).

𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫

《 ♡ 》 headcannons

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 :

you went on this stupid, island, reality show to win $100,000, which could've most definitely changed your life for the better. but instead, you got a delinquent meat-head who had... somehow, earned your heart faster than the cash. "how" and "why" is beyond you. but at least you could come up with a list of some semi-convincing reasons as to such...

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 :

fem!reader x duncan - she/her/hers pronouns

𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞 :

season one (total drama island)

𝐓𝐖/𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 :

harsh language/cursing - dangerous elements/themes mentioned - duncan being himself lmao (possibly a little ooc? I apologize if so) - established romantic relationship - casual dominance (cuz ik that can irk some people) - possessive terms (my, his, etc).

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

When you applied/auditioned to be on the show, you didn't actually think they'd pick you. It was a stupid dare amongst friends back home! No way would they pick some random girl with no experience or even a resume from (home/town/city).

And then, they did😃.

Next thing you know, you're being flown out to Canada and then dropped off from a yacht on some random, deserted island. Just your luck to apply for a scammy and sketchy reality show rather than what you were promised...

And, to top it all off, your host might as well have been a sociopath, your chef, a psychopath, and you were now forced to spend your time with twenty-two other lunatic teenagers for eight weeks. Eight. Weeks. To be fully and completely clear, you did not want to be here.

How could this get any worse?

Duncan. That's how.

He irked you at first. No, you didn't hate him. He actually had his moments where you found him quite funny with a sarcastic quip he had said or entertaining with some random stunt he pulled.

But other than that...

"I'm not jumping. I miss the safe zone and get eaten alive by sharks, and then what?"

"Oh'ho, you're jumping, sweetheart. I'll be damned if you lose this challenge for us because you're not a strong swimmer."

"That's not what I said. And what're you gonna do? Make me?"

...you were firm on your dislike for him.

Not that the feelings weren't reciprocated, of course. Though he wasn't exactly opposed to eying any pretty girls he happened to come across, he didn't intend to date. He came to win $100,000, just like the rest of them. And though he had grown used to the way your attitude struck any and everyone who tried to manipulate you into doing something you didn't want to do, at least you weren't Courtney, stick shoved up your butt.

Onto the more headcanon-y portion of this list...

I feel like Duncan actually wouldn't be opposed to random hookups or anything like that. But, once he has specific eyes for someone, he treats things as if he's already bagged them (manifesting king😻✨️). And in this case, them is you. He didn't get the hots right away, but after a couple of weeks or so of spending basically all of his time around you (being on the same team and all), he wasn't too surprised upon coming to terms with those feelings.

Not that you could exactly tell, with him running around calling you "sweetheart" and "angel-face" and whatever other petnames he could come up with on the fly. You figured it was just him being...well... Duncan! Not to mention, you weren't exactly all that fond of him.

Did he know that? Yes. Did he care? Ehh. You'd warm up. He'd actually make sure of it because even if the show didn't end with him either winning the money or getting you as a girlfriend, the least he'd accomplish is wooing you.

He's not gonna sacrifice his reputation for that, so he'd have to play it cool. And during the seventh challenge, an opportunity came to light; he'd help you concor your fear! Not only would it win your team the challenge, but it'd be a huge step into winning over your heart. With peering eyes (and cameras around), he was there to be your tough-love.

"Get over it, toots, it's just (your/fear)!!"

"Do not mess this up for us, or I'll guarantee you go home tonight."

"I've been in juvie with worse than this...!"

But, without any evidence to prove it besides your word and a blushing face, he was totally sweet on you.

"C'mere, sweetheart, it ain't that bad. You just need a little warming up to the idea, that's all~."

"The worst that could happen is you'll be called a chicken. It's not like you'll get voted off. Not while I'm here."

"Babe, you are entirely too cool to be skeezed out by (your/fear). We're gonna have to work on that, yeah?"

Him sling-shotting you through such emotions and behavior was intense. But not as much as the way it kept you hooked. And every time you would start to grow fed up, want nothing to do with him, even cuss him out...

Life (Chris McLean) would manage to thrust you two back together. Until, eventually, you got together. I mean, no official labels or anything yet, but god forbid another guy on either team just breathed sultry in your direction (coughCodyprobablycough). Or if you got hurt during a challenge. Or whenever anyone (butmostlikelyHeather) had it out for you.

And in those moments, I think Duncan wouldn't be as good as hiding his infatuation with you. Not that anyone actually had the gall to tease him for it. Besides, he had managed to make his admiration for you look cool. Always muttering a slick, "She wants me." to his guy friends, or smirking at any intimate reaction you'd give him in front of your peers.

All in all, he's a cocky shit. But he made it work in a charming way that you couldn't quite place, and made you wonder why you were even attracted to it/him at all.

And, surprisingly, he could be quite the gentlemen. Rough around the edges, sure, but see if you ever have to hold a door open for yourself or climb down from something without his hand being offered to you ever again.

He even makes sure to censor himself around you! Er- well, tries. If he deems a curse word too heavy for you to hear come flying out of his mouth, it goes a little something like this:

" ...So I rush 'im, right? And then can you believe the motherfucker-...! Sorry, babe. Can you believe this idiot actually tries to shank me?! Wild stuff, man..."

As if he's not already sitting around the campfire telling the most gorey juvie/jail story ever. But nope, the extra heavy cuss words are the stuff that's impolite for your ears🙄✋🏽.

#it'sthethoughtthatcounts♡.

OH!! And casual dominance? Definitely a thing in the relationship. Mainly from him, with a simple, "C'mere, doll." or a motion of the hand/finger over towards him. But let's not lie and say this dude isn't a sucker for the moments you boss him around...

"Duncan, go grab that for me, please?"

"I'm busy-"

"Now."

. . .

No further protest, your item retrieved and dropped into your hands with swiftness, and a light red dust on his face badly hidden under a scowl.

Things would get serious/official if one of you two got voted off of the island, though. If you got voted off, he'd be sure to give you the most profound goodbye he can in the very limited amount of time he has to actually say it. Make it very clear you're his girl, "...for anyone thinkin' about trying to make a move while I'm not around." And, he promises that if he wins, he's coming for you, and you'll run off together with the money. Cliche, but how could you say no?

If he gets voted off, he sticks on a brave face and basically threatens you to win lmao😭. Think of it as very intense encouragement coming from a deep down place of love.

"Babe, you better win this whole shit, 'cuz I'm gonna be rooting for you back home. Need these losers to see that my girl is the shit."

I could probably go on forever, but I don't want to make this too long :')...

𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 !!

this is my first post (as in writing/content) ever, so yay me :D ! and for the person that requested, again, I hope you enjoyed this 'cuz it was fun to write ! although I really don't like the title, but I couldn't think of anything better😭...

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

none :(

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐲 :

anon <3

𝐓𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 :

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ihavethedreamies · 8 months ago

Text

Watermelon | Juicy Fruit | Mark

Mark Lee - NCT Dream

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~1.6k

Pairing: Mark x AFAB!Reader

Genre: Reader-Insert, Smut, Established Relationship, Porn without Plot

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Swearing, Kissing, Quickie, Sex in the Bathroom, Unprotected Sex (Don’t!!)

Summary: You end up making a bit of a mess with the watermelon…

Author's Note: This series was supposed to be of drabbles, and this is the second shortest one…sorry.

This is only vaguely based off of Smoothie…I say this because I got the idea for a fruit theme, but past that its unrelated.

-> Series Hub <-

🍇 Renjun 🍇

🍌 Jeno 🍌

🍒 Haechan 🍒

🍑 Jaemin 🍑

🍓 Chenle 🍓

🍍 Jisung 🍍

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other site. Happy reading!

It was hot. For you, too hot. And it was just your luck that the boys wanted to dick around outside because the weather was nice. Nice? No, it was hot as balls. While they ran around screaming, playing games and throwing stuff, you sat on a canvas camping chair. Your electric fan's batteries had died so you were futilely fanning yourself with a paper plate. Your thighs were sticking together, and your shorts were no help against the chafing. You shuffled again, grunting in discomfort, adjusting your sunglasses since they had slid down your nose from the sweat. Even in the shade of the tree and a slight breeze, it was still much too hot. Mark had offered to run to the convenience store down the road from your rental house and get something to cool you off. Glancing at your phone for the time, you wondered what the hell was taking so long, you were about to melt away.

"Noona~" Chenle called but you couldn't see him. Finally, he and Mark appeared from around the house as they went to the backyard where the rest of your group was. The second youngest had several bags of snacks, but what really caught your attention was what your boyfriend had in his arms. It was to no one's surprise he had somehow acquired a watermelon.

"Finally!" You exhaled harshly and Chenle dashed over to you, digging a cold bottle of water out and you yoinked it from him eagerly, chugging it down and he laughed.

"Slow done, babe." Mark huffed, letting the watermelon wrapped in a mesh settle on the grass near your feet. He watched as a bit of water slipped past your mouth and down your throat, landing on your white tank top, making the fabric darken. Swallowing, he shook his head to focus his attention elsewhere and kneeled near the melon so he could start cutting it.

"Uh, no." You shook your head, taking the knife from Mark that Renjun had brought out.

"I can do it!" He whined and you gave him a deadpan look and he just grumbled. Mark scooted over and you sat next to him, wrapping your legs around the big fruit to hold it in place. That looked even more dangerous than what he was planning, but you didn't keep it like that for long. Once you had dramatically stabbed the knife into the end of the rind, you adjusted and easily and evenly sliced it in half. Everyone watched in amazement as you deftly cut up the melon, laying each quarter of a slice into the big bowl Renjun had also brought out.

"Wow, she actually cut it evenly." Jaemin pointed out, giving Mark a very pointed look. The eldest looked back at him, slightly confused then offended.

"Hey!" He grumbled again and you grabbed a few slices with Mark and put them on a plate. While the rest of them continued to do whatever nonsense they were doing before, you and your boyfriend sat on the grass under the tree to eat the watermelon. Not thinking anything of it, because who would, you started to eat. It was very juicy, and the man's attention kept going back to your collarbone. After a big bite of the fruit, the juice spilled over your bottom lip and ran down your chin, your throat, pooled on your collar bone, then continued down to run into your cleavage. When you took another bite and even more juice spilled out you cringed, sucking in to try and keep it in your mouth.

"Geez." You mumbled, looking for a paper towel or napkin, something, to dry the juice. The pink liquid was already soaking into the white of your tank and luckily your bra was nude. Not only was your face and chest a mess, but your hands had gotten sticky. Mark watched your tongue lick furiously along your bottom lip, trying to get some of the juice off your chin.

"Let's get you cleaned up." You were shocked at the speed of your boyfriend, who had stood, hauling you up with him, and into the rental house. You both barely slipped your sandals off up entering and you were a bit surprised he dragged you toward the bathroom and not the nearby kitchen to get to a sink.

"Where are we going?" you questioned, blinking in shock as he pulled you into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door. As you stood near the vanity, hands in the air to avoid getting things stuck to them, you watched in surprise as he pinned you against the sink, his face getting very close. Even though he was your boyfriend, the proximity and intense look on his face made your own warm up red. His tongue flicked out, lapping at the drying juice on your face that was just as sticky as the stuff on your hands. He groaned as you shivered, his lips sealing over your own. Immediately you forgot about your sticky hands, going to the back of his shirt to hold on as he lifted you to rest on the bathroom vanity. You did at least have the subconscious thought to not touch his hair. His own sticky hands had met your waist, sneaking under your flimsy white tank, running his thumb over your smooth skin, it stuttered a bit from the juice. When his tongue entered your mouth, you both tasted the sweet watermelon on each other. A trail of saliva connected your lips when he finally pulled away, both of you panting.

"Fuck." He loved the dazed look that had spread across your face, and his smirked when his lips met your neck and you whined. His tongue ran along the path he had watched the juice flow over the skin, cleaning you off and at the same time heating your skin and core. Your hips jumped up from the counter, your denim covered mound grinding against his cock tenting his swim trunks. Mark continued to suck and nibble at you as he moved to follow that path of the watermelon juice, before your shirt covered the final destination. He pulled back just enough to get it off of you, the white material sticking briefly to his fingers. Yours stuck even more to his shirt as you hauled it off of him. Mark's mouth and tongue traced and nuzzled your breasts as he got your bra unhooked and off. Using his tongue to follow the trail of juice, he diverted at your sternum, sealing his lips over your nipple. You sighed, resting back on the counter so your bare back touched the cold mirror. As your boyfriend focused on the other side, he helped you wiggle your shorts off. You didn't have any panties on since your shorts were so tight, and it was so hot out anyway.

"Fuck… (Y/N)~" You would never get used to way he would moan your name.

"Mark, hurry." You furrowed your brow in playful frustration, trying to reach the waist band of his swim trunks to get them off. He huffed in amusement, having a better reach to do it himself.

"Hurry, hurry~" You nearly bounced in anticipation and his chuckle turned to a groan as he started to sink his cock inside of you. Your body shivered, your hand went to your mouth to try and muffle the pitiful moan you let out as he bottomed out. Like usual, you were soaked for him, making the entry easy.

"Try and stay quiet, baby." He rested his forehead on your shoulder, hands on your hips. You hiccupped when he gave a short but hard thrust, keeping up that pace, rapidly bringing you close to your orgasm already. His pelvis would grind against your clit every time he filled you fully, and your breath hitched each time. He gave a breathless chuckle at how cute you were, not noticing that his thrusts were strong enough to shake the vanity. The ceramic cup holding some toothbrushes rattled each time, growing closer and closer to the edge.

"Damn-" Mark groaned as quietly as he could, pulling your hips to the very edge of the vanity, your back slid down the mirror before landing on the marble. You wrapped your legs around his waist, hand pressed hard over your mouth, the other gripping the bar on the wall that held up the hand towel. Your boyfriend ran his tongue over his smirking bottom lip, enjoying watching you try desperately to stay quiet as he fucked you. He only slightly paused when the cup finally fell over, landing on the tile floor and shattering. It was out of the way, so his hips stuttered a bit, but he continued with a huff when you whined in desperation at the halt.

"Shit, babe-" He groaned, and you moaned as well, feeling your own climax getting closer. You both fell over when he did a final grind against your clit, as deep as he could go, spilling inside of you. The heat of his cum brought you over as well, and you pulled your hand from your mouth, panting quietly.

"S-sorry." Mark suddenly felt guilty for hauling you into the bathroom to fuck while all of your friends were possibly in ear shot.

"Th…that's okay." You gave him a tired smile and he kissed you softly with a giggle. After cleaning up a bit and straightening clothes and hair back up, you slipped back outside, and it seemed like no one had even noticed you two had been gone. Later, when you were inside to eat supper, you heard a loud shout from the bathroom.

"Who broke the toothbrush mug?!"

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bladeweaver-if · 1 year ago

Text

Cut the Heavens.

Link to the demo: here

Orphaned at birth beneath the dim light of a new moon, your fate seems sealed.

In a stroke of luck, you are soon adopted by two Masters of the Bladeweavers' Order - an institution of elite warriors and weaponmasters as ancient as the very cities they are based in. When cataclysm strikes, the Order is left scattered and broken, and you are left aimless, without purpose in a hostile world.

In your search for it, what else will you find?

Bladeweaver is a text-based grimdark fantasy interactive fiction game developed in Twine, focusing on your customizable player character, The Bladeweaver, as they grow up and navigate their way through a crumbling world wreathed in esoteric magic, dark secrets and murky morals, loosely inspired by the late medieval/early Renaissance periods, with a heavy touch of fantasy/steampunk influence.

Grow from child to adult, learn unique skills and master a weapon of Empyrean steel, a unique metal with otherworldly properties. Make friends (or perhaps more?) and enemies along the way as societies rise and fall, as alliances strengthen and collapse, and loyalties are strained to their breaking point.

It won't be easy, but you might just soar. On wings of Empyrean.

Bladeweaver is a mature game with heavy themes and content, including but not limited to violence, strong language, possession, mental issues, drug use, kidnapping and abuse. Due to this, the game is only recommended for those over the age of 18.

Feel free to ask me questions about the game or characters if you want!

Customise your character; their gender, physical appearance and relationships with the cast of characters are yours to change. Choose a unique weapon, with a selection of 6 options available.

Grow from a young child into adulthood in the safety of Sola, a floating city enwreathed in ancient magic. Your skills as a warrior are yours to develop.

Embark on a crushing, dangerous voyage across the fictional continent of Phanol, a land of debts and daggers, and navigate the complex social and political problems that curse this land - and perhaps find their true source.

Romance one of four characters, and develop intimate platonic bonds with any or all of them. Alternatively, shrug them off completely.

Discover your true purpose as the past and present merge when cataclysm strikes.

You, variable pronouns - The Bladeweaver

Hours after you were born, your parents were slaughtered and, in a sequence of rare acts of kindness, you land in the care of two Bladeweavers: Callen Edros and Sonia Wierszy. The three of you make for an odd family of warriors, living in Sola, one of the twelve Risen Cities of the Gods. The relative peace you know will not last. Your unsung song may yet be the most famous of them all - or the most feared.

After your life is ruined and your Order is scattered to the winds, all hope seems lost for you. All that remains is a mysterious letter, guiding you to a place where those like you go to die. Only, you'll not find death there. It just might be worse.

A blood-paved road lies ahead of you; a road you may choose to walk proudly, battling inner and outer demons alike.

Or, perhaps you might struggle, paving your own path in a world that will do its damndest to bestow you with the same fate as your long-forgotten forebears.

Will you lose yourself and the principles your adoptive parents instilled in you throughout your childhood? What else will you lose, or gain, on this road?

Main characters:

Callen Edros, he/him - The Lonely Wolf

Tall, bulky and surprisingly quick-footed, Callen is a Bladeweaver Master of the poleaxe, a lethally versatile weapon.

His presence and weapon of choice are contrasted by his cheery, jovial attitude. He's an excellent teacher, and focuses on mastering discipline and one's fundamentals over all else. He is afforded a good deal of fame in the Order, partly due to his noble background - something he rarely speaks of - and is quite popular, even for a Bladeweaver.

Many who know the man would never have a bad word to say about him, but those close with Callen know there's a deep, enduring sadness behind his laughter.

He is one of your two adoptive parents.

Sonia Wierszy, she/her - The Rising Hawk

Leanly muscled and opting for a brutal combat style, Sonia is a Bladeweaver Master of the falchion, a single-edged blade that favours strong chops over quick cuts or stabs.

Loyal, stubborn, brash, and just arrogant enough for some to find it charming, Sonia will often sneer in the face of propriety despite her conflicting love for the finer things in life borne from a childhood in poverty.

Some would even say that her just being as she is, a woman rising through the ranks of an institution rife with men, is a challenge to the Order. Sonia takes glee in pushing boundaries, in proving herself capable and beyond, and expects a similar ambition from those she knows. As a teacher she is exacting, employing unorthodox methods to help find your special skills as a fighter.

It's not difficult for some to wonder if Sonia's coarse exterior is simply a front, obscuring a deep-seated rage and fear, sparked long ago.

She is one of your two adoptive parents.

???, he/him - The Cargo

He will accompany you on your journey across the land.

Four romantic or platonic options to choose from:

Samuel Alban, he/him - The Boy Next Door

Tall and skinny with curly blonde hair, deep blue eyes and a giddy smile, Sam moves to the same street as you with his father when you're both children, hailing from the disrant but powerful Abrian Empire.

He's endlessly good at making new friends and seems to never lose energy.

Sam comes to struggle with knowing exactly what he wants from life, paired with the difficulty he faces from his own nature. Will you be one of many friends to him, or will you catch his eye in a deeper way?

Caitlin Clary, she/her - The Inventor

Tall, broadly-built and muscular, with ginger hair and wide green eyes, Caitlin is a fellow student at the Bladeweavers' Academy, but she takes a much more keen interest in engineering and gadgets. You meet her in your first year, as she struggles with bullying from other students.

As a girl from the southern warlike nation of Vengard, she is not expected to become a fighter, nor is the practice encouraged among her people. She faces ostracization from her countryfolk, despite having her parents' shared blessing to join the Order.

At odds with what her culture expects from her, and feeling isolated in a strange place with only her elder brother for company, Cait is shy and closed off when she comes to Sola. She might appreciate a source of comfort during this tumultuous time.

Lucas del Varro, he/him - The Prodigy

Lightly muscled and average height, the black-haired, grey eyed third child of the prestigious del Varro family transfers to your academy in your third year. He's instantly popular, but seems to shrug off any and all affections from his peers, although he's not actively hostile to it.

As a fighter the young man moves like water, all flowing moves and poised grace. He favours counter-attacking, turning an opponent's assault on them in a split-second to win decisively. He is a marvel to watch, and a terror to face in a duel.

Lucas seems to be singularly focused on bettering his own skills under the weight of his father's scrutiny, and only accepts your presence if you prove to be a sufficient challenge to him. Will you step up to the call, or even exceed his expectations?

Talia Maren, she/her - The Bastard

Curvy and considered a great beauty yet sharp beyond her years, tales of Talia's venom and scheming follow her when she arrives in the city. She is the legitimised bastard daughter and heir apparent of Lord Darion Maren, a political titan of the nation of Telfrin.

She is known to be constantly at odds with her so-called family, who quite publicly disagree with her ailing father's choice to claim her as part of his lineage, making her, as his new eldest, heir to his estate. He had sired the girl before meeting his wife, in secret.

With few allies in her own home, she seeks them elsewhere. Talia wishes to claw her way to the top of the social heirarchy, willing to step over anyone who gets in her way.

Are you capable of standing the brunt of her vicious veneer? She can't be all thorns like she's purported to be, can she?

Find out more about each option by clicking on the link in their title.

Current size of demo: 242k words

Genre: Grimdark fantasy

Last Update: 21/09/24 (Chapter 2 additions)

Discord server for game discussion and feedback: here

#bladeweaver if #interactive fiction #twine if #twine wip #twine game #twine story #if wip #medieval fantasy #intro post

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genshin-side-piece · 11 months ago

Text

The Hawk and The Sparrow

*Blows the dust bunnies off of this one* This one has been sitting for a minute and by a minute, I mean like the beginning of the Sumeru chapter. It's amazing what a week off of work does for the creative mind.

Characters: Alhaitham, Kaveh, GN reader (no pronouns or descriptions used for reader)

Warnings: Minors DNI, 18+, Yandere themes, Yandere Behavior, Power Imbalance, Master/apprentice dynamic, Abuse of power, Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Touching, Dark themes, not smut (sorry), angst My bad writing, Anything Else I Missed

“There you are, sparrow.” It took you a few seconds to react, but when you did, your entire body froze. While the intrusion of Alhaitham’s voice wasn’t a terrible surprise, you hadn’t expected it this soon. He had been away on business, with no word on when he might return. It had been your hope that when he returned he would be so exhausted from his weeks away that he would simply go home. As you had left the city this morning, your mind had conjured images of him standing at the city gates, impatiently tapping his foot as he waited for you to return or even him patrolling the border as you leered at it from a distance. You should have considered that he wouldn’t be satisfied with simply waiting. It was a foregone conclusion that upon his return to the city, one of the first people he would want to see would be you. If you weren’t where he expected you to be, then he was more than capable of finding you. “Thank you for making me spend most of my final day off searching half of Sumeru for you.” On instinct, you focused on the drawing in your lap. You knew better than to give him your full attention right away. Alhaitham’s acuity when it came to mind games was second to none. It was a talent few knew he possessed. For those that did, they were, well you were wary to enter into such a battle with him. It was easier to act coy or feign stupidity. At least then you would only have to endure a lecture versus accepting what Alhaitham felt were the full consequences of your actions. “A tad dramatic, don’t you think? Don’t tell me Kaveh is starting to rub off on you.” His low growl echoed across the small clearing, causing you to smirk. “Tell me, was your intention to press your luck today or are you merely interested in testing my lack of patience the instant I return?” Your smirk widened at the hint of irritation in his normally smooth voice. “Would you believe me if I said neither?” You briefly looked up from your sketch, glancing over your shoulder at him. “Since your return was open ended, I had no clue when I would see you again. I am merely enjoying the day.” Behind you, the soles of his ornate shoes brushed across the grass as he stepped further into the clearing. “Really?” There was a chuckle. “Does your enjoyment necessitate the need for no escort, no Akasha terminal, and no word to Kaveh as to your whereabouts?” He clicked his tongue in disappointment. “Do you have an explanation for me or shall I just add it to the list of infractions that occurred in my absence?” You swallowed, your smirk softly falling. In your world, Alhaitham’s absence had been a blessing. Kaveh was far less observant when it came to what you did and who you spoke to. You had more than taken advantage of the lack of supervision when it came to getting a few things done. It was improbable that Alhaitham had found them all in such a short amount of time, but it wasn’t entirely impossible either. You had long suspected Alhaitham had put a second set of eyes on you before he left, just to ensure you were behaving as you should.

Since Alhaitham’s departure, there had been one too many instances of the same group of eremites being near you for it not to be the case. You briefly wondered exactly how many so-called infractions of his ridiculous rules had gotten back to him. Had there been daily reports or would that be too much? The trip to Port Ormos wasn’t too bad, but you doubted he was willing to pay someone or a set of someones to go back and forth everyday. Maybe every few days? It was hard for you to say. Still, a small worry began to creep its way up your spine. What did he know? What had he been told? As he said, there was a list. Your mind slowly began to spin at how long it could actually be. “The akasha shouldn’t be a terrible surprise. You know that silly thing hurts my ear if I wear it for too long. It does me no good outside of the city, so I left it behind.” The slight quiver in your voice nearly gave you away. You could see it in how his body shifted, his hips turning so he could block your only exit from view. “It’s a requirement of the Akademiya that you wear one.” You scoffed, trying to hide the unease that was washing over you. “Since when are you concerned about upholding the Akademiya’s mandates? I wonder how they would feel about your latest excursion.” You lazily drug the graphite across the page, acting like you still cared about your landscape. “My latest excursion was at their request.” Unlike yours, which was not. “I thought we discussed your little sketching trips the last time you tried this.” The discussion being that after you had successfully vanished from his sight for an entire day, Alhaitham informed you that you were not allowed to leave the city alone again. “I’m not a child, Haitham. I resent being treated like one.” You added a little bite to your tone in the vain hope that he might pick up on your displeasure. “I needed reference material for a project. Since I was refused a kamera, I decided the only way to get it was to make a few sketches.” You made the conscious choice to not elaborate beyond what you had already said. It was easier to let him admonish you for what he did know, versus adding to your troubles by telling him something he hadn’t discovered yet, which you doubted was very little. His thoroughness when it came to you knew no bounds. That’s why your efforts to keep your secrets hidden was an exhausting affair. “The distance is trivial, it shouldn’t require an escort. Even if it did, all your favorites have gotten outrageous with their fees. I can use a stick and get equal protection.” You heard him scoff at the suggestion. “As for Kaveh, he was nowhere to be found. I wasn’t interested in searching the entire city just to tell him I was going a stone’s throw away. Though if he really is that worried, he could have asked the forest rangers. I passed their lookout on my way here and told them where I was.” “I’m aware.” There was a long pause. You could feel his eyes on you; searching, scanning, and assessing your figure for anything he might find out of the ordinary. Much too what you imagined was his disappointment, there wasn’t anything egregious. Outside of your missing akasha terminal, you were as he preferred you. The only thing he could fuss about was the amount of sun your exposed neck, shoulders, and back had seen. Then again, he might also take it as a blessing. There was little doubt that Alhaitham would probably jump at the chance to rub aloe into your irritated flesh. “Your location is inconsequential. You’ve been found.” He grated that out in what you guessed was an effort to hide his apparent relief.

Alhaitham had been anxious about you using his extended trip as an excuse to vanish from Sumeru. There had been the less than ideal suggestion of you going with him, but he had rejected it at the last minute. Having you with him was a liability he couldn’t afford. Hence his need for curfews, boundaries, and you being left under Kaveh’s less than observant eye. The last thing Alhaitham wanted was to lose his precious control over your life and more importantly, you without having a say in the matter. You had already tried to leave his mastery and pursue other opportunities outside of Sumeru on more than one occasion. Each attempt had been met with a strict punishment and an ever tightening grip on your finances.

Because you were apprenticed to him, he had the right to take everything you made for himself. Much to your chagrin, it was a right he exercised often. There was always a long winded speech about your lack of responsibility or your foolish ways before he took your hard earned money from you. Anything he returned to you was the result of his so-called generosity. As your master, he was expected to provide for you. But your definition of being provided for was far different than his. He viewed your needs as requiring the basic essentials and nothing more. Anything extra had to be requested and in some cases begged for. If he granted your wish, then the item would be purchased for you rather than him giving you the money. He was well aware of the danger that came with handing you a bag of Mora and letting you galavant around with it. The one and only time he had done that, he had barely caught you at the docks before the ship had sailed.

“Though since you refuse to wear your Akasha Terminal as you’ve been asked to.” You flinched at how he drew out the word asked. “I may employ Kaveh’s suggestion of sewing little bells into your clothes or maybe I’ll just hang a large one around your neck.” Like he would a pet. The ridiculousness of that made you want to throw your sketch pad at him. You reviled that he kept tabs on you. His incessant need to hover over you was suffocating. Not wearing your accursed Akasha Terminal was one of the few ways you could insure some level of privacy from him, even if it was short lived.

“I think some would find that terribly disruptive. Most professors demand silence during the lectures. I doubt they would be welcoming of such a distraction, even if it came from the grand oiseau himself.” You heard an annoyed huff come from behind you. “Since I’m outside the city and the Akademiya, I doubt Kaveh’s precious bells would have proved useful.” Alhaitham grunted in response. “If anything, wouldn’t they draw danger to me?” “He also made mention of locking you in my study should I decide to go away again. He was quite vocal about how difficult you’ve been in my absence.” It was laughable to think you had been the difficult one. Despite your best effort to keep up appearances while going behind Alhaitham’s back, Kaveh made it especially challenging to do so. Visual contact had, at least in terms of him laying eyes on you, been impossible. If you could find him, he had been face down on Lambad’s bar or passed out on Alhaitham’s couch in a fit of exhaustion. In your desperation to not alert Alhaitham that something was amiss, you had been reduced to leaving notes in Kaveh’s hand as proof of your daily check-ins. The last thing you needed or wanted was for your keeper to come back early because he believed you had fled his ever present eye before you had actually done it. “Not that I feel it’s a reasonable solution, but why save that particular joy for your infrequent trips outside the city? You already watch me morning, noon, and night when I’m at the Akademiya. I’m surprised you haven’t insisted I enjoy that delight so you can observe me as I sleep.” Your sarcasm wasn’t lost on him. Nor did it do much to improve his mood. You could feel his eyes burning a hole in your back.

“If I thought it plausible, I might.” His voice had a tone you didn’t like. His normally condescending manner had degraded into a quiet outrage that sent a small shiver all over your body. The last time you had heard that tone, he had shown you exactly how much power he had over your life. It wasn’t an experience you wanted to repeat. “Regrettably, I lack a cage large enough to keep you confined for any real length of time.” He had moved closer, his cape swirling the air between you. “Kaveh is as tired of your shenanigans as I am. It seems whatever sympathy he had for you has run out. He mentioned that he was all too eager to design you something before I came searching for you. Maybe I’ll take him up on it.” A heavy silence fell between you. Your mind silently debated whether he was serious or not. Alhaitham wasn’t one to jest about punishment. His one insistence was the expectation of his rules being followed. But the notion that he would bring himself to completely confine you as a means of controlling you was a step too far, even for him. Allowing you your liberty, more importantly allowing you the chance to shine was a positive reflection on him and the Akademiya as a whole. Even if his reputation wasn’t entirely important to him, you doubted he wanted that to change, unless he had discovered your largest transgression before you had the chance to do anything about it.

A glance over your shoulder told you all you needed to know. His clenched jaw and stormy eyes were an indication of exactly how livid he was. His fury went beyond his previously listed reasons for being here. While not wearing your Akasha terminal, having no escort and the most egregious of all, failing to inform Kaveh of your whereabouts were simple infractions. They weren’t anything you hadn’t done before. They were behaviors that Alhaitham found at worst, annoying. He had tried to curb them, but generally speaking they brought little more than being restricted to spending your free time in his office for a few days. This was different. This was a level you hadn’t pushed him too before. This meant only one thing.

Silently, Alhaitham reached into a pocket that was concealed by his cloak, pulling out a wax sealed piece of parchment. Your eyes fixated on it, your entire body going cold when he held it in front of you. “Interestingly, this was waiting for me when I returned.” You felt your mouth go dry as you continued to stare at it, your heart sinking like a stone as he ran his fingers over the broken seal. “Kaveh told me it was delivered to the house this morning.” Of course it was. You closed your eyes, grinding your jaw for a moment. Word had reached you that it was being sent. You had thought that the Akademiya might be kind enough to send it to Alhaitham’s office. Then you would have had a chance to retrieve it before he ever got word of it, but fate had not been kind to you. Instead, it had been sent directly to Alhaitham’s home, likely because that would be the first place he would go once he returned. The confirmation that Kaveh had received it meant that Alhaitham had been alerted to it almost instantly. It was probably what triggered Alhaitham’s unexpected return and his confrontation with you now. “Here I thought we had buried the concept for good. Yet-” He let out a breathy chuckle. “You are always full of surprises, aren’t you?” You slowly opened your eyes at the sound of him shifting his weight. The light clinking of ornate embellishments of his outfit broke the silence between you filling the void. “Do you have any kind of defense?” Not that it would save you. He already had more than enough cause to punish you. The letter in his hand was just the icing on the proverbial cake.

You impassively shook your head while you continued to focus on the piece of paper in his hand. He had you. There wasn't a lie in the world that could save you from him. You knew what you had done. More so, you knew the lengths you had gone to get it. The document in question was the proverbial carrot that Alhaitham had dangled in front of you ever since he had taken you under his wing. Your freedom relied on it, your sanity depended on it. Your eyes focused on the stamped seal of approval from the Akademiya. They traced every bump, every dip of the wax. Even the break where it had been opened burned its way into your memory. How could it not? It wasn’t everyday one received a graduation letter from the Akademiya. It was even less likely for you, since your master and benefactor had denied you of it ever since you had come under his tutelage.

It hadn’t taken you long to figure out that your main roadblock to your future was Alhaitham himself. He had found you on one of your trips through Sumeru. You had set up a small stall in the streets of Port Ormos, peddling sketches and caricatures to tourists while you made a study of the port. You remembered it and him at first because he had spent nearly an hour looking over the pieces you had on offer. He had been especially engrossed with a study of the ruins near Ay-Khanoum. After three additional visits that same day, he deemed you worthy enough to speak to. His curiosity was mainly about how you had reached the ruins, but he also asked other questions; where had you learned, who you were apprenticed under, and the most damning of all, were you traveling with anyone? His reaction when you had answered no to his final question was something you should have been wary of. From that time until you were ready to leave Port Ormos, he had lingered close to your stall. Even after you had moved it to a more crowded area, he still found you. Patrons taking an interest in you wasn’t anything new. You’d had many offers to stay in the different villages and towns that you had visited. Alhaitham was not the first person to offer to keep you in comfort so you wouldn’t have to endure the life of a wandering artist. Even if that life was entirely your choice. To him, someone of your talent deserved to have their skill honed to the highest level. It was a privilege to study at the Akademiya. You should consider yourself fortunate that such a distinguished and respected figure within the Akademiya was willing to personally sponsor the next step in your education. Nevermind that it was a privilege that you had never wanted or asked for. It was enough that Alhaitham wanted it for you and whatever he wanted, he got. The mind games he so expertly played made sure of that.

Under the guidance of your darshan, your skill had grown exponentially. Some had even gone so far as to say your skill exceeded Alhaitham’s at his current age, nevermind his younger self. The man himself was pleased with your progression. At least, you thought he was pleased. Your overall academic progress never seemed to matter to him. He instead insisted on you following his ever increasing, ever suffocating list of rules. You had thought to leave when it all started. When he first began to tighten his hold on you. In the beginning, Alhaitham had been largely content to simply observe you. It hadn’t mattered if you were in the public spaces of the Akademiya or in the privacy of one of the many art studios, those of eyes of his seemed to follow you wherever you went. You had diverged on many occasions, trying your best to shake the oppressive presence of your sponsor. The result had been Alhaitham leaving his proverbial perch to track you down. Once back in his field of vision, he tightened his hold on you, slowly and steadily trapping you in his firm grip. By the time you realized what was going on, it was far too late to do anything about it. Instead your escape attempts were thwarted, your departure from the Akademiya refused.

It was hard to remember when his attention had changed from observational to physical. He wasn’t terribly affectionate, yet he always managed to let his fingers linger on yours whenever he would take the graphite from you to show you something. That escalated into those same fingers toying with the sensitive skin of your neck while he hovered over you in the evening. You had tried to minimize the unwanted contact by moving your studio time to earlier in the day. Your hope was to be back in your apartment before he finished work, but luck was not on your side. Like everything else in your life, Alhaitham held a specific level of control over both you and your schedule. Your class times had been optimized to fit with his schedule. The moment you had tried to adjust anything to suit yourself, it was mysteriously shifted back. When questioned why, the registrar merely shrugged. The only excuse that was offered was that the studios were a distracting place during the day. A student of your advanced capability deserved peace and quiet to work. That was why everyone was seemingly insistent that you take an evening slot. Nevermind that it gave Alhaitham all the privacy he could ever want when it came to you. In those moments, the main focus of his attention was your neck and shoulders. Delicate fingers would run along your nape and collar bones while he watched you sketch. A heavy hand often laid upon your shoulder while you practiced your writing. In the very late hours, when it was assured you were alone, his lips would find themselves behind your ear, softly pressing into your sensitive skin. You had tried to stop it, first by asking him, then by telling him, but he had refused. Instead, he got bolder. He exercised his authority over you, by commanding that you keep his favorite spots exposed for his pleasure. When you defied him by hiding them with scarves and other items, he retaliated. Your wardrobe was changed overnight. It was the first of many humiliations to come.

“I want to leave Haitham.” Your eyes didn’t falter from their fixation on the letter. Your voice didn’t even so much as tremble. Not when your freedom was in the palm of his hand. His continued control of your life had only cemented your resolve to be rid of him once and for all. The letter meant that upon your official graduation, you would be released from your apprenticeship to Alhaitham. According to the laws of the Akademiya it meant that in some aspects, namely the financial ones, he would have to yield his control of you. Once that happened, you would be able to trigger the final part of your plan. “I’m tired of this place.” You were tired of his demands. You were tired of being a possession. You were tired of him. “I want to travel again.” You wanted to put as much distance between you and him as was humanly possible. Even if it meant living on a boat in the middle of the ocean for the rest of your life, you were prepared to do so. Just to be rid of him. “And you believe I’ll allow any of that.” His tone was like acid, burning you word after word as he disregarded your reasons for wanting to get away. It wasn’t like he was blind to them. Alhaitham was all too aware of them. This wasn’t a new conversation for either of you. There had been numerous occasions where you had demanded he let you leave, only to be thwarted by the very piece of paper that was now in his hand. As long as you didn’t have it, he could keep you. “It doesn’t matter if you do or you don’t.” You finally tore your eyes away from the letter, craning your neck upward so you could stare into his malicious gaze. “That piece of paper severs your hold over me.” According to the Akademiya, you were free.

The news of that went over as well as you expected it too. Losing was not something Alhaitham was accustomed to, especially when the source of his defeat was someone he viewed as inferior. He had gone to great lengths to insure that you would never graduate. The fury that raged in his eyes when he realized you had gotten around all of them was akin to a hurricane. Menacing and swirling and desperate. He was dangerous when he was like this. You knew that, yet you stood firm in both your reasons and your actions. Any punishments incurred from here on out would fall under the purview of the law. You could bring his actions up to the Matra and they would be obligated to investigate. It was one of the many benefits your graduation had brought you. More so, he wouldn’t be able to prevent it. The letter meant everything had become official. Your graduation and your subsequent release from his care had been registered in the official records. If Alhaitham tried to deny you had graduated, all the matra needed to do to confirm it was check the lists. “No.” His hand tightened around the letter, crushing the piece of paper with almost no effort. “Have I not told you countless times that you are not ready to move forward, yet you are insistent on disobeying me.”

“If not now, when?” You stood up releasing some of the anger that had been pent up inside of you. “I know you think me stupid. I know you view me as blind.” You matched his harsh tone, spitting every word at him in the hope that they would hurt him as much as you wanted them too. “But I won’t be ensnared in your trap any longer.” You took a shallow breath, mentally steadying yourself. “I want my life back. I was fine before you tricked me into joining the Akademiya. I’ve been miserable since. I’ve had my fill of it. I don’t want anything more to do with it or you!” His lips curled into a sneer.

“Is that so?” He took a step forward, his grip tightening even further around the letter. “Did you ask for my blessing before you did this? Did I grant you my permission to do such a thing?” He reached for you and on instinct you leaned back, tossing the only weapon you had at him in the hope it would stop him.

“I have an offer.” It worked.

Alhaitham stopped where he stood, his eyes growing wide at that statement. His face shifted from anger to disbelief to something you didn’t recognize in a matter of seconds. He almost looked as if he hadn’t heard you correctly. But he had. You knew he had. The anger that practically radiated off his frame told you he had.

“I beg your pardon.” The tone of the statement cut right through your confidence. Admitting you had a way out had been a mistake. It had been your intention to never reveal it, at least not until you were well and truly away from him. The letter explaining your escape route, along with your packed bags were back at your apartment. Your intention was to leave the second you had your graduation letter, but that plan had been obviously foiled. Now you had realized Alhaitham’s worst fear for him, in the hope that it would deter him from pressing you any further. It was a foolish move on your part. One you would later come to regret. “I- have an- offer.” You tried to swallow the lump that had formed in your throat, but it was as persistent as his scowl. “The- the court of Fontaine. They wrote again-” The Palais Mermonia was in desperate need of a courtroom sketch artist. They had written months ago after one of your old sketches had ended up in the Palais. Alhaitham had insisted you turn it down, because he needed you here. Now they had written again, this time more urgently. They had even offered you an advance, just to tempt you with the concept of acceptance. “They increased their offer from before.” You couldn’t refuse. Not when the position and the money were your ticket out of Sumeru. “I want out, Haitham.” You said that with every ounce of force in your body, hoping to get your point across.

An extended silence passed between you two, one that was filled by the sound of the wind as it whipped around you.

“Fine.” That answer confounded you. Fine? After years of refusals and torments he finally agrees? It didn’t seem right. It didn’t feel right. Alhaitham wasn’t one to give up, nor did he readily accept defeat. Especially when he had been caught off guard. That meant one thing; there was a catch, somewhere. You knew Alhaitham well enough to know that if there was one plan, then there were at least seven back ups. The man didn’t breathe without a contingency in place. That’s why his sudden acquiescence, especially when he was still seething from your previous conversation, seemed out of sorts. Because it was. There was a trick up his nonexistent sleeve. “I’m sorry, what?” You furrowed your eyebrows at him, hesitant to show him the confusion that was radiating through your body. “You want out of the Akademiya? Fine.” His words were clipped and sharp, lacking any real sincerity. “I’ll grant that to you. You’re out. It saves me the trouble of purging the records once we return to the city.” You gently shook your head. “I want out of Sumeru, Haitham. I want my own life.” An odd, almost all knowing smirk crossed his lips. “I’ll give you that as well.” You blinked at him, your eyes as wide as saucers. For a brief moment you actually thought your brain had broken and your ears deceived you. He agreed? “If you do one thing for me.” There it was. You wanted to laugh at how predictable he could be sometimes. “From now, until you leave Sumeru, you will wear your Akasha terminal.” He reached around behind him, pulling the accursed thing from his pocket. He offered it to you, expectantly waiting for you to take it. You would not deny that it felt too good to be true. After everything had put you through, you could not shake the feeling that you were being deceived once again.

“That’s it?” Your eyes kept moving between his face and the terminal in his hand. “All I have to do is wear this until I leave and I’m free?” The smirk grew larger and with it, so did your hesitation. You didn’t want to trust it or him really. All you had to do was wear your akasha terminal until you left Sumeru and he would let you go free? The offer was too easy. Too simple. Two things Alhaitham never was. There was also the complete lack of a second option to consider. If you refused, what would happen? Would he drag you back to the city kicking and screaming? Would he purge your graduation as a means of keeping you? It was hard to say, hard to know. But that was the point. You were gambling on two unknowns; could you really trust him to do as he said or could you stand whatever punishment he deemed most appropriate? It didn’t matter. You were damned either way. “You’ll truly let me go?”

“Do as I ask and I will happily grant you the new life you seek.”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You should’ve listened to your instincts. You should’ve run as fast as you could. You should’ve removed the akasha terminal before going to bed that night. If you had, you wouldn’t have had to face the horrific reality that greeted you when next woke.

A new life. That’s what he had said. Do as he asked and he would grant you a new life. You had been foolish enough to believe that Alhaitham would do the right thing and allow you the new life you had made for yourself. You weren’t to know that when he had sent you home that night, that the Akademiya would be running an experiment. That everyone wearing an Akasha terminal within a specific radius would be pulled into a deep slumber for an undetermined amount of time. Alhaitham though, through his privileged position at the Akademiya, had. It was why the deal he had offered had been so ungodly simple. All he needed was for you to be wearing the terminal while you slept. Once in the experiment’s hold, he could do as he liked to you, for as long as the experiment lasted. Which was what led you here.

It had been an odd sensation to wake up in the room or rather the cell you would be forced to call home. At the start, you couldn’t quite place it. The ornate woodwork that ran along the ceiling and the cushions beneath you were both entirely unfamiliar. Your apartment and your bed, both of which you firmly remembered falling asleep in, were much simpler. Alhaitham had refused the idea of allowing you anything remotely grand. If you wanted splendor, you could find it in his home. So you had long settled for the simplicity of your surroundings. That’s why the silks and the satins, the ornate carvings, and the gilded bars felt entirely out of place; because they weren’t yours. This was not your apartment. You thought them to be part of another dream. A bizarre image created by your mind due the stress of the last few days. Alhaitham had said he would let you go. He had promised it. Yet as the terror of reality slowly began creeping its way into your bones, you tried to lie and tell yourself this wasn’t real. He hadn’t. He couldn’t. No, you were leaving for Fontaine in the morning. Alhaitham was going to let you go. You kept telling yourself that, right up until you turned your head, finding the man himself staring back at you through the bars of your new gilded cage.

He didn’t speak to you. Not initially. He just stared, as he liked to do in the quieter moments. He allowed you the privilege of assessing your present circumstances on your own. Of letting you reach your own conclusion when it came to what they meant. He granted you the rare right to the blinding rage that filled you to the brim after the reality of your situation finally sunk in. He had lied to you. He had tricked you. He had trapped you. There would be no escape. He had finally acted on the overarching threat that had hung over your head like a blade waiting to strike. Alhaitham had made you his. “Haitham?” Your voice quivered as your barely maintained control of it. Gods above how you just wanted to scream at him. Even if it would be deemed unnecessary at this stage, you still wanted to. If nothing else than to release the emotions that were threatening to suffocate you. “You must have still been tired from all your exertions while I was away.” The flat calm of his voice incensed you further. The sheer audacity of the man to be unaffected by the looming consequences of his actions sent you to another level where your fury was concerned. Even if there was nothing you could physically do to him, Alhaitham could have had the good manners to sound somewhat remorseful for the fact that he had tricked you. “I took your akasha terminal off hours ago.” You tried to take a deep breath to calm yourself, knowing full well it would do nothing to help. The deep, stuttering quality of the release of it matched the wrath that was vibrating through your body. “Did you sleep well?” An absurd question all things considered. “What’s going on?” You sat up fully, using the cold metal bars as a means of support when you could finally manage to stand. “What have you done?”

He rose from his place on the sofa opposite the cage, taking one last moment to look you over before he closed the distance between you. It wasn’t a large gap, in fact, he closed in what felt like a second. To you though, it felt like an eternity. He was savoring his victory. The look of utter satisfaction he gave you when he stopped in front of you nearly made you take his face off. The only thing that stopped you was that it was well out of your reach. “I cannot admire you to my own satisfaction if you are in Fontaine, sparrow.” He confidently reached out, the pads of his fingers running down the column of your neck, daring to pause long enough at the base so he could brush his thumb over your exposed collarbone. “I shudder to think what could have happened to you had you slipped away.” You would be free. That’s what would have happened. You would be in Fontaine and completely free of him. “This is a much better arrangement, don’t you think?”

“How is this better?!” Hot tears began to stream down your face, burning your skin more with each drop that rolled across your cheeks. “I’m behind bars because of you!” The idea that he acted on his threat to confine you to this degree was not the worst part of this, but it was the most horrifying. Alhaitham always held himself to such a high standard of logic and reason. It was impossible to believe that he would go to such a barbaric level just to maintain his control over you. “I did warn you about the cage. What a pity that you didn’t listen.” Your fingers tightened around the bars. “All you had to do was behave and I would have left you at liberty.” He chuckled. “Such a shame you couldn’t even manage that.” Behave. He meant stay. The price of your liberty was staying in Sumeru until one of you died. Had you just done that, you would have woken up in your bed or at worst his. Instead, you had pressed the offer from Fontaine. You had demanded he let you go. You actually tried to leave. Now in his mind, you had to pay the price for your folly.

“HAITHAM” Your fingers released the bars long enough for you to slap them in pure frustration. “This isn’t fair- this isn’t legal!” He didn’t fight you on either point, he didn’t need to. You were correct on both counts, you knew you were. Confining you was not an ideal solution for him, but your disobedience had forced his hand. You had turned his worst fear into a reality and that was something Alhaitham wasn’t about to allow. “Let me out!” You hit the cage again, more for effect than anything else. “Or?” He retracted his hand from you, folding his arms in amusement, almost challenging you to threaten him. “You’ll scream?” He shrugged. “Go ahead, no one will hear you.” You swallowed, not liking the dangerous glint in his eyes.

“We’re in the middle of the city.” Your complete lack of confidence in that statement was all too apparent. The truth was, you didn’t know that for sure. It was an assumption that he had taken the route of least resistance and brought you to his home. But you had been unconscious when he had done so. The sobering reality was, you could be anywhere. Sumeru was rife with caves and ruins alike. There were any number of places where one could hide a person or themselves if they needed to. Places that the matra didn’t know of or places they didn’t care to go. Places that Alhaitham was prepared to take advantage of, should he need to. “Are we?” There was a small smirk. “Are you sure about that?” Your only response was to look away from him. Having to stare at his smug expression was making you sick. “Would you like a hint?”

“How is this even possible?” You turned back, fixing him with a glare, blatantly ignoring his question. “The last time we spoke, you told me you didn’t have this. The threat to lock me away was an idle one at best.”

“Didn’t I? Interesting that you know what may or may not be in my possession at any given time.” You shook your head in complete denial. He had only just forced you back from the woods yesterday. There was no way he could have gotten this in the span of a night. Either you had been asleep for a lot longer than you thought or something else was going on. “If you’re good, I’ll consider letting you out later to stretch your legs for a bit.” If not, he would keep you locked away for days, even weeks before he would consider letting you out again. Even with your exceptional capability to refuse him at nearly every turn, you could not deny that Alhaitham held all the cards. If you would not offer your compliance freely, then he could demand it in other ways. He could force it if it was absolutely necessary, but he would wear you down long before he ever got to that point. The burden of being held captive wasn’t resting on him. Alhaitham was free. He could do as he pleased and you knew it pleased him just to have you. Your presence was enough to satiate any desire he might have. He could easily lose himself in a book and be fine with forcing you to wait to the point that you were willing to beg him for a scrap of attention. Meanwhile, all you could do was stare at the door of your cell and pray that you didn’t descend into madness from the sheer boredom of it all. “I know it’s a foreign concept for you to behave yourself where I’m concerned, but perhaps you could practice it while I’m otherwise engaged today. It’s not like you have anything else to do.” The incredulous nature of his statement caused you to only be able to gape at him in horror.

Alhaitham’s expectation of you being good, was for you to be utterly compliant to his whims. He expected your gratitude and your adoration in equal measure. Your inability to express either frustrated him to no end. You supposed he felt your current situation would fix that. To achieve an ounce of freedom, you had to do what he wanted. You had to obey. There were no more second chances or mild infractions. Alhaitham’s intentions were all too clear. You become what he wanted you to be. Period. “Kaveh will be in to check on you once he gets back from his errands. Considering he’s as irritated as I am with you, I’m sure a little obedience would go a long way mending the proverbial fence with him.”

“Fuck off.” You spat that at him the hope that it would have some effect on him. It did, but only from the standpoint that it made Alhaitham angrier. You could see it in his eyes when they grew harder, glossing over with the cold apathy that he had mastered. “Language.” You went to say it again, this time louder, hopefully loud enough that someone would hear, but he cut you off. “Don’t doubt me when I tell you I have all that I need to correct your mistakes. Your language is one of them.” There was a brief pause. “I’ll give you a pass on that little outburst because you’re upset. Perhaps rightfully so. But don’t make the same mistake with your language again. If you choose to continue to scream obscenities at me, then you’ll do so from behind a gag until you know better. Am I clear?” You let out a slow breath, flaring your nostrils at him as you did. God you wanted to try him. You wanted to dare him to act on his threat, just to see if he would follow through on it. You half considered it, until you looked over the bars again. He had gone so far as to build you a cage. A gag or anything else he had squirreled away would be nothing in comparison. “Sparrow. Answer me, courteously.” “I hate you.” You weren’t about to give him the acquiescence he desired. Not today at any rate. “This isn’t even remotely close to fair.” Your hands came around the bars, gripping them with all you had. “It isn’t fair that you were going to sneak away either. Yet you still tried. Consider this your punishment.” He indicated the cage. “When you learn to stay as you should, then I might be persuaded to let you out for an extended period of time, with supervision.” Stay as you should, like a dog. Gods help you. Your previous fury, which hadn’t been subdued by his motives finally succeeded in escaping, launching itself at him with every ounce of strength you had in your body. The bars of the cage rattled in unison with your screams as you pounded against the door to your cell. Much like Alhaitham, it didn’t move. It held firm, keeping you exactly where he wanted you as he took in your tantrum. He watched you fail and cry and scream until you were reduced to a crumpled puddle at his feet, quietly sobbing out what was left of your rage. There was nothing more to do, there was nothing more to say. To your own horror you had to accept the truth, that despite all your careful planning, Alhaitham had still managed to find a way to win.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Some time later, that was how Kaveh found you; crumpled against the cage in a broken heap. Enrant tears still fell as you couldn’t quite bring your emotions into check, but your sobbing had long ceased. The only reason it had, was because you had no more energy to do so. Whatever means Alhaitham and Kaveh had been using to keep you alive while you slept weren’t being employed now that you were awake. That meant you were reliant on them to supply you with what you needed to survive. Something you were sure would depend on your behavior and how obedient you choose to be. Knowing Alhaitham, the more you humiliated yourself for his benefit, the better. If you refused, he could starve the defiance right out of you.

“Paradisah?” You flinched at the sound of Kaveh’s voice. He had slipped in a while ago. Like Alhaitham, Kaveh was keen to observe as well. It was an annoying trait they both shared. You wished though, that like Alhaitham, Kaveh had remained silent. You weren’t ready for him. Your anger at Alhaitham, at least the first incarnation of it, had only just subsided. Kaveh didn’t necessarily deserve the tail end of it, simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Had you the energy for it, you would have given him the fresh anger he had earned all on his own. Instead you limply sat there, ignoring him. It was the only defense you could muster. “Darling-” He quickly moved closer, the metal details of his outfit clinking and clanking with every swift step. “Darling, are you alright?” Out of all the statements and questions you had heard today, that took the cake on being the stupidest. Were you alright? You had been abducted and told you would stay locked in some form of a cage for the rest of your life. Of course you weren’t alright. Why would he ask that? “I only just got here. Alhaitham left a note saying to check on you. He mentioned that you might be upset.” Might be. Might be.

You turned, your head tilting up in utter disbelief as your tired, red rimmed eyes found Kaveh’s. Might be upset. Things that might upset you were things like the coffee shop being out of your favorite blend or being denied art supplies that you needed for a project. Suggesting that you might be upset at your present circumstances was perhaps the understatement of the millenia. There was no might be about it. You had gone well past the point of upset and gone nuclear. The only thing that seemed to contain it was your own mental exhaustion. “Paradi, please don’t be like that. It’s-” He let out an exasperated sigh. “It’s not that bad. Truly it’s not.” For the first time, you were thankful for the bars that separated you from Kaveh. Had they not been there, then there was a very real chance you might have killed him where he stood. “Are you mad?” You didn’t bother to soften your tone for his benefit, not when he was acting like this was the most normal thing in the world. “I’m locked in a cage, Kaveh. A cage.” The anger you thought you didn’t have for him sparked, rapidly reigniting the ashes of the inferno that had been burning inside of you. “Why?” The question had been a rhetorical one, but the blonde scoffed, deciding it needed to be answered. “Because you gave him no other choice!” You watched as Kaveh planted his hands on his narrow hips. “Not to take his side in this, but you did it first! You-” He weakly gestured to you, letting his one hand fall back to his side. “You went behind his back! You went behind my back! By the way, Fontaine? Really?” Kaveh fixed you with a look of utter contempt. “And for so little too.” He shook his head in disgust. “You should at least get what you’re worth if you’re going to try something this stupid.” Like he was one to talk. Kaveh was Sumeru’s reigning king of foolish endeavors and stupid mistakes. The reason for his personal troubles were because he lacked the common sense he was born with. “I wanted my life back. I already live on a pittance, what’s the difference if I do it here or in Fontaine?” The difference was that Alhaitham and Kaveh wouldn’t be with you. While he tried to disguise it as pity or even empathy, Kaveh was every bit as bad as Alhaitham when it came to controlling your life. He didn’t use money or even his position to keep you where he wanted you. Instead, Kaveh’s violent mood swings often played a large role in getting you to do what he wanted. It was easier to comply with his poor pitiful me act than to deal with the outbursts that would follow should you refuse. “I didn’t think you would be one to lecture me about wanting to get away.” You fixed him with a hard look. “Aren’t you always going on about paying off your debts and getting away from him once and for all? Why am I any different? Why do I have to be the one that’s locked in the cage?” “Because you won’t listen!” The force in Kaveh’s voice temporarily silenced you. He stomped so hard his entire outfit rang in your ears. “All we want is to take care of you!” He took a deep breath, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. “Are you that ungrateful? You were sleeping in ruins and shady inns before you came here.” He let out an exasperated sigh. “We’ve offered you a life, a home. Sure Alhaitham is wretched and the whole mora thing is annoying, but does that alone constitute betrayal?” The word be slammed into you like a sack of bricks.

“Betrayal?” You could hardly voice the word. Did Kaveh really believe that? “Yes!” He pointed at you. “Betrayal. You have done nothing but lie to me for the last few weeks. Outside of one or two incidents, I thought we were getting along splendidly. I was ready to give him a glowing report so that he might cut you a little slack. Instead you betrayed me. You went behind my back multiple times to make arrangements for your new life in Fontaine. Then you scared the living daylights out of me when you took your little sketching trip into the woods. They delivered your graduation letter that morning and when I went to find you so we could talk about it, you were gone! I thought you had tried to run. I spent my day combing Sumeru City trying to find you!” You wanted to feel guilty about that, but you couldn’t quite manage it. Kaveh’s willing participation in this whole fiasco seemed to kill any remorse you tried to have. “Do you think so little of me that you would do that to me? After everything we’ve been through, you would just leave me behind to deal with his fury?” That you did feel slightly sorry about. You had from the beginning.

Kaveh was as much of a victim of Alhaitham as you were. While you had to deal with Alhaitham’s wandering hands and his incessant control, Kaveh had to endure endless rounds of verbal abuse that were hurled at him on a minute by minute basis when he and Alhaitham were together. Even if it was mostly brought on by Kaveh’s general attitude, Alhaitham almost always went for the jugular where Kaveh was concerned. There had been plenty of instances where Kaveh had limped away from a fight with Alhaitham, only to lick his wounds in the tavern. The difference between you and Kaveh though was Kaveh’s continued participation in Alhaitham’s scheme to keep you in Sumeru. That’s why you only felt slightly bad about your failed escape. Kaveh deserved many things, but the one thing he didn’t deserve was to face the brunt of Alhaitham’s anger when the truth of your escape finally came to light. That didn’t mean you hadn’t been prepared to force him to suffer for the sake of your freedom. If the consequences of you leaving forced Kaveh to realize his own hypocrisy at the hands of Alhaitham, then it was a price you were willing to pay. That at least would be some justice for what had happened to you. Now, there would be none.

“Right, because you’re the victim in this.” Kaveh managed to look a little wounded by that. “Do you think so little of your own ideals that you would cast them aside to imprison me?” The look he gave you was akin to being sucker punched. You could see the wheels spinning in his head. You watched the guilt work its way across his face as he finally took in your situation. “I- I didn’t want you to wake up in there.” Was that supposed to make you feel better? Were you supposed to thank him for his thoughtfulness despite the fact he willingly participated in your abduction? “Even with your betrayal, I advocated that you would be more comfortable out here.” Kaveh briefly gestured at the couch that sat along the wall closest to him. “We could always lock you in later, but I felt it would be better for you not to wake up behind bars. Alhaitham- he disagreed with me. He insisted that things had to remain as normal for us as possible. Nothing could look or feel amiss. I told him I would stay with you, but-” Kaveh shook his head. Obviously that suggestion hadn’t gone much further than that. “In the end, he’s right. We had to consider all that you had done, all you could do. You could hurt yourself, or something else could happen.” Like alert the matra and try to get away. “We both felt that this was better. Safer for everyone.” Safer. You wanted to laugh. You wanted to scream. Safer for who exactly? Them? You? “I know you’re upset.” He tried to sound gentle about it. Despite screaming at you only a few minutes prior, Kaveh was trying his best to be the good cop to Alhaitham’s bad cop. He was trying so desperately to add a silver lining to an abysmal situation. You wouldn’t accept it though. No amount of honeyed words would ever fool you again. “If you listen to him then it won’t be for long. He told me he might even let you out for a while later.” Fresh tears stung your eyes as you gripped the bars with all you had. “You’d like that right? To be out, to walk around? You were under for so long. I’m sure it would feel great just to stretch your legs. Oh! Just think, we could all have meals together, just like we used too.” Like some bastardized version of a family. Despite being famished, you nearly wretched at the thought. “Wouldn’t that be grand?” Kaveh offered you a genuine smile in an effort to disguise the fact that what he had just said was completely revolting. We could all have meals together, just like we used too. As if you hadn’t been forced to eat with them the first time. As if anything would ever be like it used too ever again. How could this meal or any others make up for the fact that your life had been stolen from you? Years of work, years of training, years of studying all made useless by the cold bars that held you in place. You had been reduced to no better than their pet. Something they were preparing to mold and train into a mindless thing. “Why don’t I make you some Pani Puri? You like that don’t you? I think we-” God you couldn’t stand him anymore. You couldn’t stand his incessant need to ignore the obvious. You hated him. You hated Alhaitham. You would rather be left to rot in the prison they had built for you before you would tolerate being in their presence for one more second. “Leave.” It took him a second to process what you said. Initially you thought he hadn’t heard you or that you had only said it in your mind based on the confusion that was written across his face. His expression changed a moment later, resembling that of a kicked puppy. “Darling, I -” He took a step towards you.

“I said-” You turned away from him, not wanting to see his face again. “Leave.” You tried to add some force to that, but it didn’t really work. The word came out as some weak, warbling thing that was barely discernible. Still though, he understood. You heard him take a breath, as if to say one last thing to you, but he refrained. Needless platitudes of encouragement or pleas for you to reconsider wouldn’t do him any good. You had already refused to hear them. Instead, the only sound you wanted to hear was the gentle clanking of Kaveh’s outfit as he slowly moved away. After what you guessed were a few minutes, he granted you that. Leaving you to the fate that Alhaitham had decided for you.

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