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vampireids · 2 months 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 · 11 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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ayasuki · 2 years 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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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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thesongoficeandfir3 · 6 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 · 5 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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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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dancing-with-draegons · 5 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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thewirewitch · 23 days ago

Text

My Over-Analysis of The Daycare Attendant (FNaF)

ALRIGHT so this is going to just be a big ramble about all the things I've noticed (or have learned from others' posts/videos) about the DCA as well as some headcanons (hopefully I remember to add those lol) about them. These guys are currently rotting my brain and I need an outlet to express the absolute mess that is my current train of thought.

So uh, if you wish to proceed, good luck! I have NO IDEA how long this is going to end up, and I may also add-on to it (probably in reblogs) either because I realized something new or new material comes out (looking at you, Escape From the Pizzaplex). I also cannot guarantee any form of organization so...whoops ^^;

ALRIGHT so the first thing I wanna start off with is something I just kind of thought of/noticed pretty recently. Carousel.

This minigame in HW2 HAS GOT TO BE a confirmation that Sun and Moon are older animatronics. I thought that since I started to brainrot over them (a bit after SB first came out). They look old. They sound old (talking about their joints/movement noises). Even their designs seem a bit old. And Carousel gives me even more evidence towards this.

The carousel is called the "Fazbear antique carousel" which means it is definitely a bit on the older side. And who's voice is used as the pre-recorded message for technicians when it breaks down? Sun's. Also, Moon seems VERY comfortable maneuvering around on a (somewhat) functional carousel. Seems like he's got a familiarity with it.

The carousel also seems to be linked with Fallfest in some way (the background and the fall-time theme), and we know Fallfest happened a WHILE ago.

Also, just something I've thought about, the carrages/carts/booths/whatever that the Fazerblast minigame takes place at? There's a sun and a moon carved into the wood on them. Fazerblast also seems to take place during Fallfest.

Also Jack-O-Moon's just Moon wearing make-up/painted over. There's some chips in the paint that shows his normal colors underneath. Maybe that's why he's a little spooky gremlin man lol

Adding onto this: I've pondered if the reason Sun burnt out being a daycare worker/being the one in control most often, while Moon is so desperate to stay in control could be because Moon used to be the one who was primarily out. There's like, 0 evidence for this, it's just a thought I had. If it's true though, I can see why they'd be ill-suited for their current rolls lol

Something else I've thought about related to this is how Glamrock Freddy addresses the Daycare Attendant. He called them "it." Makes me wonder if the fact they're old either lead to either 1. Him not realizing they're also sentient (older model = less advanced) or 2. There's some programming/system that all the Glamrocks have that lets them recognize eachother as other people, but the Daycare Attendant isn't part of it.

Could also just be that they don't interact enough for Freddy to really know them as a person and not just something that exists. Or they also use it/its pronouns ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Something else HW2 implies is that...the DCA got damaged when Sun was the one in control, not Moon. Makes me wonder what exactly happened to them to cause that...

I also do wonder what happened first: The daycare was destroyed, or all the lights (except the emergency ones) went out. If the lights in the daycare were on when the place was wrecked, maybe, just maybe Sun had a hand in disassembling those endos that wondered in. (I think about those endos in Ruin a LOT. They got messed up, man. Claw marks and severed robot hands in the play structures.)

Edit while still in drafts: Idk what my brain was thinking in this moment lol. Still kinda curious which one messed up the endos though.

If you're wondering why I think Sun could possibly have torn apart a few endos, it's because of the disassembled STAFF bots in the loft. I feel like if Sun was against tearing apart other robots, then he probably would have gotten rid of the pieces of STAFF bot left in their room. Maybe him and Moon both have a mutual dislike of those guys.

Another edit: Apparently there's some STAFF bot-like bots in Secret of the Mimic, and the Mimic seems to really not like the DCA in particular, so maybe they had some past beef with each other.

Also, on the topic of Ruin for this one: I have a few different reasons for why I think Moon decided not to chase Cassie.

1 - He's not under Vanny's control anymore and lost some of his aggression. He still has some aggression in the very first interaction he has with Cassie, but he's also...prooobably not in a good state of mind tbh. The sound of his laughing is a lot more bitter/forced sounding. (He might also be kind of desperate to do his job since he finally has control???)

And even when you do just stroll up to him without turning on any generators, the death animation is kind...weird. When viewing it from a 3rd-person perspective, he seems to pick Cassie up off the ground while using his wire. Cassie does try to fight back, but what kills her? Might have been a fall. It seems like Moon may have dropped her. Whether it be on purpose or by accident? No idea.

(Also, gonna touch-up on the 2nd jumpscare: Moon is in active pain during it and seems MUCH more aggravated. Makes sense as to why he goes for the jugular in that one.)

2 - This one's my silly reason as to why Moon doesn't chase you: Their missing foot.

Compared to Sun and Eclipse, who we see walking with their busted leg, the only time we see Moon put any weight on it, aside from just standing, is the initial encounter with him. He uses it for some balance, having it on the bar of a lower part of the play structure while his undamaged foot is pushing off the "wall," but it doesn't seem like it's the most optimal for balancing (he does fall backwards lol). Even when he spins around when the 2nd generator is turned on, he puts more weight on his undamaged leg.

Makes me think that, without his hee-hoo gremlin way of walking/dancing around, a chase isn't really worth it to him. Either that or he's a bit cautious about his damage.

3 - Which is most likely the reason why he doesn't: Steel Wool wanted to make the daycare segment easier than it was in SB. A LOT of people got stuck in the daycare for a while before the colored glow was added to the generator wires lol.

Either that or the daycare was a bit of an afterthought/rushed.

BONUS: I think Cassie was banned from the Daycare. Why? When she had the VANNI mask on, the word "BANNED" is written in distortion over the Moondrop ads on TVs in certain areas. This wouldn't make sense unless she had been banned before since the AR world seems to get a bit personal at times (and even if she knew Gregory got banned, it probably wouldn't do that).

I also find it really interesting that it's over a Moondrop ad. Makes me wonder what happened...

...

Cassie also doesn't talk to Moon like she does Chica, Roxy, Sun, Freddy, and even Monty...

I literally just connected these dots while writing this. Help.

Another Ruin thing I've been pondering is: Why don't Sun and Moon have a puzzle when they're being rebooted? They are THE only thing (if I remember correctly) that a Fazwrench is used on that doesn't have a puzzle. I know the Mimic says that Roxy is one of the last security nodes, but, is that even true??? It could have easily been lying to Cassie about that.

But anyway. My best guess is so that there'd be an unbroken cutscene with Eclipse, but I'm imagining how cool it would have been if they added one of those little Flow Free puzzle things where you had to connect a Moon icon to a Sun one and then boom Eclipse happens.

THEY HAD AN OPPORTUNITY AND SQUANDERED IT!

ANOTHER THING I find interesting is how any character with a speaking roll in SB and Ruin just call Sun and Moon "The Daycare Attendant" (aside from themselves). Glamrock Freddy and The Mimic both address them as such, even though in both instances the one they're talking about is Moon.

And what I also find interesting is that while Sun addresses Moon as either "him" or "the other me" as well as including him in "us," Moon actually calls Sun by his name in Ruin. This makes Moon the only one so far to call either of them by their name and not their title or just the use of a pronoun.

In Ruin, Moon also flip-flops between plural ("us" and "we") as well as singular ("my") after the 2nd generator is turned on in the daycare.

Honestly, I just really think these guys' speech mannerisms are interesting.

SPEAKING OF SPEECH MANNERISMS something someone else pointed out is that Sun and Moon both repeat words/phrases when they're distressed/agitated.

REMEMBER TO ADD-ON TO ABOVE FUTURE ME THERE'S GOOD STUFF HERE

^I'm leaving this here because I think it was funny to leave off my draft here lol.

ANYWAY as I was saying. Some instances of this that I can think of at the moment for Sun is when he says "Keep the lights on. On. On..." since even just the thought of the lights going out absolutely terrifies him. There's also when the lights do go out. "No! NO! Why would you do that??? Light's on! Light's on! I warned you! I warned you!!!" That is THREE repetitions going on. Once the lights come back on? "Rulebreaker! Rulebreaker!" Dude's ticked, and once again repeating words.

Gonna go to Ruin now. "New friend? New friend!" and "Reboot! Reboot!" are both said when Sun's desperate. We also get another "Light's on! Light's on..." from him. Then, if you go up to him with one generator on, he repeats "no" a lot before telling Cassie it isn't safe yet. Dude knows the danger Moon could be towards her in this state, and he's also really close to his current goal (getting rebooted), so he definitely would have a lot to worry about in that moment.

Help. Wanted. 2. Oh boy lol. I don't remember a lot of Sun's lines from this since he got SIX. WHOLE. MINUTES. of new voicelines. Anyway, the one I remember most is when he gets mad at you and yells "Bad kid! Bad kid! I'm putting you in time out!" I am genuinely blanking on if there's any other instances of him repeating something in HW2 but oh well I've got enough examples from him lol

Makes me wonder about him saying, "Hey, hey! Are you having fun yet? Are ya? Are ya???" Seems like he might be nervous that he's not doing his job right. Poor guy...

Anyway, as a transition between Sun and Moon, let's take a look at a line they both share!

"Clean up, clean up!"

Both of them have different emotions behind this line, Sun sounding anxious and Moon sounding mildly aggressively annoyed (lol).

On to Moon! I'm going to skip right to Ruin since this is the one he talks the most in. The one line this is most prevalent in is, "Naughty! Naughty! The light makes us hurt! Grind, grind, grinding gears inside my head! We can't move. Error! Error!!!" after the second generator is turned on. That is, once again, another three repetitions in a single line. Dude is Going Through It™.

But anyway, there was something else I found interesting about Moon's voicelines. He...has always had a lot of repetition in them. "Naughty boy. Naughty boy. It's past your bedtime. You must be punished, Nighty-night." "Naughty, naughty." "Knock, knock." "Hidey-hide. Hide away..." as well as "Bad children must be punished" + "Bad children must be found."

This brings up the question: Has Moon always been kinda agitated about something? (Honestly, could just be that he hates being locked away in his own body most of the time.)

Just gonna plot this here and say I feel like Eclipse is kinda a Steven Universe gem-fusion between Sun and Moon. Sun saying that they "need to be whole" and Kellen Goff saying that Eclipse is like the perfect balance between Sun and Moon (saying something along the lines of Sun's Yin to Moon's Yang) in Dawko's "The FNaF Show" interview (season three episode). Also, since Sun was able to say "thank you" to Cassie, I feel like he and Moon are both still fully aware and present, but just in a much more peaceful state where they can actually cooperate.

SPEAKING OF ECLIPSE- I. I just think I realized something HEAR ME OUT-

Okay, so, since Kellen described Eclipse as being "reborn" in his Tweet about them (if I remember correctly), and Eclipse's first line being "Happy Birthday!" AS WELL as the Balloon Boy arcade easter egg, is makes me think Eclipse used to be around, but ended up getting deactivated/"split" at some point.

"But 'Happy Birthday' is a reference to Frosty the Snowman when he was made." YES BUT! Frosty also says that when he gets resurrected!

Sun knowing that there is a possible way for him and Moon to "be whole" also seems to show that they may have been that way at some point in the past. My guess as to what happened? Well uuuuuuh

Alright, so, this has to do with the books. In Tales from the Pizzaplex, I believe it's Bobbiedots Part 1, the main character (Abe) tells the guy he's training that at one point, that Sun and Moon, after no longer being used as stage animatronics, had been reprogrammed (the light trigger was something they has also tried to remove). My guess is, if Eclipse used to be a normal thing for them, and if the books are accurate in this case, then THAT is when they were split.

I know I've mentioned her a lot, but I find the comments Cassie makes about the Sun and Moon AR merch very interesting.

"I used to have so much fun in the daycare." and "I never slept better than I did in the daycare." could be either taken as genuine, which would mean Sun and Moon used to be good at their jobs as daycare attendants (or Cassie was just weird lol), or could also be a little sarcastic. I doubt they're sarcastic, since they'd probably have some kind of drawn-out vowels in them if they were. Also, I find the description of the masks ("FUN FUN FUN!" for the Sun one and "Sleep." for the Moon one) to be pretty funny.

Also, the "Weird. it looks just like the other one." for the golden Moon plush is very interesting to me. For he golden Sun one it's "Funny. It looks just like the other one." which, yeah, Sun's usual colors could easily be replaced with gold and he'd look very similar. But Moon? Nah. Makes me wonder if Eclipse was around back then, or Cassie had seen them at one point, even if they weren't around anymore (maybe promo material or something idk).

Sooo that is all I have for now! I will inevitably remember something I forgot to put here like, right after I post this or something. I'll definitely add any additional stuff I think about in a reblog.

It is 1:07 am. I meant to go to bed like, and hour ago.

G'niiiiiight~!

#my stuff #rambling #OMEGA rambling this time #FNaF #FNaF DCA #FNaF Sun #FNaF Moon #FNaF Eclipse #DCA Sun #DCA Moon #DCA Eclipse

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ihavethedreamies · 9 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?!"

-> Series Hub <-

Master-Master List

NCT Master List

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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, what you find there may well be worse than death.

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

Perhaps you might struggle instead, 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: 328k 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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