#and he leaves her/sets proper boundaries with her or something

[youling-the-ghost]

No but imagine you're Mark for a minute. You live with your alcoholic father, your father who blames you for your mother's death, your mother who died because your father was drunk driving. And yet you're the one who shouldered the burden.

You grow up like this. That's fine, you tell yourself, because what else can you say?

You meet this wonderful woman. Her name is Suzanne (or is it Clarissa?) and she makes you feel whole again, like your guilt and trauma are nothing more than the past. After everything, you see a ray of light shining through.

And so you propose, wanting to spend the rest of your life with this wonderful woman. But just as you're on one knee with the ring in your hand, your girlfriend casts you aside and answers a phone call. This isn't the first time she's done this.

You call the engagement off, but you still want things to heal (how could you not?) and so you try. You try again to heal your relationship, because you love her and you want to make things right. But she does it again. She brushes off your feelings and makes you feel like you're no more than a sewer rat, scurrying from bin to bin and hiding in the walls. And to rub salt on the wound, when you try to express yourself, she calls you hotheaded and dismisses your feelings.

Like damn, Mark was just going through it the entire longform.

[ridingtorohan]

𓇻 ft. tulpar crew x gn reader

𓇻 request. the crew's reactions to walking in on reader touching themselves.

𓇻 content. 18+ content, minors dni. potential second hand embarrassment, reader is gender neutral (no genitalia specified), getting caught, masturbation, semi-public masturbation.

𓇻 enjoy! feel free to like, reblog, or send in asks!

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Masterlist ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎Part Two: walking in on them

By all accounts, Curly is a respectable captain. He respects boundaries and doesn't cross the line. He's the captain, after all. Not having locks on the door is a safety issue, he knows. Just as he knows to knock. It just wasn't on his mind; he needed your help with something and you're technically available.

So he breezes right in, words on his lips and - there you are.

Holy shit, there you are. In all your lewd glory. "Oh." Then, oh. "Sorry, I'm just-" and he doesn't even finish the sentence because he backtracks and shuts the door behind him.

The thing is, that image haunts him, later. Wriggling like an infestation inside his skull. When he sees you, he acts every bit the proper superior, doesn't bat an eye. Internally, he sees flashes of skin, the way you moaned and sighed.

It leaves a lasting impression in his mind and he's so painfully aware of it. Aware of it in more ways than one because he knows nothing can come of this. It's awkward enough walking in on someone, awkward even more when everytime he knocks on your door afterwards, he's praying that you'll be nude and waiting for him.

Late at night, he remembers it, stroking himself and pressing his face into a pillow as his hips jerk, spilling himself over his fingers, wishing that it was your hands on him.

Sometimes, he wishes you'd walk in on him too.

Even Jimmy knows better than to poke through doors, especially when everybody is awake. He's never felt the need to, not with the open door policy and frankly, until this, he's only noticed you in passing.

Nimble as ever, he opens your door, irritated over something that one of the crew members had done the other day. Sometimes, he just liked to vent and rage about the injustice. You're easy to talk to, but he's never really sought you out for anything else before.

The door shuts behind him and he just stands there, previous irritation set to the backburner. Because there you are, uniform discarded and showing off your form, hand between your thighs as you nursed your arousal.

Above all else, Jimmy is a certified voyeur. He likes to watch and admire, drilling inside his head about the way your hand moves, the curve of your spine. Each individual sound. But even Jimmy has his limits.

When you're close or have already come, he slides up behind you, hot breath at your neck, thick hands skimming over your waist, to your thighs, only to settle on top of yours. "As much as I enjoy the view, pet, I'm going to take it from here." And he makes damn good no his promise.

He makes a mental note that to visit your room far more often.

Anya really just needed an answer to a quick question, relating to your latest check in to the medbay (or your duties). She knocks on the door, too softly to be heard over the sound of your activities.

It takes her an embarrassingly long time to even realize what was going on. All she sees is your huddled form. First comes the concern, her hand reaching out for your shoulder, "Are you oka-"

And you let out such a noisy sigh that she freezes. She's gotten laid before and suddenly it hits her like a truck just what she walked into because she knows what those sounds mean. Furiously backpedalling, her hand raises to her mouth. "I'm so sorry."

Quietly, she excuses herself from your quarters, ears a little red and hands shaking.

For a long, awkward time afterward, she can't even meet your eyes, even going as far as delegating the psych eval to Curly.

If you ever get injured, she performs it as meticulously as she can, her eyes tracing over every ounce of your body, trying to forget the way you moved.

Frankly, at one point, one of you would have to address what happened. But she's more than eager to ride this bumpy path until then, even if it strains your relationship with her.

Everytime she sees you that familiar, yawning ache simmers in her gut.

As much as she tried to deny it, what she walked in on affected her.

When the tension becomes too much, she finds herself sitting on her leg, grinding herself against her calf, biting the inside of her cheek as she imagines you there.

As stupid as it is, she might have maybe done it in your presence, hands trembling as she tries to keep a conversation going, desk separating you two. Other times, when it becomes unbearable, she rubs her thighs together or slides her calves against the leg of her chair, praying to god that you don't see her. (But half of her hoping that you will.)

He's been looking for you for the better part of half an hour; usually, he finds you in obscure places or with his intern, so the last place he thought to look was in your bedroom. Really, that should have been his first guess. You two were supposed to talk about something and it's been on his mind like a nagging hornet.

Sure, walking into another's room is technically frowned upon, but with all the mishaps of Daisuke barging into people's rooms (much to the disgruntlement of, well, everyone) that for a split second he didn't even consider it.

He just opens the door and - okay, so you're doing that. No wonder you were absent, so engrossed in self pleasure that you didn't even hear him stepping in.

Swansea feels too old for this, seeing your twisted figure, your cries of pleasure. So he just turns around and shuts the door, leaving you to it.

He tucks himself back into a latest project and perusing Daisuke's homework, busying himself until you're finished and in public. Not that he planned to publicly confront you about it, but because he knew everybody needed a little time alone. As small as the Tulpar was, he knew any time and space should be well spent. Even if he silently questioned your methods.

But he does bring it up. He doesn't let it slide (not like how your hands slid between your thighs and-).

Despite whatever personality conflicts you two had, he had eyes and all working parts, thank you very much. He also had needs.

Once the original topic was out of the way, he crossed his arms, expression serious when he says, "Now, it's all my doin' for bargin' in like that, but I saw something of you that I shouldn't have." He'd elaborate if he had to, "If alone time is what you're after, we've got socks for that. Toss it on your door handle and be done with it; I ain't gonna let nobody disturb ya during it."

As awkward as that conversation was, he's handled it before. He has grown kids, after all. But you're not his kid, and you're certainly grown - he's seen that. Noticed it off-hand a few times before too.

He sighs, leaning back, letting you decide when he adds, "But if release is what you're after, I know a thing or two, and I can help you with that."

All but acting like a lost puppy, Daisuke often turned to you for help in locating his missing items. Batteries, dust pan, his gameboy cartridge. (Swansea was so mad the last time he lost the screwdriver and thanked you profusely with your help locating it.) So popping in for a quick minute into your bedroom to ask for your help in locating his soap was a mindless task.

He pops in, door banging, energetic words on his lips. His brain all but sputters when your eyes connect, nude form on the bed, sprawled out, light sheen of sweat on your body, looking like a tribute straight from the gods.

Despite your hasty attempt to cover and a spew of apologies from Daisuke's lips, he can't take his eyes off you. It's like he can't even blink, so absorbed in your image that half of what he's saying doesn't make sense.

You'd have to forcibly remove him because he is rooted to his spot, unable to vacate of his own free will. He'll be banging on your door, pleading to be let back in, to talk it over. He's not sure what he wants to say - more apologies? Explain why he's there? He wants to offer help so badly.

If he's not pushed out at all, his brain ceases to function. Despite being a handsome lad, and being twenty, he's hardly been with anyone. Sure, he knows exactly what you're up to - he's done it himself plenty of times-- but all those words die in his mouth.

"Soap, I swear I'm just looking for soap," he explains, trying to rush into an explanation, the only coherent thing he can say.

He'll eventually manage to sputter, "I was going to go shower, but nowIwannaknowifyouwanttojoinme" is strewn in with "ohmygodpleaseletmehelpyou".

He's all jittery, achingly hard in his pants, wanting to touch and hear you make those sounds again. Daisuke feels like he'll go insane if he doesn't. Hands fidgeting, his fingers curl in, unconsciously taking a few steps in. He'll finally manage a coherent, "Please let me stay."

[yourlocallunatic]

My King in the North

Cregan Stark x fem Velaryon!reader 18+

Summary: You fly with your brother to meet with the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North to ally your families in the height of the Dance of Dragons. In exchange for soldiers, your mother has offered up you—her eldest daughter.

Warnings: Arranged marriage, smut, piv sex, oral sex (fem receiving) canonical Stark breeding kink (seriously, hardcore breeding kink). HoTD tragedies (character deaths)

wordcount: 8.2k

The wind grew sharper the further North you flew, snow started to cling to your hair and lashes, encasing you in the cold. On the back of your dragon, you tried your best to curl into yourself to keep warm. The rain you saw from time to time on Dragonstone was cold, but not like this. You could feel the fierce power of the North in the gusts of the wind and it made you feel something, something more than you felt anywhere in the South.

You approached Winterfell, the rolling green hills and the thick forest surrounding it. The sky was gray and a light snow covered the cobblestone streets and the tops of the tower. It seemed dull, but there was a distinguished charm to the place. You and your brother landed your dragons near the front gates, and the guards standing watch shuffled stiffly on their feet–eyes growing wide at the sheer size of the beasts. The gates opened and a man walked at the front, he was broad and burly, his long hair was pulled half-back and a large sword was slung across his back. This was the Lord of Winterfell. Your betrothed.

“Winterfell welcomes you, my friends,” his voice shook with a deep Northern accent, his arms were outstretched with a gesture of welcome.

“Thank you, my Lord. Our mother–her Grace–thanks you for seeing us,” Jacearys spoke approaching Lord Stark. You stayed back a bit, letting your brother do the talking for now.

“Please, please, come in. We have a feast prepared, you shall sit at the high table with myself,” He patted Jace on the back hard, your brother letting out a cough at the impact. The Northerners were clearly not very concerned with the prim-and-proper treatment of royals. It was refreshing. You set your dragon away, leaving her to fly and explore, knowing she would return. You follow your brother, guards following you on either side—Lord Starks welcoming behavior did not reflect that of the guards he enforced. You knew it was risky of him to trust you, and he showed you that with the guards that stood by him and the sword that lay on his back. He was smart.

Warmth enveloped you as you entered the halls, every patron of the court stood and bowed as you all entered. They did not bow at you and your brother, however, but to the Warden. You’d heard of Northern stubbornness and now you were seeing it in full effect. They did not like outsiders and you saw that as they sent occasional glares to you. Lord Stark took a seat at the high table, you and Jace sitting on either side of him, though you protested to sit next to your brother.

"Please, be seated," Lord Stark's voice boomed throughout the hall, "I thank you all for welcoming the children of The Queen, the Prince, and Princess shall remain with us for a stay, I ask you all to extend your arms to them. Now eat your fill! Winter is coming," he spoke with such a high level of authority but it was so evident in the way his people listened attentively that they all respected him. And the mere fact that he had called Rhaenyra the Queen already struck something in the minds of his people.

You still did not speak, eating quietly as you listened to the conversations around you. Jace and Lord Stark spoke to each other, you could tell a bond was forming, the two seemed very alike already. Two young Lords, they knew power at such a small age. You watched the Warden from the corner of your eye, the way he spoke with Jacearys was firm, but not unfriendly, he knew what you and your brother came here to ask and he was setting his boundaries early–the type of move a king would make. Studying his face you noticed more and more, that his brow line was firm, and his eyes a steel grey, he was very much a Stark by all the accounts you'd read. He had a small scar running along the side of his cheek, one you couldn't help but wonder what it came from.

"Tell me, Princess," you turn your head to the young woman sitting beside you, a bit younger than yourself you guessed, "you came here with the intent of staying in the North, did you not?"

"Pardon me, Lady–?" you asked. Finally speaking.

"Just Sara, your Grace. You intend to marry my brother?" this was the Lord of Winterfell's sister, you recalled–a bastard–thinking back to your books on the North. Evidently, he was very committed to his family, considering he would let a bastard sit at the high table with him; let alone sit in the hall altogether.  

"The Queen's intention, yes," you bite back, still bitter at your mother for so easily sending you away for the sake of her crown.

"So you do not intend to?" the girl asked, genuine curiosity laced in her voice.

"No-well, yes..." You stutter, before taking a deep breath, "I do what the Queen asks of me."

"Do not fret, Princess, you will be well taken care of here," she sets a warm hand on your arm and gives you a soft smile, doing her best to calm you in your distressed state. "My brother may be a formidable warrior and leader, but don't let him fool you, he cares very much for those around him. Especially one so beautiful as you."

"Thank you, Sara. I apologize, I fear I've gotten caught up in my worries, leaving my family so suddenly, not even knowing if Lord Stark will accept the proposed betrothal. I have a lot on my mind." you laugh nervously, pushing your food around your plate with your fork (very un-ladylike your septa would tell you).

"You needn't say sorry, Princess," the girl was sweet, and you could tell it was genuine, hopefully, she'd be a fast friend. "And trust me, he will accept the proposal," she whispered to you sneakily.

"And how do you know that? Surely he has better offers," you combat, keeping your voice low as well, Lord Stark barely a foot away from you.

"My brother is smart. He plans to take your brother to the wall and discuss terms, leaving you here to put your impression on the people. He wouldn't have accepted the two of you here without learning more about you first, he knows the good you've done for the realm even as a young Lady. No matter the Queen's standings, he knows he would have someone good by his side. Someone the North could accept." there was something larger at play here you could tell, larger than both yourself and Lord Stark, larger than your mother and Aegon's petty argument. This was about the whole of the North.

"Moreover, my brother is a man, and no man could say no to a pretty woman with a dragon who could give him little dragon babies," she giggles, eliciting a laugh from you as well, "no man is smart enough for that." a louder laugh leaves your mouth from her comment, you cover your mouth with your hand, trying your best to be proper.

"Seems we already have two new friends!" Jacaerys voice interrupting your laughter, "Haven't heard her laugh in years, nose always stuck in a book." your brother teases making you roll your eyes. Lord Stark turns his body to face you, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

"Just as I hoped," he moved his gaze to his sister, his smile grew larger, and you could tell he was grateful for her warm demeanor. "Princess, would you care for a walk?" his eyes were still on his sister but he moved them quickly to you. You turn to Sara, and she gives you a smirk and a small nod, gently pushing your shoulder to go with the Warden.

"Y-yes, my Lord, it would please me greatly," you stand and bow your head. He extends his arm and you hold onto it politely. Even through the thickness of his tunic and cloak, you could feel how strong he was–and it made you blush.

The two of you didn't speak to one another as you walked the streets of Winterfell, he would stop occasionally to greet people though, goodness coming through his rough demeanor. You came to the godswood and walked through, the noise from the streets gone replaced with the whistling of the wind and the quieting chirps of birds as night fell.

"I spoke with your brother," his thick voice filled the silence, "but I wished to speak with you as well before we continue with our terms." He stopped walking and turned to face you, not letting go of your arm.

"Of course, Lord Stark," his lips turn up slightly on one side at your formality.

"As the Queen's terms stated, you need aid from the North, and in exchange, she will give me your hand in marriage. Is this what you wish?" He seemed concerned, more so than he should be.

"Of course, my Lord, whatever my Queen wishes of me." You bow your head to him in submission. Would he be a rough lover? You wondered. Everyone told tales of how brutal of a ruler he could be, how brutal a fighter. Would he be brutal with you? Only see to you to stick an heir in your womb?

"Is that what you wish, Princess?" his arm held yours tighter, a sense of urgency in his tone. "I know of your family, I know that marriage is a duty, it is here in the North too. But in the North, we believe there is also passion in marriage and love. I do not want you to subject yourself to this if you think I am only here to rule you."

"I-I wish for a happy life," you close your eyes, for the first time in your life speaking your truth plainly, "I wish for my family to be safe, children to care for, land for my dragon to fly in peace..." you trail off, his sister may have been right, he may care for those around him, but he was also dangerous to those he did not. Now all you could hope was that there was something he cared about in you.

"Then you shall have it," he spoke with the authority of a king. "I've heard of what you've done in Dragonstone and even King's Landing for your kinsman's people. I wish to have you by my side, not just to wife, but to show the North there is good still left, and we have her fighting for us."

"Thank you, for accepting the proposal, Lord Stark, it would be an honor to serve the North."

"Thank you, Princess," those steely eyes stared straight into yours and you believed him with every part of you. "I will take your brother further North to the wall to discuss the rest of our terms, when I return we shall be wed within a fortnight. Will you be alright here?"

"Yes, my Lord," you smile at him. Duty and passion he had said. You simply couldn't wait for his return, dying to see what his passion felt like.

You made your way back to the hall together, taking your seats again. They would leave at dawn he told you flying on dragon-back. You tried to get him to fly your dragon instead of going with Jace, but he insisted she stay here while he couldn't be here to protect you.

"Ever proud Northmen are," Sara whispered to you, "that dragon could protect an army," you giggle at her joke, glad you would have her here to keep you company the next coming days.

The next days you had hardly a moment's rest, busying yourself with learning more and more of the North's history within the Keep's library. At one point Sara held a lunch for you and some Ladies of the Court. "It will make a good impression." she'd told you. So you put on a smile and listened to the gossip that ensued. It took a moment for the Ladies to warm to you but once Sara revealed that Lord Stark was to have your hand in marriage they flurried into excitement, one of them even offering to sew together your wedding dress at once. You smiled, the North was a cold place, but it was clear that there was a warmth to be found in the community.

"My husband hasn't bed me in years," one of the ladies had said, several of them chiming in saying their husbands did the same, "what I'd give for one of those Stark men, I hear they bed you every night to ensure a babe takes..."

"I hear they know everything of a woman's pleasure, Lord Stark should surely pass a law to all our husbands to do the same."

"My maid saw him bathing once…told me he's got the largest member she's ever seen."

The words flew around you, the women all laughing and giving you jealous looks. Your face grew red at the thought of him bedding you, giving you all the children you could hope for. As wonderful as the welcome of these women was, it was also highly unusual for women in the South to talk about such things with one another, clearly another difference you'd have to grow accustomed to.

"Alright ladies, I'm sure the Princess would appreciate some respite on the wedding talk, as would I with hearing about my brother's cock," Sara spoke loudly, a teasing tone in her voice, but everyone listened nonetheless. She excused the two of you and led you outside for some fresh air. You wrapped the new fur cloak you were given tighter around yourself, still growing used to the cold.

You walked together for a bit before you heard the familiar screech of Vermax in the air. They weren't supposed to return for a few more days...perhaps they had come to an early agreement. You quicken your pace to the front gate, arriving just as your brother and Lord Stark entered.

"How was riding on dragon-back, Lord Stark?" you tease, walking to greet the two of them. But he didn't respond. He walked close to you, a solemn look in his eyes. Something had happened, what happened? He puts a cold hand on your shoulder, casting his gaze downward. "Is everything alright, my Lord?" your voice began to shake. He looks you in the eye once again before walking away. Had the engagement broken off? You wonder, your heart dropping slightly at the thought. Jacaerys didn't move from where he stood a few feet in front of you. His face was blank, void of any emotion trying to break through. "Jace...what's happened, am I to return home now?" he did not answer. You walked to him, grabbing his face in your hands to make him meet your gaze, "Jace, answer me. What's happened?" your voice firm, tears beginning to grow in your eyes from anger as he still said nothing. "Jacaerys!" you shout, and that's when you see it, a crumpled piece of parchment clutched in his hand. The broken seal was that of your mothers, she's sent a raven. Why? You grab the message from him and hastily unfold it, doing your best to make out the tear-stained ink.

No. No. It couldn't be real. Your brother. Your baby brother. The boy too brave for his own good. Lucaerys...

"This isn't real, it can't be..." your chest was tight and your vision began to blur, you looked around you, trying to find someone to give you answers, Jacaerys still mute. You stumbled blindly as your body began to wrack with gasping breaths, you ran into a solid body, grasping on to whoever it was and not letting go.

"Come, Princess, let's get you to your chambers," the deep Northern accent resonated from above you.

"No, my-my, no my baby brother..." your voice barely coherent, "my baby brother..."

"I know, I know, Princess, walk with me," Lord Stark did his best to keep his grasp on you, but to no avail.

"He was a child!" you screamed, pushing yourself away from him. "An innocent boy!" Your body began to tumble backward but Jace was right behind you, standing to hold you upright, his own eyes now leaking tears, trying as he might to keep a brave face. You struggle between the two men as they try to drag you back to the keep. You couldn't breathe, the air inside was suffocating. You threw open the window in your chambers sucking in a deep breath before collapsing to the ground.

You didn't know how many hours had passed, you cried until your tears ran dry and screamed until your lungs gave out. Your wails echoed through the halls. Now you sat beneath the open window, the cold air seeping into your bones as the fire in your chambers died down. War would break out soon over something so trivial. Your family had always been teetering on killing each other and you hated it. It wasn't just Aemond that killed Lucaerys, it was every single one of the Targaryens.

There was a soft knock at your door but you did not acknowledge. Not that it mattered, shortly after the knock the door opened and your brother entered. He shut the door behind him before making his way over to you and sliding down the wall to sit next to you.

"We will leave at dawn," he spoke, turning his head to face you.

"We? Jacaerys, I cannot go back there. This has gone on far too long, since the moment Aegon was born, I am finished being a part of this game of thrones," your voice was broken from the crying and screaming, and it was broken from the pain.

"Mother will want you safe, with her," he combated.

"Safe? I'm safe here Jace, away from the fighting, the safest I've been all my life. The engagement is set now and you have made your terms, my duty is to the North now, and to the North, it will stay," you spoke exasperatedly. You stood from your spot on the ground and made to tend the fire again, "Has Lord Stark given you adequate resources?" you question, trying to change the subject.

"2,000 of his older fighting men, greybeards, he calls them."

"Good, then you will take your leave at dawn. Tell mother I love her, but she cannot send me away only to try and take me back as soon as she loses a child," he nodded at you sadly, tears in his eyes, he was losing his sister too now. "Come here, I'm sorry, but this is what she wanted." You move to him and wrap your arms around him, holding him tightly to you.

"At least let me stay for the wedding," he mumbled into your shoulder.

"You mustn't waste more time, avenge Luke for me, he was the best of us."

"I will. I promise," he told you, right as there was another knock at your door. You clear your hoarse throat, trying to sound the lady you were.

"Enter," yes you tried, but your voice still shook.

"My Prince, Princess," Lord Stark enters the room, giving you each polite nod.

"Please, Cregan, you needn't use formalities, I'm to be your brother soon after all," Jacaerys spoke up, trying his best to lighten the mood. Cregan gave him a smile before he continued speaking.

"Of course, that is what I came to ask. As you are leaving at dawn, I thought you may want to be here for your sister's wedding," his gaze turned to you, almost questioning. "I've had arrangements made and was curious to if the Princess would like for the ceremony to take place tonight?" you tried to interrupt, not sure if you could handle the festivities after such a loss you've endured, but he quickly cut you off before you could say anything, "It would be small, only us and a priest, we will have a feast to celebrate whenever you're ready, Princess." your brows turned down and adoration flooded you, he looked at you steadily for a response.

"Thank you, my Lord, I would love to have my brother here, your thought is much appreciated."

"Thank you, Cregan," Jace extended his hand to give him a firm handshake, the two exchanging grateful looks. The ceremony would be in half an hour under the weirwood tree in the godswood, in the sight of the old gods. It was growing late so you didn't bother trying to call a maid, instead you re-braided your own hair and put on the heavy cloak and thick wool dress you were gifted when you arrived in Winterfell, you looked positively Northern.

Jacaerys took your arm and walked you down the cobbled streets to the godswood, where Lord Stark would be waiting. You hadn't had much time to process everything, still so caught in Luke's passing, but you did know that as Sara once said, you would be well taken care of in Winterfell. It was a clear night, the moon and stars illuminated the path through the trees to where your soon-to-be husband stood. He looked regal standing there, the spitting image of a king. Your brother kissed your forehead before handing you over to Lord Stark. Your mind was foggy. I am his and he is mine. The only words that mattered, and the only ones you would remember.

Your goodbyes to Jace were tearful. He couldn't wait until dawn to leave so he mounted his dragon and left, you knew it was because up there, so high in the clouds he could cry, he didn't have to be a prince.

You walked back to your chambers, Lord Stark escorting you. You weren't sure if you could do this, he would want to consummate you were positive of it, but after the day you'd had...you couldn't muster your strength. You came to your door and waited for him to enter before you shut the door behind you, you stood there, not certain if you should wait for him or just get it over with. You turned and watched as he removed his cloak before adding another log to the fire. Get it over with. You told yourself, removing your own cloak and boots before starting on the strings of your dress.

"What are you doing, Princess?" He looked at you, confused, walking over to you quickly and pulling your dress back on your shoulders.

"This is my duty, Lord Stark," you said tearfully. He gave a slight laugh before taking your face in his hands, making you look him in the eye.

"No, no, not tonight, I only came to tend your fire, it's been a long day for you, I will never expect anything of you." you wrapped your arms around him suddenly, aching to be held. And that he did, one arm was around your shoulders and the other cradled the back of your head pulling you close.

"Thank you, again, my Lord," you mumbled into his chest. He pushed you away, and a teasing smile played on his face.

"Never mind, I will expect one thing of you, and that is to call me by my name, no more 'My Lords' or 'Lord Stark'. You are my wife."

"Then thank you, Cregan, for treating me so very well," you smiled at him, "no more 'princess' either, I am no longer one after all," you spoke back. The smile on your face turns down.

"Very well, I will leave you to rest then," he spoke your name as he pressed a kiss to your cheek and made his way to the door. You didn't want him to leave. He was yours now, you wanted him with you, to protect you and care for you in your hours of sorrow.

"Cregan," you called out softly, your dress now slipping off your shoulders again. He turned back, a hopeful look in his eye, "Stay with me?" he said nothing as he walked back to you, ridding himself of the cloak he held before removing his boots, you continued with the strings of your dress, trying your best to reach behind your back when you suddenly felt warm fingers entangled with yours and he continued your work. You were left in a linen slip, standing close to the fire to keep yourself warm. You watched as he unbuckled his belt and removed his doublet, he walked slowly to one side of the bed and placed his formidable sword next to the bed. He held back the fur coverings and nodded to you, motioning you to climb in the bed. Your steps were slow and cautious, but you trusted him. You moved beneath the furs, instantly feeling much warmer, your body heated even more when Cregan moved in next to you holding out his arm so you could fall into his body. It felt right, you were warm, you were safe, you were cared for. Your head lay across his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat as you fell asleep.

"Always, dear wife," he spoke into the silence of the night where he soon fell asleep with you to the dying embers on the hearth.

You spent your days the next few weeks trying to take hold of your grief, you did your best, keeping your head buried in books to distract yourself. Cregan would take you with him to various meetings and suppers, you were thankful for the distraction and you slowly drew closer to him. You continued on with your arrangement, he would see to your chambers in the evening, tend the fire, and climb into the bed with you, stroking your hair till you slept. But with that, you grew more and more frustrated, his closeness began to stir something in you, a deep longing. You woke one night with the space beside you empty, you sat up in the bed hastily calling out his name. He was standing at the window staring into the darkness of the night, he had taken his tunic off, something he hadn't done in front of you yet, and his back was stiff and muscular from years of training. His arms–now bare–you could see exactly how strong he was, a force to be reckoned with. He hadn't heard you call his name so you slowly slid out of the bed, tugging on the silk robe one of your ladies' maids had embroidered for you, direwolves wrapping around your neck, and snowflakes falling down the sleeves. You walked to where Cregan stood, standing close to him and peering out the window along with him. The wolves were howling in the night causing a chill to run through you, you still couldn't tell what their cries meant, were they mourning with you? Were they angry? Hungry?

"It's said the blood of the first men runs through your veins, that I believe," you spoke into the night. "there's also a folk tale that says the Stark men who have that blood can turn to direwolves when they wish, that... I'm still not sure of." Cregan smiles at the sound of your sleepy voice.

"You've been reading," he states, looking to meet your eyes.

"Yes, I like learning about your people, and your library is always kept so warm," you giggle, thinking of the cozy days you've spent in there.

"I wish that tale were true...it would make ruling so much easier, I wouldn't have to go to meetings anymore, I could intimidate people without having to use my sword, protect my people better..." he sounded hopeful as if he believed he still had a chance for the tale to come true.

"You are a good ruler, you would make a splendid King," you told him, grabbing his hand to hold within yours, despite the cold of the night you could feel his blood still running hot.

"A King?" he questioned, never more than just the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.

"Your people were kings for thousands of years, my ancestors took that away from you so they could unite and rule a monarchy," you say, speaking of all the books you've been reading, "In my eyes, you are still the King in the North, and the North remembers, your people remember."

"What you speak is treason, treason to your mother the Queen, and your family!" A man of honor. He pledged himself to the Queen, he would not back out of his oath, even if this is what the North had for thousands of years.

"Perhaps, but my duty is here now. We will let them fight amongst themselves as we prepare for something bigger...your kin, and mine," you give him a look of urgency. "My mother told me of the Prince who was Promised. The Song of Ice and Fire. The book I've seen sitting on your desk..." he knows what is to happen, every Stark Lord is told and does well to abide by it. Cregan was shocked to know you had knowledge of it, and even more shocked that you would put aside your family and call yourself a traitor all for a prophecy.

"My wife..." he trails, worried that this would grow into something far out of his reach.

"Your oath to the prophecy proceeds that of your oath to my mother. We will not betray her, but we must survive for the whole of the realm," you're holding both his hands now, looking at him desperately. He knows this is true.

"We will survive," he states, agreeing with you. "but I will not be the king."

"You will be my King," your eyes draw closed as you sink to your knees. "I have wed myself to you, now I pledge myself to you, I know no King, but the King in the North, whose name is Stark." His eyes fill with adoration as he looks down at you, soon following suit to kneel with you on the ground.

"Then you will be my Queen," his words ring clear and true as he rests his forehead against yours, drawing you close to him. "come to bed with me, our celebration feast is tomorrow, and you need your rest." He stands and extends his hand to help you up and doesn't let go once you are standing as well. He leads you to the bed letting you get yourself comfortable before laying beside you, your faces mere inches away as you stare into one another's eyes.

"Cregan," you whisper, your eyes flitting down to look at his lips, his mouth was slightly open and he spoke your name back to you, "Please kiss me." he wasted not a second, moving those few inches to connect your lips, he was warm all over, the pure fire that warmed the North, his lips were dry and slightly cracked but they were full and consumed you whole. He pulled away before anything went too far and a giggle left your mouth as you looked at his reddened face. He smiled at you before placing another kiss on your forehead and pulling you close. You both fell asleep fast, holding each other until the sun rose.

The next day was a flurry of commotion to prepare for the feast. The lady from the lunch you'd had with Sara (who you now learned was Lady Umber, wife of Lord Umber) insisted you wore the dress she had sewn for your wedding ceremony, claiming you had to wear it to the feast if the ceremony had already happened. You complied for the dress was stunning, thick and woolen, a real northern dress lined with white furs and embroidered with the direwolf sigil. Foods were rushed into the great hall as garlands were hung on the hearths. One of your ladies was finishing braiding your hair in a northern fashion like you'd insisted when there was a knock at your door.

"My Lord," your lady bowed before finishing the braid and swiftly exiting to leave the two of you alone.

"You look beautiful," Cregan said softly as he made his way over to you, he grabbed a piece of your silver hair between his fingers and twirled it, "I do hope our children take after their mother." he teased, letting go of your hair in favor of taking your hand to place a kiss on your knuckle.

"I hope they take after their father," you tease back, "true little wolves they'd be," he smiled brightly at you, but behind his eyes, there was a darkness, a yearning, one that you knew for certain he had been holding back for weeks.

"Let's be on our way then, the people are waiting for the new Lady of Winterfell," even though the two of you were wed already, it still didn't feel real thinking that you were to be the new Lady of Winterfell. You'd done your best in your mourning of Lucaerys to try and connect with the people, all you could hope is that they would accept you now.

The feast was in full swing when you arrived, shouts and songs echoed in the hall but all grew silent as you and Cregan entered, making your way to the head table. You reached the front and turned to face the people, hand in hand.

"Thank you all for welcoming our new Lady of Winterfell!" Cregan shouted over the masses, and a roar of cheers erupted. "You will do well to remember our new allegiance to the Queen Rheanyra and keep your honor. These past weeks as you've welcomed our new Lady of Winterfell you may know that she has lost a brother to the usurper of the Iron Throne, we will keep in the North for our duties, but if war reaches us, think of the Prince Lucaerys and his sister, the North remembers!" more shouts echo in the halls as tears fill your eyes at the mention of your brother.

"Now, this is a celebration of our marriage, please, celebrate!" the halls resume their shouts and songs as Cregan leads you to your seat beside him, your glasses immediately being filled to the brim with wine. You make eye contact with your husband, giving him a grateful look, a silent thank you. He gives your hand a squeeze in acknowledgment.

As the celebrating continues Lords and Ladies of the surrounding Northern lands flood to your table, gifting you with all sorts of words and treasures–mostly it was the ladies sneakily whispering if you'd been bred proper yet–to which your response was a deep blush before sending them away. You do your best to match the names of those you read about to the faces you saw. Currently speaking to you were the Lord and Lady Mormont of Bear Island, more so the Lord Mormont and Cregan discussing recent wildling attacks further North. You and Lady Mormont faced each other in an awkward silence, Sara beside you at the high table waiting for the conversation to start.

"So... Lady Stark can we hope for some wolf pups soon, maybe even an heir to Winterfell?" of all the things she chose to speak about...

"Oh um...yes, I suppose..." You try to smile along. Sara beside you stifling a laugh

"Surprised you aren't already, those Stark men are something fierce," she continues.

"What are we speaking of now wife?" Lord Mormont chimes in. Oh no. He was a burly man, one of honor and tradition...

"Oh I was just asking the Lady Stark when we should expect a babe," she laughs, linking her arm with her husbands.

"She's not yet?" Mormont sounds exasperated, "You may be my Lord, Stark, but come on lad! You should be fucking her till your seed takes, surely it's been too long now!" your face grows redder than it was already, an uneasy look on your face, this had gone too far. Cregan could see the look on your face and immediately took control.

"That'll be enough, Mormont," his voice went lower in pitch as he reminded Lord Mormont of his place. "I think it's high time we all retired, I will send a raven when I need to speak to you, no sooner will I hear from you." Lord Mormont looked down in shame, put in his rightful place.

"Yes, My Lord, My Lady," a single bow and he and his wife were on their way, the rest of the people in the hall filling out shortly after hearing the altercation. Cregan stood and took your hand again, walking you to your chambers at a fast pace, one you could hardly keep up with. Once in the room, he slammed the door shut before throwing down his cloak and rubbing his forehead in annoyance.

"I'm so sorry, I should've warned you people in the North are very attached to customs–" you cut him off.

"When will you bed me?" you asked, genuinely confused.

"I-I believed you wanted to wait longer..." He trails off, slightly taken aback by your question.

"I'm tired of laying next to you in bed growing more and more desperate each night," you spoke your truth and saw his back straighten, eyes darkening as he walked closer to you, almost stalking you like prey, "I cannot say how many Ladies tonight asked me if you'd put a babe in me yet."

He loomed closer to you, "And what did you tell them..." the hairs on your neck stood at the deepness of his voice.

"I-I didn't say anything," you respond, head hanging down. He lifts your chin to meet his gaze.

"But what did you want to tell them?"

"That you'd fill me every night till a babe took." your voice grew confident, he was giving you the sense that this was something he deeply, deeply, desired.

"Would you like to do that?" his hand cradled your face now, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Your breath hitches in your throat, and thoughts flood your mind about what he would be like, he was a strong man, but he was gentle with you, would he be desperate enough to take you hard?

"Give me a babe, Cregan," it was over. All sense of self-control that he held was now burning in the fire. The hand that was on your face moved to the back of your head, tugging you to meet his lips, he devoured you. It wasn't like the gentle kiss he gave you last night, it was depraved, his tongue wrapped around yours, teeth clashing together with an uncontrolled hunger. His mouth began to move down your neck and you felt him nip at you, soothing over the spot with his tongue. He began to walk backward towards the bed, still holding your body close. Your hands grew restless, grabbing onto him anywhere that you could, you soon found them tangled in his hair, tugging slightly.

His hands were roaming your body now, he was restraining himself from ripping your dress right off of you, but he knew it would make you sad, what a pretty dress. He moved his hands back, beginning to undo the buckles on his doublet, you broke away from his kiss for a moment and leaned down to remove your boots. It was all a flurry of motion as the two of you hastily began to undress yourselves, at this point, he was left in only his trousers and you in your shift and corset. You made eye contact for a moment the both of you smiling giddily. He raised his hands and started on the laces on the back of your corset, his arms were wrapped around you, your face staring straight at his chest where you grew bold and started to press kisses across the expanse. The corset–now loosened–fell from your body, Cregan could see the hardness of your nipples through the thin slip dress and proceeded to cup your breasts in his hands, tweaking the hardened peaks through the fabric. Slowly–so slowly you hadn't even noticed at first–he sank to his knees in front of you, when he reached the ground his hands started running up and down your legs caressing you while moving the shift upwards. He took one hand and placed it on the center of your belly, pushing, and in one motion you lay back on the bed, your husband still on his knees in front of you. he continued to move the dress up until it hung around your waist, you sat up on your elbows and looked down at him nervously, your center now fully exposed to him.

"Do not worry, sweet wife, I want to make you feel good," you nodded at him as he drew closer to you, his hands slowly dragging up your thighs, his thumbs rubbing the insides gently, growing closer and closer to your heat. He spread your legs further apart, looking at you once more before taking a finger and running it through your slick. You moaned out a curse and fell back onto the bed, the furs around you enveloping you in warmth. Cregan carries on running his fingers through your sex, they would barely dip inside of you before he moved them back up to circle your clit, causing a teasing repetition.

"Please, Cregan, I need more," you beg.

"More? You really have been needy," he teases, his other hand moving underneath you to squeeze your behind, "Alright, then, whatever my wife wants, she shall get." You were waiting for him to move, to get up and remove his trousers so he could fuck you. But no, his warm mouth licked a stripe up your slit and followed the same motions his fingers did, never staying in one place long enough. You cried out again, moving your hands down to tangle in his hair again. He teased you a little longer before his mouth kept place on your pulsing bud, alternating between sucking and licking at you. It was heavenly, you'd never been touched like this by a man, he was pouring all his adoration into you. And as good as it did feel, you still needed more, you felt nothing would satiate you until you were dripping with his seed.

"I-I want you to fuck me now," you barely breathe out between heavy breaths, he moves his head away from your core after pressing one last kiss to your clit. A smirk grew on his face, loving the way you were practically begging for his cock. He moved agonizingly slow, standing to his feet and staring down at where you lay on the bed. He refused to move his gaze away from you as he began untying the strings on his trousers, "please..." you breathe out in a breath of desperation. His trousers fell to the ground and you move your eyes to his center where his cock hung heavy, tip red and leaking, aching for your wetness to swallow him whole.

"You want me to fill you up now?" you nodded eagerly, itching to feel his body on top of you. He lifts you by the waist pushing your body up the bed like you weigh nothing, he removes your shift entirely now, pulling it swiftly over your head. "Tell me if you need to stop, alright? His tone shifted into seriousness. You breathe a yes in response. His body moves to hover over you and his head dips down to press gentle kisses against your chest, trailing down to lick at your nipples. You feel one of his hands reach between your bodies before the blunt head of his member runs through your slick. You grab onto his upper arms, steadying yourself as you prepare for him to push into you, he goes torturously slow and you grip onto him harder, a silent way of begging him to take you already. The stretch hurts a bit, not as bad as everyone had told you but the wetness surely helped dull some of the pain. He groans as he seats himself in you fully, not moving, you rock your hips into him trying to create some friction.

"Cregan, please, it feels so good, just take me already!" he lets out a breathless laugh at your restlessness, his mouth open and panting. He pulls out in one motion before thrusting into you again. And again. And again. This is what you had wanted, for this fierce warrior to lose himself in you fulfilling a yearning desire to fill you up completely. Your moans ring against the walls and you do your best to hold yourself together before you utterly fall apart. The bed creaks as he rocks into you, his pace growing quicker and quicker.

"Fuck!" Cregan grunts out through clenched teeth. The sight above you is heavenly, strands of his dark hair frame his face, some sticking slightly where a sweat begins to sheen on his brow. His jaw was tight, and his body was stiff, a deep concentration in his features. Then, in one sudden movement, he pulls himself out of you to flip you onto your front, yanking your hips up before plunging deep inside you again. The pleasure from this angle was insurmountable, the head of his cock hit the back of your tight walls repeatedly, fucking straight into your womb. You prayed for a brief moment, begging whatever gods were listening that his seed would take and you would soon have pups to take care of. His hands gripped your hips tight, surely there would be bruises tomorrow and surely he would feel horrible about it, but you cared not. The rawness of his passion would remain on your body. A subtle heat grew in your belly and it became warmer and warmer.

"Cregan, I-I think something is happening," you mutter from where your face was squished into the furs on the bed. He groaned out another curse before speaking again.

"Let go, let go for me," his voice still strained in pleasure, "I'm gonna fill you up now, and every. Single. Night. Until it takes," his thrusts annunciating his speech. The coil in your belly grew tighter until it finally snapped and you moaned out blissfully. His thrusts didn't stop and you grew more and more sensitive, but he did not last much longer after you, cursing out one final time before emptying himself right against your cervix.

When he pulled out of you, you could feel his expense steadily beginning to drip out of you, but his fingers soon found your center again, scooping it up before pushing it back inside of you. And if that wasn't the most arousing thing ever...

"Can't have you wasting any of that, can we?" he wipes his fingers off on the bed and climbs in under the furs, beckoning you to come lay with him. You crawl to him and fall into him unceremoniously. His arms pull you in close and hold you tight and his lips fall down to press a kiss to the top of your head. There was a smile on your face, and you weren't sure if you'd be able to stop smiling. You shift your head and turn to look him in the eye, only to find he is already looking at you, his own smile shining down at you.

"Even after a babe takes..." you begin and his eyes sparkle in the dim lighting of the chambers, "can we still do that?" his smile grows wider and he huffs out a small laugh.

"Of course! I don't know if I would be able to keep myself off of you knowing that you are carrying our child, you'll be the most beautiful mother." he lifts a hand to stroke your hair, the same way he's done the nights you've shared the past few weeks.

"Well, then I hope we'll have a little prince or princess on the way soon," his brow furrows in confusion at the titles and he asks a silent question with his eyes, "You are a king after all! Our babes will be royalty."

"I've told you, I'm no king," his eyes held back a sadness.

"As I have told you, dear husband, you are my king," it was your turn to hold his face in your hands, the stubble on his cheeks scratching against your palms, "I will know no other." he leaned down to press his forehead against yours and you sat together in the quiet of the night, with only the company of each other until you fell asleep. A sleep where you dreamed of a family with him, boys running through the godswood being chased playfully by their father, a young girl sitting upon your lap as you flew your dragon over the forests of the vast Northlands. The lands where your husband would be your king.

[polkadotzzzz]

stepmommy!

18+, mdni, incest, stepmom caitlyn, bottom caitlyn, non-con, vaginal fingering, cheating.

───────────────────────────────

it's not like you planned this ever, really! it wasn't like you put it on your calendar to spend the entire saturday doing mischievous shit──but you did; you crossed the boundaries set, and you nearly ruined everything.

nearly

"a-ah!──s-stop, please s-stop──"

you're three fingers deep into your pretty little stepmommy as she whimpers, you don't stop. in fact, you speed up, dragging the digits along her spongy walls as your other hand smooths down her frizzy hairs damp with sweat from your touches.

"mommy," you coo, your lips brushing her ear. you're fully clothed while she's just in her flimsy lace bra, her nightgown and panties scattered along the floor.

caitlyn shuddered, her entire body shaking; she whimpered, actually fucking whimpered, the stern, proper woman nowhere to be seen as her stepdaughter opened up her pussy.

"you know you like it...." teeth nipped at her earlobe, and a strangled noise left caitlyn's lips. your thumb added to the mixture, rubbing at her swollen clit, the pressure making her cerulean eyes fill with tears. "why don't you give in? hmm? enjoy this, mommy.

your pretty stepmom squirmed in your hold, but it was useless. you were straddling the back of her thighs, free hand pressing into her lower back, keeping her pinned to the mattress.

the one she shared with your father

"s-stop" caitlyn stammered, her pale cheeks bursting with red tears that fell down her cheeks, staining the pillow beneath her. it was a sinful sight how she begged for you to stop but at the same time cried when you slowed down.

"oh, mommy," you chuckled, "do you really want me to stop?"

you crooked your fingers up right into that spongy spot that had her thighs tensing up and a choking noise leaving the back of her throat like clockwork. her hips rolled down against your fingers, and she soaked the pillow with her drool as her eyes rolled back.

yes, yes, yes, this woman was at the forefront of all of your carnal desires. how long did you go with pushing those feelings down...? how many dinners had you sat through, how many mornings were you woken up by her sweet voice, you deserved this; you deserved to have her at your mercy.

you chuckle deeply when she doesn't answer you, "i didn't think so."

caitlyn opens her mouth to say something, possibly to grumble, but you're sliding in a fourth finger, and she's coming undone.

it isn't sweet and soft; it's messy and dirty, her arousal costing your hand and the sheets. her walls wet and tight, squeezing around your fingers, pain and pleasure blooming under her skin. it's so good, ten times better than her husband could ever make her feel. while he struggled, you found the places to make her feel good almost immediately. it's addicting.

"this—this isn't right." caitlyn's pants were blinking rapidly to try and clear the stars from her vision.

"oh," your brow raises, and your lips quirk. your thumb kneads the flesh of the bend of her hip as you chuckle. caitlyn shivers at the touch; it's grounding just as much as it was forbidden.

"this can't happen again," caitlyn says weakly. your smile dropped, replaced by something akin to anger. caitlyn doesn't notice this and continues, far too overcome with guilt as she sits up, closing her legs and holding them together tightly. she continues, "i am your stepmother; if your father finds out you did this, he'll be angry."

you don't say a word; your throat feels dry.

caitlyn raises her chin up in a subtle show of confidence even as her cobalt hairs stick to her tear-stained cheeks and the bottom half of her body is soaked in her own cum. your eyes drift down her body, admiring her curves. the slickness of her cunt is still so wet despite already coming.

"are you listening to me?" caitlyn snapped, waving her hands in front of your face. her dumb expression changed into something stern. she was slowly turning back into the caitlyn you knew. "you better be listening, young lady, because──"

you couldn't take her nagging anymore. lunging forward, you pressed her back into the bed, your hand curling around her throat and fingers pressing right back into her.

"h-hey! nnngh!──"

you swallowed up caitlyn's moan with your lips as you finger-fucked her harder this time. the both of you kissed, well, more like you were shoving your tongue down her throat, and she was struggling to take it. saliva was dripping down her chin, her eyes were rapidly filling with condensation, and holy shit, did the front door just open──

yes

a wicked gleam of satisfaction passes through your eyes as caitlyn shakes with the fear of getting caught.

it was a dirty little fantasy. the prodigal daughter and the gentle stepmother, it's as disgusting as it is alluring.

"girls!" you hear your father's voice ring out through the house. "i'm home early!"

caitlyn clenches down on your fingers. dirty little whore. she likes this—the thrill of getting caught in bed with her stepdaughter.

your fingertips press into her sweet spot, and she whimpers.

footsteps ascend up the stairs quickly, eager to see his family.

"shhhh." the squelching noises are a dead giveaway. the faint squeaking of the mattress springs as you slam your fingers into her leaky entrance; it's so wet and dirty, and the room smells like her cum and──

you apply just the right amount of pressure to caitlyn's clit, and she's falling limp as she comes again. pity she comes too fast; you'd like to draw it out and make her beg.

but you don't stop.

she's a trembling mess. her thighs shaking and her shell-pink lips parted and her eyes rolled back as you kept going, you never backed down from something you wanted, and god did you want her.

"girls? are you home?" your father calls out again, and caitlyn whimpers.

perhaps it's the fear of getting caught that had tears welling up in her eyes, or maybe it was just the humiliation and the disgust at herself for doing such a sinful act. how could she let her stepdaughter do this to her?

"mommy," your voice is a whisper, breath hot again on her face. this is so, so wrong, but what's even more wrong is that caitlyn wants more. fuck him, fuck this stupid house, fuck those stupid, brainless marriages, fuck her husband.

obediently behaving for the first time of the night, caitlyn arched her back, showing off every dip and curve that you loved so much. you swore she was sculpted by the gods to look so beautiful and ethereal.

"such a pretty mommy..." your free hand trails up her sides, fingertips cold against her heated skin. you grip the underside of her breast and sigh, enjoying how her breast jiggles each time you tweak her covered nipples. such a pretty mommy and all yours.

"moan for me, mommy. tell the world how good your stepdaughter is making you feel."

idk i dont rlly like this

[ozzgin]

OZZGIN!

May I request an idea/imagine?

It is about yandere! mental asylum patient and psychiatrist! reader, who is very practical and strict regarding her job, takes no BS from others. But, for some reason, she has a soft spot for yandere! mental asylum patient. The reason could either be he had a hard childhood in which he had to do what he had to do, which brutally killed his father, who used to abuse his mother and sister, but when the father tried to sell the sister into prostitution to buy more alcohol, all hell break lose. Psychiatrist! reader thinks what yandere! mental asylum the patient did was OKAY, and she wants to get him out of the asylum. They love each other deeply and would do anything, so far as to kill for one another. If you can, make it as twisted as you can. I live for some dark romance!

Please ignore my request if you are not able to do it. I completely understand. Thank you in advance! <3

Oh my, this request hits somewhat close to home as I have a friend incarcerated for similar reasons. I'm pondering the logistics behind this context you've provided, since murdering someone won't necessarily land you in a psych ward unless there are other symptoms that come with it. And so I've taken the liberty to expand the character's profile if that's alright. (Conveniently enough I still have my psychopathology lecture notes)

I want to add, however, that this story in no way romanticizes mental illness! If anything, one may consider it an opportunity to reflect on the fact that so many people struggling with disorders do not receive the proper care for it, or only do so when it's too late. Furthermore a medical professional should never, ever behave like this and whatever is written here should stay in the realm of fiction!

Yandere! Patient x Psychiatrist! Reader

Featuring a patient that's pushing the boundaries of your work ethic and might even succeed.

Content/warnings: female reader, detailed mentions of mental disorder, violence, obsessive behavior, breach of professional conduct

You roll up your sleeve and check your watch. He should be here soon. Out of habit, you shuffle the papers for a quick case review, even though you already know all the details by heart. You carefully set aside the patient’s MMPI and WHODAS entry assessments, then your first interviews. Your eyes briefly rest upon the resulting report you’ve comprised: Schizophreniform Disorder (Provisional) with good prognostic features; Diagnostic criteria consisting of delusions, disorganized speech (frequent derailment with episodes of incoherence, echolalia) and comorbid catatonia. Responds well to antipsychotic (clozapine 25mg/12 h) with no imminent need for dosage increase. As it currently stands, he will be fit for proper incarceration in less than 6 months. Is it something you agree with? Not quite. You’ve presented your case many times and it has always been met with pitiful shrugs and dismissals.

The door opens and you fix your posture, sweeping the documents back into your drawer. “And? How are you feeling today?” You ask, flashing a professional, cordial smile as the assisting nurse leads the patient to his seat and prepares her leave. “My chest hurts.” The man answers in a low voice, glaring at the nurse. He taps his foot against the plush carpet, seemingly restless. “How bad would you rate it? Chest pain is a somewhat common side effect of your medication.” You retort, following the movements of the woman finally excusing herself and exiting the room. Once you’re alone, the man’s shoulders droop and he visibly relaxes. “It’s not that, you know it. When can I touch you again?” He pleads, despair twisting his features. You tense up at the words. “Behave yourself. It hasn’t been that long.”

It’s not something you’re particularly proud of. In fact, you might even call it one of your great shames in life. You’ve always been a textbook professional, perhaps even too strict according to your coworkers and most patients. Not even in your wildest dreams would you have dared to imagine you’d violate the code of ethics by falling in love with your patient. But something about his situation stirred your sense of justice. Surely one cannot be punished for protecting their loved ones. The only criminal in the equation, at least in your eyes, was that joke of a father and he had it coming. So you found yourself wrestling against a blooming protectiveness and favoritism towards the young man brought here last month.

What would have normally compelled you into action had therefore been silently swept under the rug. Or even worse, you secretly indulged in it. A patient showing signs of affection towards you would instantly be transferred to a different psychiatrist. Yet you couldn’t put away the letters written by this one. Erratic, crumpled notes of “I love you” written countless times, pencil dug so deep it tore into the sheet. Bizarre illustrations that looked almost threatening. His elaborate delusions before medication was introduced, where he’d detail in grand narratives how you were fated for each other and nothing would stop him from having you sooner or later. You do not know what forces possessed you into this addictive plunge, but you’ve come to enjoy his violent, frenzied confessions. So much, that during one of the unsupervised meetings you let yourself pushed into the sofa as his hands tugged at your body in rabid need. It was so out of character that you wondered if it truly happened, though the bite marks and scratches on your neck and chest proved otherwise.

“Are they going to send me to prison?” He changes the subject and stands up, walking towards your desk. “Most likely. What you have is the result of a traumatic event, not a lifelong condition. Sporadic episodes that can be kept under control with antipsychotics aren’t enough of a reason to keep you in the hospital.” You press your legs together nervously and glance at him. “Can’t you just say it’s no longer working?” He suggests, kneeling before you and placing a hand on your thigh. “You know I can’t lie on the report.” You really don’t like it when he manipulates you like this. “Ah, yes, because lying is worse than fucking your patient.” He scoffs, annoyed. “Don’t threaten me like that”, you say as you turn towards him, but you’re stopped by the rough grip of his hand over your cheeks. “I’m not threatening you, I’m threatening everyone else. Listen, (Y/N), I’m not fucking around. I don’t mind pretending to be crazy if I have to. Will the meds still be working if I steal a shaving razor and cut the nurse open?” You try to open your mouth, but his fingers are pressed into your skin, locking your jaw into place. “I’m not going to prison. I’m not. Then I’ll never see you again and that can’t happen. You know that.”

Eventually he releases his hold, allowing you to speak. "I understand. Then there's no choice but to arrange your escape." You sigh, defeated, and he raises his eyebrows. "Won't that get you in trouble?" You chuckle at his statement. "Either way I'll be in trouble. You said it yourself. Might as well quit before I have to stand in front of the ethics board and have my license revoked." You'd prefer to keep the last ounce of pride if possible.

He sits on the floor and you notice his trembling hands. "Nervous?" You ask. "No. Just really happy. I'm not a bad person and you were the only one here to see it. But God, (Y/N), I'd kill anyone if it was for your sake. I can't wait to hold you whenever I want." He gazes at you as a smile widens on his face.

[spicybunni]

I needed to get this off my chest. If you’re willing to write for dad Heisenberg that is. I assume we all agree that Karl is pretty much a lycan or can become one. So how cute yet creepy would it be if fem reader woke up scratching and entering her child’s bedroom only to see glowing eyes(much like Karl’s) in their baby’s crib. Their baby being part lycan has been on my mind for some time. And we need more Heisendad.

FATHER'S EYES (Karl Heisenberg x Fem!Reader)

Awww Heisendad sounds so good in theory but it doesn't align with my headcanons of him. 😭Which is why this was so fun to write! I kinda switched some things round but I hope you like it, tbh writing this made me so sad for Karl??? I don't know why?? 😭💕

WARNINGS ⚠️: POST PARTUM PANIC / BABY MISSING FOR A MOMENT / FLUFF

The sounds of scratches and floorboards creaking woke you up. The sounds in question could be heard in the hallway connecting your room to the nursery. You checked the dinky clock next to your bed. It was 2:30 in the morning. You rub your eyes, attempting to wake yourself and see what your baby is up to.

Post partum has been kind to you in many ways, but with sleep? Not so much. You were always a light sleeper to begin with. But after giving birth to Lord Heisenberg's child you were always on alert yet exhausted for sleep sometimes. Karl offered to be with you and try to help with your adjustment to motherhood. You refused his offer, needing time away from his factory and robots and just....him. The factory was no place to raise a child, and with his devotion to Mother Miranda's experiments, he would not be able to provide you proper care. He understood your reasons and offered a alternative, a cabin near the village rather than staying in a rusty room in his factory. It was away to where you had privacy to raise your child, but close enough if you needed help from anyone.

It has been 8 months of you bonding with your baby. Setting routines and observing how your child is growing. Ever since the birth you were worried they would come out with powers. So far, nothing you could notice had come up. But Mother Miranda still has yet to be convinced otherwise.

You walked down the hallways towards the nursery room, the scratching noise you heard stopped as you approached the doorway. You didn't even hear the usual baby whines or coos that you're used to walking in on.

Your eyes widen at the room before you, covered in small scratch marks and toys thrown everywhere, but your baby is nowhere to be found.

Blood turning cold and adrenaline pumping. Calling out your baby's name as calm as you can before panicking and searching everywhere for them. But what mother wouldn't? You can't find them anywhere in their crib or the entire nursery. You rush to your bedroom and search for something that might help you.

The cabin had an installed emergency line that connected to the factory. Karl respected your boundaries, but as the mother of his offspring, he had the bare minimum duty to protect you and offer safety from a distance. You've never had to use it for these past months. Now you were struggling to remember where you had put that damn button. You had lit a lantern to get a better view of your stuff.

You almost didn't hear it, but you heard the cry of your baby finally. But it came from neither your room or the nursey. The sound came from downstairs. Quickly abandoning your search that panic button, you fly to the staircase, looking down into the living room to see if you could spot your child anywhere. Nothing still, but you hear those coos, so they must be down there. Rushing down the stairs with the lantern in hand, illuminating your way.

Was this possibly just a result of a growth spurt and they're able to leave the crib now? All the possibilities were fluttering through your mind. but what you came to see was beyond any expectation you had.

There in the corner near a window, you find the child's father, holding them safe in his arms. Lord Heisenberg was rocking them and whispering random nonsense to keep them quiet. They were slightly illuminated by the moonlight shining through the window. He see's the light of the lantern and turns to you. A few things were different from his normal attire, no hat, no glasses, and no hammer. He smirks at you, leaning down to the baby again.

"It looks like we woke mama up, shame on us." The baby giggles at the sound of their fathers voice.

"M-My lord! What are you doing here?!" You approached them both, setting the lantern on the coffee table to the side. You go to reach for your baby to see that they're alright. But what caught your attention was the two glowing eyes that were fixed on you. Covering your mouth, keeping the gasp in that would've escaped. Instead making you shudder at the sight. There were a few dark veins showing around their head too but they didn't show any discomfort or pain...It was a small transformation they had done while in the crib, frustrated their tiny hands and legs weren't strong enough to maneuver over and come to you. So they manifested the strength that had always been within them.

"They're fine (Y/N), just a few minor growing changes...They have awakened some lycan traits. Guess there's no need for further proof the kid is mine.." He tried to humor you, but you were in any mood but to be humored right now. You glance to him unamused and back to your child.

You stare wide eyed at them in your arms, those matching eyes with their father next to you. Bringing their head to the crook of you neck, in an embrace to hide your look of bewilderment. Was this the development that you worried would come? How do you go about child rearing from here?

There was another pending question on your mind though.

"But...What are you doing here?" You looked up at him again from your thoughts. He was looking down at both of you with something akin to proudness.

"If you really thought I was going to abandon you two here without any protection then you're just as dumb as the average villager here. I have this place under a monitor in case of emergencies. I saw them crawl out of the crib and you weren't waking up at all. Figured you could use some ...guidance in this area. Unless you have experience with human mutagens in toddlers." He says the last part mockingly. Of course you don't. You realize he would be the only one that could possibly help you in this situation.

Wrapping his arm around your back, he leans down and pecks the side of your forehead. Karl's golden eyes regard you warmly. You've done a great job in raising his child, but now he must help you.

"Come. Let's go to back to sleep, (Y/N)...Let's raise our child together."

[fluentmoviequoter]

Just a Dog Walker

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x grad student!dog walker!fem!reader

Summary: As Tim's dog walker, and nothing more, you grow close to him and Kojo. After protecting Kojo from a dog fight, you learn how Tim really sees you.

Warnings: dog attack, dog bite (r), fluffy ending. (Kojo is totally fine!)

Word Count: 3.5k+ words

A/N: More Kojo, what the world really needs.

“Sergeant Bradford, come to my office for a minute?” Wade asks.

“No,” Tim answers quickly. “Uh, sorry. No, sir, I can’t.”

Crossing his arms, Wade inquires, “Why not?”

A low huff is audible in Tim’s office, but Wade knows it isn’t him.

“Is yo’ dog under that desk?”

“No.”

“Let me amend the question. Is Kojo under the desk?”

Kojo barks happily, trying to push past Tim to visit Wade. Wade shakes his head, dropping his arms.

“Why is he here?”

“I’m working a double and I couldn’t leave him at home. What if he had run out of water or needed to go out?” Tim answers.

“You know, here in sunny Los Angeles, there are more people than I can count who are certified dog sitters.”

“Kojo doesn’t like strangers.”

“Just Kojo? Look, Tim, I get it, the bond between a man and his dog. But, there has to be a boundary, a separation somewhere. I’ll call Luna, she’s got friends with dogs and trusted, bonded employees who watch their dogs. Walk ‘em daily, train ‘em, do everything while you’re at work.”

“I can take care of my dog by myself.”

“Not while you’re at work, Bradford. He can stay for now, Lord knows he’s a better boy than you, but by the end of the week I want to know you’ve got someone to care for him.”

Tim grumbles, pushing his hands under the desk to pet Kojo. “I’ll take you up on Luna’s friends then.”

“She’ll call later.”

“You already asked her?”

“’Course I did. We have work to do. And, so you know, we can see Kojo’s paws under the desk. But nice try.”

“I tried, buddy,” Tim tells Kojo, passing him a treat from the container hidden in his desk drawer.

✯✯✯✯✯

Grad school is expensive, but since you don’t have the degree level you are striving for, you need a different job to get you through. Pushing 30 and being a dog walker isn’t ideal, but it’s paying the bills. One of your neighbors helped you open a business with proper insurance and licensing to care for the dogs of Los Angeles. 

Most of your clients live nearby, and you do your rounds twice daily, studying and attending classes between. One of your favorite clients has a friend named Luna, who you love. She gets you jobs, helps you out constantly, and is like a mother figure to you. You are forever grateful for her. So, when she calls, you rush to answer.

“Hey, Luna!” you answer. “How are you?”

“I’m good. How are you doing? Still working on your dissertation; making progress?”

“Slow but steady, yeah. What can I do for you?”

“This is actually something I can do for you. There’s a sergeant that works with Wade; he’s got a dog and needs someone trusted to take care of his dog while he’s at work. He’s been sneaking Kojo into the station and Wade had to ask him to stop.”

“Kojo? That’s an adorable name. But, yeah, I’d be happy to meet him.”

“Awesome! His name’s Tim. I will send him your number and have Wade force him to set something up.”

“Is Tim a little rough around the edges, typical cop type?”

“Not typical, no… Just- you’ll see when you meet him. He’s great, though, deep down.”

“I’ll try to remember that. Thanks, Luna.”

“See you Friday?”

“See you Friday.”

You sit back, writing the name ‘Tim’ on your dog-walking calendar. Another client would be great for your wallet, but it seems like this sergeant will take some convincing before he hires you. This is understandable, of course, because you wouldn’t let just anyone take care of your babies, and dogs are just four-legged babies. 

“Please be as great as Luna said,” you whisper before returning your attention to the research before you.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Yeah, I texted her. We’re meeting at an outdoor café tonight,” Tim says before Wade can ask. “But if I don’t like her or if Kojo doesn’t like her, I’m going to keep looking.”

“Got it,” Wade answers. “But you’ve got more double shifts in your future, so don’t take too long trying to find a ‘perfect’ dog walker.”

Tim nods, hoping he can find a way out of letting a stranger into his house to take care of his dog. He checked your name, and your business seems legitimate, but there’s no way of knowing. Luckily, he and Kojo are both excellent judges of character.

✯✯✯✯✯

Luna sent you a picture of Kojo, and you spot him immediately. The man sitting beside him, though, is breathtakingly handsome. You’re shocked that he doesn’t have female neighbors and friends lining up at his door, offering to take care of Kojo (and him). 

“Hi, Mr. Bradford?” you ask.

Kojo looks up at you and pants, his tail slapping against Tim’s leg.

“Yes. Nice to meet you,” Tim replies, offering his hand.

Shaking his hand, you glance down at Kojo. When Tim releases his grip, you squat and extend your hand for Kojo to sniff. He flips your hand up with his snout, stepping closer to you.

“I’m sure Luna told you that I’m a cop,” Tim continues, drawing your attention away from Kojo.

You sit beside him, lowering a hand to pat Kojo’s head. “She did, sir.”

“Then you know that if anything were to happen to my house during or after your visit, I could very easily charge you with any number of crimes. And I won’t tell you what I would do if something happened to Kojo while under your care.”

You can’t tell if his threat is legitimate, so you nod in understanding.

“Yes, sir, I understand. Kojo’s safety, and your home, of course, are of the utmost importance and I will do everything I can to do right by both of you.”

Tim nods, watching Kojo for a moment. “You’re good with him. He’s not always so welcoming with strangers; scared one of my girlfriends away once. So, I’m going to give you a chance.”

“Amazing. Thank you, sir. I promise you won’t regret it.”

“What do we need to do to get started?”

“I can offer you a few days free, as a trial run. And if you still want to keep me on afterward, we can discuss payment, sir.”

“That’s unnecessary. I need someone to take care of Kojo and you seem to be the best fit.”

“Okay. Then I will email you a link to create a client account and my website has a portal to pay. Luna mentioned that you work overnight sometimes, so if you needed me to do later or earlier visits, I can do that too, sir.”

“Sounds good.”

Tim stands, wiping his hand on his jeans before offering his hand again.

“Nice to meet you and I look forward to your email.”

“You, too. And thank you.”

Petting Kojo once more, you smile before walking away. You didn’t expect him to be so attractive, so you have to remember that he clarified you’re his dogwalker, and he doesn’t even really want a dogwalker.

Determined to make him see the benefits of someone caring for Kojo, you add him to your schedule before he even pays you. Money is no longer a concern; you’re already in love with Kojo, and now, you need to focus on not falling for his owner, too.

✯✯✯✯✯

“What’d you think about her? I know you hired her, but what’d you think personally?” Luna asks, standing in Wade’s office.

Tim shrugs. “She’s very polite. Seems driven, hard-working, responsible.”

“Well, now that you’ve read her resumé, have anything else to add?”

Tim doesn’t answer, and Wade guesses, “She makes you nervous?”

“A little.”

“What?” Luna exclaims. “She’s the sweetest!”

“Not like that, Luna,” Wade interjects. “Someone wasn’t expecting a pretty dog walker.”

“Oh. Tim Bradford, I wasn’t sure you still had it in you.”

“She is taking care of Kojo. Yes, she is beautiful, but this won’t go any farther than a business agreement.”

“Care to bet on that?” Wade asks.

“No,” Tim answers before leaving and closing the door behind him.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hey, Kojo, Kojo,” you call, entering Tim’s house with the key he had made for you.

Kojo’s nails click on the flooring, rushing to greet you.

“Hey, buddy. You miss your dad? I bet you do.”

As you slide Kojo’s harness over his front legs, he licks your face, and you laugh, scratching his chest before standing to connect his leash. Kojo has quickly become your favorite dog. You visit several throughout the day, but Kojo is the sweetest and the most handsome.

When you return to Tim’s side door, it’s standing open. You know that you closed and locked it, so you pull Kojo’s leash tight, stepping back as you prepare to run.

“It’s just me!” Tim yells from inside. “Sorry, my hands were full, and I couldn’t close the door.”

Sighing in relief, you lead Kojo inside, closing the door behind you and locking it instinctually.

“Honey, we’re home!” you call.

Tim freezes in the kitchen at your teasing, borderline flirtatious tone. You remove Kojo’s leash and harness and put it away, following him as he runs toward Tim.

“Why are you home so early?” you ask.

“I worked all night,” Tim answers. “Thought you’d feel my absence through our connection.”

You chuckle at Tim’s flirting. After the second meeting, it became much easier to talk to him. Interestingly enough, Tim started the flirtatious tendencies. You tend to stick to business-related topics, but sometimes it feels like you’re just two friends – maybe more – and you forget you’re just his dog walker.

“Everything go okay at work, sir? Kojo, for one, had a great day.”

Tim says your name, a sigh more than anything. “I told you a week ago to stop calling me sir.”

“Sorry, sir- Tim.”

Tim looks away suddenly, turning his attention to the bags he carried inside while you were walking Kojo.

“Did you even wonder where Kojo was?” you ask.

“No. I know his dog walker is punctual… and a control freak.”

“Planning my day doesn’t make me a control freak!”

“You have it planned to the minute.”

“To accommodate you,” you grumble.

“Yet you won’t let me take you on a date.”

“You won’t ask.”

You fall silent, and when you think you took it too far, Kojo barks and makes you both laugh. Talking to Tim is easy, but no matter how much you love Kojo or think you could be more, you must keep everything in perspective. Tim is older, a police sergeant, and you are his college student dog walker.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hello?” you ask, answering your phone and rubbing your eyes as you look away from the computer screen.

“Hey,” Tim says. “I’m so sorry for the late notice but I’m going to be here overnight. Could you-“

“I’ll go over now.”

“Listen, it’s crazy out there right now. If you want to stay there, please do. I don’t want you out more than you have to be.”

“Tim, that’s not necessary.”

“Please. It’s not just for your safety; I’ll feel better knowing that you’re somewhere safe.”

“Okay,” you reply. “As long as you’re sure.”

“I’m insisting. Kojo is a cuddler, but that’s all you have to fear there.”

“Oh, you should have started with that. Kojo cuddles sound amazing.”

“Long day?”

“Not as long as yours. I’ll text you when I get there. Thank you, Tim.”

“Thank you. I’ll be back in the morning.”

“See you then.”

The drive to Tim’s house is short, but you hear several police sirens. Whatever they’re dealing with does seem (as Tim put it) crazy. Once you’re inside and the alarm is reset, you collapse on the couch and let Kojo cuddle up to you. You feel weirdly close to Tim, too, probably from being in his house. Falling asleep here is easy; you’re at peace, happy, and cuddled by a warm, loving dog.

✯✯✯✯✯

Waking up is not quite as peaceful. Tim is taking a picture, and when you grunt, he lowers the phone and smiles.

“That’s adorable,” he states.

“I’m quitting,” you murmur, throwing an arm over Kojo.

“You know, he didn’t even come see me when I got home? He’s a cheater, although I can’t blame him. It does look pretty comfortable.”

Ignoring him, you move closer to Kojo.

“Consider this my two hours’ notice.”

Tim chuckles, and the couch dips by your feet as he sits. When you sit up, he’s leaning back with his eyes closed.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“Yeah, just tired.”

“Well, I’ll get out of your way so you can rest. Need me to come back later?”

“No, I’m here all day. If you want to stay, you can.”

“I have a paper to finish,” you lament. “But I appreciate it.”

“Anytime.” You’re gathering your things when Tim reiterates, “Seriously. You’re always welcome here.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you later.”

“Drive safe.”

✯✯✯✯✯

It’s cloudy in Los Angeles, like a bad omen. So, you’re seriously considering taking Tim’s previous offer of staying at his house to work. Kojo is the last dog you visit, and you look down at him as he sniffs the base of a streetlight.

“Mind if I stay with you for the rest of the day?” you ask him.

Kojo’s tail wags faster, but he’s still more interested in the light than you.

“Sounds like a plan.”

Kojo picks his head up, continuing toward the corner as you lead him down the sidewalk. You see something move up the road and command Kojo to stop. Unsure if it’s a dog or some other animal, you wait a moment before walking again.

With your attention on the unknown shadow before you, you fail to hear a dog running up behind you. Kojo turns suddenly, and you don’t register what’s happening as you push him out of the way.

Another dog, about Kojo’s size, with no leash or owner in sight, is on top of you. Kojo is barking, trying to help, but you yell at him to stay back.

“Kojo, sit!” you yell over the other dog’s growling.

Your yell turns to a cry of pain when the dog’s jaw clamps down on your arm, his claws digging into your side.

“Get off!” you yell, your adrenaline giving you the strength to push back. 

Once you’re sitting up, you use your legs to free yourself from the dog’s grip. Kojo is behind you, unharmed, and you need to keep it that way. Flipping yourself on top of the dog, it releases your arm before moving its legs wildly, raking a paw across your face as it tries to move away.

“Go!” you yell harshly, moving enough to let it up.

Stomping your foot after it, you show the dog you’re in charge and wait in front of Kojo until it’s out of sight.

“Kojo, we have to go,” you say quickly, grabbing his leash and limping behind him as he leads you home.

Kojo focuses on getting you inside, and when you close the door and fall to the floor, he moves to your side. He whimpers, and you want to comfort him, but you are growing dizzy.

“You okay, boy?” you mumble.

You scream in pain when you raise your hand to check that Kojo is okay. After dropping your arm, your breathing grows shallow as tears stream down your face. Kojo whines again, and you want to reach for your phone, but your arms feel too heavy to move. Looking down, you suddenly realize the severity of what happened. Covered in blood and with no strength to call for help, you whisper an apology to Kojo and let your eyes drift close.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim sighs as he turns onto his street. He’s ready to see Kojo and, if he’s lucky, you. When Tim sees your car in the driveway, he smiles and rushes toward the door. That happiness quickly disappears when he notices the trail of blood leading up the driveway. Walking to the sidewalk, he sees that it leads nearly to the corner. Racing to the backdoor, which has a large blood smear below a clear handprint, Tim keeps a hand on his gun as he unlocks the door.

Kojo’s whimpering greets Tim, and when he looks down, he sees that Kojo has blood on him. Kojo looks over quickly, and Tim follows his movement. Whatever fear he felt when he saw the blood on Kojo is multiplied when he sees you.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, Tim calls for an ambulance before kneeling beside you.

“Is Kojo okay?” you ask weakly.

“He’s okay,” Tim promises, leaning closer in a poor attempt to find the source of your blood. “What hurts?”

“What doesn’t? Did you check on Kojo? He seemed okay but I couldn’t make sure the blood was mine.”

Tim turns, running his hands all over Kojo. The blood is only on his fur, evidently not his.

“He’s fine,” Tim repeats, his voice breaking at the end. “You are not.”

“There was a dog free running and I- I didn’t see it. Kojo stayed behind me so I need him to be okay.”

Tears are running down your face again, mixing with the blood. Tim wants to wipe them away, but the clear claw mark over your cheek deters him.

“There’s an ambulance on the way, you’re going to be okay.”

“I’m sorry, Tim.”

“Don’t you dare apologize. Just stay awake.”

“Kojo- Kojo’s a good boy,” you mumble.

“He is. Can you please keep your eyes on me? The ambulance is almost here.”

You nod, and the last thing you remember is Tim’s apologetic look and a painful pressure on your side.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Tim, are you coming with?” Bailey asks.

Tim stares at the bloodstain on his floor and up his wall rather than looking toward her. “I’ll be there soon.”

“We’ll keep you updated. She’ll be okay.”

Tim nods and waits for the EMTs to exit the house before he begins cleaning. He scrubs until every trace of your blood is erased from inside and on the door. After animal control captured the dog, several officers went out to find the dog's owner. Nolan promised to come by and clean the driveway, so Tim concentrated his efforts inside.

“Alright, Kojo, our turn,” Tim calls, letting Kojo into the bathroom to remove the blood from his fur. 

After Tim cleans Kojo and himself and throws away the blood-stained rags and cleaning supplies, he gathers his things to visit you in the hospital.

“I’ll be back with our girl,” Tim promises Kojo as he leaves.

✯✯✯✯✯

“I’m sorry.” You can’t stop the apology when Tim walks in.

“Stop apologizing. You kept that dog away from Kojo and I don’t- I can’t lose you. I walked in and you were covered in blood… I should have told you before that I care about you.”

“It’s my job to take care of Kojo,” you whisper.

Tim moves to the side of the bed, gently taking your hand. “You are not just a dog walker. I’ve been falling for you since the moment I laid eyes on you. The fact that you love Kojo solidified it for me.”

“I- I have feelings for you too,” you admit.

“They told me your pretty face won’t scar.”

“I barely even remember what happened.”

Tim sits beside your legs as he tells you, “Nolan and Celina arrested the dog’s owner. It wasn’t the first time he had done this.”

“Given a poor, unsuspecting college student thirty stitches while she’s just trying to spend the afternoon in her crush’s house? Oddly specific crime. What’s the code for that?”

Tim chuckles, gently squeezing your hand. “You can go home now. If you’re still up to spend some time in your crush’s house.”

“Tim-“

“Don’t tell me I don’t have to. I want to, need to.”

“I would love to spend time with you and Kojo. But I’m not sure I’m up for flirting today, handsome.”

“After the day you’ve had, just sit back and I’ll do all the flirting.”

“’Preciate that, sir.”

Tim laughs as he exits the room to complete your discharge paperwork. You smile behind him, hoping you’re not dreaming, and you finally told him how you feel.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Kojo,” Tim chides. “Give her some room.”

“You cleaned all the blood?”

Tim gently directs your eyes to him, leaning close to remind you, “You’re more than just a dog walker. Worth the time, the effort, the love, all of it.”

“Love?”

“Yeah. Kojo really loves you.”

You laugh, quickly remembering that you have several stitches on your side.

“Careful,” Tim requests.

“Are you certified to help someone sit still while stitches hold their side closed?” you ask.

“Depends on the patient. You? Absolutely.”

Tim helps you get comfortable on the couch before walking to the kitchen to gather some water and snacks. When he returns, Kojo is cuddled up to your uninjured side.

“Really? Again?” Tim asks.

“I love you,” you say, completely distracting Tim as he kneels before you. “But I also think I really want to quit this time.”

Tim laughs, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “That’s fine. I am looking for a girlfriend rather than a dog walker now anyway.”

“Care to see my resumé?”

“Memorized it last time.”

[kaechu1]

you had an argument with Calypso!

ᡣ𐭩⁀➴ note: "uhhh cherry where are our requests?" oh! wait let me find my fucks so i can give you!/j

ᡣ𐭩⁀➴ warning: hinted nsfw at end.

ᡣ𐭩⁀➴ content: hurt/comfort, argument, kisses, cuddles, crying, apologizing and making up, sweet ends.

you and Calypso got together after you thrown on her island for reasons you don't even remember anymore. but that doesn't matter because you decided to stay, stay with her.

since then she's always clinging to you, insists on coming with you whenever you go, scared up you'll leave her just like the others.

you found it cute at first, you know how much it must hurt her to be left alone here for ages. but after a while you start to feel suffocating, she follows you everywhere, literally everywhere.

you can't even have a moment for yourself without her clinging to you, yes you love her but sometimes you just need to be alone, to have some privacy. and that when the fight starts.

you couldn't take it anymore as you start yelling telling her that you need some space and her clinging to you all the time starts suffocating you, she yells back telling you she only did this because she loves you and she is just afraid that you'll leave her.

you yell back telling her that she doesn't trust you and she needs to have faith in you, leaving you alone, giving you space because you start to hate it.

Calypso didn't hear it as you hating not having privacy but that you start to hate her and it broke her heart, you didn't mean for it to sound like this, you were way too mad right now.

"if you hate it then leave! i am sorry for trying to love you!" she yells at you as tears start to run down her cheeks

you wanted to stop, apologize, telling her that you don't mean it like this and pull her in your arms, but something inside you refuses to back up, ego? pride? you don't know.

"this isn't love it's obsession! and you know what? you're right, I'll leave!" you said as you quickly stormed off the room.

no of course you weren't planning on leaving, not after everything, you just went to the beach and started walking around the shore trying to calm yourself down.

then after you calm down you start to realize your mistakes, you know she didn't mean it like this and she just never had someone to love her yet you lash out on her.

she was like this because of the way she was treated, you should have set her down and started talking calmly with her explaining boundaries and privacy and not just start yelling. idiot.

you decide to wait a little when she's calm, maybe then a proper apology, a bunch of flowers and a few kisses will be good enough to make her forgive you, right? she always likes those things?

as you were staring at the sea, thinking of what you should say to apologize to her you heard a sound coming from behind you.

"are you really going to leave?..." as you turn around you saw her, Calypso. tears still running down her face as her voice cracks.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean what I said.. i don't want you to leave please.." she said before even letting you reply, she stood away. it broke your heart to see her like this, and because of you.

"Calypso i-" before you could say another word she cut you again.

"I'm sorry.. I'll give some space.. I'll leave you alone just please... don't leave me.." she said between sobs and it was the breaking point for you.

you quickly walk faster towards her pulling her into your arms and letting her face fall to your chest as you hold her tightly.

"no Calypso.. please don't apologize, i shouldn't have yelled and i shouldn't have said those things, i was an idiot, im sorry please forgive me..."

you said as you hide your face in her hair as if you are hiding yourself for your own shame.

"no you're right... i shouldn't have annoyed you.. I'm just scared that.. you'll leave.. that you'll vanish just like everyone, just like he did.."

she said as she hugged you back digging her face in your chest as she sob softly into your chiton. she probably got it wet from all her tears but you didn't care.

"no Calypso it's me, im sorry. but please you need to trust me.. i am not him, i won't leave you, i love you and I'll always do.. i was just an idiot and take my anger on the only person who loved me.."

you said softly as you cup her face with your hands making her face you as you start wiping her tears away with your thumbs

"you mean it?..." she said as her crack at the end as she leans into your touch, craving your attention, your care, your love.

"i mean every word Calypso, i love you, and not even the gods can change that" you said as you kiss her forehead as she chuckles softly at your remarks

"not even zeus?" she said jokingly as she looks up at you

"not even the whole Olympians could change my mind" you said as you look at her with confidence and maybe a little bit of pride.

"such strong words, are you ready for it" she said teasingly as you roll her eyes at her remakes, as you then cup her face closer to yours as you start kissing her face.

first you kiss her cheeks, then her little nose, under her eyes to kiss her tears away, then her jawline then start spearing kisses all over her forehead before finishing it with a deep kiss on her soft lips.

"i am ready, but are you ready to take all my love?" you said as your lips brushed against hers softly, whispering as if you only wanted her to hear this. "i was born to love you" she said before pulling you for another kiss, longer and has more emotions than the last one, it left you both breathless after you pulled away. "now how about we go back to our bed so we can cuddle, would like that my flower?" you said to her as you pulled away from the kiss she didn't wait a second as she quickly went to your side and hugged your arms tightly. "cuddle!?? im in! what are we waiting for let's go!" she said as she quickly started dragging you back to her temple. and let's say cuddles weren't the only thing you did tonight at your bed. do whatever you want with this information.

[platinumshawnn]

Bound by Blood and Fire -- benjicot blackwood x tully!oc (pt i)

A/N: Hi, if it's terrible and has some stupid stuff in it that doesn't make sense i beg of you to pity and be gentle with me as it was written over the course of a spontaneous overnight shift that turned into a sixteen hour work day <33 Also, character was given a name because I don’t like writing “y/n”

Masterlist

backward | forward

Synopsis: Lady Tully and Kermit travel to Raventree to reunite with a long-time family acquaintance amidst finalizing the details of the pending nuptials with Lord Blackwood.

"To my dear Lady Serra," he announced loudly enough for all to hear, "who, I am told, has a tongue as sharp as her needlework. Pray, let's hope she proves as skilled with her wifely duties as she is with her embroidery."

warning(s): Mentions of blood, era related content/sexism/violence, adult language (i.e., innuendos), mentions of arranged marriage, mentions of family physical violence (father-son, shoving).

word count: 6.6k

 Lady Tully was not the type who particularly enjoyed wandering beyond the walls of Riverrun. She only ever left the safe confines of its boundaries under circumstances in which she had little to no other choice -- if only by force of her father’s hands by whatever command; often it was an event of necessity in which her father insisted her presence was vital, “To put on a strong, united front -- that the House of Tully and its members remain united as ever.” 

It was always a conversation that required a lot of begging on her father’s side, pleading with his daughter to see reason, and often ended in a bribe that would prompt her to reluctantly agree. She wasn’t one for negotiating and often did not want more than to be left alone with her books, to stay back at home in the comfort of her library, but she was stubborn and would only cave out of guilt and obligation for her dear father. She truly did love the man -- as did her love her; his little dove. 

She hadn’t been nearly as close to him as a child, but following her mother’s passing, she and her father had worked to build something of a relationship. Before that moment, she had always been closer to her mother -- a kind, soft-spoken woman who embodied what it was to be a proper household lady; one who upheld duty and honor. She was loving and gentle with her children, and if her daughter had been anything like her, she would have been the perfect woman to model her likeness after. Instead, she had been considered odd -- a little “out of sorts” according to other children of House Tully, who had relentlessly teased her as a child. She could recall the years of sneers and jabs, tugging on her dress and pushing her into mud puddles, leaving her sobbing in the fields behind her home. And despite her mother wishing she had just enjoyed playing “lady of the house” and making pretend with the other girls, or wishing that she enjoyed dresses and fantasizing about the day she was married to a doting husband like the other girls her age, the sight of her daughter running inside with tear streamed cheeks; covered in dirt and desperately reaching for her mother with her chubby hands as a young child, her mother’s facade would drop; all those selfish wishes out the window as she consoled the girl who clung to her skirt. If there was anything she remembered about her mother, it was how fiercely she loved her children and how willing she was to set fire to the realm to protect them despite her gentle nature. 

And often on days like this, she yearned to have just one more moment like that with her mother. 

The ride to Raventree Hall was long and silent as the two siblings sat across from each other, having not said a word to one another since their journey had begun two days prior. Kermit had tried to spark conversation by making small talk, making the odd comment about the weather, or the journey -- he had even tried to scold her on the first day, face pinched into a scowl of annoyance when his hours of rambling and several attempts at even joking with her were left unanswered. 

“You can’t ignore me forever -- please, you have to see reason, sister. I did not have any other choice.” He pleaded, reaching across to attempt to take her hand, her gaze only briefly turning to look at him, eyes scanning his face as she had noted the way his shoulders dropped; slumping forward and looking defeated as though he had just lost some bet. “If I had had any other choice, I assure you I would have taken it.” 

Since then, she hadn’t even bothered to look at him. More often than not, she felt his gaze on her, watching her carefully as though he was waiting for her to change her mind and say something. More often than not, he would be met with silence and not even as much as a look in return, only to then realize she was stubbornly still behind decision to ignore him and huffing in frustration before looking out the other window of the carriage that rocked and swayed over the bumpy trail. She knew they were nearing Raventree and despite that she was not happy with the circumstances of her presence there, she would be grateful to get out of the small space she’d shared with her brother for too long  -- although the memory was vague and distant, shrouded in fog, she could recall this journey from a time in her childhood; clinging to her mother’s hand while Kermit and Oscar excitedly babbled to their father about their time spent there, spewing stories of their training and the mischief they had gotten into with the Heir himself. She just needed space from him. 

“I do not understand….” Kermit suddenly said, her gaze still fixed out the window to look over the vast pastures that seemed to stretch on forever. The only thing that implied otherwise was that if she squinted close enough, really focused, she could make out the shape of the Brackens estate, Stone Hedge, fully aware that somewhere between here and there there was some invisible line that separated the two houses. “I do not understand why it is such a big deal to you. Of all the lords and their heirs…” he spat, that same temper she had become all too familiar with boiling over the edge once more, ”I combed through the realm as best I could, as painstaking as it was to ensure you were promised the best match, I did it. I searched high and low for someone with honor and loyalty, a husband who I could guarantee would treat you well. Of everything I have done for you…and you can’t even be grateful for all the effort I have made?” He rambled, scoffing. 

Her gaze darted up towards the sky as she wrung her hands, the orange hues of sunset blending into something beautiful as she processed his words; her chest rose with a sudden sharp inhale as her chest seemed to fill with emotion she couldn’t quite put her finger on -- frustration? Anger? Grief? 

“You know Benjicot-- we have known him since we were children. He is a dear friend of mine and I would trust him with my life, sister.” Kermit added, his gaze burning into the side of her face. 

Her left hand rose, fingers coming to her lips and absentmindedly rubbing across them as she fought the urge to anxiously chew at the skin there; to gnaw until they were bloody. She suddenly dropped the hand back into her lap, “But I did not choose him, Kermit.” She suddenly replied, her hands clenched into fists so hard her nails dug into her palms as her gaze finally turned to him. It was then, for the first time in two days, that his features softened as though he was relieved to just get as much of a word in response -- that finally he was not just speaking into the air, met with silence; even if she did not agree with him, he appeared grateful and even guilt-struck as she stared at him. “You could not have even given me that decency at least.” 

Kermit nodded, a meek gesture as his gaze dropped briefly to look down and away from her. He was silent for a moment, her attention being fixated back out the window to take in the last of their journey and the sights that came with it as a silence fell over them once more that she broke again after a pause. “He tore that blue dress I used to love…do you remember that?” She suddenly spoke. 

Kermit frowned, his head tilting to the side as he looked at her with his mouth opening, searching through any memories he had of them as children alongside a young Ben. She looked at him again, scanning his face as though she was hoping for a sign of recognition to her prompt. “With the red stitching, I wore it all the time when I was ten and two. Mother had gotten it for me on my name day just before she died.” She explained, her voice softening slightly as she recalled the memory — and suddenly, there, she saw the recognition cross her brother’s features as his eyes went wide and eyebrows rose with his mouth open in the shape of an ‘o’. 

“You wouldn’t leave your chamber without it— you caused quite the stir anytime anyone suggested you wear another one.” He suddenly said, sitting up straighter with a small smile on his face. 

“You don’t remember what he did, do you?” She asked again. She could see the confusion sink in, struggling to grasp the memory. “He tore it right down the back of the skirt— stomped his heel right into it and shoved me into a puddle twice the size of me. He said it looked stupid— that the sigil was crooked. He ripped it and Father forced me to burn it, saying it smelled so bad it was lingering all through the house. It was the last gift I had from her.” She quietly explained, her hands suddenly clasping to one another and wringing themselves as she looked down at them. 

Suddenly it dawned on him. Kermit had only caught bits of it and had not been present when it happened, but he remembered that day — behind Raventree just six moons since their mothers passing; Benjicot had just received his new dagger as a gift from his uncle as a gift on his name day and had been quite proud of it. Kermit had been so preoccupied with their sparring game he had hardly noticed. Even when he did, he did not think that things would escalate so quickly. He’d heard the sudden yelling after Ben had tripped over her, not seeing where she was crouched, distracted by a caterpillar that was crawling along her hands that she hadn’t noticed him when she stood up suddenly from the tall grass. Ben had been rushing backward and tumbled over her, sending the pair into the mud — and while Ben didn’t mind mud, he didn’t appreciate the gash in his arm from his dagger just nicking his bicep when he fell. 

Shame filled him as he recalled looking away and not intervening as Benjicot had gotten into her face, hurling insults at the poor girl who was more distracted by trying to find her bug companion to even issue an apology; wide-eyed and teary-eyed as she looked up at him in absolute terror. Even as children, Benjicot had had a temper, crushing the bug in her hand and shoving her — only then did Kermit rush to her aid and intervene. He knew Benjicot had felt bad for the whole situation, guilt and shame on his face as soon as he had done it — Kermit had seen the tears in his eyes even; only to then be hurried back to the house to be tended to for his wound. But he realized there had never been any apology afterward and in the years following, there hadn’t been many opportunities to speak about it or mend things as they hardly found themselves in each other’s company. 

“How can you promise that he will be good to me?” She asked, interrupting her brother’s thoughts. 

He suddenly looked at her again, his voice wavering in confidence, “He’s grown, sister. He is not the same boy he once was.” Kermit tried to reason, knowing the truth behind it — Benjicot had grown and matured since they had last seen each other; learned to cool his temper where necessary. But that didn’t seem to be enough for his sister, a grim look on her face as her mouth pressed into a fine line, eyes narrowing slightly, her skepticism written clearly on her face. 

“He will make a loyal and dutiful husband, I promise you. Is that not what matters?” He asked, pleading with her. 

“I did not choose him, Kermit.” She said once more. “I did not want this.” 

—

They had fallen into silence once more following their conversation and she had returned to not looking at him for the rest of their ride. Thank the Gods, it was only an hour more, but Kermit wasn’t sure if he felt more relieved or discomforted by the conversation; eyes on her and chewing his nails as the guilt he had suppressed these past two days returned, rearing its ugly head in his face. Maybe he had rushed her too soon and been rash in his decision — maybe he should have fought harder to postpone any betrothals or for anyone else. But it seemed to be a cause too far gone to be possible to turn back on now as they pulled into the gates of Raventree. 

Kermit had gotten out first, offering his hand to his sister who was slow to follow in stepping out of the carriage to where Lord Samwell and his counsel stood ready to greet them. He’d been relieved that she had accepted it, though her apprehension was visible as she eyed it before taking it and stepping down the stairs, hanging close to his side as they approached the house. Lord Samwell immediately stepped forward, excited at their arrival but containing it as he smiled at the pair, "Kermit, it is an honor to host you at Raventree Hall as usual. I’m glad to see you made it safely.” He said, his attention turning to his sister just as she offered a polite smile and a curtsy to the Lord, “Lady Tully, it is a pleasure to see you again, too. It has been many moons since we have last seen one another— though, I presume we will be seeing more of each other soon.” 

"Thank you, Lord Samwell. I bring warm regards from my father as well as his regrets as he could not join us tonight, he will be arriving later tomorrow instead -- he had some business to attend to.” Kermit replied, a hand reaching out to his sister and encouraging her hand to his elbow as he looked between the two, “He sees great promise in this match and believes it will bring strength and unity to the Riverlands. My sister, Lady Serra, is eager to meet Benjicot -- seems she hasn’t seen much of him since she was all but… ten?” 

Samwell chuckled, “Come now, Kermit, there is no need for such formalities so soon. You’ve only just arrived.” He said, encouraging the younger man to approach and come inside, “I imagine your sister and Benjicot will have much to catch up on, but first I imagine she would like to get settled. Melinda, see to it that Lady Tully’s belongings are brought to her chambers immediately.” 

Kermit’s face flushed in embarrassment, a subtle pink that spread up his neck and into his cheeks as the older Lord led them inside; the Tully’s sharing a glance as they timidly followed indoors, just as a slew of servants hurried to gather their belongings from the carriage, brushing past them. “I do apologize for my son’s absence— seems he decided now was conveniently the best time to go on a hunt with his cousins. Though I do imagine you are as best familiar with his antics as anyone.” Samwell rambled, glancing back to Kermit with a knowing look — even through the humor in his tone, she could sense his annoyance. 

As they entered the hall, her gaze wandered to scan their surroundings, reminded once again of the few visits she had taken there in her childhood. “You have a beautiful home, Lord Blackwood. I forgot…how beautiful it is out this way.” She softly said, just as the trio stopped near the door of the stairs, Samwell’s face pulling into a smile. 

“Soon enough this will be your home, too. I want you to feel as at home as you do in Riverrun— if there is anything we might be able to do to make your stay more comfortable, please,” he said, stepping forward to take her free hand in his. “Do not hesitate to ask. I will see to it myself that all your needs are met.” Lord Samwell stated, his tone laced with sincerity. 

She stared at his hand over hers for a moment, freezing at the gesture and sucking in a deep breath as her gaze was forced up to his face. A polite smile once again graced her features, “Thank you.” 

“I’ll have Alistair show you to your room— I imagine you would like to rest. Are you hungry at all, my lady?” He inquired, a look of concern etched into his features as he waited for her reply, releasing her hand as she then took the chance to pull away from her brother with a quick look in his direction. 

Maybe it was the uneasiness at the realization she was now in his territory, but the thought of food churned her stomach, “No, no. I am fine, thank you, Lord Blackwood. As you said, I thought I might get settled and rest ahead of tomorrow’s feast. It has been a long journey.” She explained, her voice sweet as she spoke, the same polite small never leaving her face — however, she was eager just to get away  from the stifling reality of just what was in store for her over the next couple of weeks. She watched as the Lord nodded, waving over a guard who hung close to his right, stepping forward with the gesture. 

“Alistair, see to it that Lady Tully finds her room okay.” Samwell instructed, his attention turning to her brother. “The young Lord Tully and I have matters to discuss then.” 

Kermit’s gaze once again bored into her as she began to follow the guard, her head turning to look over her shoulder at him; though they were silent, she gave him a look that assured she was okay — a small nod that was subtle, but enough assurance for her brother to nod back and follow Lord Samwell as he began to stride in the opposite direction towards a gathering room. 

— 

She didn’t know how long had passed. It could have been minutes, hours, days even — she wasn’t even aware at this point. She had been too lost in the sight of the flames that licked at the singed walls of the fireplace to even pay much attention; having curled up with her knees to her chest as she sat on the floor in front of it, playing with the ends of her hair that had been braided and laid over her shoulder. Some young servant girls had been sent to help in unpacking and getting settled in, but just as quickly as they had arrived, they were gone and since then, she had taken to her spot on the floor and had yet to move. The castle was silent at this point, though, aside from the distant shouts of guards who were still hankering down for the night, sinking into the routine of night shift. 

It was only when her stomach grumbled that she thought to move, her joints aching with the movement as she pushed herself to her feet and brushed off her skirts, debating on dragging herself from her room to venture down the hallways in hope she could find something to eat. Though she doubted she would have any luck, she had timidly opened her door, coming face to face with the guard who had lead her to her room hours prior posted outside — his expression hinted confusion and curiosity as she emerged from her room, stepping into the hallway, “My lady?” 

“I was wondering if it was possible to get something to eat— I understand it’s late, I just…” she quietly said, her hands smoothing over the fabric of her gown. 

He seemed to consider her request, nodding after a short pause and turning, “Follow me, my lady.” 

She was quiet as she followed the guard — an older man, probably near that of her father’s age and without hair, stoic and still-faced. With her hands clasped in front of her as he lead her through the hallways, she was lead down the stairs back towards where they had entered earlier, her eyes taking this opportunity to better scan the contents of the walls — the artwork that displayed paintings of the Blackwood’s sigil and their history. In better lighting, she could presume it would be breathtaking, but in the dark there was almost eerie shadow cast upon them, making each line look more harsh than the next; like the paintings were staring down at her, watching her every move. 

Her gaze was torn away at the sound of voices carrying from the meeting room her brother had descended to when they had parted ways, laughter heard through the doors as she gathered her skirts in her hands, lifting them out of her way as she walked down the stairs; ensuring she did not trip over them, her eyes fixed on the large, ceiling tall doors. She had wondered what the source to her brother’s laughter was— surely, forcing her hand to a man she hardly knew was not a laughing matter? Her eyebrows furrowed as she stopped at the base of the stairs, her head turned to face the doors, despite Alistair calling her name in an effort to regain her focus on the task at hand, but his calls fell on deaf ears. She slowly approached the doors, the two guards standing outside them sharing a look before looking down at the woman, who reached out; fingers brushing the wood of the doors, curious...

The two guards moved, pushing the doors open for her, prompting them to swing open at the nod of Alistair, who had long given up on stopping her. The doors opened to reveal her brother and Lord Samwell sat at the table, caught mid-laughter as she entered; hands filled with goblets of what she could only assume was wine. Their laughs died down as their attention was suddenly turned to take in her startled appearance, her hand still raised to reach out in front of her as she looked between them. Lord Samwell cleared his throat, her brother and him both standing at her arrival, “My lady, what a surprise.” He greeted, his head bowing to her, a smile on his face. “Benjicot, here, was just telling us about his hunt.” He announced, his eyes landing on his son to his right, sitting directly across from her brother.

Her gaze followed his, landing on the man who resembled nothing of the boy she had once known -- a handsome man grown, tall and lean in build, with broad shoulders adorned by a blood stained tunic and cloak. His hands were still stained with dried blood as he lifted his own cup to his mouth, taking a large gulp of its contents as he let out a muffled chuckle with full cheeks. The sight of blood on such a handsome face, however could have made her sick to her stomach. 

“I thought you were asleep.” Kermit suddenly said, noticing her gaze frozen on the young man opposite of him, attempting to redirect the conversation as he stumbled over his chair in an effort to approach her. Her eyes only darted to him briefly as she watched him stagger towards her, obviously noticing his disheveled appearance and evident drunkenness. Benjicot’s gaze, too, followed his friend as he made his way across the room towards his younger sister, whose face screwed up in a look of disgust at her brother’s current state; the younger Blackwood Lord’s lips parted as the trace of a grin danced on the corners of his mouth, teeth bared as his tongue pressed against to the corner of his mouth. “We were just celebrating your marriage, here— sister, come toast with us.” Kermit slurred, stumbling into his sister, who reached out to catch him just as her brother slung an arm around her shoulders. 

Her gaze lingered on her brother who giggled stupidly, her eyes downcast as her cheeks heated from the embarrassment of his behavior -- if only their father had been there to witness it. 

Suddenly, Benjicot’s gruff voice spoke up, drawing attention from the three members of his audience as he stifled a laugh, “I have a toast. For my betrothed..” He announced, glancing around at the three as his eyes then stopped on her, catching her gaze and causing her cheeks to further burn. His words had even caused Samwell to stand at attention, eagerly awaiting his son’s next words as the young boy lord had to suppress a laugh, that same grin on his face as he then tilted his head. 

 "To my dear Lady Serra," he announced loudly enough for all to hear, "who, I am told, has a tongue as sharp as her needlework. Pray, let's hope she proves as skilled with her wifely duties as she is with her embroidery."

Kermit let out a drunken snort from beside her clearly not understanding the suggestion in his state, her body tensing and becoming rigid as she stared back at him, her eyes widening in horror at his words. Even his father, who she could make out in the corner of her eye, looked horrified, his cup faltering as it had risen to the toast; only to be slammed down onto the table as she stood frozen in shock that the words had even just come from his mouth, his mouth now preoccupied with gulping down the remainder of his drink before dropping the cup to his plate with a loud clatter that caused her to jump timidly. 

“Benjicot!” 

“Oh, father, please…” Benjicot began to say, amusement laced in his words as he began to walk away from his seat and in her direction, “I only jest. Surely, Lady Tully knows that.” He said, dismissing his father as he looked at the woman who began to grab her brother by his waist, teeth clenched and avoiding his gaze suddenly and beginning to back away in the direction of the door she had just come through. 

“Come, brother, I think it is time for bed.” She muttered, earning a laugh from Benjicot when Kermit stumbled over his own two feet in the attempt to turn around. Samwell quickly circled the table away from his seat, striding towards the pair with an outstretched hand. 

“Here, let me help you.” He stated, concern laced in his warm voice. 

“It is okay, we just…need to go to bed, right, Kermit?”

“Don’t be foolish, here.” Lord Samwell insisted, grabbing her brother’s opposite arm and hauling half his weight off her shoulders as he supported him in his walk towards the door and to the stairs to their rooms. “Alistair can help you both to your rooms-- I think we have all had enough for tonight.” Samwell stated, his head turning to look pointedly at his son.

Benjicot watched on as his father then exited the room, along with their sibling guests, pacing back towards the table where he leaned into it with his palms; preening to see watch as the doors were closed much to his disappointment -- though, he had caught a glimpse of Kermit standing up and waving off his sister as he clutched onto the staircase railing with a grumble. He let out a hum. 

He knew that the servants would have a hay day with the dining room when they arrived to tidy it, dried bloody hand prints smeared across the furniture and dishes, the floors soaked by the rain he’d dragged in with him as he seemed to leave a trail of water behind him. He hovered over the table that was nestled right perfectly in the center of the room, the torchlight above still faintly glowing but slowly dying out as he plucked through the contents of what was leftover from dinner, his gaze cast down on the table as his father hurried back into the dining room where they had been gathered; hearing his footsteps approach as the doors were closed behind him.

“Could you not have had the decency to be kinder to her?” Samwell asked, his voice low as he stood opposite the table to where his son stood. “You’re already covered in blood, the poor girl is probably already scared enough as is-- you are going to scare this one off and we cannot afford…”

“She was your choice, father, yours. Not mine.” Benjicot replied with a sigh, as he glanced into a jug he had found amidst the scraps to confirm that there was indeed wine left at least, his mouth turning upside down and eyebrows raising briefly with a subtle shrug — not much left but it would suffice for the heir, taking an empty goblet that clanked against dishes as he plucked it with his free hand. Benjicot turned the goblet upside down, dumping out any remaining traces of drink that had been leftover, “She’s…a half-witted moron. I do not see why I must be the one to marry her. Why not you?” He said, sighing as he reached for another couple of grapes from the table, tossing them into his mouth and washing them down with a gulp of wine. 

Samwell watched on as his son moved to sit, mouth partially agape in utter horror at his words. There was no doubt that Benjicot had not been keen to the idea of marriage these past couple of years -- not since his mother had passed, but there was no denying the shame his words brought their house. Samwell tensed, seething as he sucked in a sharp inhale as his gaze went to the doors that may have been the only source to conceal his insult from the prying ears of Kermit Tully and his sister; abruptly lunging forward and across the room towards his son, who had been mid-sit, however jumping straight back up on his feet just as his father reached him. The two men were suddenly face to face, Lord Samwell’s face screwed up in a scowl of disgust whilst grabbing the collar of his son’s cloak in a stumbled wrestle of Benjicot’s free hand coming up as if to shield himself with the still half full goblet in his other hand. 

“You— petulant, spoiled child.” Samwell hissed, shoving his son backwards on his feet, knocking him into the side of the chair he had once gone to sit in; an arm flying out to grasp for something to catch himself and instead losing the goblet that had been in his hand in a clatter of dishes and food being flung from the table to the floor. Benjicot’s eyes were wide as he stumbled back over the mess, his wine spilled somewhere between the table and floor, his sleeve stained and sticky against his wrist from the fall as he landed on his backside; left staring up at his father, who had let him go and caught himself against the table. 

His eyes wide, mouth open like a fish out of water, stuttering, “Wh- wha — ” he had begun to say, hurrying to stand back up on his feet, scuttling back a few steps as his father fought the urge to lunge for him again, Benjicot’s gaze going down to his legs; watching, waiting — like his training, awaiting his opponent's next move but yet cowering like a scared child as they stared back at one another, both breathing heavily in the aftermath. The servant girl who had entered to help with cleaning up had even been startled by the outburst and gone cowering out of the dining hall; seeking shelter in the kitchen with her cloth in her hands. Benjicot glanced towards the table and door quickly, his left hand wiping off the slick of wine on his tunic, squaring his shoulders as he attempted to stand upright, straight as a board and regain his usual composure that eluded some false facade that his father had not bested him and that he was brave even in the face of his rage. He swallowed, his mouth closing as he looked back at his father, who was still evidently stewing in his fury, his fist clenching finally as he let out a frustrated sigh that bounced off the walls. 

“Do you not understand how much I have done for you? To secure your future? As my heir?” Samwell growled, approaching his son again who took a quick two-step backward, nearly bumping into another chair, his feet banging into silverware that had fallen to the floor. Samwell Blackwood was typically a cool, level-headed man — never one to put a hand on his son, even when he acted up and defied his orders in his youth — but now, amidst the war looming near, something about his words had caused something inside him to snap. His shoulders slumped, relaxing, as his fist unclenched with another sigh as he took another couple of steps towards him, his hand reaching up to grab Benjicot’s face, “This war is bigger than just you and I, bigger than some childish feud over stones and boundary lines with the Brackens, Benjicot. The Brackens have declared for Aegon—”

Benjicot’s wide eyes stared at his father, swallowing thickly as he spoke, processing his words. Of course, the Brackens would declare for Aegon— 

“This will be a war of dragons. This war will bring all of the realm to its knees.” Samwell said, voice low enough that just the two of them could hear. His hand released his face, going to the back of his neck, “We must be prepared and find strength in our allies. Our house must live on. You must secure the longevity and future of this house— it is your birthright, Benjicot. Just as it was mine before, and my father’s before. If I die, this house is yours. Do you understand?” He muttered, his tone now pleading as he searched his son’s face, eyes wild and desperate as they awaited some response from him that suggested he understood. 

Benjicot felt as his father’s grip tightened around the nape of his neck, squeezing and giving him an abrupt shake that was more of a jerk, his eyes still wide in shock at his father’s outburst. His father’s eyebrows rose as he gave a weak, timid nod in reply, hesitant as he grits his teeth and clenched his jaw, “Yes?” 

Benjicot nodded again, more confidently this time, “I understand.” He said. 

Samwell hesitated, blinking a couple of times before he nodded too, releasing his son and frowning as he glanced down, mumbling something incoherent that resembled ‘good’ before he glanced at the mess he had made. Benjicot remained tense and frozen in place even after his hold was gone, hands falling to his sides as his father slowly receded towards the door that led back to where the Tullys were left, at the landing of the stairs. “Ser Eryn, see to it that this is…tidied up, fetch the servant girl. We are expecting guests tomorrow…for the heir’s betrothal feast.” He quietly said, approaching the guard who stood by the door, leaving his son in his spot as he withdrew to his chambers for the night. The guard nodded in response to his father’s order, not even glancing at Ben as he walked past the kitchen to fetch the girl as instructed. 

Ben waited for a few moments before he timidly followed his father’s path towards the door figuring he was best to get some rest ahead of the day’s festivities. He paused at the doors before opening them to smooth out his bloodied tunic, straightening his cloak and once again, squaring his shoulders as he stood upright and attempted to regain some sort of composure; knowing that Kermit and his Lady sister were presumably just behind those doors, waiting. He sucked in a deep breath with one last glance to the floor, his mouth pressed into a tight line; his bottom lip quivering for a moment as he stifled a cry, sniffling to himself once, twice… he lifted his head, using his sleeve to wipe his nose and blinking back any sign of weakness in the form of a tear before he shoved the door open and emerged from the dining room. There, as expected, Kermit and Serra stood, their eyes on him and failing to suppress their pitiful looks as Benjicot found his usual stoic gaze, and expression blank as he nodded his head in the direction of the siblings. 

Kermit’s expression hardened, nodding back in return, in part because he understood — a silent understanding between the two young men. Benjicot’s gaze then shifted to the girl who stood on the second to last stair, clutching onto the railing as the dying orange glow from the torches of the hall lit up her expression; her gaze softening as she looked on at him, her expression something of sadness, “Benjicot…” she quietly said, his name a breathy sound on her lips. 

“I apologize for my appearance, my lady. I did not anticipate you to already be here upon my return.” He gruffly said, voice quiet. “I would have cleaned up had I known.”

He held her eye, watching as the wheels turned in her brain, confused by his sudden change and reaction as she glanced around before blinking rapidly and nodding, “It’s alright, I…understand you were away on a hunt.” She mumbled, voice soft. 

“I assure you I will be cleaned up and much more presentable ahead of tomorrow’s celebrations.” He said, hesitating as he swallowed before taking the few steps to close the distance between them, his eyes darting briefly to Kermit who watched on; his eyes looking up at her from the end of the bottom step, their height difference only then balanced out by her leverage on the stairs as they were suddenly eye to eye for the first time. His right hand reached out for her left, inquiring as if to confirm it was okay before taking her hand in his, “You should get some rest. I will see you in the morrow.” He said, his gaze on hers as his head ducked, lifting her hand to his lips to press a gentle kiss to her knuckles before allowing her hand to drop from his. He watched as she gave him another timid nod just as he released her hand and began to walk up the stairs, brushing past her to withdraw to his bedchambers for the night, leaving the pair at the base of the stairs. 

Benjicot appreciated the awaiting bath drawn for him when he returned to his rooms more than he ever had and wanted nothing more than to wash the events of the day off of him as he undid the pin to his cloak; sliding the fabric from his shoulders and throwing it over a chair as he walked further into the room. His expression was blank as he stared into the flames of the fire that had been started to keep his room warm enough to his liking as he stripped down. Once he was fully naked, he approached the tub and stepped in, slowly sinking himself into the warmth of the water that came up to his chest once he was sat flush in the tub, his hands still gripping the ledges. Quickly, he could already see the blood that had stained itself into every little crevice of his skin wash off and rather, mingle into the water in diluted swirls as the dirt, grime and blood dyed the water. He sucked in a deep breath before sliding forward, submerging his head under the water.

TAGLIST: @deltamoon666 @drwho-ess @callsigncrushx @clarityisnofun @jhepolie @juhdoche , @username199945

[badathumanemotions]

A New Kind of Intimacy

Spencer Reid x Fem Reader MDNI Category: Smut CW: Pegging, Oral Sex (fem rec), Fingering, Strap On, Hand Job, Kink Exploration, Kink Negotiation. WC: 4,722 Spencer gets the courage to tell his girlfriend he would like to try pegging. (Not Proof Read) Master List

Spencer and Y/N lay snuggled on the couch. The faint scent of rain outside mingled with the vanilla candle flickering on the side table, casting a comforting glow across the room. Spencer felt the gentle rise and fall of Y/N's chest against his, the steady rhythm of her breathing matching the beat of his heart. For a moment, he allowed himself to bask in the simplicity of the scene, the quiet companionship that had grown between them over the months.

He knew that this tranquil scene was about to change, though. The topic he'd been dancing around for weeks was about to be addressed. He took a deep breath, his mind racing through the myriad of ways this conversation could unfold. "Y/N," he began tentatively, "I've been thinking about something. Something… new." He watched her eyes flicker to his, curiosity piqued. She waited patiently for him to continue, a gentle smile playing on her lips.

"I… I've read some things," Spencer stumbled, his cheeks burning as he tried to form the words. "I mean, in the bedroom there something. Something I've been interested in trying." Y/N raised an eyebrow, her smile growing into a smirk. "Oh?" she prompted, her voice a soft purr. Spencer nodded, his eyes focused on the fabric of the couch cushion between them. "Pegging," he finally murmured, the word barely louder than the whisper of the wind outside.

Y/N's eyes widened, and she sat up a little, looking down at Spencer with a mix of surprise and intrigue. "Pegging?" she repeated, her voice dropping to match the intimate tone of the conversation. Spencer nodded again, his cheeks flaming. "Yeah," he managed, his voice barely audible.

Her hand reached out to cup his cheek, her thumb gently stroking the tense line of his jaw. "You know you can tell me anything, Spencer," she said softly, her gaze searching his. "But this is something we should talk about, really talk about." Spencer nodded, his heart pounding. He hadn't been sure how Y/N would react, but the understanding in her eyes was reassuring.

They decided to set aside the evening to have a proper discussion about it. Spencer, feeling a mix of anxiety and excitement, laid out his thoughts and concerns. He talked about his curiosity, his fear of pain, and his desire to deepen their connection through new experiences. Y/N listened, her eyes never leaving his, nodding along, and asking questions to make sure she understood. She didn't judge or dismiss his feelings, instead, she offered reassurance and her willingness to explore this new territory together.

As they talked, Spencer grew more comfortable with the idea, his shyness slowly melting away under the warmth of Y/N's acceptance. They discussed boundaries, consent, and what they were both comfortable with. It was clear that this was something Y/N was willing to consider, and she encouraged Spencer to communicate openly about his desires. They agreed that they would take it slow, ensuring that every step was taken with mutual respect and care.

The following weekend, Y/N surprised Spencer with a shopping trip to a discreet, high-end adult store. She'd done her research and knew exactly what she was looking for: a harness that would fit her comfortably and a dildo that was suitable for beginners. Spencer followed her with a mix of nervousness and excitement, his eyes darting around the unfamiliar environment.

On their next free night, they laid out their purchases on the bed: a sleek black harness with shiny silver buckles and a velvety soft dildo in a shade of blue. Spencer's gaze was glued to the items, his mind racing with the possibilities of what was to come. Y/N took his hand, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Ready to try this?" she asked, her voice filled with gentle confidence.

Spencer took a deep breath, nodding his head. "Yeah," he said, his voice firm. "Let's do it."

Y/N took charge, her movements deliberate and slow as she began to strip Spencer of his clothes. His shirt was the first to go, her fingers tracing the line of his collarbone before peeling the fabric away to reveal his pale, slender chest. She took her time, savouring the moment as Spencer's eyes grew dark with arousal. His heart was racing now, and she could feel the heat radiating from his skin. Next, she unbuckled his belt, her eyes never leaving his as she tugged his pants and boxers down, revealing his hard, eager cock.

Spencer's breath hitched as Y/N knelt before him, her hands sliding up his legs. Her gaze was focused and intense, and he couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement mixed with vulnerability. He stepped out of his pants, now standing before her in just his socks. Her hands were gentle but firm as she helped him step out of them, leaving him completely bare before her.

Y/N's hands began to explore, tracing the contours of his hips, the softness of his stomach, and the tension in his thighs. Each touch sent a shiver through Spencer, making him acutely aware of the unexplored territory they were about to venture into.

"Now, it's your turn," she whispered, her breath warm against his skin. Spencer's eyes widened, and he nodded, his hands shaking slightly as he reached for the hem of her shirt. He took his time, his eyes on hers, watching as her chest rose and fell with every breath she took. When he finally lifted the fabric over her head, revealing her bra, she was smiling at him, her eyes filled with love and lust.

He unclasped her bra with trembling fingers, letting the cups fall away to expose her breasts. They were soft, the tips already pebbled with arousal. He brushed his thumbs over her nipples, watching as they tightened under his touch. Y/N's eyes fluttered closed, a soft moan escaping her lips. "Keep going," she murmured, her voice a sultry invitation.

Spencer's hands moved to her pants, his fingers deftly undoing the button and zipper. He slid them down her hips. As the fabric pooled around her ankles, she stepped out of them, leaving her in only her panties. He took a moment to appreciate the view: her legs, the curve of her hips, the way her panties hugged her mound.

With trembling hands, Spencer traced the waistband of her panties, his eyes never leaving hers. She nodded, a silent invitation for him to proceed. He hooked his thumbs under the fabric and slowly pulled them down, exposing her to him.

Y/N's trimmed pubic hair was neat and inviting, framing her sex in a way that made Spencer's breath catch in his throat. She was already wet, a testament to her excitement, and the sight sent a jolt of desire through him. He reached out, his fingertips brushing against the soft, trimmed curls, and then lower, finding the slick warmth of her folds. She gasped, her hips jerking forward slightly, and Spencer felt a thrill of power at the realization that he could make her react so viscerally.

He knelt before her, his eyes locked with hers as he parted her legs wider. He wanted to give her an orgasm first, to show her that he was serious about this new aspect of their relationship, that he cared about her pleasure just as much as his own. His tongue darted out, tasting the sweetness of her arousal, and she moaned, her hand coming up to tangle in his hair. He explored her slowly, teasing and licking, his thumb circling her clit with just the right amount of pressure.

Y/N's legs began to shake as Spencer's tongue delved deeper, his movements growing more insistent. He could feel her tension building, her thighs tightening around his head as she got closer to the edge. Spencer's own cock was throbbing with need, but he ignored it, focusing solely on her. He wanted her to know that he wasn't just a passive participant in this, that he could give her pleasure as well.

With that thought in mind, he added his fingers to the mix. He slid one into her, feeling the slickness and heat of her tightness as he did so. Y/N's moan grew louder, and she bucked her hips, pushing herself further onto his tongue.

Spencer felt his own arousal spike as he began to pump his finger in and out of her, matching the rhythm of his tongue. He could feel her muscles tightening around him, her body begging for release. He added a second finger, stretching her gently, and she gasped, her nails digging into his scalp.

The room was filled with the sound of their ragged breathing and the wet sounds of his ministrations. Spencer's own cock was painfully hard, straining against his stomach as he worked to bring Y/N to climax. Her moans grew more insistent, her hips moving in sync with his hand, and he knew she was close. He redoubled his efforts, his tongue flicking faster, his fingers curling inside her.

Suddenly, she stiffened, her whole body arching as she came, her moan turning into a cry of pleasure. Spencer felt her muscles clench around his fingers, and he withdrew them slowly, watching as she rode out the waves of her orgasm. Her legs trembled, and she sank back onto the bed, her eyes closed and her chest heaving.

Spencer stood, his own need aching within him. He looked at the harness and dildo, feeling a mix of excitement and trepidation. This was it. The moment he'd been dreaming about, the moment he'd been so shy to bring up.

Y/N guided him to the middle of the bed, her eyes filled with a gentle dominance that sent a shiver down his spine. She had him lie on his back, her hand stroking his thigh reassuringly.

Spencer couldn't help but feel a small amount of embarrassment and vulnerability as she took in the sight of him fully exposed. His cock was still hard, pointing up towards his stomach, and legs open in anticipation. He'd never felt so open and bare before her, and the reality of what they were about to do made his heart race.

"Ready?" she whispered, holding up the bottle of lube. Spencer's heart was racing, but he nodded, his voice a hoarse affirmation.

Y/N positioned herself between his legs, her eyes locked on his as she reached down to touch him. Her hand was warm and soft, and Spencer felt himself relax slightly as she began to stroke his thigh. The anticipation was almost unbearable, his entire body taut with excitement.

She lubed up the fingers on her right hand, her movements deliberate and sensual. Spencer watched, his breath shallow, as she brought her hand closer to his ass, the gleaming digit poised at his entrance. He felt the lightest touch, the pad of her middle finger brushing against his hole, sending a jolt of pleasure through him.

Y/N began to circle her finger around the tight ring of muscle, her touch feather-light. She was giving him time to adjust, to let his body grow accustomed to the sensation. Spencer's eyes fluttered closed, his head falling back onto the pillow as he focused on his breathing. He felt his body begin to relax, the tension in his muscles easing as she continued her gentle ministrations.

Once he was relaxed, Y/N slowly sunk her middle finger in, watching his reaction closely. Spencer's breath hitched, but he didn't tense up. Instead, his body seemed to welcome the intrusion, his muscles clenching around her digit in a silent plea for more. She waited a moment, allowing him to get used to the feeling before she began to move her finger in and out, the lubricant making the motion smooth and easy.

With each stroke, she went deeper. Spencer's hands gripped the bedsheets, his eyes tightly shut as he focused on the sensations building within him. He could feel the pressure, the stretch, but it wasn't painful. It was a delicious kind of discomfort that only served to heighten his arousal.

After a few moments, Y/N added a second finger. Spencer tensed briefly, but she waited, her hand still, giving him a chance to adjust. When he relaxed, she began to move both fingers in tandem, scissoring them to prepare him for the dildo. The stretch was intense, but Spencer's trust in her was unwavering. He could feel his body responding, his hole loosening under her skilled touch.

As she worked him open, Spencer couldn't help but feel a sense of vulnerability. This was new, something he'd never experienced before, but the love and care in Y/N's eyes made him feel safe. Her fingers curled inside him, brushing against his prostate, and he gasped, his hips jerking involuntarily. The sensation was unlike anything he'd ever felt, a deep, resonant pleasure that seemed to echo through his entire being.

Y/N noticed the sudden outburst and paused, her eyes searching his face for any sign of pain. When she saw only ecstasy, she couldn't help but smirk. "Want me to do that again?" she asked, her voice low and teasing. Spencer nodded frantically, his eyes wide with need. She complied, her movements slow and deliberate, watching his reactions with a hungry gaze.

Her fingers found their rhythm, stroking and teasing his prostate with each thrust. Spencer's gasps grew louder, his hips moving in time with her hand. Y/N leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, "You can take it, baby."

With that, she added a third finger, her movements slow and gentle as she stretched him further. Spencer tensed for a moment, the sensation overwhelming, but he quickly relaxed as the pleasure built. Y/N's hand was a warm, slick presence, filling him up, making him feel so incredibly full. She curled her fingers inside him, and he moaned, his body shuddering with each stroke.

Finally, she deemed him ready. She withdrew her fingers, the cool air of the room briefly hitting his open, exposed hole. He watched as she reached over to the nightstand, her hand coming back with a pack of wet wipes. She cleaned her hand meticulously.

Then, with a sense of finality, she picked up the dildo. Spencer's heart skipped a beat as he watched her, her movements slow and deliberate. He could see the excitement in her eyes, the thrill of the unknown reflected in the way she handled the toy. It was almost as if she was savouring the moment as much as he was.

Y/N attached the dildo to the harness. She stepped into the harness, adjusting the straps until it fit snugly against her body. The dildo jutted out from her pelvis, a vivid blue against her skin.

Spencer couldn't help but think how erotic it was seeing her like this, her body so openly sexual and powerful. The harness had transformed her into a creature of desire, someone who could give him the ultimate gift of submission and pleasure. His heart raced as she approached the bed, a sense of awe overwhelming him. He felt a strange mix of fear and excitement, knowing that she was going to fill him in a way no one ever had before.

"What position would you be most comfortable in?" she asked, her voice low and soothing. Spencer swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving the dildo that now protruded from her hips. "On my back, I think" he murmured, his voice a little shaky.

Y/N nodded, understanding his need for comfort in this new experience. She climbed onto the bed, straddling him. He watched as she coated the dildo with lube, her hand moving with a confidence that made his heart race even faster. "We can stop at any time," she whispered, leaning over to kiss him softly. "We'll go as slow as you need."

With trembling hands, Spencer reached up to caress her cheek, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He could see the love and desire in her eyes, and it filled him with a warmth that chased away any lingering fears. Y/N leaned in, capturing his lips in a gentle kiss. Her tongue slid against his, a silent promise of the intimacy they were about to share.

Breaking the kiss, she positioned the tip of the dildo at his entrance, her hand resting lightly on his hip. Spencer took a deep breath, his body tensing slightly as he braced himself for the intrusion.

"Relax," Y/N murmured, her voice a soothing balm. "Remember, we're in this together." She pushed gently, and Spencer felt the tip of the dildo breach him. It was a strange sensation, but not painful. He exhaled slowly, his muscles loosening as he focused on her words.

Y/N's gaze never left his as she pushed in further, her eyes filled with a fiery determination to make this perfect for him. Spencer's breath caught as the toy filled him, the stretch a delicious pressure that made him want to both push away and pull her closer.

The room was thick with tension and anticipation, the only sounds their mingled breaths and the quiet slick of the dildo as it slowly moved in and out of him. Y/N took her time, allowing Spencer to adjust to the feeling of being filled by her, watching his reactions with a keen eye. She could see the way his pupils dilated and his cheeks flushed, the way his grip on the sheets grew tighter with each shallow thrust.

When she felt him begin to relax, she pushed in further, filling him completely. Spencer's eyes widened, his breath hitching in his throat, but he didn't protest. Instead, he arched his back slightly, pushing into her. She held still, giving him time to get used to the sensation of being fully penetrated.

For a moment, they just stared at each other, the only movement the gentle rise and fall of their chests as they breathed. Then, Y/N leaned down to kiss him again, her hips rocking slightly. The movement sent a jolt of pleasure through Spencer, and he couldn't help but moan into her mouth.

Without breaking the kiss, Y/N began to move the dildo inside him, her strokes slow and deliberate. Spencer's eyes rolled back in his head, his body responding instinctively to the rhythm she set. He could feel the pressure building, the pleasure growing with each pass over his prostate.

Y/N pulled back slightly, her gaze searching his face for any sign of pain or discomfort. Finding none, she grew bolder, adjusting the angle slightly until she found the spot that made Spencer's eyes fly open and his hips buck upwards. "There it is," she murmured, her voice filled with triumph. She knew she'd hit his sweet spot.

The room was filled with the wet, slick sounds of the dildo moving in and out of him, the occasional gasp or moan escaping Spencer's lips. He'd never felt so exposed, so vulnerable, and yet it was exhilarating. He could feel every inch of her, every ridge of the toy, and the way she was watching him, her eyes dark with lust and love, only served to heighten the experience.

As she picked up the pace, Spencer couldn't help but become transfixed by the way her breasts bounced with each thrust. They were beautiful, her nipples pebbled with arousal. He reached up, his hand shaking slightly, and cupped one, his thumb brushing over the sensitive peak. Y/N moaned, her own hand coming up to cover his, guiding him to play with her.

The sensation of her flesh in his hand was electrifying, sending shockwaves through his body. He rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She threw her head back, her hips moving faster, driving the dildo deeper into him with each stroke.

Her breasts bobbed and swayed in a mesmerizing dance, their rhythm matching the increasing tempo of their lovemaking. Spencer's eyes were glued to them, his mind racing with the eroticism of the moment. He could feel himself getting closer to the edge.

Y/N noticed the desperate look in his eyes, the silent plea for something more to push him over. Without missing a beat, she reached down with her free hand and wrapped her fingers around his rock-hard cock. The feel of his skin against hers sent a thrill through her, and she knew this was what he needed.

Spencer's moan grew louder as she began to stroke him in time with her thrusts. His hips jerked upwards, seeking more of the exquisite friction. She knew he was close, his muscles tensing with the impending release.

Her hand moved faster, her grip firm as she pumped his cock. The sight of her above him, the dildo moving in and out of his body, was almost too much to handle. Spencer's eyes rolled back in his head, and he clutched the sheets, his knuckles white with the effort of holding on.

The pressure within him grew, coiling tightly in his belly, until it was all he could do to keep from yelling out. His hips met her every thrust, pushing back into her, his body begging for release.

Y/N could feel him getting closer, the way his body tensed and his breath grew ragged. She knew just how to push him over the edge, her own arousal climbing as she watched him lose himself in the pleasure she was giving him.

With one final, deep thrust, Spencer's body went rigid. His eyes squeezed shut as he cried out, his voice hoarse with passion. His orgasm hit him like a freight train, the most intense he'd ever experienced. His muscles spasmed, his cock jerking in her hand as ropes of cum shot out, painting his stomach and chest. The sensation of being full, combined with the exquisite pressure on his prostate, was too much for him to handle.

The world around him swam in a haze of pleasure as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over him. He could feel his body convulsing, his toes curling and his back arching off the bed. Y/N held onto him, her strokes slowing as she watched him ride out his climax. The sight of him, lost in pleasure, was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.

As Spencer's orgasm began to subside, she carefully withdrew the dildo, her eyes never leaving his face. She didn't miss the way his body shuddered with the loss of fullness, nor the way his breathing was still ragged. With a gentle smile, she leaned down to kiss him.

Y/N waited, her hand still wrapped around his now-softening cock, until she felt him come back to himself. His eyes fluttered open, and she could see the wonder in them, the way his pupils were blown wide with pleasure. He looked up at her, his cheeks flushed and his chest heaving, and she knew he was ready for the aftercare they'd discussed.

"How do you feel?" she asked, her voice soft and concerned. Spencer took a moment to gather his thoughts, his eyes searching hers. "A-amazing," he finally managed to get out. His voice was hoarse from his cries of pleasure.

Y/N carefully removed the harness, her eyes never leaving his face. "You did so well, sweetheart," she murmured, her voice filled with pride and affection. "You took it so well." She tossed the toy aside, her gaze never leaving Spencer's body. His chest was still heaving with the aftermath of his climax, and she couldn't help but feel a thrill of satisfaction at the sight of him.

Gently, she climbed off the bed and went to the bathroom, returning with a warm, damp washcloth. She began to clean him up, wiping away the evidence of their passion with tender strokes. Spencer's eyes remained closed, his body still trembling slightly with the aftershocks of pleasure.

As careful as she could, Y/N cleaned between his legs, her touch feather-light on his sensitive skin. She took her time, making sure she didn't cause him any discomfort as she wiped away the remnants of lube and sweat. Spencer felt a warmth spread through him, not just from the post-orgasmic bliss, but from the tenderness in her actions.

Once she was done, she discarded the washcloth and climbed back into bed, curling up beside him. "Is there anything you need?" she asked, her voice gentle and concerned. Spencer looked over at her, his eyes still glazed with pleasure. He was overwhelmed by the care she was taking of him, and his heart swelled with love.

"Just you," he murmured, reaching out to tug her closer. She came willingly, her body fitting against his side like a perfect puzzle piece. He could feel her heart beating against his chest, the warmth of her skin seeping into his. For a moment, they just lay there, their breathing gradually evening out.

Y/N propped herself up on one elbow, her gaze roving over his flushed face, taking in the way his hair stuck to his forehead. "Did you like it?" she asked, her voice a mix of concern and curiosity.

Spencer nodded, his eyes still closed. "More than I can say," he whispered, his voice still thick with arousal. He felt a gentle kiss pressed to his cheek. "It was everything I'd hoped for and more."

Y/N settled back down beside him, her hand resting on his stomach. They lay there, their bodies tangled together, basking in the afterglow of their shared experience. The silence was comfortable, filled with the quiet thud of their hearts and the sound of their mingled breaths.

Finally, Spencer found the words he'd been searching for. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice hoarse from his cries. He turned to look at her, his eyes shining with a mix of gratitude and love.

"You don't have to thank me," she murmured, her thumb tracing lazy circles on his chest. "I enjoyed it just as much as you did." But she knew the significance of what they'd just shared, the trust and vulnerability it had taken for him to voice his desires.

Spencer's eyes searched hers, a soft smile playing on his lips. "I do have to thank you," he said, his voice earnest. "For being so understanding, for being so… perfect." He paused, his cheeks flushing slightly. "And for making my fantasy come true."

Y/N's own smile grew, her heart swelling with affection for the man who had just entrusted her with his deepest desires. She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. "You're welcome," she murmured, her voice filled with love. "And I love you, Spencer. So much."

With a sigh of contentment, she slid out of bed, her naked body moving with a grace that never failed to captivate Spencer. He watched her, his eyes following the curve of her hips as she padded to the bathroom. "I'm going to run us a bath," she called over her shoulder. "It'll help you relax after that."

Spencer couldn't believe just how lucky he was to call her his. The way she'd taken his desires in stride, the way she'd made him feel so cherished and desired, was something he'd never experienced before. It was as if she'd looked into his soul and seen every hidden corner, every secret craving, and instead of judging him, she'd embraced them all.

He watched her as she moved around the room, her body lit by the soft glow of the bedside lamp. She was so beautiful, so confident in her own skin, and he felt a fierce surge of love for her. He knew he'd never find someone as understanding, as willing to explore the depths of his desires as she was. It was like she saw him, truly saw him, and loved him all the more for it.

The sound of the bathwater running filled the air, and Spencer felt a gentle tug at his hand. "Come on," she whispered.

Spencer realized in that moment that he would follow wherever she led.

[petercaths]

SPOILERS: Helaemond 2x08 Analysis

Helaemond scene was actually so insane, I might pass out from all the layers uncovered and I NEED a place to break it down so LEAKs SPOILERS ahead.

LEAKS LEAKS LEAKS LEAKS

Well, first of all let me rage on what I thought wasn’t well done. There’s definitely a proper set up missing, both for Helaemond and the way we see Helaena interpret her dreams - which have been nothing but riddles , but now there’s coherence ?? I’m very mad at all that was done off screen / out of nowhere. Her arc deserves proper growth, she has so much potential.

Anyways, onto what I liked and a proper analysis of the two Helaemond scenes (LEAKS).

There’s something about the way we were thrown into two completely different ends of their dyanmic. that agressive volatile nature that we have seen build up in Aemond, and then something soft and genuine and vulnerable that he seems to reserve for Helaena now.

Obviously, the scene in which he drags her is one of controversy (and rightfully so). But the desesperación within, it’s very clear he doesn’t want to hurt her, if anything I’d argue he wants to protect her (their family) in the only way he knows how: with more ruin and death. Alicent tells him Helaena is still queen, and his answer is to call Alicent a weak queen. Alicent tells him Helaena is the most deserving of his protection, and his answer is “who will protect her if she cannot protect herself?” I actually think there’s a fear of cycle repetition here, Aemond sees the ways in which Alicent falls short (to him) and how that has endangered their family, and he does not want the same for Helaena or himself. But in the end, he cannot actually force Helaena to fight, Alicent would never stand for it, and I honestly don’t think he could get Helaena to do it unwillingly either. So he leaves.

Which leads to:

!!!!!THE BALCONY SCEEENNNEEE!!!!!

*screams in high valyrian*

The scene was actually a delicious serving of everything I wanted Helaemond to be if they ever shared a true scene together. I remember someone once asked what gothic ship Helaemond would serve, and I said Cathyheathlcliff and boy was I right!

First of all, the scene establishes a visual familiarity with Helaemond , as this is meant to be the same secret passage that Daemyra meet in in s1 which is kinda psychotic of the writers to do with no proper build up, but whatever.

I think it’s so intriguing that Aemond starts the scene by doing the exact opposite as what he did last time. He’s slow and soft, and he appeals to her gentle side, It’s almost manipulative. He says, “we share the same blood…we will answer outrage with outrage,” he wants to tie her to his vengeance and his doom through fire and blood. He reaches out to touch her, but instead his hand ghost over the arm that he hurt earlier. And the fact that he doesn’t touch her, to me that’s his apology. That’s him putting some of his needs aside so she can understand where he is coming from , putting her boundaries first, because he is so desperate for her of all people to stand by him.

All season long he has rejected the help/guidance of his family, but the one person he asks for help is Helaena. He doesn’t just ask for help, he asks her to come to Harrenhall (which was actually insane ?? never thought he’d do that). Alicent mentioned corruption and he fucking ran with it and said “yeah, maybe.” I think what’s so beautiful about Aemond in this scene, however, is that he really does understand her. “I know you do not wish to hurt anyone…” he understands what he’s asking of her, he understands where her morality lies, and even if his does not lie in the same place, I do think he respects it. But in his mind, this is not the time to stand with your values because it really is kill or be killed, and he’s already deemed Alicent a lost cause, but he’s trying to save himself and Helaena from one doom to put them into another where - in his mind - together they can prevail.

And then we have Helaena, and her answer to him in the most lucid vision she’s had (which deserved proper build up). Everyone has an idea of what Aemond did, but Helaena, she knows what he did. She saw it as if she had been there, and she makes sure he knows it too. She throws everything at him, and I think a part of her is pushing to see how far gone he really is.

She tells him“Will you burn me like you burned Aegon?” and it clearly stuns him, and he denies it, and she hesitates but then she keeps going. And then she lands the final blow, “Aegon is yet to see victory… you will be dead.” And it is such a bittersweet reveal , because we know now all that she sees, and that must include her own death as well. It’s bittersweet because Aemond comes into this scene trying to doom and corrupt her, but he does not know that she already carries that doom and corruption with her, and even with all that darkness , she choose to rise above it.

And of course, Aemond can’t have that so he threatens “I could have you killed…” and it’s so half baked because would he? Would he really kill her? Like she said earlier, would he burn her as he did Aegon? But then the most important part of this is said by Helaena, which is that it won’t matter, because she knows her fate is as sealed as his, and whatever he does to her won’t change what will happen to him.

Ultimately, Aemond comes into the scene trying to make his burden hers as well - force them onto her really- and she completely reverse uno’s him. Instead of letting him drag her down to physical ruins, she drags him down a psychological one. She is the one who shares her burden with him, one that she’s had since living memory, that no one in her family listens to. Just like Aemond, Helaena has a chance to place it on someone and make someone else understand, and she takes it, and she chooses Aemond - and by proxy herself. Now she doesn’t go through all of this completely alone.

This intertwines their arcs in such an odd way, she knows they’re doomed to die together, and because of her, he knows his fate is sealed. That’s peak intimacy.

And I guess I’ll end this by saying that we see Aemond show regret about his actions exactly once, and that’s when Helaena rejects him. And also that I really hope that if Helaena never see HH, they find a way to intertwine her arc with Alys more and have them share scenes.

[jugheadjonezwuzhere]

IMO Jughead is the most compelling character in this show and the more I watch the more tragic his character and arc are.

Where I’m at in season five it just really seems like he’s turning into his dad (alien conspiracy theories notwithstanding) and it’s horribly tragic mostly bc it seems very realistic for kids who grow like he did. Setting all the weird Riverdale shit aside, being abandoned by your mom and forced into homelessness by you drunkard of a father and witnessing a man get beaten to death whilst living under a bridge and being bullied at school and overwhelming not really wanted by anyone in your life are the kinds of things that leave a lasting mark. And on top of that people are a product of the environment they grow up in. Some people get out of it and take new paths and others get sucked back in no matter how hard they try to escape. And tbh Jughead probably would’ve had more luck escaping if he’d had a proper support system.

I like Bughead a lot but they were pretty toxic for each other after a while. They both brought so much baggage into the relationship on top of which Jughead doesn’t know how to set better boundaries bc he’s never really seen a healthy relationship and Betty had way too much going on to acknowledge the fact that she and Jughead were making each other worse not better at a certain point.

The graduation episode I believe it is when Betty admits that she kissed Archie during hedwig is one of the saddest moments bc when she says “I need to tell you something” he knows exactly what she did and he’s not even surprised. But he doesn’t let go. He just holds on tighter. Which again I understand bc she’s the only person who’s ever really cared about him, but this is at least the second time she’s kissed Archie while still dating Jughead and at a certain point you have to say this isn’t working anymore.

Side note but I also felt so so bad for Veronica when Archie tells her about the kiss. I don’t have particularly strong feelings for varchie one way or the other but she deserved so much better than that.

I feel like this is just an incoherent mess but im gonna post it anyways and see if any of y’all can make sense of it

[loregoddess]

okay one of my all-time favorite fanarts for the first Octopath game were these doodles of the travelers sleeping, and it made me want to make art of the Octo2 travelers sleeping but I don't have a lot of energy for art lately so I don't think that'll happen, however I was still inspired to come up with a whole bunch of headcanons about the sleeping habits of the Octo2 travelers, sooo...I wrote them instead. Cheers. (some story spoilers)

Ochette Ochette has official art showing her sleeping, so we know she sleeps curled in a tight little ball (although she probably repositions herself in her sleep), but I also think she nests. Like, all the time. Staying at an inn? Ochette turns those blankets into a nest and curls up in them. Camping? no need for a sleeping bag (unless it's cold) she'll just tamp down some grass and make a nest. Will also nest in trees by rearranging the branches and leaves. Nests in Osvald's hair on occasion.

Also I think Ochette's a huge cuddler. She's usually cuddled with Akala or Mahina, but once she gets to know the other travelers better and figures out their personal boundaries, she'll cuddle anyone who's okay with it (probably usually Agnea and Castti. Throne wants to cuddle Ochette so badly but refuses to ask...Ochette eventually figures it out though. Osvald swears he doesn't know anything about Ochette making nests of his hair or snuggling into his coat during cold nights, but everyone knows he has the soul of a loving father. One time Ochette fell asleep leaning against Hikari and he was afraid to move at all for the rest of the night).

Follows something of a crepuscular sleeping schedule, so Ochette's most active at dawn and dusk, naps in the middle of the day, and sleeps through most of the night (although she's skilled at night hunting and can stay up most of the night if need be). Ochette can technically stay awake for a couple of days at a time if she's taking breaks and short rests, since it's useful for tracking and stalking prey over longer distances, but doesn't prefer this type of a hunt. Can also technically follow a "typical diurnal human" sleeping schedule, but Ochette thinks it's stupid. Would love siestas if they existed in Solistia.

Overall quick to fall asleep, quick to wake up. Only feels groggy if it's cold or the weather's bad, as she'd prefer to continue sleeping snuggled up in her warm nest.

Castti Castti can sleep anywhere, anytime, in any position, but mostly because she does not have any sort of healthy sleeping habits or regular sleeping schedule. Terrible, terrible habit of just staying awake to help patients and then passing out as soon as she gets a brief break in her work (her sleeping at a table in her ending card artwork attests to this). She was better about getting proper sleep when she was with Eir's Apothecaries and could share the work, and the other travelers are good at nagging her to get to sleep, but Castti doesn't really hold her own sleep health to the same standards she'll expect of her patients (she is, canonically, a bit reckless about her own health, re: Osvald telling to her to take better care of herself in that one travel banter). Snores if she's gone too long without sleeping, and won't stop until she's gotten at least two hours of sleep.

Not a really deep sleeper, but not a light sleeper either. Castti has the ability to sort of sense when someone around her needs medical help, and wakes up accordingly to help them. If no one's in trouble though she could sleep through a hailstorm on a tin roof. Because she doesn't follow any fixed sleeping schedule, her body's innate sleeping cycles are a bit wonky, but if Castti allowed herself to return to a "normal" sleeping schedule she'd be the sort of person who was up before the sun rose, and be in bed as soon as the sun set.

Throne Throne is the lightest sleeper in the group. A mouse scampering across the inn floor could wake her. Always sleeps on her side with a dagger in hand. If she's at an inn, she chooses whichever bed is against a wall or in a corner with no windows, so that nothing can sneak up behind her as she sleeps, and sleeps facing out towards the rest of the room. If she's camping then she either chooses a location where she can't easily be ambushed (under an overhanging boulder/cliff, against a large tree), or begrudgingly sleeps on her back so she can survey the area around her. Once she's more comfortable with the other travelers, she's willing to treat them as "walls" that she can safely have her back to, but overall being raised by a syndicate of assassins made her an extremely cautious sleeper.

Given the nature of her work, Throne's mostly nocturnal, opting to sleep through the day, and be awake all night long. However, some jobs required more flexibility, so Throne also learned to just sort of be up whenever she needed to be up, and sleep whenever she could. If left to her own devices though she prefers to sleep through the day. Very quick to wake up, but also doesn't have too much trouble getting to sleep either.

Osvald Before prison Osvald was probably the sort of person to stay up late into the night as he pursued his research, and sleep in late during the morning. A very deep sleeper as well, although he did acquire the parental "oh shit, my kid needs me time to be fully awake" instinct when Elena was a baby that never really went away as she got older (Castti recruited Osvald to help her nurse the others when they get sick because he started having the parental "oh shit" reaction to the other travelers as well). If he needed to be up early for some sort of scholarly conference or to teach classes or something, then Rita was the one to get him up in a timely manner (she was more of a morning person), which was good because Osvald would take 1-2 hours just to fully wake up (very serious coffee person).

Osvald's time in prison changed him however, and between the cold and needing to survey everyone and everything in the prison, he stopped sleeping through the night and would sleep in short bursts instead. Like Throne, he became a very cautious sleeper, making sure his back was to a wall while he remained hyper-vigilant of his surroundings. Whatever his sleep schedule might have been didn't matter since he had to abide by the prison's work schedules. Being passed out as he washed up on the shores of Cape Cold was the first long "sleep" Osvald had in five years.

After escaping, he's sort of in a weird in-between state where part of his mind still thinks he's in constant danger and wants to continue being stressed and vigilant, and another part that realizes he's safe now and wants to finally get some rest. As a result Osvald's sleeping habits are...haphazard during his travels. Sometimes he manages to sleep just fine, sometimes he's restless, sometimes he'll be up for two days straight claiming he can't sleep. One time Castti offered him some sleeping medicine and he slept for almost an entire day. He doesn't stop being vigilant, although he's not quite as cautious as Throne (no weapons on hand), but this mostly just results in him knowing everyone else's sleeping habits and troubles. Partway through the travels, Osvald does ease up a bit as he's able to accept he's not in constant danger, and as he comes to trust the others more he begins to relax enough to start recovering his old sleeping habits.

Eventually, he is able to recover most of his sleeping habits, staying up late researching, and sleeping in late (unfortunately Clarissa and Elena have the same sleep schedule, so if they all need to be somewhere early chances are they're going to be collectively late). Osvald never does quite shake some of the habits picked up from prison though, and doesn't sleep as deeply as he once did.

Partitio Partitio doesn't sleep in any really odd positions, although he does rotisserie chicken through the night, turning from one side to his back to his other side to his stomach and back to his side, all without really waking up. Snores like a motor if he's on his back, but if one of the other travelers kicks him or tosses something at him, he'll turn over and stop snoring (won't remember this in the morning). Sleeps extremely deeply as well, and can sleep through almost anything. Coughing wakes Partitio up immediately though, because of the time he spent nursing his father's poor health--this in turn makes him a great nurse if any of the other travelers fall sick, and Castti was pretty quick to recruit him to being her aide as well.

Growing up working in mines meant Partitio was pretty tired come night, and would just pass out. He's a natural morning person, and typically follows a very regular "wake up with the rising sun, go to sleep with the starlight" schedule. Only oversleeps if he partied too hard late into the night, or else had to stay up all night for some reason.

Agnea Tosses and turns the most through the night. Not out of discomfort, Agnea just, doesn't really stay still when she sleeps, and sleeps in the strangest positions as well when she isn't moving around. At an inn the bed's covers will be an absolute mess when she gets up, and her sleeping bag ends up cocooned around her in ways the other travelers didn't think possible. Worst bedhead as well, it takes her a good half hour to get her hair brushed out sometimes. Which is fine because it usually takes her a bit to fully wake up in the morning (although if she's excited about something, Agnea can get up and be ready to go in ten minutes flat).

Also a bit of a sleep-talker, but the sort of "nonsense" sleep talk that almost seems to make sense but doesn't. The other travelers have held entire nonsense conversations with Agnea as she sleeps. She of course, does not have any memory of these conversations when she wakes up, nor do any of her dreams match the content of the conversations recounted to her. Agnea was a bit embarrassed by this at first, until she realized the others weren't teasing her to be mean, but because her nightly chatter was truly amusing in an endearing sort of way.

Prefers to sleep late into the morning/early afternoon and stay up into the night, since it fits her schedule as a dancer better. However, Angea also has one of those internal alarm clocks, so if she needs to get up early in the morning, she just tells herself at what time to wake up and then she does. Absolute envy of Pala, who does not have an internal alarm clock. Very useful when she's travelling though, since she can make sure all the other travelers are up on time if she needs too. Also, given the size of Solistia I'm assuming there's like, major time zone differences, but I feel like Agnea would be one of those people who almost never suffers from jetlag (partly bc the means to travel across the time zones quickly enough doesn't yet exist, but also because she just has a naturally good internal sense of time and adjusts to the times the sun rises and sets pretty quickly).

Temenos Temenos looks like he sleeps peacefully. On his back, hands folded over his chest, perfectly still, no matter if he's in a bed at an inn, or a sleeping bag while camping. The truth is it takes him 1-3 hours to actually fall asleep, and he's just pretending to sleep while he tries to get thoughts about whatever case (or general stress thoughts) out of his mind. Ochette, Throne, and Osvald have figured this out, since Temenos's breathing isn't actually steady until he's fallen asleep (Ochette has good ears, Throne's used to keeping a close eye on those around here, and Osvald also got good at monitoring his cellmates and the prison guards, which carried over to his traveling companions). Once he is asleep though, Temenos sleeps fairly deeply.

He's also had these issues getting to sleep since forever. When Temenos was really young, Jorg would read him stories from the scriptures, and once Temenos learned to read he'd stay up late reading and rereading these stories in hopes that the tedious language would bore him to sleep. This is at least part of the reason why he's memorized almost all the stories in the scriptures, even if he can't remember the details exactly. Sometimes if he knows he's not going to get to sleep easily, he'll still read, although he's expanded his reading list to just about every genre, and usually always has some sort of book on hand as a result.

Because he remains in the same position all night, Temenos wakes up stiff and needs to stretch to loosen his muscles. However, when he has nightmares he tends to toss and turn a bit, and then just wakes up achy from having slept in an odd position. Night owl by nature, feels most awake in the evening and early night, and would sleep half the day except his duties as inquisitor and cleric require Temenos to get up early (which he uses an alarm clock for, maybe? I mean, mechanical clocks do exist in Solistia, so...). Wakes up fairly quickly, but is always a little tired throughout the day.

Hikari Hikari tends to sleep mostly on his side, and also keeps a weapon nearby (he did grow up participating in a concerning number of wars and battles). He prefers to get up early and go to bed early, but given the need for flexibility on a battlefield, can and has stayed up through the night and slept part of the day with little consequence. Hikari's also an incredibly quiet and still sleeper, rarely repositioning except to sometimes roll onto his back.

He is also a deceptively peaceful-looking sleeper. Hikari's issue is less that he can't get to sleep easily, and more that he's afraid of the Shadow overtaking him somehow while he sleeps, a fear that was especially prevalent when he was in active warzones. Without anyone he could really discuss this with, Hikari had to figure out how to get to sleep on his own, and eventually settled for meditating before he planned to sleep. During his meditation he focuses on suppressing the Shadow the same way he's able to suppress it when he's awake, and specifically visualizes locking the Shadow away for the duration of his sleep. This meditation tactic, once Hikari refined it, did help him sleep with lessened fear of the Shadow overtaking him. It didn't stop him from occasionally having nightmares about the Shadow though, which eventually led to Hikari figuring out how to lucid dream so he could get the Shadow out of his dreams as well.

All this means that, so long as Hikari has adequate time to set up, he's able to meditate and then simply lay down and go to sleep. Unfortunately, it also means that he will refuse to sleep if he does not have adequate time to properly mediate, and has on occasion just...stayed awake for a concerning amount of time. Hikari's so earnest and polite about insisting he simply can't sleep though that the other travelers have a hard time arguing with him in these rare instances where he refuses to sleep. When, on occasion, he ends up knocked out from a battle (or getting zapped off a bridge), and doesn't have control over passing out, Hikari actually does fine, since his subconscious kicks in to keep him safe from the Shadow, but this doesn't stop him from practicing his disciplined sleep ritual.

Hikari doesn't ever truly stop his meditation before sleeping after the events of his story, but he stops forcing himself to stay awake out of fear if he can't meditate, much to the relief of his friends and retainers. It's less that Hikari no longer fears the Shadow, and more that he believes in his own strength to keep it out of his mind entirely. At that point, Hikari actually sleeps just as peacefully as he looks while sleeping.

[cassiepoppy45]

Fresh new Huntlow smut!

Announcing the pre-release of new Huntlow smut on my Patreon! Chapters 1-3 will also be available on AO3 later in the month, but chapter 4 will be a Patreon exclusive.

Chapter 1 available on Patreon now: patreon.com/CassiePoppy45

SFW excerpt below:

“Hunteeerr?”

Hunter, drawn out of the pages of his book by his girlfriend’s wheedling tones, smirking down at where she lay in his lap. He knew that lilt well: she was about to ask for a favour.

And he, just as certainly, was about to grant it.

“Yes, my love?” He marked his page and set the book aside.

Grinning, she reached up and twirled his noodle around her finger in a very distracting way. “I’ve been thinking…”

“I would advise against such an undertaking.”

She giggled. “I find it quite fun, as long as one only ventures the attempt once in a while.”

“Ah, is that where I’m going wrong?”

Tugging him down with the same forelock she still had in her grip, she encouraged his lips to find hers in a quick, affectionate peck.

“Well, what have you been thinking?”

“I’ve been thinking about something… new I might want to try.”

Hunter cocked an eyebrow. “I presume,” he murmured, suppressing his smirk with difficulty, “it’s a new recipe you want to try?”

She snorted.

“Perhaps a sort of outfit. Ooh, or a new job?”

She wriggled in his lap, catching and appreciating the humour in his voice. “You’re a dork.”

“I’m starting to realise that counts as a compliment from you.”

“It really does.” She reached up to slightly awkwardly cup his cheek.

“So.” He snuck a kiss into her palm. “What do you want to try?”

“… You won’t laugh?”

“I promise.”

“And if you don’t like the idea, you’ll say so? You won’t do anything just because I want to try it?”

Hunter tried to tamp down the ever-so-slight flame of anxiety that fluttered into life inside him. This was clearly something larger than her usual requests, to have required such a preamble. His brow furrowed gently and he prepared to meet whatever it was Willow was about to say with all his equanimity – which was still, after all these years, in shockingly short supply.

“I promise,” he repeated honestly.

Willow bit her lip. Watching her fang worry the plump, pink mounds was almost enough to get him to blindly consent to anything, so long as she would just let him kiss her once more…

“What would you say to… swapping bodies?”

Hunter blinked down at her. “Swapping…?”

Willow shifted, sitting up from her position and leaving him colder than before. She turned to face him, the excitement restrained by her good sense nevertheless still very obvious to one who knew her as well as Hunter did. “There’s a body swap spell. It’s old wild magic. I’ve looked into it, and it certainly doesn’t seem too complicated. I was thinking, at least at first, we could just swap bodies, see how it feels. If it’s too weird, we don’t have to go any further. But if we liked it, then maybe we could consider… doing more…”

Hunter listened to all of this carefully, trying not to let his fear of everything unknown control his initial reaction. This was something that required proper thought. Still, his mind couldn’t help but immediately fish out from all possible outcomes the absolute worst.

“Hun?”

He blinked himself back into Willow’s beautiful eyes.

“If it’s too much…”

He grabbed one of her hands and squeezed. “No, no. I… I think I need to sit with the idea for a bit. But I certainly don’t see the harm in at least trying it. We wouldn’t need to go any further than just… trying it. I-if we were uncomfortable, I mean.”

Instead of being disappointed, Willow beamed. She always did this, rewarding him for setting his boundaries rather than complaining that he was stepping on her toes. She rocked forwards to kiss his cheek. “Take all the time you need,” she told him earnestly. “I appreciate you thinking about it, sweetheart.”

“Anything for you.”

[oceannote]

EMPIRE WAR - Chapter 4

Note from author: Guyssss, Chapter 4 it is a proper mess. A lot of things happen at the same time and I hope you guys can keep up. I am not sure if all of you have seen but there are a few lines in all the chapters that are more evidentiated than others. You should keep an eye out for those because they related to the plot twist of the story. XoXo YK Summary: When feelings get in the way of business and switch friendships at a very high pace, how are we going to make to keep a boundary between make shit feelings and actually falling in the black hole of love? Warnings: Characthers are fake and are a result of fiction, mentions of alcohol, lack of confidence. Do not copy, translate or remake the story. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This Friday morning isn’t just a disaster—it’s an unforgivable betrayal.

Not a minor inconvenience. Not an 'Oops, I spilled my coffee' kind of situation. No, this is an apocalypse-level catastrophe, the kind where the sky turns black, sirens wail in the distance, and all hope is abandoned.

And it all starts with the rain.

Oh, the rain. A biblical downpour, hammering against my window with the wrath of a scorned god. The kind that makes the world outside look like the set of a tragic indie film. My bed, warm and safe, becomes my only sanctuary. My alarm has screamed at me five times already, and each time, I’ve slapped the snooze button with the desperate hope that the universe might grant me an alternate reality where I don’t have to exist today.

But the universe? It laughs in my face.

Because then, it makes me relive last night.

Last. Night.

It had started like any normal evening—me at Jungkook’s apartment, thinking we’d hang out like two sane, functioning adults. But sanity and functioning were clearly not on the menu. One moment, everything was fine, and the next? We were seconds away from tearing each other’s clothes off.

And just when we reached the point of no return, my brain decided to come back online.

Oh no.

So, like the mature, rational adult I am… I panicked. I grabbed my things and bolted, leaving Jungkook standing there—shirt half over his head, eyes dark with something dangerous, looking like I had just committed an unspeakable crime against him.

And now, this morning, I have only one mission:

No one. Can. Ever. Find. Out.

I march into the office with all the enthusiasm of a woman walking to the guillotine, only to be greeted by two saviors in the form of my best disasters—Aurora and Jimin.

“Good morning to the most stunning, flawless, divine boss in existence,” Aurora sings, setting a coffee on my desk like she’s presenting a sacred offering.

I stare at her, dead-eyed. “I think I might vomit.”

Jimin snorts as I crack open my laptop, only to be greeted by 146 unread emails.

The ringing in my ears drowns out my will to live.

“Well, good morning to us too,” Jimin mutters, clearly thrilled by my suffering.

Aurora, ever the optimist, starts aggressively massaging my shoulders. “So, what’s the plan for this weekend? Group dinner?”

Jimin and I don’t even hesitate.

“No.”

Aurora blinks at our synchronized refusal. “Okay, weirdos. It was just a suggestion.” She shrugs, tossing her hands up. “I have an intern interview in ten, so you better have some weekend plans by lunch.” With that, she prances out like a caffeinated hurricane.

The second she’s gone, I whip my head toward Jimin.

He knows.

“What do you know, Blondie?” I demand.

Jimin, that treacherous little weasel, grins like he’s about to ruin my life. “Nothing. What do you know?” He tilts his head. “Or rather—what do you want to tell me?”

I narrow my eyes. “Don’t play dumb. I know your nosy little self knows something.”

He raises his hands in mock innocence. “Wow. Accusing me before I’ve even said a word? That’s so unfair.”

“Jimin. Spill. Now.”

His smirk deepens, and I feel my soul leave my body.

“Oh, I know exactly what you mean,” he sings. “Didn’t know Jungkook could get so… intense.”

I stop breathing.

“You did not just say that.”

“Oh, but I did.” He leans forward, eyes practically glowing with mischief. “You should’ve heard the way he was talking about it. Poor guy was spiraling. Pretty sure he’s still thinking about it right now.”

I slap both hands over my face. “Oh my God, please stop talking.”

Jimin grins like a devil with a front-row seat to my downfall. “I can’t. It’s just too good.” He leans back, thriving on my pain. “Honestly, I’m impressed you ran out like that. Most people would’ve—”

“Jimin,” I growl. “Finish that sentence, and I will end you.”

He shrugs. “Fine, fine. But I just have to wonder…” His voice drops, eyes gleaming. “What’s your game plan now? Because Jungkook? Yeah. He’s definitely not letting this go.”

I groan, dropping my head onto my desk. “What if I just made the biggest career mistake of my life?”

Jimin tilts his head. “Well… you could just…” He pauses for effect. Then smirks. “…play into it.”

I lift my head an inch. “What.”

“You know,” he says, waving a hand like this is the most obvious thing in the world. “Flirt back. Just enough to keep him off balance—not too much, just enough to keep things running smoothly.”

I sit up, fully offended. “Jimin. You’re telling me to fake-flirt with Jungkook? Aka your best friend and my life long nemesis?”

He nods, very pleased with himself. “Exactly! Nemesis previous love of your life and major boy crush. Keep him engaged, keep things light, and—boom!—the launch stays on track.”

I stare at him, horrified. “You want me to bat my eyelashes and throw in a casual compliment like I’m leading him on?”

Jimin shrugs. “You don’t have to lead him on. Just… strategically nudge things in your favor. You are a master of damage control, after all.”

I rub my temples. “This feels like a terrible sitcom plot.”

Jimin beams. “I know, right? It’s genius. And it can secure your launch aka the biggest move of your career so far.”

I exhale sharply. “And what happens if he actually gets attached?”

Jimin smirks. “Then you’ve got yourself a personal fan club.”

I groan, throwing my head back. “This is either going to be the smartest thing I’ve ever done… or the worst mistake of my career.”

Jimin claps his hands. “That’s the spirit!”

I glare at him.

“Oh, come on,” he teases. “Even if it is a disaster, at least it’ll be entertaining.”

I sigh, rubbing my face. “I cannot believe I’m actually considering this.”

Jimin grins. “That’s the Amelia I know. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting to pretend to care about.” He winks and saunters off, leaving me alone with the absolute chaos that is my life.

I exhale.

This is going to be a mess.

And the worst part?

A tiny, treacherous part of me isn’t entirely opposed to the idea. —---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- As I push through the pristine glass doors of the 20th floor of KK Electronics, I’m immediately met with the sight of pure corporate chaos.

Taehyung and Seokjin are performing what I can only describe as a Cirque du Soleil balancing act—except instead of acrobatics, they’re juggling an avalanche of files and looking one strong breeze away from disaster.

Taehyung’s face is barely visible behind a wobbling tower of binders, while Seokjin clutches a stack like it’s a rom-com moment gone wrong, just seconds from a dramatic slow-motion paper explosion.

“Need a hand?” I ask, already plucking a few binders off the top. “Or is this some new executive training program? ‘Survival of the Paperwork’?”

Seokjin groans from behind his stack. “If by ‘training program’ you mean corporate suffering, then yes.”

Taehyung snickers, but his grip falters, and a single paper flutters to the ground like a fallen soldier. “Jungkook’s got us in ‘all hands on deck’ mode. Some big pre-prelaunch revelation party. Now we’re buried under contracts and contacts.”

I wince. “Ah. That might have been my idea.”

Seokjin’s head snaps toward me, nearly toppling his pile. “Amelia.” His tone is the voice of a man who has suffered. “I sat through a three-hour marketing and PR meeting for this. Do you know how many times a person can hear the word synergy before their soul exits their body?”

I grin. “I’ll make it up to you. How about a couples massage? My treat.”

Seokjin perks up. “Can I bring my emotional baggage as my plus one?”

Taehyung snorts, elbowing him. “Your baggage would need its own reservation.”

Laughing, I push my way into Jungkook’s office without knocking. Because, let’s be real—timidity has never been part of my brand.

Inside, the scene is exactly what I expected: Jungkook buried under stacks of documents, looking like the world’s most stressed-out GQ cover model. His shirt sleeves are rolled up, exposing the inked masterpiece that is his forearms, and his tie is hanging on for dear life—like even it has given up on professionalism.

I drop my stolen binders onto an already teetering pile. “Well, well,” I drawl. “Somebody’s looking a little… disheveled.”

Jungkook’s dark eyes flick up, and for a second, something warm flickers there. But then he clocks the two traitors behind me, and just like that, it’s back to Jeon CEO Mode.

“Thanks, guys,” he says, flicking his fingers in dismissal. “That should be all.”

Seokjin and Taehyung give me a pair of exaggerated salutes before backing out like I’ve just led them into enemy territory. The door clicks shut behind them, and immediately, the air shifts—thicker, charged.

I drop into the chair across from him, kicking off my heels. “So… need help?”

Jungkook leans back, the leather of his chair groaning under the movement. “You practically sprinted out last night. Didn’t even give me a proper ‘goodnight.’”

“It was late.” My tone is casual, but the room suddenly feels too small.

“You could’ve stayed over.” His voice dips, slow and deliberate.

“I have my own place, Jungkook.”

His lips curl. “I know. I’ve been there.”

He stands, each movement slow, calculated. My pulse? Not as calm. When he reaches me, he crouches, meeting me at eye level, his fingers brushing a stray curl from my face. His eyes linger on my lips.

“Jungkook,” I whisper. “Your office has glass walls.”

His smirk deepens. “Then I guess I’ll have to behave.”

His fingers slip away, and he rises, but the heat lingers. As if nothing happened, he moves behind his desk, unknotting his tie and letting it fall—like peeling away a layer.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” His voice is casual, but his gaze? Anything but.

I clear my throat, finding my very professional voice. “I was thinking we should take the team out for dinner tonight. You know, morale boost before the event madness. Plus, Nori deserves that intimate family dinner for her pregnancy.”

Jungkook nods. “Dinner’s a good idea. But let’s do it at my place. I’ll have a chef cater. I prefer the… intimacy of it.”

I arch a brow. “Is this about the team—or just you dodging paparazzi again?”

“A little of both.” He shrugs, and my eyes betray me, drawn to the way his sleeve rides up, teasing more of those tattoos. “Unless you’re suggesting we give the tabloids something to photograph.”

I bark out a laugh. “Oh, I’m sure they’d eat that up. ‘CFO and CEO: More Than Just Spreadsheets?’”

His grin is pure trouble. “I like the sound of that.”

I stand, smoothing down my skirt. “Keep dreaming, Jeon.”

“Every night,” he fires back, voice like silk.

As I turn to leave, his voice stops me. “Amelia.”

I glance over my shoulder.

“Wear something nice tonight.”

My cheeks definitely do not heat up. I recover fast. “Sure. I’ll make sure it’s the exact shade of dangerous ideas.”

The door shuts behind me, and I let out a slow exhale, my cool exterior cracking for just a moment.

Because while Jimin’s plan to weaponize my fake feelings against my old teenage crush seemed foolproof—my real feelings were sprinting ahead like they’d just spotted an open bar.

And I had a sinking feeling that at tonight’s intimate dinner, things might just boil over. —---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "How is it that when I suggest a group dinner during the weekend, you and Jimin shoot me down faster than my dreams of early retirement, yet here we are—squeezed like a pack of sardines—heading to a group dinner at Jungkook’s place?" Aurora scoffs, her voice muffled as she's practically welded between Yuna and Jimin in the back seat.

"Call it... a lucky coincidence," I say, flooring the gas pedal as I try to keep up with Seokjin’s blacked-out Aston Martin ahead.

"Lucky? For who? My ribs are being rearranged," Yuna mutters, wriggling against Jimin’s elbow.

"Two nights in a row at Jungkook’s place. That’s a new all-time high for you, Miss CFO," Yoongi says from the passenger seat, his sarcasm sharp enough to slice through the awkward tension.

"TWO NIGHTS IN A ROW?!" Yuna and Aurora scream in unison, yanking violently on the back of my chair.

"Yah, Amelia, what the hell?" Aurora shrieks, her knee pressing into the seat like she’s trying to dent it with pure betrayal.

"It was a business meeting! Right, Yoongi?" I snap, my elbow finding his ribs as if my life depends on it.

He grunts but keeps the smirk plastered on his face. "Yeah, yeah. Super professional. The only action was during the group spreadsheet reading. And an impromptu nose bleed." He blows a dramatic air kiss toward Aurora, who narrows her eyes.

I make the fatal mistake of glancing in the rearview mirror and meet Jimin’s “You are walking on thin ice” look. If his expression had a sound effect, it’d be the unsheathing of a knife.

"If we die tonight, just know it’s because I jumped out of this car," Jimin says dryly.

"You’d miss me too much," I shoot back, but my grip tightens on the wheel as I swerve off the highway.

We finally pull up in front of Jungkook’s apartment building. The car collectively sighs as we tumble out, one by one, like clowns from a tiny car.

Jimin and I hang back as the group makes their way toward the entrance, Seokjin already waving from the door with the energy of a suburban dad at a barbecue.

"So," Jimin starts, his voice low, "how are we going to survive tonight with a hormonal Jungkook and a very flirtatious Namjoon?"

My eyes widen. "Crap. Namjoon. I completely ghosted him a few days ago. This is going to be horrible if he tries to make any moves tonight."

Jimin's eyebrows shoot up. "You what?"

"I got distracted! You know, with work and... sword fighting," I mutter, immediately regretting my choice of words.

"Sword fighting?" Jimin snorts. "Is that what we're calling it now? Because if I recall, it went from clashing swords to practically exchanging saliva in record time."

I slap his arm, but he just laughs, giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"Just try to keep the flirting with Jungkook to a minimum, alright? Unless you want to explain to a very self-aware Namjoon how you went from strategic negotiations to... well, strategic lip-locking without looking like a complete nutcase."

I groan, dragging my hands down my face. "This is going to be a disaster, isn’t it?"

"Absolutely," he says cheerfully, already marching ahead. "But hey, at least it'll be entertaining."

With a deep breath, I follow him inside, mentally preparing myself for whatever chaos awaits. Jungkook greets us at the entrance of his apartment, this time in a casual yet suspiciously well-coordinated outfit—a designer shirt loose enough to look effortless but tight enough to make me wonder how his tattoos curl under those baggy sleeves. His smile is a million watts, and I can already feel the chaos brewing.

“Well, if it isn’t the hardest-working group of people in the whole world!” he says, throwing his arms around Jimin and Yoongi in a bear hug. The rest of us exchange exaggerated eye rolls.

“Put us down, Romeo,” Yoongi grumbles, voice muffled against Jungkook’s chest. “I need my ribs intact.”

Inside, Seokjin is already deep in conversation with Taehyung and Hoseok. Hayeon gently rubs Nori’s very pregnant belly, her expression a mix of tenderness and mild fear—as if the baby might pop out at any second and demand a tax return.

“Oh my God,” Yuna breathes, eyes wide, as she takes in the four-meter-long marble kitchen island overflowing with gourmet dishes. “Did he cater a chef or the entire cast of MasterChef?”

“Probably both,” Aurora mutters. “And the camera crew.”

“Hello, ladies.” Namjoon’s deep voice comes from behind us, and we whirl around. He’s standing there, grinning like he’s the human embodiment of sunshine, and my brain shortcircuits.

“Hey…” I manage to squeak before he pulls me into a hug and plants a quick kiss on my cheek. My entire system goes haywire. I barely process it before I catch Jungkook’s gaze from across the room. His eyes are shooting imaginary bullets through Namjoon’s skull, and I swear I hear a Western showdown whistle in the background.

Abort mission.

I dart my gaze to Jimin, who’s standing behind Namjoon, flailing his arms like he’s directing air traffic. Move away from the target. I nod imperceptibly and sidestep out of Namjoon’s embrace, pretending to be extremely interested in a bowl of olives.

The first part of the night goes by smoothly, filled with college-era stories and drinking games. Hoseok is halfway through a story about the time he accidentally joined a mime class instead of a meditation session when Taehyung interrupts.

“No, no, you’re telling it wrong!” Taehyung protests, sloshing his drink as he gestures wildly. “He didn’t just join the class—he was the star performer. The instructor thought he was a method actor. He didn’t speak for two hours.”

“I thought I was meditating!” Hoseok wails.

“We thought he was possessed,” Seokjin chimes in. “We almost called a priest.”

Everyone dissolves into laughter, and for a brief moment, the work emails, the office drama, and Jungkook’s death stare at Namjoon all fade away. It feels just like college—except this time, the stakes are higher, the wine is pricier, and the secrets we’re keeping could probably fuel an entire season of a Netflix drama.

And the night is still young. From the corner of my eye, I spot Jungkook slipping into one of the many extravagant rooms of his mansion. The house is teeming with guests, laughter, and the clinking of glasses, but all I see is him—the CEO of KK Electronics- disappearing behind a mahogany door.

Before I can react, Jimin sidles up to me, his expression a mix of amusement and mischief. “There he goes,” he whispers, nudging me with his shoulder. “Your knight in overpriced armor.”

I snort. “Shut up.”

“Come on, Amelia. This is your chance. Go get those extra points.”

“What am I? A student after bonus credits?”

“If the assignment is ‘Stealing Jungkook’s Heart,’ then yes.” Jimin grins, taking a sip of his champagne. “Or at least get a little... extracurricular.”

“Okay, I’m going.” I take a deep breath. “Cover for me?”

“With my life.” He puts a dramatic hand over his heart. “Or at least until my drink is empty.”

I roll my eyes and slip away, weaving through the crowd. I make sure no one notices as I push the door open and step into what appears to be Jungkook’s private office.

The room is dimly lit, with dark wood paneling and bookshelves that look more decorative than practical. Jungkook is at his desk, fingers flying over the keyboard, typing an email with the urgency of a man defusing a bomb.

He looks up, and his entire body jolts as if he’s been caught committing a crime. The laptop slams shut with a resounding thud, and he shoves it aside, knocking over a neat stack of papers.

“Amelia.” His voice is a mix of surprise and something darker, something thrilling.

“Caught you.” I close the door behind me, leaning against it with a smirk.

“What are you doing here?” His expression shifts, a sly smile curling on his lips as he slowly rises from his chair.

“I could ask you the same thing. Hiding from your own party?”

He steps closer, and my pulse quickens. “Maybe I was waiting for you.”

“Oh?” I raise an eyebrow. “And here I thought I’d have to fight through a sea of admirers to get five minutes with the great Jeon Jungkook.”

His laughter is a low rumble. “If you wanted my attention, Amelia, all you had to do was ask.”

I’m about to respond when he closes the distance between us in three swift strides. His lips crash against mine, a bruising, all-consuming kiss that sends shockwaves through my entire body. His hands find my waist, pulling me against him as if he’s afraid I might slip away.

I melt into the kiss, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. His lips are soft but demanding, and I match his intensity, my mind spinning. The room around us fades, and all I can focus on is him—the taste of mint and champagne, the heat radiating from his skin, the way his hands grip me like I’m something precious.

When I finally manage to gather enough sense to break away, we’re both breathing heavily, still tangled together.

“Well,” I murmur, “that’s certainly one way to say hello.”

His lips brush against my jaw, trailing soft, teasing kisses to the corner of my mouth. “I can think of a few more.”

I tilt my head back, giving him better access as his lips move down my neck. “Oh, really? Care to demonstrate?”

He pulls back, his eyes dark with mischief. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told.” I play with the collar of his shirt, running my fingers along the cool buttons. “Tell me, was that kiss because you missed me, or were you maybe a little bit jealous?”

His hands tighten on my waist. “I’m not jealous.”

“Liar.”

He chuckles, the sound vibrating through me. “Fine. Maybe I didn’t like seeing you with him.”

“Him?” I tease. “You mean Taehyung?”

Jungkook’s jaw clenches, and it’s adorable. “You know exactly who I mean.”

“Oh, I do. But I like hearing you say it.”

He pulls me closer, our noses brushing. “You like driving me crazy, don’t you?”

“Just a little.”

His lips are a breath away from mine when the door rattles. We both freeze.

“Amelia?” Yuna’s voice comes through the door, muffled but clear. “Are you in there?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen, and I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing. His expression is pure panic, and I’m suddenly struck by how rare it is to see him like this—unguarded and real.

I hold a finger to my lips, and he nods, stepping back and running a hand through his hair to look less... well, less like he’d just kissed me senseless.

“Uh, yeah!” I call out, my voice coming out a bit too high-pitched. “I’m just... getting some fresh air.”

“In a room with no windows?” Yuna sounds skeptical.

I shoot Jungkook a look, and he shrugs helplessly. “I’ll be right out!”

There’s a pause, and then Yuna sighs. “Fine. But hurry up. Hoseok’s telling that story about the vending machine again, and I need a lifeline.”

“On my way!”

We listen as her footsteps fade, and then I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Jungkook immediately bursts into laughter, the kind that fills the room and makes my chest ache with how much I like the sound.

“Oh my God,” he says between breaths. “We’re terrible at this.”

“Speak for yourself.” I straighten my shirt, giving him a playful glare. “You’re the one who pounced on me.”

He steps closer again, his voice dipping into a deliciously low tone. “And you didn’t seem to mind.”

“Maybe I didn’t.” I reach for the doorknob, but he catches my wrist, his thumb brushing over my pulse.

“Amelia.” His voice is softer now. “Thanks for keeping this... low-key. I just—”

“You don’t want to make a big deal out of it,” I finish for him, my smile easy. “I get it. Your secret’s safe with me.”

He studies my face, as if searching for a hint of hurt or disappointment, but I don’t give him any. Instead, I lean in, brushing my lips over his cheek—a promise and a tease all in one.

“Don’t keep me waiting too long,” I whisper, and with that, I slip out of the room, leaving him standing there, looking as if I’d just stolen the ground from beneath his feet.

As I rejoin the party, Jimin’s eyes find mine. He’s leaning against a pillar, his expression both expectant and smug.

“Well?” he mouths.

I just smirk, raising my glass to him.

And as the night swirls around me, I can still feel Jungkook’s lips on mine—sweet, dangerous, and entirely too addicting. —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the night wore on, glasses got emptier, laughter grew louder, and the air filled with the cozy chaos of slightly tipsy banter. The group had naturally split into two factions—the girls sprawled like sleepy cats on Jungkook’s ridiculously expensive suede couch, and the boys huddled around the dining table for a poker game that had long lost any resemblance to actual poker.

“Honestly, for someone with such a nice house, this place feels like a fancy furniture showroom.” Yuna stretched her legs, sinking deeper into the fluffy carpet.

“That’s because he’s basically married to his office,” Hayeon replied, halfway through a bag of Doritos. “I bet he only comes home to recharge his phone.”

I glanced around, taking in the pristine, Architectural Digest-esque apartment. Everything was too perfect, like the set of a drama where no one actually lived. It was hard to imagine Jungkook even sitting on this couch, let alone doing anything human, like binge-watching K-dramas or spilling ramen on the coffee table.

Aurora, clearly buzzed and dangerously unfiltered, leaned over with a wicked grin. “So, what are the odds Amelia sleeps with Jungkook by the end of the month?”

I choked on my wine. “Aurora!” I hissed, hoping my glare would incinerate her on the spot.

“What?” she snickered. “You two have been practically eye-fucking all night.”

“Exactly!” Nori said, popping a gummy bear into her mouth. “He’s been looking at you like you’re the last donut in the break room.”

I buried my face in a throw pillow, muffling my mortified groan. “You guys are delusional. It’s not like that.”

“Girl, come on.” Yuna rolled her eyes. “It’s just a physical attraction thing. You should give it a go. You two weren’t on good terms before, so it’s not like there’s much to ruin.”

“Plus, you need to get laid.” Aurora added, earning giggles from the others.

“First of all, rude,” I shot back, my cheeks on fire. “Second of all, Jungkook is practically my coworker. Can you imagine the workplace disaster if things went south? I'd rather not be the headline of the next office gossip newsletter.”

Nori wiggled her brows. “Or you could be the headline in a much spicier way.”

I threw a Dorito at her, which she caught with her mouth like a golden retriever. “Nope. Not happening. I’d rather make out with my tax forms.”

“Oh, honey, he can be your tax form,” Hayeon quipped. “You know, because you’d want to take him home and—”

“Stop!” I squealed, and the room erupted into laughter, my mortification only fueling their teasing.

Meanwhile, at the dining table, Yoongi glanced over at the ruckus. “What are they talking about?”

Hoseok smirked. “Judging by Amelia’s expression, either her love life or a really embarrassing childhood story.”

“Or both.” Namjoon added, barely looking up from his cards.

Jungkook, who had been focused on the game, finally looked over at us. His eyes met mine, and for a split second, the noise faded, leaving only the weight of his gaze. His lips curled into a soft, almost shy smile.

“See?” Aurora whispered. “Eye-fucking.”

I threw another Dorito.

“Alright, I think that’s my cue to go home before I start blending into this couch,” I say, brushing chip crumbs off my clothes. “Who needs a ride?”

All the girls shoot their hands up like we’re at a Beyoncé concert.

“Babe! Amelia’s giving me a ride home!” Nori yells over to Taehyung, who looks like he’s in a staring contest with his own misery. His head is cradled in his hands, and I’m pretty sure he’s trying to remember how to breathe.

I snicker as I saunter into the dining room, leaning casually against the back of Yoongi’s chair. “That’s gonna be a nasty hangover tomorrow. Might as well start drafting your apology texts now.”

Yoongi just raises an eyebrow, lips quirking into a smirk. “I’m more worried about the apology I’ll need if I move too fast and end up on the floor.”

“Oh, I’d pay to see that,” I tease, earning a soft laugh from him.

Nori waddles over, rubbing her growing belly and looking entirely too pleased with herself. “And suddenly, I don’t feel bad that I can’t drink because of this little baby in here.” She plants a sweet kiss on Tae’s forehead, and he just groans.

“Rub it in, why don’t you?” he mumbles, and I catch a glimpse of Nori’s mischievous grin.

Jungkook steps into the room, leaning against the doorway with that infuriatingly charming smile of his. “How about this—Amelia takes the girls, and I’ll handle the guys. Seokjin and Namjoon can ride together, and I’ll deal with the rest of these walking disasters.”

I raise an eyebrow, crossing my arms. “Oh, you think you can handle all that testosterone alone?”

He takes a step closer, his voice dropping low enough to send a little shiver up my spine. “I think I can manage. Unless you’re worried about me.”

Yoongi makes a gagging noise, and I swat the back of his head, earning a dramatic yelp.

“Alright, alright!” Nori claps her hands. “Before Amelia and Jungkook start making heart eyes, let’s get going before Tae passes out on the carpet.”

“Too late,” Taehyung mutters, slumping further into his chair.

I sigh, shaking my head as I grab my keys. “Alright, lovebirds and drunks—let’s move out. And if anyone throws up in my car, I’m leaving you on the curb.”

“Noted,” Yoongi says, giving me a salute. “But if you do leave me on the curb, make it somewhere with good Wi-Fi.”

Jungkook chuckles as he helps Taehyung up. “Come on, hyung. Let’s get you home before Amelia abandons us all.”

“Oh, please,” I say over my shoulder, “You’d miss me too much.”

His laugh follows me out the door, and I can’t help but smile. —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Amelia, if you hit one more curb like that, I swear my dinner is going to make a surprise reappearance," Hayeon groaned, clutching the back of my car seat with white-knuckled desperation. Her eyes were as wide as if I’d just announced I was driving us off a cliff.

"I’m sorry!" I said, yanking the wheel to merge lanes. "But Jungkook’s over here driving like he’s trying to win pole position at Monaco."

I shot a glare at his blacked-out G-Wagon, which tore through traffic like it had a vendetta. The man had no chill.

After what felt like a demolition derby, I finally dropped off all the girls, leaving just me and Nori in the car. She was slumped in the passenger seat, looking like a sleepy baby sloth, if baby sloths could also be heavily pregnant.

"You okay over there?" I asked, glancing over with a soft chuckle. "You look like you’re about to pass out and join the upholstery."

She mumbled something between a yawn and a sigh, rubbing her smudged mascara with the heel of her hand. "This pregnancy is no joke. I’ve never been this tired in my life. Not even when we did that 24-hour K-drama binge."

"Fifteen more minutes and you can hibernate," I said, gently rubbing her arm.

For a few moments, the car was quiet, just the hum of the engine and the distant thump of bass from another car’s stereo. I thought she’d dozed off until she spoke again, her voice clearer than before.

"You know, Amelia, I’m really worried about you."

Her tone made me glance over, my fingers instinctively tightening on the wheel. "Why? I’m fine. More than fine. I’m spectacular." I threw in a wink for good measure, but she wasn’t buying it.

"Cut the crap," she said, her eyes sharp and unwavering. "I know you’re up to something, and it scares me. Especially with Jungkook."

My heart did a little stumble, the kind you’d get if you missed a step on the stairs. "What do you mean?" I asked, pitching my voice somewhere between casual and totally not suspicious.

She let out a short laugh. "Amelia, please. I know you. I know you like him, and it’s obvious he likes you, too. But I’m terrified you two are just... circling each other, waiting to see who pulls the trigger first."

My mind felt like a computer crashing—screens flashing, system rebooting. "I’m not— There’s no—" I swallowed, my voice dropping. "We’re not tricking each other."

She raised an eyebrow. "Aren’t you? Because from where I’m sitting, it feels like a game of chicken, and neither of you plans on swerving. You know what happens then, right?"

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My mind was too busy reenacting every interaction with Jungkook, every loaded glance, every playful jab, every smirk that lingered a second too long.

Nori’s voice softened. "I just don’t want you to get hurt. Or him, for that matter. You both pretend you’re untouchable, but you’re not. And I don’t think either of you realizes how close you are to crashing."

I forced a laugh, but it came out brittle. "I’ll be fine. I always am."

She didn’t reply, just reached over and took my hand. Her fingers were warm and grounding.

And for the first time in a long while, I wasn’t so sure I believed myself.

As I pulled into Nori’s driveway, the scene in front of me was nothing short of chaotic. Jungkook stood there, looking every bit the dark knight, casually leaning against his sleek black car. Next to him, Taehyung was hunched over, hands on his knees, looking like he was seconds away from surrendering his lungs to the cold pavement.

“Oh my God,” I muttered, unbuckling my seatbelt. “Is he dying?”

Jungkook flashed me a lopsided grin. “Only his pride.”

Nori practically flew out of the car, heels clicking against the cobblestones. “I got him from here. Thanks, Kookie.” She gave Jungkook a quick hug, then latched onto Taehyung, who let out a low, pitiful groan.

“Noriiii,” Taehyung slurred, “the world is spinning. Make it stop.”

She rolled her eyes, half-dragging, half-guiding him toward their mansion’s double doors. “Yeah, yeah. You’ll live, drama king.”

I watched them stumble through the entrance, Taehyung's arm draped over Nori like she was his human crutch. I wrapped my arms around myself, the night air nipping at my skin. “Well, I’m glad everyone had fun.”

Jungkook stepped away from his car, his movements smooth and unhurried. “Yeah. It was nice to have just a friends’ night,” he said, his voice a warm rumble. “Though I gotta say, the best part of my night is still standing right in front of me.”

I blinked up at him, my cheeks heating. “Oh, smooth.”

He shrugged, but his eyes sparkled mischievously. “I try.”

Before I could form a witty retort, Jungkook slid in front of me, blocking my view of the house—and, well, everything else. His hands found my waist, and in one swift motion, I was off the ground.

A yelp escaped my lips as my legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. “Jungkook!”

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through my chest as he held me effortlessly with one arm. His free hand found the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair.

“Couldn’t wait another second,” he murmured, his breath warm against my lips.

And then he kissed me—no, crashed into me, lips urgent and full of promise. It was like he’d been holding back all night, and now the dam had burst.

My fingers found the soft strands of his hair, and I held on for dear life, lost in the feel of him, the taste of him.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I heard a thud, followed by a muffled, “Oh my God, get a room!”

I pulled back, breathless, and caught a glimpse of Nori standing in the doorway, Taehyung draped over her shoulder, his eyes barely open.

“Is this a dream?” Taehyung mumbled. “Are they finally kissing, or did I drink absinthe again?”

Jungkook laughed, setting me gently back on my feet. “Come on, let’s get you home before they start narrating.”

[dark-elf-writes]

1-A is typing focused question: Inko. Is she in jail? What’s the thoughts of people around her? I know she went to America but I doubt they didn’t send people after her. Does she regret anything?

Also Hatsume. It’s a joke line you had about Power Loader adopting her but I’m very curious if it’s true. What life is she leading now?

Inko is currently in a long legal dispute/facing jail time for child neglect and abandonment. I’m pretty sure I’m on a watchlist somewhere now for googling “can USA extradite to Japan” and “is child abandonment grounds for extradition” but were going to hand wave it and say there’s some legal hoops to jump through first before she can be brought back to stand trial.

As for regret… she regrets getting caught. She might regret missing out on seeing the man Izuku is becoming. She also doesn’t regret leaving. As much as she does love Izuku she loves the idea of Izuku more. The reality of raising a child in a world actively set against them and in turn her… she couldn’t take it. Didn’t want to. I kinda want a whole scene with Izuku venting about it now because he gets it but also it’s incredibly unfair to him not to mention illegal just to up and leave your child.

-

Power Loader is planning on adopting Hatsume and is currently taking steps to do so. Her situation isn’t as immediately dangerous as Izuku and the other kids’ were so it’s taking a bit of time.

As for her home life post adoption? She has never been understood like she is now. Sure her new dad has a lot of rules about “parental supervision” and “proper lab safety” but he doesn’t stop her from pushing the boundaries of what’s possible. He doesn’t get mad when she falls asleep at her desk or wakes up in the middle of the night scrambling for a notebook to take down her latest breakthrough. He gently nudged her to eat something and isn’t afraid to put his foot down when she’s so tired she can hardly see straight. No one has been able to keep up with her before but him? He takes her hand in his, callused and burnt and stained with oil the both of them, and let’s her run by his side.