#i also think it’s disgusting as a mother to bring men like that around children

[exdivine]

has anyone seen that woman on tiktok who’s mother was in a BDSM dom/sub relationship?

her mother wore an “eternity collar” around the children, engaged in non-sexual BDSM behavior around the children (getting on her knees to serve water to her “dom” is just one example), and even explained the “rules” of her dom/sub relationship to the children.

this woman is explaining how being exposed to BDSM as a child negatively affected her, and the comments are like “but not all kink/BDSM people” like???

[sunnyhvnny]

It’s not my usual toxic four but switching the Aegons makes sense. (Also, thank you! I'm glad you enjoy my writing I thrive off of compliments)

Tw: Breastfeeding, mentions of child death, mentions of suicide

Maegor Targaryen (The Cruel)

Maegor is never seen without his newborn daughter. Whether he is in the nursery with her or taking her with him when he goes to small council meetings. It’s guilt, he thinks. Many of his wives had been able to carry the babes he put in them but in the end, the child never survived, while his wives did. The mother of his daughter did not have the same fate. She had blessed Maegor with a living and healthy child of his own, only for her to pass away a few short hours after giving life to her child.

When he looks down at his little Aelora, he sees her mother. He knows it’s a trick of the mind because she resembles him in most ways. He was fond of Aelora’s mother. It wasn’t love. He had married her for the same reason he married most of his wives and that was to give him children, but that didn’t mean that in the years that she had been around he hadn’t found an easy companionship with her.

He still goes to his other wives at night, in hopes that his seed might stick and they would give him a child. After all, only one child for the King is a precarious situation.

On a night, he doesn’t visit any of his other wives in bed and instead stands over the cot holding his little girl that he truly notices her for the first time. He had vaguely been aware of his child’s wet nurse but he hadn’t given her much thought. That was until she walked into quiet room just as his daughter had started to squirm and fuss. She had lifted her gently to her breast and angled away from Maegor as she nursed his child.

Maegor watched her the entire time and wondered how he hadn’t been more aware of her. She was gentle with Aelora, singing a song too soft for him to make out the words as she stroked the little tufts of silver hair. He had forbidden his other wives to care for his child. Feeling as though it would be a betrayal to the woman who had died bringing Aelora into the world. As he watched the wet nurse soothe the fussing baby and smile as she suckled from her, Maegor realized that he was only depriving his daughter of a mother.

He didn’t stop his curious eyes from trailing down the woman’s figure. From what he could see through her rough and old dress, she had soft curves that Maegor wanted to grab ahold of. It was hard not to stare at her breasts, they were supple and full. Maegor also couldn’t help but notice that she didn’t flinch away from him or seem afraid to be in his presence like many of the people in the Red Keep.

He said nothing to her as she placed his daughter back into her cot and tied her dress up. He only inclined his head in acknowledgment as she curtsied and left the room. He watched as she walked out and decided to ask his Master of Whispers about the woman.

The following night, they were in the same positions again. Him standing beside his daughter's cot and the wet nurse feeding her. The only difference was that now he knew about her past and how she ended up in the Red Keep. He looked on as she rocked the little girl and wondered if she pretended that it was the child that was taken from her.

His Master of Whispers had informed him that she had come to the Red Keep after her parents had taken her newborn daughter from her. Claiming that a woman without a husband was unfit to raise a child. She had become pregnant from a stranger after spending a year in The Blue Pearl, trying to help her family get out of debt.

He thought of the woman in front of him in a whorehouse, selling herself to men and women she didn’t know to help her family, and found himself hardening at the thought. Not just because he wanted to know what she looked at felt like beneath that disgusting gown but because this was a woman who would do anything for her family and he admired that.

When she goes to leave again, this time he stops her with an arm around her waist. She doesn’t meet his eye as he looks at her hungrily but she doesn’t pull away either. “I would like for you to go to my chambers. I want you naked and ready for me when I arrive but if you are not, I will not push the subject and we will forget that this happened.”

She nodded and Maegor waited a few minutes before going to his rooms. He wouldn’t have given any other woman he lusted after a choice in the matter but there was something gentle and different about her that he didn’t want to change by forcing himself onto her.

When he walked through the doors of his chambers, he saw her. She was folding her dress and placing it on the table in the room. She stood in front of him naked and unashamed as he took her in. He was right, her curves were plentiful and he wasted no time in going to her and grabbing her hips, pulling her against him. Her full breasts pressed against his chest as she reached up to wrap her arms around his neck. He leaned down and captured her mouth. He lifted her against him and carried her to his bed.

He spent the entire night fucking her, feeling her soft skin against his as he ground his hips against hers. Her soft gasps and moans filled the room as he took her in every conceivable way.

He fell asleep buried inside of her, preventing his seed from leaking out of her wet tight cunt. When he awoke the next day, with his large hand cradling one of her breasts and himself hard again, he had decided to act on a thought that had been plaguing him since he first saw her interacting with his child.

He woke her by thrusting lazily into her. He knew she was awake enough to listen to him when she ground her hips back against him. He kissed her shoulder and whispered to her his plan to marry her. She had only nodded her head and reached behind her to dig her hand into his silver hair.

Before the moon could complete its cycle he had taken her as another wife of his. As he carried her over his shoulder with her giggling the whole time he knew this marriage was different. He did not care if she bore his children, although he would like to see her swollen with his babe very much, he only cared that she was his wife and that she was happy to be so.

When they stopped by the nursery before going to her new chambers, to see his daughter, he watched as his new wife cooed down at the little girl and realized that what made this marriage different was love. He loved her.

Daemon Targaryen

It had started out as purely physical for Daemon. She was a wet nurse, a servant, someone that was there to take care of the needs of him and his family.

He had noticed her when she was brought to Dragonstone to nurse his youngest son, Viserys. She was a vision, even in the garb that the servants had to wear. It wasn’t long until after one particular fight with his wife, he found himself in the room of the new wet nurse. She hadn’t protested as he ordered her to remove her clothes. She hadn’t squirmed or blushed when Daemon climbed on top of her. Instead, she moaned and ground up to meet his thrusts as he fucked her.

After that night, he had found himself in her bed more than his wife’s. If Rhaenrya had noticed, she hadn’t said anything and pointedly ignored it when Daemon would watch her heavy tits as she walked by him. It doesn’t take long for their physical relationship to turn into something different. He finds himself waiting in the nursery, playing with Aegon, his young son, and keeping an eye on Viserys until the wet nurse enters. When she does, Daemon says nothing and only watches her as she feeds his child.

It’s a rather intimate act, he finds. She must think so as well because it’s one of the few times her eyes flutter away from him as she blushes. When his older boy falls asleep on the settee in the nursery and Viserys is comfortable in his cot, he leads the beautiful woman out of the nursery and into his room. It’s late and most of the castle is asleep, his own wife sleeping in her chambers again. He asks her to stay with him for the night and tries to hide the surprise he feels when she agrees.

Nothing happens at first, he only wraps his arms around her and pulls her back to his chest so they can fall asleep peacefully. It seems the woman in his bed has other plans, though, as she wiggles her rear against his barely clothed cock and within minutes he’s buried deep inside of her. The sounds of her moans and the slamming of the bed against the stone wall are so loud he wouldn’t be surprised if anyone awoke but if they did, they do not interrupt him as he spills his seed inside of her warm cunt over and over again that night.

After a few days, that night is mainly forgotten. Daemon doesn’t want to reflect on his moment of weakness where he found not just lust but intimacy and comfort in a servant. She seems to catch onto his sudden tonal change because she no longer glances his way and goes about her duties attending to his sons. It’s only after two moons have passed that she meekly goes to the princess and informs her that the young prince Viserys will no longer take her milk.

Daemon is there when she delivers the news and thinks nothing of it. While he doesn’t want this woman who has shared his bed with him to leave, he knows that it would be no effort at all to find a new wet nurse for his son. Perhaps he could convince Rhaenyra that she is still needed. Perhaps as a handmaid to one of his daughters.

It’s only when his wife asks the young woman if she has been to see the maester that has taken residence at Dragonstone, that he tunes back into the conversation. He hadn’t thought about that. If his son has suddenly stopped nursing from her, perhaps she may be sick without knowing it.

She nods and hesitantly looks at Daemon before turning her head to the floor and informing the princess that the maester told her that the young prince would not take her milk because she is with child again. Daemon can see the moment that his wife freezes at the realization that her husband has impregnated the woman that stands before her.

Feeling the tension begin to rise, Daemon stands and ushers the young woman out of the room. He tells his wife that he’ll handle it and brings her to her small room. For the first time since he has seen her, she looks small. Her eyes are red and she’s a shade of grey. He knows that it isn’t only the unplanned babe that he put inside her that is making her act like this. After all, when he was younger many women had come to him after he had bedded them and begged for help, claiming that he left a babe in their womb. Some had cried, some had raged and some had only asked for money and to never see him again. The woman in front of him now looks like a ghost.

Before he has to ask her again, her story begins to tumble out of her mouth. He learns that she was close to giving birth to her child, alone as her family had abandoned her after her husband had spread rumors that she was a whore and would spread her legs for any man with a silver coin, and that the babe that started to grow inside of her wasn’t his. Her husband had fallen into the cups and her parents wouldn’t talk to her, so when she went into labor early there was no one there to help her and her child was born small and silent.

She sniffles as she tells him that she can’t go through that again and that she rather throws herself into the sea than watch as she kills another child of hers. Daemon does his best to soothe her and when she finally calms down, he has her wrapped in his arms and reassures her quietly and soothingly that she won’t be alone.

As the moons pass and she grows larger with his child, Daemon makes sure that any duties of hers can be pushed onto someone else. Another wet nurse is brought in to feed his young son and he doesn’t give her a second look as all of his attention is on the woman carrying his babe. The maester had suggested bed rest and so Daemon finds himself in her chambers, keeping her company. He tells her stories of his youth and of his daughters. His life in Pentos and finally settling down here at Dragonstone. For each of his stories, she shares a happy one from her childhood and soon they find themselves bonding and growing a connection stronger than Daemon thought possible.

He knows his wife isn’t happy that a woman carrying her husband's bastard is living in her home but Daemon refuses to hear any complaint when it comes to this.

On a rainy night, on a day where at any moment she could start her labors, she grasps Daemon’s hand suddenly and looks at him pleadingly. She begs for him to care for the child if she dies in the birthing bed and if it is the other way and her child dies, he asks him to not stop her if she attempts to take her own life. Daemon shakes his head at her requests but she only squeezes his hand tighter and forces him to agree. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth when he says the words but he knows she will have no relief until she tells her what she wants to hear.

A few hours later, her labors begin and Daemon is ushered out of the room by a group of midwives and a maester. He passes the halls as he hears his paramour scream and cry and it isn’t until his sweet daughter Rhaena, comes to sit with him. He wonders why this time is so different. He wasn’t as panicked when his darling Leana birthed him his twin girls or when Rhaenrya brought Aegon and Viserys into the world, so why was his heart racing at his lover in the childbed.

After a few hours, his other daughter, Baela emerges from the room with a smile on her face and beckons her father in. He is met with the stench of blood and sweat and immediately thinks the worst. That is until he hears cooing from the other side of the room and sees his young lover in bed holding a bundle. He takes quick strides toward her and their child and smiles down at them. He kisses her on her still-soaked forehead and she smiles dazedly back at him. He then looks at the bundle in her arms and sees his child. Silver hair like his and large violet eyes that blink up curiously at him.

“I was thinking that perhaps we could name him Aerion?” She asks, hesitantly and Daemon can only nod and take the newborn in his arms. He doesn’t register as Baela places a dragon egg into his new son's cradle or the bustling of the midwives.

He can only look at the woman who used to only think of as a servant and kiss her soundly on the lips before pulling back slightly to whisper something only she could hear, “you did an excellent job, my love.”

Aegon II Targaryen

Aegon doesn’t know her story. He had never cared to ask. He was fine with watching her as she came to nurse little Maelor.

He had noticed her almost immediately. He was never one to partake in his children’s lives but one random day he found himself in the nursery. Truth be told, he was most likely hiding and hadn’t thought of the room he slipped into until his twins had run and latched onto his legs. He stood frozen, not sure what to do. He looked up for help and saw her, the dress unlaced in the front and his infant son latched to her large milky breast. He had decided to stay longer than he had originally intended to after seeing her.

When he finds himself in the nursery, he always makes sure it’s when Helaena won’t be there. He may not love her in the way a husband should but he doesn’t want her to see him eyeing another woman in front of her.

When one of the servants comes for the twins to take them away to play in the gardens, Aegon is left with the beautiful wet nurse. Her face warms at his heavy stare and she keeps her gaze on the infant in her arms as he nurses from her. Aegon watches the whole thing and finds his mouth dry. All of the fantasies he had when Helaena was pregnant but was never able to fulfill started to come roaring up as he watched the wet nurse. He wondered how it would feel to wrap his lips around her nipples and suck, drinking from her as she brushed his hair from his face and whispered softly in his ear.

Aegon is shaken out of his daydreaming when the wet nurse places Maelor in the cot after he had dozed off. She bows respectfully before trying to leave but Aegon quickly grabs her forearm. She looks down at him and he asks quietly for her to sit with him. Just for a moment, in case his son wakes, he lies, but it does the trick and she sits beside him with her hands folded neatly in her lap.

It doesn’t take long for him to convince her to untie the top of her gown. He knows that he’s abusing his privileges as the prince but ever since he saw her doing her job, he had wanted to wrap his mouth around her darkened nipples and suck. When she pulls the last tie free, Aegon doesn’t hesitate in pulling her heavy breasts free. He meets her eyes and is surprised to find acceptance and something softer in her gaze that he can’t quite place. He leans down and latches onto her breast. He sucks softly at first and then when the liquid starts to flow, he feels like a man in the desert and she is his oasis.

Despite the fact that anyone looking in from the outside would take one look at the pair of them and think of this as a sexual act, it wasn’t. Not when she brought her hand up to his hair and scratched his scalp soothingly as milk dribbled from the side of his mouth. She whispered soft words and reassurances and he hummed against her. He felt warm, light, and comfortable in her hold.

After that first night, it had become a habit for the two of them to stay together after his son fell into a milk-induced sleep, and have the wet nurse pull out her milky breasts for Aegon to drink from. As the nights passed, the more comfortable they became together, and more often than not, Aegon found himself falling asleep against her before he had finished. She would only hush him and kiss his forehead as she pulled her nipple from his mouth.

It had started something curious he wanted to try and then into a nightly comfort but as it continued, and he started to take in her reactions, he began to wonder if it comforted her as well.

One night, Aegon doesn’t fall asleep against her and instead asks her a question that has been on his mind as his son continued to grow. What would happen to her when his son no longer needed a wet nurse? What would she do when her milk dried up?

She smiled at him warmly, but it didn’t hide the sadness in her eyes. That was the night she finally told him about her stillborn babe. How she was already an unmarried woman and carrying the child of a man she hadn’t known had only made people look down on her. She spoke wistfully when she told him about how excited she was to not be alone anymore when she gave birth to her child. The excitement quickly turned into sorrow and deep depression when the babe came out blue and cold and without a single cry.

She told him that a friend of hers was a servant in the Red Keep and found her a place in the castle where she could be a wet nurse. Where she could pretend for a little while that the babe that fed at her breast was the one she lost.

She looked at Aegon and smiled sadly. “I imagine that when Maelor no longer needs a wet nurse or my milk dries up, I will either be thrown out or offered a position as a normal servant.”

Aegon frowned as she spoke. He had grown close with her, safe and loved by her. He didn’t wish for her to leave him when his son no longer needed her. He thought that perhaps he could fill his wife with another babe perhaps but as much as Helaena loved their children, he knew she dreaded him going to her bed.

Without thinking, Aegon kissed the wet nurse for the first time. She hummed against his lips and returned his kiss immediately. Her lips tasted sweeter than her milk, Aegon thought as he dipped his tongue into her mouth. She opened her mouth slightly wider and allowed him to push her onto her back. He had grown to care for her and he refused to let her go.

He would give her a child, he decided. She longed for one of her own and Aegon longed to keep her around. Her milk wouldn’t dry up if she was carrying his child, he rationalized as he pulled himself out of his trousers and spread her legs. She was panting heavily under him and had pulled her breasts out of her dress again. Aegon leaned down and kissed both nipples softly before he thrust into her heat. When he was pushed into the hilt and had his mouth around her soft flesh, he wondered if perhaps this was love. If it was, it was not something he would let go of without a fight.

Aemond Targaryen

It doesn’t take long for Aemond to see how good the woman is with his infant. She was only meant to come and nurse his son and then leave and go about her other duties but he often caught her humming to him as the babe suckled milk from her. His two other children had taken a liking to her as well, and would often talk about whatever their young minds had fixated on that day. Aemond watched as she nodded and listened to them with a smile on her face.

His previous wife had rarely given their children the time of day. She had them out of a sense of duty and after they had entered this world with a loud cry, she refused to look upon their sweet faces, instead gesturing for the midwives to hand the children to her husband. Aemond had taken the children gladly. Loving them since the moment they were conceived and it hurt him to know that their own mother didn’t care for them. After the birth of their most recent son, Aelyx, she disappeared in the middle of the night. Most likely with the knight she often shared looks with. It didn’t matter much to Aemond, he had only been worried for his children, but they had barely noticed their mother’s absence and quickly latched onto the beautiful wet nurse.

It doesn’t take long for Aemond to ask her to stay around when he visits his children in the nursery. He visits them every day after he is done training and most of the time the servants and wet nurse would leave so he could be alone with his children, but he found her presence comforting. His two children seemed happy for her to join their special time with their father. As he held his infant son so his other two could cling to her legs and demand stories from her. Aemond couldn’t keep the smile off of his face at the giggles from his children or the silly voices of the wet nurse as she told them story after story. She eventually caught his smile over their heads and returned it with one of her own.

Soon, he doesn’t just ask for her to stay when the children are around. After Aelyx has fallen asleep after a feeding and she goes to leave for the night, Aemond asks for her to stay and keep him company. She looks hesitant and Aemond knows why. He reassures her that he just wants company as he sits by the fire and that he doesn’t wish to be alone. She indulges him and takes the seat across from him.

It’s on one of the many nights that they sit in silence, just enjoying each other's company that Aemond asks her how she came to be a wet nurse in the Red Keep.

For a moment, he thinks he won’t receive an answer. An anxious seizes him just for a second as he starts to think that their companionship has been one-sided. He can’t really blame her if she doesn’t tell him. There’s a chance that what he asked for could have a deeply personal answer.

Just when he thinks she has chosen to ignore his question, she looks over at little Aelyx, whose safe and asleep in his cot beside Aemond’s bed, and begins to talk. She tells him quietly about her husband and daughter. How they were a happy and loving family, and how she was even expecting another child by the Spring when the Shivers ran rampant through the city. Her tears glisten with tears as she goes on about how her husband and daughter were lost to it and she had hoped that the Stranger would take her too so that she may be with her family again, but had only taken her unborn child instead of her.

She wipes a few stray tears from her cheeks and finally looks at Aemond and he is startled to find that tears had begun to form in his own eye. He couldn’t begin to imagine losing his own children.

She continued, telling him that after the city was washed clean of the sickness and she was healthy once again, her breasts were still full of milk and ready to feed the child that she lost. She tells him of how men from the Red Keep had come to the city and how she hadn’t thought twice about it before taking them up on their offer to leave her now empty home and work in the bustling castle.

Aemond doesn’t say anything when she finishes her story. He doesn’t think there is anything he can say to her that could possibly heal the wounds of her past, so he only reaches over and places his hand on top of hers. She smiles sadly at him and he feels a deep sadness, one that he never thought he’d ever feel.

Eventually, she leaves for the night and Aemond is left still sitting in front of the warm fire. He doesn’t notice as the hours go by and the sun breaks over the horizon. He’s so lost in his thoughts that he can’t think about anything but her. The more his mind wanders back to her the more he begins to realize that he’s fallen in love for his son’s sweet and tragic wet nurse. He can’t remember ever feeling this way before for someone. When he married his wife, he had hoped that duty would eventually lead to love but it never did.

The feeling in his chest, though, when he thinks of the woman’s kind smile and the way she’s soft and stern with his children. How she looks at him with kindness and not pity or fear. Well, that feeling is a whole new monster.

He decides to resolve it when the Red Keep starts to wake. He’ll go to his mother and inform her of his intentions on marrying the wet nurse. Yes, she is a servant but he has already done his duty and provided children from a highborn Lady. A Lady who disappeared one night and who no one knows if she is alive or dead. Meaning, he is free to marry whomever he wishes.

He can only hope that when he tells his love of his plans on marrying her, she is happy because he doesn’t think he can have another woman shackled to him that does not love him.

[wantingsobad]

escapism pt. 1 | c.bc x reader (a,f)

masterlist

pairing : bang chan x reader (y/n)

summary : a drunken night spent out with your friends leads to a half-conscious tumble into the arms of your close friend, chris. now what else is he supposed to do when you come to him in shambles except do his best to put you back together?

content : tears, drunk y/n, bff!chris, idol au, nothing wild yet

word count : 1.3k

"drunk calls, drunk texts, drunk tears, drunk sex

i was looking for a man who was on the same page"

The rough motion of the taxi cab cruising down the crumbling city streets was wild enough to make your stomach feel like flipping inside out.

The streetlights and convenience store signs passed by in a blur, adding to the incredible dizziness that made you want to just close your eyes and sleep it all away.

When fumbling for your phone, being utterly taken aback by the brightness of your screen, you give your friends who you'd been out with a quick incoherent text of where you are, mainly clarifying (or an attempt at least) that you had not been kidnapped.

y/n : guus donr worrry ab me im in s cab too see chruss. hve fun!

Well damn. You thought you could be more literate when drunk out of your mind. I guess not.

This night out had not been planned, but a sudden break-up with your boyfriend easily cleared you and your friends' schedules for a needed "girls' night" (aka getting wasted so you can forget).

You don't really know what prompted your boyfriend, well, ex-boyfriend as of 7 hours ago, to break up with you, but you know damn well that you will not sit there and rot in your apartment.

You and your friends had then come to the conclusion that the best option for tonight's break-up-recovery plans was the clearest option.

Get drunk. Get laid. Think about it later.

Sadly, only part one of this master plan had been played out. You got so sick of the strobing lights and disgusting men at the clubs that you needed to get away from it all, but going back to the apartment you shared with your ex was also not an ideal place to stumble into, not knowing what side hoe he probably chose to bring over in your absence. So, you are now finally pulling up to the apartment of your closest guy friend, Chris, or Chan, as your friend group called him.

The exact rationale for choosing Chris's apartment as your safe place for the night is unknown to you. It might just be because his house was close to the bar, or that none of your other friends were home, or maybe the hope that he would care for you with hugs and cuddles.

Your relationship with Chris is interesting, to say the least. Many bystanders would be likely to think that you two are just mutual friends, but the inner members of your friend group see you two as inseparable when you are all together, acting as the mother and father of your children friends.

You two had some weird romantic tension when you were a few years younger, but after you got into your last relationship, it all seemed to instantly vanish, leaving you two as simply a platonic, dynamic duo. You don't exactly know why it hurt a little to feel that change in Chris' demeanour, but it did in the moment.

Maybe even a little pain still lingers now.

You grab the handful of items you had with you at the bar, including the pair of heels you were wearing that had now been ditched, leaving you barefoot and walking your way up the pavement to the inside of the apartments.

The walk to his front door is easy, only leaving you to stumble a few times when the carpet seemed to be bumped up in a few places, or maybe that was just your feet moving incorrectly. Who knows.

You leave a combination of knocks on his door, continuously knocking, letting it get heavier every time until the door swings open to show a confused Chan, who looks like he has been working on some music project as his headphones are still hung around his neck.

"Y/n? What are you doing here- are you okay?" Chan says at the immediate recognition of you not being a stranger at his door, ushering you inside as he looks over your figure for any signs as to why you are on his doorstep at a quarter till midnight.

"The lights were too bright at the clubs. Just wanna hang out," you manage to get out with no slurs in speech, but a little stumble you have when trying to get past him in hopes of laying on the sofa tells Chan that you are not sober right now.

He puts out his arm quickly to stop you from falling, circling it around your waist to help you safely get into the living room. You feel a burning surge through your body at his innocent touch, but it doesn't feel like the usual drunk heat.

"Just go lay down for a minute, yeah? I'll get you some water," he looks toward you as he talks, settling you into the couch surrounded by a big, comfy blanket. He then waits for you to give some sort of acknowledgement that you heard anything he said, earning a nod from you that makes him crack an endearing smile at how you looked so content, snuggling into the sofa.

You then sit with Chris on the couch after he quickly gets some water from the fridge, neither of you speaking as you take large gulps from the unnecessarily large bottle of water (like, who drinks this much water…)

You feel happy right now. You have everything you need right here. A couch, a blanket, and a Christopher. Except, you get hit with the reminder of your ex-boyfriend, stirring up those uncomfortable emotions that made you decide to drink them away tonight.

Apparently, that drinking away did not work very well, probably making this even worse because you start to cry, your body shaking as the pools of tears drain down your cheeks.

Chris takes immediate notice of the couch shaking beside him, reaching over to keep a tender arm across your shoulders. He hesitantly says, “Honey, what’s wrong? Did something happen tonight with your friends?”

His voice was nothing but comfort as you decided to just tell him everything.

“Chris, he broke up with me.”

Then, his face dropped not exactly to one of sympathy but to some twisted form of relief. Nonetheless, he held you into a tighter hug, letting you cry into his arms while leaving reassuring pats and shushes as you continued.

You finally regain some sort of composure to tell him the rest of the story, explaining how your boyfriend sprung this on you out of nowhere, pulling out the “it’s not you, it’s me” line, utterly tearing your self-esteem down to the lowest point because you know it’s because of you. Because you weren’t good enough, you didn’t show him enough, you didn’t sleep with him enough. The insecure thoughts are the only thing plaguing your mind after his cheap excuse for breaking up with you.

For this, you openly tell Chris in your drunken state, “Why doesn’t he just love me? I don’t understand what I did wrong. Why am I not good enough for him?”

“Stop it, Y/n.”

His suddenly stern voice piques your attention, raising your blotchy face up from where it was implanted into his shoulder. His face is suddenly stoic, a complete contrast from the comforting love he was just showing you. There is still love; it’s just a different kind.

“Do not ever say that about yourself. You are beyond perfect, and your boyfriend is a piece of shit for this. I mean, I have always kind of resented him, but the way he makes you feel like this out of the blue makes me more than angry. You are everything anyone could ask for, and I need you to understand that whatever his decision was, it wasn’t because of you.”

The tears aren’t able to start coming back down before you grab Chan into the strongest hug you can manage, now sobbing into his moistened shirt. The words of affirmation and care flood out of his mouth into your ears, crushing the self-deprecating terrors of before. His own reassurance and love for you outweighs whatever your shitty boyfriend showed you. Chan was the only person you wanted to care for you.

The only person you wanted to love.

But he can’t know that.

a/n : hey guys... sorry for being absolutely MIA for a month. i have been so swamped with work and classes that I lost my entire urge to write, but i am back and better than other. i have been working on this and the second part for it, also creating the full plot line for fangirl. requests are open as always and ily all - eb

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

sorry but i think i lost your plot has to be peak literature because it's one of the only thing ive ever read from start to last update in under an hour

Sorry, but I Think I Lost Your Plot pt 14

Pairing: Onesided!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Modern!Fem!Reader

Words: 2,163

You get caught up in some hobbying.

Tags: Time Travel, Reader into Movieverse, crafting, bead making

<Previous - Next>

Your relationship with the older vikings, men and women alike, as their sometimes delivery girl, sometimes shepard -though that was much less of a harrowing job now that the dragons were cool, and you were afforded the privilege of spend a lot less time hiding and running- sometimes portable laundromat and shiphand, afforded you certain knowledge that other people sometimes weren’t privy to, though Berk was an open floor for gossip.

Like how the twins were always looking down because their helmets were too shallow to balance themselves on their heads, which had the consequence of making it seem as if they were always up to something. Which, coincidentally, they were- Their mother complained about them a lot in between mentions of her husband and fawning over Stoick.

You learned how to cook some from Mrs. Ingerman, and you’d taught her a few words from your time period, which was nice. 

You’d had to do Snotlout's laundry and clean his room on more than one occasion, even had to pull it out of his basement room more than once, which you were thoroughly disgusted by. You’d learned a lot more about the guy from that experience than you’d ever wanted and had refused to take any of the Jorgensons’ laundry from then onward.

You’d even done things for Hiccup and for the Chief, mostly things he was unaccustomed to doing as he was too busy acting as the leader of the village and things Hiccup missed because he was too busy doing whatever he did out with the riders. You were sure Hiccup’d had no idea just the same as Snotlout. 

There were a few things you were certain to never bring up, including but not limited to a hastily drawn but very detailed sketch of your face shoved in a notebook tossed under his bed, not particularly helpful in terms of putting to rest the whole crush thing, or the small pail of screws he was sure to have brought back from the forge without his father’s blessing.

You were in denial a little bit, yeah. 

You should probably tell him. About the whole being in his room thing. But you wouldn’t. Definitely not.

It seemed, though, that despite this extra eye into the working world of Berk, you’d still ended up missing a few things.

Berk was… A community. You weren’t sure how you never realized that.

The Great Hall was filled with warm laughter, people patting each other on the back, men and women sharing stories about their kids and, often enough for you to take notice, Hiccup. It looked like raising him was a group effort.

Off in the corner were others at a table by shallow baskets which were shaped like oblong gold pans filled with fine powder and shells, men and women sitting along the side sorting dragon scales and grinding them down with flat stones and clearly chiseled pestels.

Dragons squealed and bobbed around your periphery, tossing and picking up what must’ve been colorful, neutral stones.

Large men and women and children hunched over the tables all over the hall, rearranged so that they were all closer to each other, parallel as they whittled away at things you couldn’t completely see, tables lined with leaves and the occasional plate.

It was well lit.

People filled the halls between tables with joyful conversation, playfully batted at each other and sat back. The whole space was bustling and also relaxing, somehow.

In the background was Ack arguing with some blonde woman, but even that was nice. You could tell he didn’t mean it and neither did she, shooting back just barely inaudible jabs with each other.

You were mindful of the basket in your arms full up with his laundry, just recently cleaned and aired out. 

You had stopped in your tracks at the sight, standing just before a short table placed perpendicular to the rest as if the lady sitting there was the guard to some booth or other. 

You looked down finally, noticing how she looked at you nearly eye level with a raised brow. She had plenty of wrinkles on her forehead, which told a lot about a life made by concern and stoicism. She also wore a large, very off white apron over a grayish vaguely beige long sleeve short and a long brown skirt, which you only just barely caught sight of as she lifted it up to wipe down something in her hand.

She had a shallow basket in front of her filled with what looked like beads and various strings, needles and small carving knives with wood shavings laid on the cloth-covered table around her.

“Hi,” You said, breaking the wall between the two of you. 

“...Hello, dear,” She responded, after a while, settling down her skirt and placing a colorful bead back into her basket. He picked up a needle instead, which you saw was already attached to a long string with beads all down the length. 

You wondered where they’d gotten the dye for it. Could dye even be used on glass? Was it glass?

Instead of asking those questions, you shuffled your feet.

You glanced at a white sleeve flopped over the side of the basket, which you held by a bar on the other side and pressed into your hip, “What’s going on?”

“Crafting is going on,” She said, plainly.

You nodded, “I like it.”

It wasn’t an uncommon sight to see Vikings wandering around Berk, trying their hand at leatherworking and carving and other things. Now that they had the time, being assaulted a lot less by Dragons, the Berkians indulged their more artistic inclinations, exercising muscles for skills they’d never been able to before.

“I mean, this is great. What started it?” You asked.

You wanted to join in. It might be nice.

“Oh, you haven’t seen? The pride of Berk, walking around with his little bead like a bird,” She chortled fondly, “Did you see it? I wonder who gave it to him? Lucky girl. He has, dare I say it, started a trend.”

A bird? You quirked your lips up at what was most certainly an exaggeration. You hadn’t seen anything like that. You failed to mention that you’re the one who made it.

You wondered if Hiccup knew about any of this at all. You didn’t. 

“How do you know it was a girl?”

You turned. The spoken voice belonged to one of the women you’d see before in the Hall. She came over, done fussing with Ack in the background.

She was also blonde, a brighter, more yellow shade with a few less gray hairs. And she was large, also, with broad shoulders and a strong presence. Her arms were the largest between them. 

She wore tight trousers and a large though not long tunic. Her boots were plain leather and looked to be of the pirate variety. 

You pondered the idea that they might be related, or at least good friends.

“Look at him!” The first lady put down her needle, resting it in her shallow basket again, a glass bead falling down the string as she did, gesturing with her hand, though there was no Hiccup in sight, “He’s so happy! So proud! The small thing. He’s got too much energy for his little bones to handle.”

You thought he might be offended if he heard her say that.

“Oh, don’t be delusional,” The one with big arms huffed, “And don’t let him hear you say that.”

“But I’m right!”

“You’re wrong! He’s no myth, sweetheart. You can’t go around treating him like one of your little stories,” She shook her head, crossing her arms. 

“The Ragnar is real!” She insisted, staring down the Ack lady, meeting her eyes until the other woman rolled her own. You could tell it was a disagreement as old as time itself, but like with the other woman’s squabble with Ack, there was no malice in it, “Beowulf, too.”

They were just putting on a show.

You felt your lips stretch wider. It felt good to be a part of, even as a witness.

“Well, anyways, I’ve been thinking of making it a regular thing. You know, putting it on a schedule. Craft nights…”

You nodded excitedly, “It’s very modern.”

“Do you think so?” She asked, pleased.

“You don’t think we’ll have better things to be doing?”

“Our ancestors used to do it, can’t see why we can’t.”

“Really?” You asked.

“Oh, yes. Read a passage about it once, saw a note or something like in one of the dragon books. Glass beadmaking,” She looked up wistfully, pausing briefly in her rhythmic sewing, “I always wanted to try it… But we had no forge, no beads, no time, then, either. I was just a little girl. But now…!”

She picked something small but shiny out of the basket in her lap, ooh-ing to herself.

You were on the outside, kind of, though not on purpose. Everyone was welcoming enough, though they were much too busy fighting with the dragons to notice much or throw a party or anything. You were never excluded but you always had better things to do, too, so, well.

But this was here, and it seemed convenient. 

“Dear, come sit down,” She squealed slyly, voice both quick and dragging, face gleeful, which seemed out of place on her wide, bult frame and stern face.

“Okay,” You said, beaming.

You stuck mostly to the woodworking bead types. 

The image of glass beads shattering midair was frightening, though you were sure that none of the dragons around here could reach those speeds. Flying that fast might be dangerous for people too.

Most of your beads were probably going back to Hiccup anyways.

Of course, you had your own handful of small colorful semi-porcelain.

You tried a bunch of colors of all different types, and ended up with a handful of each. It was cool, to the super-so degree, and it was free. It seemed good will did a lot, and community bonding exercises were meant to be just that and nothing else. There was a line of Vikings, adults and children alike, ready to do their own part and bring things in anyhow. 

Many Vikings used ground up dragonhide to dye and waterproof beads and to mix in with melted glass in order to give it a pretty stain.

It was interesting, especially now that many Vikings were using Dragons in place of a kiln, and how they’d set up small buildings with bricks and some coal and used those too.

It was disastrous, at some moments. There were many burns, mostly small, that people went up to Gothi for, saying their goodbyes in bummed tones. 

Gothi must have had enough of it because she came down eventually to manage the glassmakers and smack the unfortunate.

It was… nice. 

The afternoon light was surprisingly nice on your face. It felt a lot nicer and your chest felt lighter, the world awash with things bright and endearing.

You looked forward with a winning smile at Hiccup.

“You liked the one I gave you, right?” You held out a handful of blue glass and wood beads to Hiccup, “They’re doing craft days in the Hall. I made some.”

You had a bunch of others in pouches around your belt.

You didn’t have anywhere to put them besides. You had no dragon to ride, so in time you might favor the glass ones. You had trouble with a few of them. The dragonhide did a great deal to make the glass more sticky when it heated up.

“You’re going to see a lot more people around with beads on.”

There were not enough leaves and pouches for all your sorted beads so they were sort of mixed, but you got a hold of a good few before it was time to clean up and you fled before anyone could notice. The hall would still be active for a while.

“You started a trend, I think,” You said, matter-of-factly.

It was impressive. Trends usually fell to the Chief, who recently had been trying to approach you though he always got carried away by tasks before he could. 

Hiccup had a sort of goofy smile on his face which consisted of a slightly upturned lip and the framing of his two largest front teeth which dropped as, as it looked like, he snapped back into himself, “What?”

“Yeah,” You said after you finished unloading the rest of his pouches into his arms and turned to walk away.

You looked around as you fled, making sure no one was watching.

He looked down like he wasn’t sure what to do with all of them, and also a little bit put off.

You wondered if you overdid it.

A small weight shifted by your ankle as you walked, the coins you’d slipped into a side pocket in your boot. You were going to ask around for some seeds.

[phosphorus-12]

Absolutely none of that made sense, so lets get to it:

We tell you so you don't think we hate you all of a sudden. We get pissed both because of hormone and emotional changes and because of the pain we are in.

Speaking of this pain, women experience cramps more painful than heart attacks. Many women, including myself, experience, muscle and joint pain, back pain, headaches and migraines.

My entire job is not to be "aesthetically pleasing and add femininity." My job is to breathe, eat, hydrate, and sleep. My job is to stay alive. Everything else I do, like go to school, is so that I can continue to live, as our society has made it so education and a paying job are required to be alive. I am a human being who evolved from something whose only concern was eating, drinking, and not dying. I am not an inanimate object just meant to decorate your damn house.

I am not meant to be sexy. Women can start menstruating as early as 8-12. That would mean you are telling children that they are failing at being sexy because they menstruate. Adult men are not supposed to find children who happen to have a vagina sexy. Not to mention the fact that no woman is 'meant' to constantly be sexy, just like men aren't.

The idea that whether your ancestors were hunters or gatherers determines whether you are AFAB or AMAB is absolutely ridiculous. That is not why you get the sex you were assigned at birth. A person's sex is determined by which chromosome, X or Y, the father's sperm has. The egg contributes an X chromosome. Generally, if the sperm has an X chromosome, the egg has an XX chromosome and is a girl. If it has a Y chromosome, it becomes XY, which makes a boy.(1) However, let's give this logic a chance. Say it is true(it is not). If your sex was determined by if your maternal ancestors were hunters or gatherers? A woman would have to have gatherer ancestors, correct? If it is entirely dependent on the mother, how would any woman have a boy child?

Women aren't all just naturally vegetarian or vegan, as you seem to imply in that last paragraph. All humans, regardless of sex, have evolved to be naturally omnivorous, but some choose to not eat meat or animal products.

I am not bleeding through my digestive system. The reproductive system and the digestive system are completely separate. Thus, my vagina is not an animal graveyard. That would be my digestive tract if meat was all I ate. I, in fact, ingest the four basic food groups, as is optimal for my health. This means that my blood is not toxic because of my food choices, especially the blood that I bleed during my period.

The blood in my veins and period blood is not exactly the same. According to The National Library of Medicine, "Menstrual blood is composed of three distinct body fluids: blood, vaginal fluid, and the cells and fluid of the late secretory phase of the uterine endometrial lining which is shed during menstruation."(2)

This brings me to my next point: periods are not my body ridding itself of 'toxic blood'. My period is because of the unused lining of my uterus that was made in case I got pregnant. It was made for the fertilized egg to implant to begin the process of pregnancy. After you don't get pregnant, the lining sheds and comes out in the form of a liquid. This liquid is partially made up of and looks like blood. The egg made that month is also discarded with it. Then, when your body is finished, it makes a new egg, starting the process over.(3)

Tampons and menstrual cups are not phallic. They give us no pleasure, and many women feel much more comfortable using pads.

Before you go around telling women that they are disgusting for not doing their "entire job" of being sexy and aesthetically pleasing by having periods, actually learn about what a period is. The lesson here is: do your research, don't 'debate' things you have no clue about, and don't treat women as fucking objects that you find disgusting for having bodily functions.

Citations:

https://kidshealth.org/en/parents/week2.html

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3494145

https://www.betterhealth.vic.gov.au/health/conditionsandtreatments/menstrual-cycle

[unstableblond]

story time about how my older sister is a horrible person lol

my sister was always irresponsible and never really cared about anything other than MEN

she literally abandoned her children because of men because her life was destroyed by herself because of this obsession with men, and the funny thing is that all the men she ever dated were all insane and just as broke as she was

her daughter's father took his daughter to live with him because my sister was clearly not a good mother, there was even one time when she went out drinking and trying to k herself while her children were with her, which is completely crazy and disgusting of her!! she literally didn't even care about the trauma it caused her children and all this because of a damn man

i remember the night i took care of my cousin and it broke my heart to see her crying and i spent the whole time trying to calm her down..and it makes me angry how she was taken away from us..she was not only a cousin but also a best friend to me

in the final months of 2021 i found out that my sister's boyfriend hit her and i knew this only because i heard her conversation with my mom, my blood started bubbling when i heard this and i wanted so bad to destroy this guy..she broke up with him later and then one day we had a conversation together and she swore to me that she would never go back with that man but at the same time she said that she missed him ugh i said it's normal to feel attached to a person but no matter what she shouldn't get back together with him, she promised me, but a while after that i found out that she got back together with him AND IT MADE ME SO INSANELY ANGRY i swear!! i never felt so mad as i felt that day.. but she is an adult woman and we cannot control her choices but only advise so there was nothing we could do..i told to mom that if my sister wants to keep that monster then ok but i didn't want her to bring that monster close to our family and she agreed but after a few months my mother and i moved to a new address and guess what 💀 she came to my new house to help and brought that damn man and I literally freaked out and started screaming saying a lot of things to him and her

i screamed loudly that i didn't want him in my house or near my family or i would report him to the police for abusing my sister and this bastard left with my sister who got mad at me for literally making getting mad at her for getting back together with her abuser 💀 she really thought i would be smiling, jumping, and dropping flowers when i see that she was back with her abuser bffr

she has stolen money from my mom many times throughout her life without even asking permission and she always did that with my mom's clothes too

in addition to dating broke and unstable men, she tries to bring them into our lives to become our problem too because she wants to destroy our lives just like she did with her own

we don't want to meet your new boyfriends who literally always have the same pattern among themselves and always end in the worst way possible so stop bringing them to our homes girl

she thinks she's always right and when someone scolds her for her behavior she acts like she's 14 it's funny how pissed off she gets because we're always right and she's wrong but she doesn't accept that

at the beginning of the pandemic, she literally moved to live with us and her damn boyfriend, a different man than the one i mentioned minutes ago, but he was as sh*t as any other man she had ever dated..and it was literally a big hell in our lives having to put up with her and her boyfriend plus she also had her other two children living with us in a house that wasn't even that big 💀 every day i woke up and wished i was de@d because living there was unbearable

this guy was very obese, in addition to being obese he also had problems with his legs and had to walk with the support of something

i was so stressed out that he was always walking around at the speed of a turtle and i couldn't even walk past him because his body was LITERALLY taking up all the space there was

she had to bring her damn man with her to destroy our lives for a whole 1 or 2 years

the craziest thing of all is that my mom had to work and pay for everything for my sister and her useless boyfriend who did nothing but lay around

and in the end even though he could barely move he cheated on her and that makes me laugh every time i remember it

she even dated a guy who destroyed her entire house, tried to str@ngle her and even threatened her and brought him into our house putting us at risk because this guy was literally insane and could k us all because of her

i know that after i'm no longer here she or her children may try to defame me to make me look like a horrible person just to alleviate their mistakes that are being exposed by me rn lol i just want to make it clear that if you say anything bad about me and make up lies i swear i will come back as a vengeful spirit and ruin each and every one of your lives (oops i forgot..her life is already ruined lol but maybe i can make it worse) we all know you are a liar and a terrible person and unfortunately your children are the same, don't try me girl.

[hjellacott]

They say genitalia isn't important when choosing to date someone. As a bisexual woman, I consider biological sex to be essential for me to decide whether to date or not, even if it's not about having sex. Here's a list of things I consider when dating a man or a woman, that to me are entirely biologically sex-based:

IF MALE

Is he sensitive? Because if he isn't, not interested.

Is he physically strong? I need to know I could defend myself if I needed to.

How's his voice? I get PTSD triggered from very loud, strong male voices, so it's got to be something that sounds gentle.

How's his temper? No way I'd date a man with a strong temperament.

Is he protective or over protective? Because I'll take a bit from a man, but there's a limit.

Is he going to treat me like property?

Is he a sensible man, that'll make the right decisions? Because many men aren't, they get too cocky.

Am I comfortable talking about sensitive topics with him? Does he have enough empathy and compassion, or will he laugh?

Do I feel safe with him?

Can I hold intellectual debates with him without causing an argument?

Is there a chance he'll get physical in an argument, even a slim one?

Is he a feminist?

Does he love his mother/sisters/other females in his family?

Is he kind to gay men?

Is he an attention seeker?

Is he too happy with being sexually admired by other women, that he'll be constantly seeking that even if we're together?

Is he the jealous kind? Will he try to end my friendships with other men?

Will he demand my consent for sexual things, and respect that it is my body, my choice?

Would he be a good father? (because if you're having sex, accidents might happen).

Is he good with animals?

Does he like poetry?

How does he feel about guns?

What would he do if he had a homosexual child?

Is he good with children, while also respecting their space?

Would anyone feel safe around him?

How does he respond to witnessing violence and possible harassment?

What kind of friend is he?

Will he be respectful if I reject kinky sex? Will he respect my sexual decisions in general?

Is he honest?

Is he mature and responsible?

Does he have a job he's committed to?

Is he the kind of guy his friends/relatives trust for babysitting or pet sitting?

Is he a good carer?

Is he academic? Does he enjoy reading novels?

Will he sit playing videogames all the time?

Will he put sports above spending time with me, my family or my friends?

Will he be kind towards me and my period, or act like it's something disgusting he ought to stay away from?

Will he be patronising and mansplaining?

IF FEMALE

Is she emotionally grounded? Is she emotionally dependent?

Is she too fucked up by past relationships?

Can she be reasonable in a fight, or will she bring up every past relationship?

Will she move too fast, or respect my pace?

Is she woke?

Does she have personal aspirations, passions, and goals she's committed to?

Does she have good self esteem?

Does she take care of her own health, even if it means not being too thin?

Does she rely on make up at all times? Because I want to see a woman's real face and fall in love with it.

Will she judge my style, or the kind of woman I am, or will she support me and appreciate our differences?

Is she excessively sappy?

Does she think violence is OK if it comes from a woman? Because no thanks.

Is she strong and independent, like a cat?

Can we live like two ships moving side by side, without trying to overpower the other?

Being bisexual and actually getting to gain romantic and sexual experience with both men and women is quite enriching, because it actually gives one great knowledge about what makes someone who they are, and how deeply someone's biological sex can influence them, whether they realise or not. It goes well beyond breasts and penises, biological sex is in every part of you, your sensitivities, your physicality, your can-do attitude, your confidence, so on. Depending on your biological sex you face brutally different challenges in life, which shape you into different kinds of people. That is what I'm trying to show.

I want you to see that whether one dates a man or a woman, you have different concerns and things to think about. Mine are these, yours might be something else. Notice I haven't put things like religion or race, because they don't depend on sex, I am always going to worry about someone's attitude towards those no matter who they are. What is important is to see how experiences with men and women differ, even if you don't know what's under their trousers.

Notice, for example, how I think of far more things and have far more concerns when it comes to dating men than I do with women. Notice how my concerns with men are more about my safety and well-being, and stereotypes that are associated to men for a reason (and that I've noticed continuously when it has come to relationships with men), while the things I worry about with women, based on past experience, are more related to their emotional and mental stability, and how well can we be two women with our own lives who don't try to become each other.

Biological sex matters, even if you're not having sex. Because it's the essence of you. It's your DNA. It's you, just like bulls and cows are brutally different, so are men and women, genitalia aside.

[supscoolbitch]

Once long ago…

Description : Once long ago in a unknown kingdom, the gods decided the human world need to be ruled by themselves due to the idiotic nature of rulers. They came down and disguised themselves and came to each kingdom, claiming it. The word got around that the gods had came to earth looking for a wife to bore them children. So when the god of life, satoru gojo, comes to take the throne, he also finds himself with a merchants daughter.

TW : drinking, cussing, patriarchal society, mentions of forced marriage, catcalling, slut shaming, murder, torture, women being treated as objects, virginity loss, rough sex, pussy slapping

A/N: Lol guys I thought of this in biology. Also should I do a part 2?

————————

The flowers are in bloom, the trees are green, the wind sings with life. Spring was here. The cobblestone pavement was freshly filled with very few people out due to the beginning of the season. The scent of herbs fill the street as the occasional screams of women birthing there children.

As spring entered so did the new herd of babes being born due to them all being conceived in the early fall. As in our religion it says that children born in the spring will bring greatness and fall being fertility just adds up to a lot of newborns.

That will be me this time next year. The thought scares me beyond imaginable. Though I have escaped it for 6 years by being a midwife, my parents have decided that I will be married by the end of summer.

My father, a prominent merchant in our community, has decided that as his only daughter, I must continue the heritage and birth soon. I have thought deeply about it and though I hate it, I’m grateful I got to live a life before I was forced to settle down. By 14 all my friends had been married off and at 17 they all had at least 2 kids.

Now I’m 19 and as my parents say “fully developed mentally and physically for marriage and children.” It disgusts me that a man most likely 2 times my age will force me to carry his seed and breed me till I have no use.

But overall at least I had the opportunity to learn to write, read, do mathematics, and have a job. Most women will never have that luxury and will die at the hands of their husband or the government too young.

My mother has been talking about the event that will be taking place of august 13th, where men and women come to find partners. She and her friends have been gossiping about what I’ll wear, what my hair will be, etc. But also about the fact that the king has announced that the 3 gods of the universe have came to our land, actually all the lands demanding the right to the kingdom. The city of Redi, my home, was last.

It is said on the 13th, the god of life, the great satoru gojo, Will reveal himself along with the other gods and become the ruler of a new world. Now what was not announced but is still believed is that he was looking for a queen, a women to give him children and have the honor of being his companion.

I am dragged out of my thoughts of the future when a blood curtailing scream that came from a town home only a few feet ahead. Another screamed followed not even 30 seconds later.

Without thinking I ran into the home and followed the screams. I had my bag with me even though I had been discharged from duty a week ago. I turned through the oak door to see a women on her side, legs spread with blood flowing on everything. “Oh my lord why isn’t a doctor here.”

I quickly put on my gloves and got out my old equipment. “Ma’am I’m going to need you to lie flat on the bed.” I really hated when women gave birth on there backs, but if they are already there you can’t change it extensively. “gojo fuck oh my I can’t do this.” I look up at her to see a girl not older then 15 lying down. “Yes you can, now please I need you to push.” When she’s pushing I start to question. Where are her parents? Why wasn’t there a doctor here helping her? Where is her husband? Why is she here all alone? It all clicks in one moment. “Ma’am you aren’t married and your parents don’t know about the pregnancy, do they.” Her eyes go wide and face pales at my words.

“No, no no no you have it all wrong I-” “don’t try to deny it, why would you be here all alone, giving birth with no doctors to help.” She quiets at my words. “Look I’m not going to report you, now I don’t know why your here but I’m going to assume your a good person. I know the shit rules they have and I’m not going to let any harm come to you or your baby.” I look her dead in the eye as her face relaxes more.

“Look imma need you to push, your almost there I can see the head.” Her hard pained cries lead to the soft cries of innocence. A small child lies in my hands, a cord connecting itself with the mother. I cut the cord and stand up bring the babe to the mother.

“I, I made that?” She asks quietly as she holds the young child in her arms. “Yes, yes you did, and I think you need a name for that boy.” Her eyes widen as she looks down at her son.

I go to the bottom of the bed and start to examine her to make sure everything is okay. A small amount of blood leaks out but nothing bad considering she pushed a human out of her. I sanitize my utensils as she breastfeeds her babe.

“You will need vitamins for you and the babe.” I turn to her, drying off my hands. “ I know” she replies without looking up. “Well I must be on my way.” I grab my bag and start to walk out the door. “Wait” I pause and turn around. “I cannot thank you enough, me and my son would not be here today if it weren’t for you.” She cradles him as tears fill her eyes. “It was not a problem, now I really must be on my way. Have a great life.”

As I walk down the path, the street lights turn on as screams of mother will still be heard throughout the night. I space out when I feel my body bump into another’s. I fall forwards and land on my hands and knees. “Are you okay?” I lift my head to see the most gorgeous man I have ever laid eyes on.

The white hair was like a cold chill on a winter night, but the electric blue eyes of summer look down upon me. Prefect lips, prefect nose, prefect face, what seems to be prefect body, prefect full wallet.

Silence consumes the air for a few seconds. “Am I dead?” I look up at the man waiting for a answer. Had I fell and hit my head so hard that my brain bled out and now I’m bowing in front of the reincarnation of a god.

“What?” Now the man’s face is completely confused and concerned. “Am. I. Dead. ”I say straight forward, not believing what is standing before me. “ uh no I don’t think so.” I lean back on my knees to see that blood drips down my palms, onto my black, knee length skirt. “Oh my we need to get you to a clinic immediately.” He rushes to get me up “ what are you talking about it’s just a scratch?”

Now it was my turn to be confused. It was a mere cut and now he thinks I’m dying? “Your bleeding at the stomach.” I look at my shirt to see blood on my chest, stomach and lower abdomen. “What but I don’t feel any-” the delivery. Well shit how do I explain this. “ oh my sir I promise that’s not mine-” “ well who’s blood is it? Are you a killer?” Shock replaces the questioning look on my face. “No no no sir promise I-“ “ then why are you covered in blood?”

“I can’t tell you.” He looks at me confused. “Then how do I know you are not a murder?” Me? A killer? That’s an insane idea but the more I look at him the more dangerous he seems. His tall frame gives him a eerie aura, his looks could get him anyone, but his personality seems off.

Checking the time it appears to be 7:42. I realize what time it and how late I am for my curfew. I was suppose to be home at 7 but from delivering a babe to being stopped by this man has put a wrench in that.

But it’s also a custome to be home before 7 for young umarried women. It’s common because during this time usually rowdy unpredictable men that can easily overpower most are drunk and unwatched. Also able bodied mothers, wives and widows are out by themself or with their partners. So when they see a lonely young women the usually assume she is unmarried. But if the wrong person sees a unmarried women out this late they will gossip around town, making the women seem unfit to wed therefore she will most likely never find a husband.

Then I realized that if someone saw me, bloody, alone, unmarried, and without reasoning they would turn me in. Looking back up at the mysterious man I realize what I will have to do to stay safe.

“Give me your jacket” I whispered

His face contorted in confusion “huh?”

People slowly stayed to stare at us, questioning looks sent our way. Suddenly I feel the weighted of his jacket on my shoulders, warming them. He pulls me into his chest and I start to rub my eyes against his black shirt to create the look of running makeup.

The sound of footsteps get closer when a voice breaks them. “Are you okay?” A man’s voice speaks. I lift my head to see a heavy set man standing with a women on his arm. A small gasp leave both of their lips when they see my face.

The white haired man tugs me closer and sighs. “Honestly, no. We have just found out we have lost our child in the womb. We had been trying for so long, but it must not have been meant to join us here. Maybe the king of the fields took interest, whatever it is they have joined the afterlife along with my parents.” He says in a calm but sad voice.

“Oh my gojo I am so sorry for your loss.” The women voice seeps with sorrow. I have always been a considerably good actor so when tears fill my eyes the couple quickly takes their leave.

People passing give pitiful looks at what seems to be a husband comforting his wife. I quickly glance to see the couple gone in which then I look up at the man.

“Beyond town there’s a place we can talk.” I grab his hand and take the lead. The street is filled with lights. After a while of walking and talking about our similar passion for knowledge, and food. We begin to discuss the idea of the stars when suddenly I was hit with the smell of fresh pastries.

I look down the street to see a sign ‘moonlight bakery.’ Along the sides are windows and painting of the god of night, Gēto Suguru.

I look up at the tall man with black sunglasses now covering his eyes. “We should get some pastries.” I point out. He looks to where my eyes lead and I immediately feel a tug on my wrist.

When we enter the shop a old lady greets us. The lights are blinding but we continue to walk to the glass case where the sweet treats lay. Hundreds of them lie together with small paper on each telling the ingredients in each.

A small sigh leaves the ladies lips. “Young love brings memories.” She says sweetly as if she’s reminiscing old memories. “How has your night been?” We both stop fiddling with each others hands. A low sigh leaves his soft luscious lips. “We found out our child was lost in the field of reeds. We had been trying for awhile.” He says with a sad smile. The ladies smile drops and is replaced with sadness.

“Oh my I’m so sorry that happened to you.” She sounds as if she’s about to cry. The attractive man’s small smile grows with a sadness in his eyes. “It shall be fine eventually. We are here to celebrate their new life in the field of reeds.”

Her face is still traumatized from the newfound information. “What shall we get darling?” His voice pulls me out of my thoughts. “I truly do not know.” I look through the glass. “Well I must take care of you, we will take 2 of everything you got.”

My eyes widen in shock, as does the ladies. “Wait I don’t have the money for that?!” I quickly answer. He looks amused, like what I had said was a joke. “Darling I am not one to take my lady out to not pay for her treats.” His smile widens to the point of where is pearls are shinning.

I have no words as she packs our sweets. Suddenly I feel a pair of soft, moist lips against the tip of my nose. Immediately my face rushes red and I hide in his shoulder. I hear him laugh along with the lady. “You two are really prefect. I wish you the best of luck with conception.” She smiles gently and waves us to us as we walk out.

Walking down the streets we eat our sweets and rate them till we reach a set of trees and bamboo. A small opening on the far right makes me grab his wrist and pull him through.

When we get out of the darkness a large flat stone is in front of us. With a sight tilt you could see the smaller rocks that surround a small pond with a steam of water falling off a rock.

The water glints in the moonlight and bounces onto the rock. I gently tug his wrist as I climb onto the large rock. When we reach the top he lifts his glasses to get a better view.

His electric blue eyes shine against the water and moon. I lay flat of the rock just thinking of the future. I feel the eyes of a person stare into my soul.

“How did you find this place?” His voice is here but his mind is somewhere else. His eyes look into the sky.

“When I was younger my mother used to work at night. One day I was exploring when I thought I saw a monster so I ran throughout town till I reach the woods. I saw a opening and ran till I found this place.” I smile at the thought of the memory

“There really was never a monster. Apparently my mother was coming after me and I saw her shadow in the light of the moon.” I laugh thinking about how I feared such small things.

I turn to see the man looking at me in what seems like awe. I stare back. His eyes travel down to my abdomen that is still covered in blood.

“What happened?” His voice low and quiet.

I heavily sigh preparing to possibly give my last speech. “I was a midwife. I loved everything I did but 3 months ago my parents told me I must marry and have children. As you probably know, a women who works that is trying to get betrothed is undesirable. So I was forced to resign.” He nods

“But that does not explain why you are covered in blood?” He says in a questioning tone. “Yes I know. Today while I was walking I heard a terrible scream in the house I was passing. I went in to see what was happening to find a girl no older then 15 in labor with no doctors. I had my tools on me so I go and help her deliver her babe. It turns out she was disowned by her parents due to being pregnant out of wedlock. I thought nothing of it till you stopped me and that’s when I realized I could be murdered for what I had done. Not knowing what you would do I thought I would tell you here. It just I could be charged with accessory to a undocumented pregnancy and unlawful birth.”

I quickly take a breathe in. Realizing I could have sealed my death. But when I look at him his eyes were wide. His face was of one of pure shock. Lips were slightly parted and the wind slowly picked up so his hair blowed perfectly.

“Your an angel.”

Now I share the face shock. “Your a truly pure being.” He says as of talking to himself. I move over and cup my hands on the side of his jaw.

“are you okay?” I ask. He dosent respond so I crawl to him. His legs are a crossed so I climb over them. “Hey stupid answer me?” He comes back to the land of the living but he looks different. He looks happier with a evil grin.

I remove my self from his lap and now we just stare at each other.

“What’s your name?” I ask quietly.

“Can I ask you a question first?” He replies slyly.

“Okay?” I say in a confused tone

He smiles more. “Actually it’s two questions.” A playful tone in his voice

“Okay?” Even more confused.

“Pick one or two” “what?” “Pick one or two” “two?”

He grins and begins. “I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors that some of the gods came to earth to rule.” I nod “well me and my friends really did come down. Your current king was setting humanity on a path to extinction so we stepped in.”

Now I’m even more confused. My eyebrows furrow and my lips fall downwards. “I plan to take the throne in august 13 and declare this my kingdom.”

Then it hits me.

“Wait are you, are you a deity…” my voice is quiet and full of fear.

“Oh darling I’m more then a deity, I’m a god” his tone is lustful and playful. His eyes pull me in more.

“Now you can ask your question.” He says in a casual manner.

“What- what is your name?” I fear and desire the answer for the question. He smirks.

“Satoru Gojo.” The breathe is took from my lungs. I couldn’t say anything. I was in front of a living god.

I immediately move off the rock and get onto my knees and lay my head flat in the ground. I feel the cold, wet mud on my bloodied hands and knees along with my head.

I close my eyes and beg for forgiveness due to my rudeness. I hear something from the rock but do not dare to open my eyes. I feel a warm hand go into the mud and pick up my dirty chin.

When my head is lifted a voice breaks the silence.

“Open your eyes darling.”

I slowly open my eyes to be met with the brillant blue eyes staring me in my eyes.

“Promise me you will never bow to me, to anyone.” His voice is dead serious. My eyes widen and I shake my head up and down. But he just shakes his head back and forth.

“Words”

“I promise I won’t bow to anyone.”

A smile breaks out on his lips. He grabs my hands and helps me up. Now we stand facing each other. Though I’m straining my neck to see his eyes. Suddenly I remember something.

“Didn’t you have two questions?”

“Well yes I did.”

Now we just stare at each other smiling.

One moment I had to look up at him but now he was on his knees.

“ A man had promised that if I met a partner in earth and married them he would play me in poker again. I know I haven’t known you for long but marry me. I will treat you like a queen and you will never experience unwanted pain again.”

I stare at him

“You don’t even know my name mr and you expect me to marry you.” I say in a playful tone.

“Well may I know this beauty’s name?”

I blush “y/n l/n”

His smirks grows “well miss y/n will you marry me”

I fake sigh “well I guess mr gojo.” His smile was contagious.

Suddenly I’m off the ground and I’m mid air. We laughing. When we make eye contact he looks at me before pulling me in for a kiss.

I quickly push back and we both fall to the ground. “Oh my I’m so sorry it’s just that. Uh well I don’t really know how to…” quietness is in the air.

“Have you never kissed someone?” He asks honestly. “Well no, it’s prominent that we try to not till we are betrothed.” My face flushes at the inexperience I have when it comes to things like this.

“Hey it’s okay I’ll teach you!” He crawls to me and pulls me into his lap. Now his legs hang off the rock and I sit on his lap.

“Ok so your practically going to put your lips on mine and I’ll take it from there. Got it?” His eyes search for a answer. “Uh yeah okay but do I need to do anything with my lips?”

He smiles lightly “nope.” He grabs my waist and pulls me closer to him. Our noses are touching and we are dead set in each others eyes. “Can I kiss you?” The whisper comes from his lips.

“Yes.” Is all I need to say before our lips collide. The warmth of ourselves pore into the other. My hands climb his body till I find his soft hair and keep my hands there.

We slowly pull away and just stare, drool covered my lips.

Small pants fill the air.

“Let’s go to our house, wife.”

——-

Please do not repost with my permission😻 also copyright

[black-lungs-pale-skin]

July 5 -24

As a woman in her late twenties you get some ideas of what the world is and what it isn’t. And the longer you stay in your feelings and look around you will quickly discover that most of what people tell you to be true is false.

What I’ve learned this week to be false is that if you are good. People will treat you accordingly.

I have my whole life tried to be good. I don’t lie. I don’t spread false information. I stick up for people I love. Give people chances because we are all human. I try to be compassionate, caring and loving to everyone that comes into my life. And I would hope that would bring some good karma back to me. But I was wrong.

I have never lied in my adult life to gain anything. I have lied to protect others out of love but that’s all. But somehow I always get treated like I’m not thrust worthy. Even though my “lies” as they say won’t make me gain anything. Why would I lie about my health? Why would I want people to feel bad for me? I have tried my whole life not to get attention from others. So why would I want it in the form of pitty? Im scared for my life and then I would lie? If I lied I wouldn’t have been terrified. If I lied I wouldn’t have bit my cheek and hit my head. But I guess all I could ever want is for people to feel bad for me? Yeah sure.

But in the same breath you, a stranger. A man that works in saving people. Put your hands under my shirt. Did you want my validation? Or did you want to feel powerful over a woman in a health crisis? You couldn’t respect me as an adult but could touch me under my clothes? Disgusting. But then you probably did believe me. You probably thought that after hitting my head I wouldn’t remember you touching me under my shirt. But I do. And my fiance saw it as well. Call if you need help or a life might be in danger. But if you are a young woman. You are probably better off doing it yourself.

Another lesson I learned this week is: just because your parents are supposed to care. Doesn’t mean they will.

My father is as fathers most. Ignorant to his place in where it went wrong with he’s children. Blaming everything and everyone for his own actions. He’s also in the older generation so I’m not even sure if women have more to life than being a wife and a mother in he’s eyes. And of course. Women can’t be angry either. Then they are hysterical.

My father shows love in the form of paying for things. But it’s not to show love to me, but so I will have to say thank you and show gratitude. Stroke his ego so he can feel good about himself. He’s so full of self importance. It’s sickening.

My mother is also probably like most mothers. Adores her son but critical of her daughters. Body shames her daughters. In competition with her daughters. Manipulative, cold and reserved. Unless it can make her look good. Also keeps contact with men that has hurt her children. Because male validation it key. No matter how awful of people they are.

I remember one time when I was young my father yelled at me at how it was my fault my mother was sick. And whist 14 year old me was crying my mother sat there watching. She threw me under the buss. But that has shown to be quite typical of her.

Oh my mother and father are so happy together. If you just look away from my mother cheating on him and him being violent. And me being the one to keep these secrets.

But as with them and friends of mine they trust me with deep dark secrets. Life destroying ones. You would think that they at least would treat me kindly because of it. But no. So there is no reason to keep any of their secrets. I won’t give respect to people that treat me like dirt.

[evilvillain123456789]

Every night I pray that all the blonde youth of America fail grad school, and that all the brunette women with mousy hair and steadfast eyes burn their wretched loaves, that the men who play breast of the wild on the Wii U and force their heterosexual girlfriends to watch die of especially aggressive prostate cancer, that all the gay couples who’ve connected through the internet are forced to declare bankruptcy in the coming months, that the expecting mothers default on every credit card and loan and that their husbands on the force or over seas are stricken with such severe diarrhea that they die of dehydration, that all the hamsters in America get wet tail or pink sock or whatever disgusting rodent disease exists solely to wipe their kind off the planet. I hope and I pray that McDonald’s brings back their pizza, not the MCPIZZA but the real McDonald’s pizza, offered at every franchise location from around 1989 to the year 2000AD, and up until recently in Pomroy, Ohio, until the evil corporate fat cats and bigwig top brass of the McDonald’s corporation dashed the last of the TRUE and AUTHENTIC mcdonalds pizzas away like a babe against the rocks. and I hope that my scorn towards the small invasive teens and babies and animals of the americas and Western and sometimes eastern Europe can act as a payment to bring this prayer to your ears, whatever god may be listening. I also pray that these three elven goddesses become real and suck me silly

And attached are some renders of what I think our children might look like

Amen. Shalom. And namaste.

[secretariatess]

So this is likely a very hot take, but . . . .

“Mother is woman’s highest calling” or things along those lines is the conservative (usually Christian) version of calling women uterus havers.

Now, I don’t believe motherhood is an awful thing women should avoid, or that being a mother in and of itself is demeaning.  Motherhood is a good and honorable thing.  I want to make that clear.

But to put such a strong emphasis on basically a woman’s reproductive capabilities and responsibilities of that afterwards is a damaging mantra.  It also undermines the work of women that doesn’t involve motherhood or children.

Take Gladys Awlward for example.  If you don’t know who she is, she was a missionary who served in China around the time of World War II.  One of her feats while there was leading a ton of orphaned children across a section of war-torn China to bring them to safety.  Now that by itself is amazing, and nothing short of a miracle most definitely aided by God.  But the idea that motherhood is a woman’s highest calling would reduce Gladys’s works to that moment.  So why is that an issue?  It dismisses the rest of her journey, and her faith in God, and the works she carried out before taking on the role of being a mother to a lot of orphaned children.  It looks over the fact that Gladys believed so strongly in her calling to China that she trekked her way there despite people’s attempts to stop her.  It looks over the fact that Gladys brought many people to Christ in the village where she worked with her female mentor and taught them.  It looks over the fact that the village leader called upon her to walk into a prison riot because there was something so different about her he believed her more capable of stopping it than his own guards.  It looks over the fact that she was appointed a foot unbinder, to go to people’s home to unbind the feet of young girls after foot binding became illegal.  Gladys’ life is such an inspiring tale of a woman after God’s own heart, and showing what can be accomplished through faith in God.

If motherhood is woman’s highest calling, the most fulfilling thing a woman can do, the ultimate achievement of a woman, or however you want to say it, what is Gladys?  A woman brought to China so her motherly nature could take in the orphaned children and bring them to safety?

And going back to the part of it being a damaging mantra- what do you think the message is to women who don’t want children, can’t have children, or are single?  You’re telling them they won’t achieve the greatest they could be because they aren’t mothers.  It alienates married women who don’t want children.  It tears down women who can’t have children.  It makes single women question their worth and value in the kingdom of God, and makes them wonder if something’s wrong with them if they’re not married young.  You’re saying that the calling they may get from God that leads them away from becoming a mother, or the work that God calls them to while they are a mother is not the highest calling.  That it isn’t more fulfilling.  But who gets to decide that- you or God?  If anything, I find this mantra to be more reactionary to today’s culture than an actual return to Christian values.

If you’re still disgruntled with my comparison at the beginning because saying those things about mothers is so much deeper and nobler than the titles the far left is using- do you think that they don’t believe what they’re doing is deeper and nobler?  What makes you so different?  Both of you are reducing women to reproductive capabilities, when women are so much more than that.  Women are so much more than mothers, just as men are so much more than fathers.

And I’m not defending the left’s terms- as a woman, I find the terms disgusting and would hate to hear someone refer to me as that.  But for that, I can recognize as the result of a world in need of God.  The stuff about motherhood being such an amazing role for a Christian woman, however?  As a single woman who does hope to be a mother one day, that hurts a whole lot more.  The Church are my brothers and sisters.  And while I know most people who say that stuff don’t mean to be demeaning or dismissive of my position, or of the fact that I don’t want my life’s work to be reduced to being a mother to my children should I have that opportunity, it still comes across that way.  Some days worse than others.

By all means, encourage mothers, and honor them.  But don’t ever put that role on such a pedestal that it becomes the epitome of a Christian woman’s life.

[anne-i-write]

moriarty the patriot headcannons

| requested by anon: can you write headcanons for moriarty brothers meeting and having dinner with s/o's parents for the first time? and s/o's father is overprotective. thanks 🤍🙆🏻 |

william x reader; louis x reader; albert x reader

word count: 1857

tw: mentions of toxic behavior in albert’s hcs

a/n: IM BACK AND THRIVING BBS!!! it’s so good to be back again to writing!!! hhh i’m so sorry if this is far from what you wanted but i hope you all enjoy it nonetheless!!!! lowkey went off the railings w this one so 👀 also if i missed any tags, please let me know!!!!!

william: 803 words

it had been you and your father since you were younger bc your mom was the “lucky” choice of some noble

but you wouldn’t have it any other way

you two are very close and everyone in the town knows

that, and that you both hate nobles

so it’s no surprise when the moriartys move into town, you’re both less than pleased

you always try your best to avoid them whenever they come into your town and your father always begs his friends to take the nobles as customers, despite the fact it could be good for business

but the town you lived in was particularly small and you did end up bumping into william

literally

some stupid man didn’t see you crossing the road and you were nearly crushed by the carriage if it hadn’t been for the hand that pulled at your wrist

“i swear people these days don’t know how to drive carriages.”

you don’t know who you were expecting

BUT ANYONE BUT A NOBLE

“are you alright?”

“i’m fine thank you—“

you’re absolutely flustered

how did i not know that this was a noble??? he smells so clean!

“i’ve got to be on my way now!” and you left william there with no explanation

but lil did you know he actually knew who you were

or to an extent, you weren’t as sneaky as you’d hoped you’d be

he saw you hiding in corners and alleyways every time you two accidentally made eye contact

and some of the townsfolk actually told him a little about you and your father so he understood why you weren’t too welcoming

but to take great lengths to avoid him??? he is very intrigued

so he starts off small, trying to send you a kind smile before you dart off behind a fruit stall

he really tries his best to get close to you and after a few weeks (and a few persuasive friends), he finally gets to hold a conversation with you

and boy does he fall FAST

it takes a while but you finally reciprocate his feelings and he thinks its smooth sailing from there right???

lmao everyone knows your father is literally the most intimidating looking man that could ever walk the earth

if they didn’t know him personally, they would be afraid of getting curb stomped 🤠

i mean,, he’s a big softie but god forbid anyone even DARES to look at you in a romantic light

you warn william of this and he’s like “don’t worry love, it shouldn’t be too bad”

it is bad

even william has cold hands bc your father is giving him the dirtiest look

dinner isn’t even dinner it’s a grill with how much questions your father is asking him

it does NOT help that he’s a noble

“so,,, you’re a noble”

“your cooking is amazing sir”

your father leaves the table for a little bit and you can hear the quiet sigh of relief from william

“i’m sorry for my father”

“no, no,,, i just,,, your father’s really intimidating, isn’t he?”

you let out a chuckle and william relaxed, a soft smile gracing his lips

“he can be, but it’s just something he does.” you threw a wistful gaze at the door your father disappeared before.

“he’s just worried about you, i can see it. he doesn’t want you around people like me.” you grabbed his hand over the table and he gently squeezed your hand.

“if anything, if he’d give you a chance, he’d want me to be with you. noble or not”

you both continue to have a delightful conversation, your sweet laughs filling the room

however, you didn’t know your father was listening in on your conversation and he couldn’t agree more with william

your mother left with more than just a curt goodbye and unshed tears

she left you with a tear stained letter filled with sorrowful regrets and sincere apologies

he knew you would eventually grow up to be critical of the world and if you were to find out that your mother had left unwillingly, he was afraid that you would be too bitter towards the world

but as he hears your laugh and his worries are dulled down a little

he sees you smiling so happily at william and when he chances a glance at the noble beside you, his worries are completely erased

william’s looking at you the same way everyone swore he looked at your mother

it’s a gentle gaze filled with love and kindness, one that he knew could protect you and take care of you

your father hated nobles and hovered over you when it came to love

but he couldn’t help but hold back on questions when he came back and you instantly noticed that your father took a liking william

louis: 508 words

everyone knew you as “Little Noble” in your town

the sole reason being your father literally treating you like a noble lmao

he gave you the best of everything he could afford and tried his best to not let you do any work

tried

of course, you were a little angel and you HAD to help otherwise you’d cry about making someone else tired when you could’ve easily helped

you’ve carried this trait until your early twenties and there were no signs that you would stop

hence why you were bringing home some fresh fruits from the stall clerk before a man bumps into you

you were so caught off guard that your knee buckled and you fell on your butt

everyone was stunned into silence as you fell but louis was so apologetic

so when he helped you back up, he felt the chilling stares of the town burning into his back

and then you apologize for bumping into him when he was the one who bumped into you and you fell??????

“please, let me make you something! i feel so bad!”

he tries to decline but there was this odd pressure to say yes to you

he ends up going home with you

you’re both in front of the door before your father opens it, his eyes wide

“who is this boy?”

“oh, i didn’t get his name on the way here. what is your name?”

your poor father’s heart is pounding way too fast for his liking

“oh! look at that, thank you so much for bringing my child home! you should be going home now”

he tries to shut the door on louis but you hold it open and beckon louis inside

“i invited him here! i accidentally bumped into him earlier so i offered to make him something!”

louis is so awkward pls

your father reluctantly lets him in but gives him a side eye the whole time he’s in the house

“does your child do this often?”

“why? do you find it strange?”

YOUR FATHER IS SO PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE PLEASE SAVE LOUIS

anyways, you finish making your treat and give it to louis, your father glaring at your interaction

louis is still a little stiff but the more you talk to him, his guard is let down a little

soon enough he has to leave and you wish him well

he leaves with a wave and a kind smile and you look over at your father who had been scowling since you appeared at the front door

“he is a bit cute, don’t you think father?”

your father sputters, stunned by your bold claim

“y-you’re still too young to think about men like that!”

you laugh and shut the front door, teasing your poor father about finding love while also wondering if you would meet louis again

as you talk with your father behind closed doors, louis smiles to himself as he thinks about the unusual encounter today

surely, if i met them again tomorrow, it would make for a pleasant day

albert: 546 words

he meets your father before he meets you

it was during a ball your parents organized in order to connect with the more prestigious nobles around you

your parents were obsessed with the way your family was viewed and apparently being an earl wasn’t enough

so albert hears about you when your father boasts about how you’re the perfect child who answered to his every beck and call

in all honesty, albert was disgusted

no one deserved to be brought up like that

he casually makes his way into the conversation and your father is seething

“my child is your age, it’s a shame you act like this, i would have thought of you as a prime husband for them”

who is this earl to tell him what to do?

needless to say your father crosses him off of the guest list for the next ball

days go by and your father doesn’t know that you’re currently in town, doing what you can to help the working class as best as you can

it is on one particular day of visiting an orphanage do you run into the eldest moriarty brother

you two exchange polite greetings and you both pause

“your father is the earl, is he not?”

“you are a general of the army, are you not?”

a brief mention of your father and your mood dulls slightly

“yes, but i’m here on my own accord”

he would kill you if he found out you were amongst the “filth” as he called them

“well, i’ve brought books for the children, would you like to help me read some to them?”

he seemed sincere enough to not want anything more from you, so you agreed

he was actually very pleasant to be around and you find yourself enjoying his company

the meetups continued to happen and soon enough, albert finds himself standing in front of the doors to your family estate

your father is not pleased at all

“it’s nice to meet you again, sir”

“i didn’t forget about what you said to me at our first meeting”

and you’re sitting there like,, ????? they’ve met??? and your father doesn’t like albert???????

of course, inviting albert to your home would have repercussions but you didn’t expect your father to be so hostile

he was always hostile towards other nobles unless they were of higher importance than him

but for him to hate albert so quickly and openly??? this was quite new

you had mentioned that your father has always been one for power so it was clear to albert that you obviously grew up in a home that was more,,, toxic than protective

it was at dinner that this behavior reached its peak and albert despised the atmosphere and the way your father treated you

“i’ve come here to ask for your child’s hand in marriage”

your father rejects the idea without any hesitation

“i refuse to have them live the rest of their life in your household when they could do so much better”

when you invited albert that night, you knew there would be repercussions with your father

but what you didn’t expect was that you would leave your father and adopt the moriarty name as your own, the family welcoming you with open arms

moriarty the patriot taglist: @zoehanji

[whump-town]

Was Hotch Abused?

I offer you my 2,300+ worded thoughts on the matter with episodes included. There's going to be lots and lots of talk about abuse so you're going to want to steer clear of that if that's something you're not cool with but for those of you interested... I give you all the proof I could think of:

Natural Born Killer.

In the eighth episode of the first season, “Natural Born Killer”, we meet Vincent Perrotta. His father was abusive but from the outside looking in, no one knew a thing. Perrotta started drinking at fourteen and committed petty crimes, as well as assault, for pleasure. Going as far as to kill his own father not too long after. But Perrotta is a monster and a psychopath so it’s clear we’re not supposed to sympathize which makes his interaction with Hotch so peculiar.

Hotch is our “Captain America”. A true neutral with an infinity for doing what’s right so it’s inconceivable to compare him to Perrotta and yet Hotch gives us some rather conflicting lines to dissect.

Before Gideon hands the interview over to Hotch, he spends a moment talking with the others out in the bullpen. The whole time he’s leaned back and he’s watching Morgan and Hotch. Now, at this point, we don’t know about the sexual abuse Derek Morgan faced at the hands of Carl Buford but there’s something about the way that Gideon spends the entirety of the conversation only looking at the two of them. Waiting for them to put together what he clearly already has and when Hotch does…

Hotch jumps straight into Perrotta’s profile, asking: “You grew up in a house that looked normal and happy, didn’t you Vincent?”, “But your father beat you every chance he got”

Perrotta excuses it with a shrug, “he smacked me around some, didn’t everybody’s old man?”

Abuse is a complicated thing and, often, abused children just don’t know what their parents are doing to them is abuse. It can be a subtle and outright thing but there’s an element of normalcy to it. The parent’s abuse is as habitual, as minimal as biting your nails to the child. Adults often can’t identify their parent’s past abuse.

With Hotch you learn that his lack of expression is often as telling as his expressions and as Hotch looks back at Perrotta, there’s something so sad about his eyes. His voice goes from loud, assertive to his whispered answer to Perrotta’s question. “No.” As if, well, maybe that’s a question he’d raised once too.

Perrotta doesn’t care about that though and he taunts “well, maybe if yours had you would have learned to fight”. But is it not more telling that Hotch didn’t make a sound? Perrotta got in several hits and the only sound Hotch made was when the wind was literally punched out of him. Not even when Gideon called to him and at that point, Perrotta did not the garrote around Hotch’s throat. That’s another thing mentioned before in the profile and something Hotch mentions to Perrotta directly. You learn to take the beatings, smile even. So, it’s just a little odd how little Hotch responded…

But that’s all nothing, you can take that how you want

Which leads us to the fateful, not everyone comment.

"You were just responding to what you learned, Vincent. When you grow up in an environment like that, an extremely abusive and violent household... it's not surprising that some people grow up to become killers"

That can’t mean NOTHING, there’s so much there but there’s something about Hotch’s subtle wording. The way he’s unconsciously slipped himself in there (a very real thing that people do) and he hasn’t even realized it. Doesn’t even know he’s done it until Perrotta pushes and he pauses, asks what Perrotta means. And the subtly of it, the way he doesn’t even mean to that says more than anything else.

“And some people grow up to catch them.”

It’s a super-specific comment to make. He can’t possibly be talking about Derek because he doesn’t even know about Carl Buford yet not to mention saying that about him would be incredibly rude if he were talking about Reid (and again, he doesn’t know about Reid’s childhood yet). So… that really only leaves him because JJ, Garcia, and Elle were not abused.

“P911”

In season two, episode two “P911” the team is hunting down a man trying to sell a young boy, Peter, on the black market. Kevin Rose is an underage boy “selling” himself on the internet while his abusive father has been in prison. I’ll let you just guess who it is that leads the team on finding out more about Kevin.

Your guess is more than likely right-- Morgan and Hotch. Now, we know about Morgan but come on. Nothing to say about it being Hotch who makes the emotional appeal?

The camera even follows his gaze, he’s crouched down (to appear non-threatening because he’s so close) and we watch his eyes take in the scars on Kevin’s chest. You can also note that while Gideon remarks that Kevin’s father was “always drunk, you never knew why he was hurting you, why he was so angry” both Kevin and Hotch look away from him.

AND FUCKING TRY AND TELL ME THE “some grow up to catch them” LINE WAS NOTHING TRY BECAUSE GUESS WHAT GIDEON SAYS? NO, NO GUESS--

Gideon: “At night you’d cry yourself to sleep hoping someone would come and save you”

And it’s HOTCH, HOTCH IS THE ONE TO SAY: “You have the chance to be the one who saves someone, Kevin. You can be the one who answers him, the one who stops his pain.”

PARALLELS PEOPLE THE PARALLELS

“Profiler, Profiled”

I bet you weren’t expecting this one, huh? But there’s something about people who faced trauma that makes it so perceptible to other traumatized people-- they sniff it out like coke to a drug hound. And, just guess, who it is that spends the majority of his time fighting with Morgan? Who knows (like I said about the bloodhound) immediately there is something Morgan’s hiding.

Hotch is angry, he’s upset that Morgan would hide anything. Mumbling about there being “larger implications” and how the team can’t have secrets. With the knowledge of exactly what that secret is it makes Gideon’s eye roll a little telling. Because it’s like they both know but neither will say. Driven home by Gideon turning the attention to Hotch, asking “would you want us profiling you?”

And again Hotch is the one to leap onto the abuse. The one to put the pieces together. Hotch’s anger makes no sense. He says he’s angry that Derek’s keeping a secret but the team has many, way too many. Over the years the team unwraps all kinds of secrets, he’s never angry then. So, it’s not about the implication of a secret at all. It’s what the secret is, like misplaced anger. Anger with himself may be leftover from his own abuse. But still…

Hotch lets Morgan escape. Knows exactly who and what Carl Buford is but all he tells the team is that “he won’t even speak about him”. He always knows how to find the abuse… like I said, a bloodhound.

George Foyet

I know you’re going to find this so fucking surprising but guess who also was abused? George Foyet was beaten by his biological father and his mother didn’t save him so he hates women (bleh, men are disgusting what’s knew).

Now, blah, blah, blah Hannah, I know you’re not about to say Foyet and Hotch are a lot alike-- no of course not. Don’t be silly. What I’m going to say is that they’re foil characters? They accent one another in an opposites sort of way. Foyet is a manipulative narcissist who doesn’t work well with others. Hotch is a guilt-ridden team leader who can’t let The Reaper’s case go. There are meant to be comparisons drawn between them. A good villain does that. George Foyet shows us that Hotch is not at all this removed, cool guy that we’ve previously assumed him to be. He cries in an alley because he blames himself when The Reaper kills a busload of people.

We see he has a rather compulsive nature. He never let The Reaper case go and has very personal ties in this case. Not even after Foyet attacks him, if anything it’s worse. He brings the case file home.

But it’s certainly interesting to see yet another “villain” with that same tragic abusive father and submissive mother come into play with Hotch. We’re nearing a point where it’s getting hard to call it coincidence (and according to David Rossi, there simply is not such thing).

Haunted.

In the second episode of the fifth season, “Haunted”, Hotch voice’s over a Dickinson quote: “One need not be a chamber to be haunted, One need not be a house; The brain has corridors surpassing. Material place.” These quotes are often cheesy, if not a little cliché, but given the premise of this episode is in exploring the ways in which a man’s traumatic childhood has left him now grappling for a truth he can not define… well, maybe we can say the writers were onto something here.

Darrin Call, debatably the Unsub of “Haunted”, was abused by an alcoholic father. We see several signs of it throughout the episode-- Darrin’s delayed speech & severe neglect that leaves Darrin in dirty, hole-riddled clothing. If what we see is not enough, the reports that the team is given on Darrin explicitly state that he was extremely physically abused. It is this abuse that leads to the PTSD that he’s diagnosed with.

As sad and disheartening as Darrin Call’s life is, overall it’s the sort of episode that is forgotten over time. When it’s placed right after the episode that viewers have to watch Hotch say goodbye to Haley and Jack then, who is Darrin Call when compared to the agony of watching Hotch show genuine weakness? After watching Hotch lay in a hospital bed, tears in his eyes wondering if his son will remember him? His fears become our own and after watching George Foyet disarm and mutilate the one guy we’ve been led to believe for five seasons is infallibly, unflinchingly never going to break… well, Darrin Call has it bad but our focus is elsewhere.

It’s on Hotch, right?

The guy who is coming back to the job after only a month (and a day) off to recover. Who Morgan worries might have PTSD but he knows they can’t easily measure because Hotch wrote the questionnaire, he knows all the right answers. Who we see has had new locks installed since the attack and has Foyet’s file sitting open on a table for easy access. Who hears Darrin Call’s life (worked the same job without promotion for years before getting fired, no wife, no kids, a hermit) and bluntly asks why Darrin hasn’t just killed himself.

And let’s just take a moment to break down that comment. Hotch, who in the episode previously lost his wife and child, wants to know why a man who is steadily starting to sound a lot like him hasn’t just killed himself.

And I don’t say “sounds a lot like him” lightly.

Darrin Call has PTSD. Hotch, more than likely, has PTSD

Here are some signs just from that episode: hostility (he yelled at Garcia over something very small), self-destructive behavior (he ran into Darrin Call’s father’s house without a vest, back-up, or telling the other’s what he was doing), and guilt (blamed himself for missing the eye twitching Darrin exhibited because of his years of antipsychotic use)

Darrin Call was abused… this marks the second HEAVILY implied time that Hotch has been compared to another man abused by his father

Vincent Perrotta was the first with that hard to forget the exchange

George Foyet and his notably exactly the same past as Perrotta

“Haunted” feels like it’s supposed to prove to the audience that Hotch is losing it. He distances himself from Morgan, leaving every room that Morgan is in. He doesn’t pick up Garcia’s calls after Darrin Call attacks his therapist. The only glimpse we see of the old Hotch is with Emily, pulled to the side, but his guilt burns and he even brushes her off. Shaking his head and turning his back to her because somehow he should have seen something no one else did.

Throw in Reid’s comment about Call “victims are often drawn to the scene of their first trauma” and we’re painfully reminded of Hotch’s apartment. A place you’d think he’d want to escape but didn’t. The man was stabbed nine times in his own apartment and stayed in that same place. Almost sounds like that statement could be applied to Hotch too.

A dash of Hotch’s own comment about where Call would go to in his confusion and he says “to what he knows”, even the importance of how that orphanage is “where he became Darrin Call”. Where does Hotch go? What does Hotch know? The job.

So… we tally now three total Unsubs that Hotch has this direct relationship with. Three Unsubs with abusive fathers and mothers who couldn’t protect them. Hmm… coincidence?

Brothers Hotchner

Supervisor Special Agent Hotchner is a master of hiding, that is undeniable. It’s hard to see anything behind those furrowed brows and impersonal suits and that’s likely for a reason. However, anyone with a little sibling can tell you that no one on this Earth can and will annoy the ever-loving shit out of you like a sibling.

But that’s not really important. Sean and Hotch don’t talk about their parents. At all. Ever.

Hotch says that when Sean was in the first grade he got sent off to boarding school. “I was the screw-up making bad choices”. Interesting enough of a statement to make but you throw in the rough ages of Sean and Hotch at that time and it’s a little more than just “interesting”. You have Hotch at roughly 14-15 getting into trouble just like Morgan did at that same age (coincidence???).

(now you can certainly look at Hotch’s parentification vs. Sean’s immaturity doubled with substance abuse problems but we’d be stretching. “The Tribe” touches on the parentification but Sean just calls it “the big brother” thing and tells Hotch that he’s not Sean’s father and it’s fine it’s whatever. Hotch is a bit pushy. That’s not new. Substance abuse can just be a problem, it doesn’t have to be bc they were abused but again… a little coincidental)

So... was Aaron Hotchner abused as a child? I certainly think so

[boldlyvoid]

Amoreena | chapter one

summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, depressed spencer, reader has a daughter, falling in love, strangers to lovers

word count: 3,147

Read on Ao3

There’s this small, tiny part, of Spencer that wants to run away.

He’s always felt like he’s never truly been home, a never-ending and long yearning, a homesickness for a place he didn't even know, eating him alive day by day. It made him want to drop everything and buy a cottage in the woods, to fill it with books and coffee and never see another person again.

It got worse after prison and after his mom asked to go back into a care facility, it hurt the most when Penelope left the FBI and things with Max fizzled out. Then he was really, truly alone again. His apartment felt cold and uninviting, the BAU felt like a chore, using his brain for anything other than taking care of himself was extremely hard.

He needed a break.

So when he walked out of work and straight to his favourite park for an escape, he wasn’t surprised that he didn’t stop walking. Going further and further down the trail, following the dirt path towards a pond, covered by a beautiful willow tree and surrounded by pink, purple, yellow and white flowers. The contrast of the green grass with the colourful flowers, the blue sky and the light green willow tree reflection dancing on the surface of the pond. It was like he walked into Eden, taking a seat by the tree and picking a book from his satchel.

For the rest of the week, it’s his own little sanctuary, escaping desk work and home cases as fast as he could. Even then it wasn't enough and he started going every afternoon, he’d sneak out for an hour and just relax. Reading his book, feeling the breeze on his face, the sound of ducks and frogs competing with the crickets for loudest being in the area. Eventually bringing his bike on the subway to work so he could get there faster.

It was beautiful.

Almost as beautiful as what he walked in on when he arrived Saturday afternoon. Parking his bike by the tree, looking at them carefully as he took his satchel off his shoulders and placed it by the trunk. Craning his neck so he could look at who it was, seeing the purest display of human affection known to man.

A mother and her daughter were having a picnic, dressed up like Miss Honey and Matilda as they had lemonade and snacks, spread out on a blanket as the mother handed her a sandwich wrapped in checkered red wax paper.

Spencer was in awe, sitting on the other side of the pond by a second tree, pretending to read when really he was glancing at them. Their laugher filling the field, bouncing around the trees and filling his chest with warmth.

It reminded him of all the afternoons with his own mother. His head in her lap, the sound of her voice as she shared worlds wisdom with him. He missed childhood, freedom, hope. The will to continue…

When the little girl finally notices that they’re not alone in this little world she’s creating, he sees her tug on her moms shirt, asking her a question before cheering. She picks something out of the basket and comes running towards Spencer.

“Excuse me, sir?” Her sweet little voice asks. “Are you an archeologist or a palaeontologist?”

It makes him laugh slightly, a large smile erupting on his face as he pushes his glasses up and puts the book down. “No sorry, I’m not, what made you think I was?”

“You have a satchel and glasses like Milo from Atlantis, but you have a dinosaur on your tie, you look like you work at a museum,” she rambled all her thoughts out, much like he did as a child.

“I’m actually an FBI agent,” he whispered.

“Wow,” she whispered back in amazement, “are you like a knight? Do you save princesses?”

“I do," he nodded enthusiastically, "do you know any in need?”

“Her,” she pointed. “I’m Lady Amoreena, the Princess over there says I was a gift to the kingdom but that she’ll never need a prince or king to take care of us, but I think a knight would work!”

He laughed lightly, seeing her mom shake her head as she overheard it, covering her face with her hand, she looked embarrassed.

“It’s nice to meet you, Lady Amoreena,” he put his hand out to shake her’s as soft as possible, noticing the cookie in her hand. “My name is Dr. Spencer Reid,” he added softly.

“Would you like a cookie?”

He smiled as she placed it in his hand, “thank you.”

“Do you like Matilda?”

“It’s one of my favourite books,” he smiles.

“Do you want to have some lemonade and read with us?” Her face lit up, turning back to where her mother was watching from the pond.

“It’s okay, thank you for offering,” not wanting to intrude on their moment.

“We need a voice for Matilda’s father, please?” She begged, overly sweet and incredibly convincing.

“Alright, but I’m warning you if I upstage the princess with my awesome voices, it’s not my fault,” he smiled as he stood up, grabbing his things and starting to follow her over to the blanket.

She took his hand and tugged him along the edge of the pond, dragging him right to were her mother was sitting on the ground.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized softly as he sat down. “She’s very persistent about making new friends. We don’t see many people on this side of the park.”

“It’s fine, honestly, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid, by the way,” he introduced himself. “I work with the FBI, normally I’d advice women and their children to avoid strange men they don’t know when they’re alone in the woods like this.”

She laughed slightly, “Y/N Y/L/N, I’m the head librarian at the DC library, and you don’t seem that strange.”

“Neither did Bundy,” he tried to joke, knowing she got it and trusted him when she bit back a smile, eyes twinkling at him in the sunlight.

“My name is Amoreena, like the Elton John song,” her daughter cut in, noticing how they were staring at each other and trying to get the attention instead.

“It’s a beautiful song, no wonder you love it here,” Spencer smiled at her, “do you come here often?”

She nodded, a blush flowing through her freckled cheeks, “have you ever read Tuck Everlasting? The pond here can make you young forever,” her whisper was the cutest thing. She was so full of life, personality and joy.

“I have, you’re right this feels a lot like the field from the book, what other books do you like?”

“I love books,” she lays back against the blanket ever so dramatically. “Matilda, Anne of Green Gables, Beauty and the Beast, I love every story that ends with true love and happiness, and cats.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at her explanation, knowing that feeling all too well. “I have read almost every book ever, more than the entire DC library probably."

“We dress up every week for what ever book we are reading, next week is Peter Pan if you’d like to join us? We’re here every Saturday at 11,” Y/N offered.

“You haven’t even heard me read Matilda from memory and you’re already asking me to come back?” Spencer smirked as their faces lit up.

“No way, prove it!” Amoreena shouted, shoving him lightly to encourage him to start.

“The Reader of Books,” he began, seeing the pages in his mind as he repeated the words. “It's a funny thing about mothers and fathers. Even when their own child is the most disgusting little blister you could ever imagine, they still think that he or she is wonderful.”

“Okay so you know the beginning,” Y/N teased, opening the book to a random page, “what's on page 32?”

"My name is Jennifer Honey," Miss Honey said. "How do you do, Mrs. Wormwood." Mrs. Wormwood glared at her and said, "What's the trouble then?" Nobody invited Miss Honey to sit down so she chose a chair and sat down anyway. "This", she said, "was your daughter's first day at school." "We know that," Mrs Wormwood said, ratty about missing her programme. "Is that all you came to tell us?" Miss Honey stared hard into the other woman's wet grey eyes, and she allowed the silence to hang in the air until Mrs. Wormwood became uncomfortable. "Do you wish me to explain why I came?" she said.

Amoreena thought it was the coolest thing ever, reading the page and jumping up and down when he was correct, “how did you do that?”

“I can remember every word I’ve ever read, I have a pretty interesting brain,” he explained it as overdramatic as he could, knowing she would find it magical.

“You’re so cool!” She swooned, dropping back against the blanket just as dramatically.

Y/N was all smiles, running her fingers through Amoreena’s hair and giggling slightly at the sight of her silly child. “Spencer, would you like to do the honours today?”

She handed him the book, knowing he didn’t need it. He gently opened it, starting on the first page and starting to read it the way his mother would. Bringing out voices, hand gestures, all the bells and whistles.

They were in the field together until the sun started to set, casting a purple and orange glow over the pond. Amoreena was resting in Y/N’s arms, legs extended over Spencer’s lap as they sat close. It was the most perfect Saturday he has had in a long time. Probably the best day of his life, actually.

“Matilda leapt into Miss Honey's arms and hugged her, and Miss Honey hugged her back, and then the mother and father and brother were inside the car and the car was pulling away with the tyres screaming. The brother gave a wave through the rear window, but the other two didn't even look back. Miss Honey was still hugging the tiny girl in her arms and neither of them said a word as they stood there watching the big black car tearing round the corner at the end of the road and disappearing for ever into the distance. The end.”

He closed the book softly, setting it down on the blanket and looking at them softly, “am I still invited next week?”

“Absolutely,” Y/N smiled, “I’m dressing as Tinker Bell, Amoreena will be Peter Pan, and you can be anyone else of your choosing.”

“I’ll keep it a surprise until next week,” Spencer smiled right back.

Amoreena crawled out of Y/N’s lap and leapt into Spencer’s arms, hugging him tightly in her small arms. “That was the best story ever, thank you!”

Everything in the world felt right then, hugging her back while he smiled at her mother. Y/N had a hand over her heart as she swooned, watching her daughter bond with the man who just happened to wander into their picnic.

“Can I get your number?” Y/N asked softly, “you know, so we can arrange outfits and stories as the week's pass.” She shrugged, licking her lips slightly as she blushed.

“Of course, I’m not on duty for the rest of the month, so if you wanted to go to a museum or anything, I’m free? Since I look so much like I should work there,” he teased Amoreena.

“I’m sure lovey would like that?” Y/N leaned over Amoreena’s shoulder, holding her around her waist and tickling her softly.

Lovey

It was a nickname that made perfect sense in his mind. Amoreena, the keyword being Amore, to love. She was very loveable, incredibly vibrant and full of innocence, a life that was full of possibilities, wonderful like her mother.

“We’re going to the Smithsonian tomorrow to see the Dino’s,” Amoreena’s face lit up. “Do you know anything about them?”

“Surprisingly enough, while I’m not a paleontologist, I know a lot about dinosaurs, and I might have some connections there to see the rare ones,” he exaggerated his voice again, watching her get so excited she started to run around with her arms in the air.

“You don’t have to if you’re busy,” she says softly when Amoreena is far enough away, picking flowers as she ran around.

“I’d love to, actually, thank you,” he whispers towards Y/N. “I haven’t been having the greatest week.”

“Is it okay for me to ask what you do?” She asked, just as softly as Amoreena kept running around the field.

“I’m a profiler, I consult on intense cases.”

“The strange man comment makes more sense now,” she smiled. “we’re looking for a literary historian at the library right now, I’m sure remembering every word in every book would get you hired, you know if you wanted to switch careers for something easier on your soul?”

“I have been thinking of leaving, in all honesty, I’ve actually been having more of a rough 15 years,” he tries to laugh but he just feels frustrated. “It’s been really hard.”

“For everything you see, you’re still a very sweet man, not many people would sit down and occupy his time with an autistic 7-year-old,” she complimented him with a smile, sharing something personal in a way that would fit right into the conversation and not make a big deal. “We really did enjoy your company today.”

He handed her a business card from his pocket, feeling a bit overwhelmed and emotional as he handed it to her, “I've had a wonderful time. I'm also autistic, I know what it's like to want to share the world while no one wants to listen, thank you for letting me join you. Let me know what time you’re going to the museum tomorrow and I will be there.”

Y/N’s face lit up once more, reading the card over before sliding it into her bag. “Do you want a PB&J or a ham and cheese sandwich for lunch tomorrow?”

“PB&J is a great museum lunch,” he bit his lip so he’d stop smiling, it was beginning to feel embarrassing with how much he liked her already. Not used to random kindness from smart and beautiful women.

Amoreena came running back then, handing Spencer a handful of flowers upon her arrival. “For you, Sir Knight,” she bowed as he took them.

“I bid you a good day, my fair ladies,” Spencer plaid along, standing to curtsy back.

“We’ll see you tomorrow then?” Y/N asked from the blanket as Amoreena dove into her arms.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Spencer smiled one last time.

“Bye Spencer!!” Amoreena cheered as he waved, walking back down the path towards the main park entrance.

With his satchel draped over his shoulder, he pushed his sleeves up as he walked towards his bike, overwhelmed by the feeling of joy still swirling in his blood. Peddling his way down the path with a smile on his face, excited to get home and plan for the Smithsonian tomorrow, he was an excellent tour guide.

And he did actually have some connections.

Calling the museum curator, an old friend from years ago who owed him a favour. Asking if there was any way he could show his friend and her kid around the un-displayed dinosaurs and fossils, of course she said yes. People seemed to do anything for Dr. Reid of the FBI.

He thought about her job offer then as he hung up, reaching the train station finally and making his way back to his sad apartment. It would be nice to change things up for a bit, it’s not like he couldn’t go back to the FBI in 20 years like Rossi did.

15 years in the field and a metric fuck ton of trauma later, he was officially fed up. Opening his computer the second he got home, writing his 2 weeks notice to be forwarded to Mateo Cruz.

—

He woke up with excitement, for the first time in years.

Well, at first he was happy, then he thought about it too long. Despair creeping in, it was truly sad to think that he’s been sad for so long, desperately needing the happiness Y/N and Amoreena brought to his life.

Like when he spent time around Henry or Hank, there was something so rewarding about witnessing a child see something for the first time. Explaining the world to them, seeing their eyes widen as they enjoyed the world around them.

It was the best thing someone could do, spending the day living with the happiness of a child.

Y/N had texted him right as he woke up, the chime of a new message actually making him smile instead of panic.

Y/N: hey smartie pants, we’re thinking 11 am today. Can we meet you out front?”

Spencer: sure! You should start preparing to hear me ramble all day long. Also my I suggest bringing proper shoes for lots of walking and a backpack for the things Amoreena will get to bring home!

Y/N: oh you weren’t kidding about those connections huh?

Spencer: nope!

Y/N: well, can’t wait to see what you have in store for us! (And to hear your voice all day ♥︎)

It made his heart swell, he could swear it grew three sizes as it pushed against his ribs. Trying to break free from him and run to her, he hadn’t felt this strongly about another person in a very long time.

It wasn’t lust, it wasn’t greed, it wasn’t desperation. He didn’t just want to sleep with her or use her to fill his time, she wasn’t just another friend to occupy his days and talk to when he had to, she was special. She was interesting, she was kind, she was beautiful, she reminded him of his own mother in a strange way that made him fear Fraud was right.

He found a comfort in her that felt a little like home, like all his running led him to her. She was the end of the finish line, the cold glass of water, the euphoric pride of a job well done. She was everything good wrapped up in a beautiful bow and he was gone.

Feeling like he did when he met Ethan, Derek, or Elle for the first time, even Maeve when they were just talking on the phone, that butterfly feeling that excited him to try something new.

Y/N made him believe in possibilities again.

It felt nice to look ahead, to dream and wish of the future and not see death and destruction. Instead, dreaming of them running through the fields, flowers dancing everywhere as they hear Amoreena’s laughter. It’s how life is supposed to be.

[nastybuckybarnes]

Of Kings and Beasts  -  Twelve

Pairing: King!Bucky X Princess!Reader X King!Steve

Summary: Born a bastard of the King of Orlen, you’re thrust to the West to marry the Kings. However, the greeting you get is anything but warm, and your life with the King is far from enjoyable. He knows it isn’t your fault his husband is gone, but that fact alone won’t prevent him from taking it out on you.

Warnings: Angst, Language, Smut (almost?), Injuries, Violence,

Word Count: 3K

A/n: Hehehehehehehehehehehehehehe

THIS SERIES CONTAINS SMUT AND DARK THEMES THAT MAY BE TRIGGERING TO SOME AUDIENCES!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!! 18+!!!!

Series Masterlist

~*~

Your eyes slowly flutter open, your head throbbing and body aching.

The events prior to your collapse come flooding into your mind and you’re suddenly filled with anxiety.

You push yourself up, wincing as ropes bite into your wrists and a gag scratches the corners of your mouth

You’re bound on a bed, still wearing your cape and gown.

“I was beginning to wonder when you would wake up... if I had been a little too rough with you,” a silky voice says.

You look over to the source, glaring at the man by the window.

Loki only smiles at you, slowly walking towards you.

“You’re far smarter than anyone gives you credit for, do you know that? The Kings think you to be nothing more than a delicate princess, but we both know that’s not true. You had to find your way, make your way. You’ve gone to great lengths just to survive. And that’s where you and I are similar.”

Two long, cold fingers are under your chin, tilting your head back.

“You’re so much more than they think. But they won’t get to know that, will they?” Your eyes widen and you shimmy back, terrified for your life.

The man only laughs, shaking his head.

“I’m not going to kill you, petal. Not yet, anyway. But I cannot say the same for your husbands.” You make a noise through your gag, wanting to only ask him one question.

“You want to know why?” He asks, waiting until you nod before answering.

“Because I have lived in the shadows for far too long. That is something that you and I have in common. We’ve both blossomed in the shadows of other people. But for no longer. It is time for me to take my rightful place as King. King of Asgard. King of Acadia. They will be one under my rule.” Your brows draw together. He means to overthrow not one but two of the strongest kingdoms on the continent.

He opens his mouth to further his explanation, but the door opens and a certain blond-haired beast walks in.

“Ah, yes. I was about to come fetch you,” Loki says, looking over at you and shooting you a wink. You’re still so confused.

“Now, you have your fun with your new wife, while I go divert the attention of her husbands,” Loki says, taking a step back. His appearance changes before your very eyes, and then you’re staring at yourself.

Your lips smile at you, and then your body is walking out of the King’s chambers and closing the door tightly behind.

Thor seems to pay his shape-shifting brother no mind and is instead entirely focused on you.

He slowly approaches the bed, hands extended towards you and you flinch away.

A frown graces his features and he shakes his head, pulling the gag from your mouth.

“I had asked him not to be so rough with you, but he insisted it was necessary. I do hope you’ll forgive me, my love.” You’re taken aback by the name, staring at him in shock.

He chuckles, the sound almost nervous.

“I suppose I should explain myself.” You wait a little less than patiently as the King gathers his thoughts, his eyes darting to you ever now and again.

“You... you are intriguing. You’ve bewitched me, as I said. Captured both my attention and my heart with only a few moments.”

“What in the name of the Gods are you speaking of?” You’re so bloody confused.

“When I first stumbled upon you, I had hoped that you were not in fact the queen. That instead, you were a mere maiden in the Palace. But even finding that you are wed to two of my dear friends... why, it wasn’t enough to stop me from falling for you.” He takes your bound hands in his, thumbs rubbing over your palms. It makes you feel sick to your stomach, and you wrench yourself out of his grip.

“You will not touch me! Not after what you’ve done.” A thought bubbles into your mind and you look up at him. “Loki had called me your new wife... what on Earth does he mean by that?” Thor grins, two fingers stroking your cheek gently while he gazes at you like a lovesick puppy.

“You are to be my wife, (Y/n). And I swear to you that I shall treat you with the respect and the love that you deserve. Your current husbands should be killed for the way they have treated something as delicate as you.” You glare at him, jerking your face away.

“You will not speak of my husbands in such a manner. Your actions are treasonous, and you will bring war upon your kingdom. Why would you do that for me? Why overthrow their kingdom? The greed of men never ceases to disgust me.” He furrows his brows, him being the confused one this time.

“Why would I not go to the ends of the Earth for the woman I love? You have carved a way into my heart, darling, and I would both die for you and kill for you.”

You shake your head vigorously, wanting to cease his speaking.

“How can you claim to love me when you do not even truly know me? You know nothing of me, besides whatever you have created from your own imagination. You do not love me, Thor. Do not try to convince yourself or me that you do.”

He grips your face roughly, eyes alight with fire.

“Do not for a moment think that I am not in love with you.” His voice is booming, frightening even, and for a moment you shrink in on yourself, reduced to that terrified young princess yet again.

He takes a deep breath then lets it out, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead.

“I did not mean to frighten you, my love, I just... I love you and I need you to know it, to accept it. You are to be my wife. My queen, and the mother of my children. I know it is not something you are keen on, only due to your loyalty to your first marriage, but that will be fixed over time, I promise. You need only give me a chance. A chance to show you how it feels to truly be loved.”

There's something off about him, his eyes, his smile. But you cannot deny the fact that his offer is tempting. A chance to not live in fear? To be treated with respect and love? It’s everything you’ve ever wanted and so much more.

But you cannot simply give up on your husbands, can you?

~*~

“There you are! We were beginning to get worried!” James exclaims, taking your hand and ushering you into the room.

Steve watches curiously, something about you seeming off to him.

“I was engaged with Loki, I do apologize for taking so long.” You sit down on the bed, hand reaching for Steve’s.

Something’s not right.

You’ve been quite receptive to their physical touches, but this doesn’t feel right.

Instead of saying anything, the King keeps quiet and plasters a smile onto his face.

“You’re safe here, darling. You need not cut your conversations short for us.” You smile up at him then look over to the note on the bedside table.

“Have you had any luck?” The two shake their heads, wishing they were closer to figuring out who the threat is.

“What can you remember about receiving the letter? The time, if anybody was around?” James watches as your brows furrow, trying to recall anything that may be of use.

“Nothing stands out... although... Thor was quite adamant about bringing me here instead of back to you. I thought that a little strange but at the time I did not question it. And... there was an incident the other night.” Steve’s hand finds your lower back, urging you to continue.

“He made advances... declared his love for me. He later apologized for it, but the entire event has put me on edge.” The two Kings exchange glances at this new information, the brunet ready to go find Thor and give him a piece of his mind.

“Please do not be angry. I’m sure he meant nothing by it, and I wouldn’t want to cause any trouble.” James shushes you, taking a seat on the bed beside you.

“You won’t cause any trouble. If this issue bothers you, then it must be brought up. We will have words with Thor.” You nod, the corners of your mouth turning up in a small but sinister grin.

~*~

The door to the chambers you’ve been trapped in opens, and the trickster walks in with a gleaming smile on his face.

“What have you done now?” You demand, tugging against your bonds.

He only chuckles, walking past you to the small tray of food on the bedside table.

“Oh, I’ve done nothing. It’s what you’ve done that will be the downfall of the two great kingdoms.” You shake your head at him, wanting to know exactly what he’s talking about.

“Right as we speak, you’re confessing to the Kings just how much my idiot brother loves you, how much he longs to be with you and how he would do anything for you. And we both know how much of a temper your husbands have, especially when it comes to you. So it is only a matter of time before they become defensive and seek him out.”

“Wait, Thor is unaware of your plot?” The man laughs, a full belly laugh from deep in his core at your question.

“Oh, Gods no! He is nothing more than a pawn in a far bigger plan than he realizes. His simple mind was far too easy to take, and his initial protection over you was easy to nurture into an infatuation and an unhealthy obsession.” He looks over at you, a smile on his face.

“And you, my dear, are going to be my greatest piece yet. His obsession will be not only the downfall of the Kingdoms, but also of you. He will be your undoing. Because in his mind, if he cannot have you, then nobody else can.” He straightens up and walks over to the wardrobe, pulling off his cloak and hanging it up.

“It’s unfortunate, really, because you are quite beautiful. Beauty is something that shouldn’t be wasted. But I suppose they’ll write sonnets and ballads about how ‘your beauty was what brought the kingdoms to ash’.” You struggle against your bonds, wanting nothing more than to take the knife strapped to your thigh and slash his throat with it.

“You will never get away with this! The Kings are far too smart. They’ll see right through your disguises.” He chuckles and turns to you, arms crossed over his chest.

“There’s a magic in this world, girl. One that you could not even begin to understand. The Kings are nothing more than mortal men. They will succumb to the powers I wield and they will burn, with you alongside them.” He cocks his head to the side, eyes raking over your face.

“But perhaps I need to have my own turn with you. Experience you both inside and out.” You shiver in disgust, pushing yourself as far back on the bed as you can.

The door creaks and the two of you look to the sound, the trickster backing up a step before vanishing into thin air, leaving you alone with the newcomer.

“I do hope you'll pardon my absence,” Thor says timidly, raking a hand through his hair and shutting the door behind himself.

“I had hoped to spend more time with you, however the duties of a King need to be fulfilled.” You say nothing, Loki’s words ringing over and over again in your ears.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t realize he’s climbed onto the bed until his large hands are pushing your knees apart.

“W-wait no!” An idea bubbles into your mind and you speak before you have time to second-guess yourself.

“If you truly wish for me to enjoy our time together, you must release me from my bonds! Do not take me the way the other Kings have. Please. You say you love me, then release me so that I too may enjoy it.” His face softens and he nods, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek before reaching around your back to yank the rope off of you.

“It was never my intention to bind you, sweet flower. But Loki insisted. He said that you couldn’t be trusted and I... I believed him. Please forgive me, my love.” He takes your hands in his so gently, so much love and affection behind his actions, and you find yourself feeling sorry for the man.

Beneath the pity is an anger. Anger at Loki for putting not only Thor through this, but for tormenting you with the knowledge that his love is not real. Nothing more than a facade.

“Thor... how much do you trust your brother?” The blond looks confused by the question and takes a moment to ponder it before answering.

“I... well... Loki and I have not always seen eye to eye. But within the past few months he has come around and been more present. All I’ve ever wanted was for my brother to feel at home in his kingdom. He believes himself to be shunned, an outcast, but he is my brother and I love him dearly. It pains me to see him shut himself away, but now he’s opening back up. And I do think that there is hope for us yet.” Your heart cracks at this.

“But enough about him. This should be about us. You and me, my dear.” His lips are then on your neck, hips pushing between your thighs and big body holding you down against the mattress.

Once again, you find yourself pinned beneath a man with no hope of escaping.

Well... almost no hope.

You swallow back the bile in your throat and seek out his lips, kissing him fiercely while your hands grasp at his shoulders.

He pulls away after a moment, yanking his tunic above his head and grinning down at you.

“Eager, are we?” You nod, fingers trailing over his sculpted torso.

He is a beautiful specimen, and it pains you to do what you’re doing.

“My King,” you whisper, back arching as he kisses over your neck once again. He hums, waiting for you to speak.

“May I ride you?” The words are whispered, barely breathed in the warm air of the room, but they elicit a growl from the man above you.

Your positions are flipped in an instant, you straddling the blond man while he lays comfortably below you.

His hands find your hips while your own shaky fingers pull his manhood from his trousers.

A groan leaves his lips at the feeling of your soft hands against his hot length, and your eyes flash up to his face.

His eyes are squeezed shut, and in that moment you realize it’s now or never.

One hand stays on his length, stroking gently, while the other reaches to the dagger strapped on your inner thigh.

You don’t need to kill him, only to incapacitate him long enough for you to escape.

Disguising the motion as you simply moving your skirts out of the way, you grind your teeth together and squeeze your eyes shut.

The blade is raised high above your head, and then with all your might, you slam it down into his abdomen.

He lurches forward, eyes popping open in shock as you yank the blade back out and stumble off the bed.

His face contorts with first confusion, then betrayal, and pain following.

“Why?” His voice is a broken whisper, but you don’t dwell on it. Instead, you rise to your feet and sprint out of his chambers, bloody knife still held tightly in your grasp.

You can hear him behind you, grunting with pain as he moves through his chambers then stumbles through the doorway, but you’re already far enough ahead to create a scene if need be.

You cut through the gardens, grabbing your skirts and hiking them up above your knees to give you more room to run.

Your shoulder connects with the familiar door of safety, and you stumble inside, shaking hands dropping both your skirts and the blade onto the floor.

“(Y/n)?!” James and Steve rush over to you quickly, inspecting your body for any wounds.

“I-It’s Thor! And Loki! Loki’s behind all of it and he has Thor trapped under a curse of some kind! I do not know what he has told you, but he was posing as me and you must believe me!” You’re near hysterical, knowing that if they don’t believe you then you’ll be sent straight back into the hands of the King.

“What on earth are you talking about?” Steve asks.

“Loki is a sorcerer. A powerful one. H-he posed as me and no doubt came to the two of you. I can only imagine the lies he spewed. He means to overthrow the kingdoms and he has Thor under-” The door gets pushed open, the man in question looking around frantically until his eyes fall upon your figure.

“Ah, there you are. You needn’t be afraid, my love. I know it was only an accident.” He’s got one of his hands pressed against the gaping wound in his abdomen, the other reaching out for you.

“No!” You cry, near ready to pull your hair out.

James pushes you behind his back, unsheathing his sword and pointing it at the King.

“You will not take another step, do you understand? We can discuss this like men, not fight about it like boys.” Thor blinks a few times, eyes darting between you and your husbands.

“Very well.” He straightens up, face perfectly political.

“I would like you to hand over my wife, or I will kill her where she stands. If I cannot have her, then nobody can.”

[jessiebanethedragon]

White Sands Warm the Cold Sea

Star Wars, The Bad Batch Pirate!au (Hunter x Reader

Summary: the reader, betrothed to a disgusting Coruscanti Lord flees her home world and lands herself in a plethora of trouble, a ship of clones, and one pirate captain whose cold exterior needs much more than the tropical seaside sun.

Warnings: Swearing, takes place in time periods where women have dowery's and suchlike. The readers dad and bothered are asses.

Chapter one: The Sentencing

Fate, you had decided, fucked you over. Which in itself, was not only a very unladylike statement, but was also very ironic. But how fitting for a woman of your time, to want something her whole life only to be told she couldn’t have it by the most infuriating of men. For passion to be pushed into a corset and cinched into fake smiles and batting eyelashes.

Everyone has a value, never mind how little or much, everyone is worth something. And you are worth a great deal to me.

At the time you’d thought your fathers words were a statement of affection, love brought to light by goblets of rum only to settle in your lap as you tended to the fireplace and did your best to lead him into his bed, staggering every step of the way. It was now that you understood his words. The choice of word may have been valuable, but the more accurate synonym, dowry explained his true intentions.

Enter one Lord Volim Nython, a pretentious man with a mind that was far more shallow than his pockets and a reputation to match. What Lord Nython did not already possess, he bought. And what he was without currently, was a wife. He was a man with a personality inked in gunpowder and steel, crushing his enemies in the war that made his predecessors and your fathers fortunes.

A very fitting match. Oh how quaint, the wedding would be so grand, and the children, oh they will be beautiful. The distinct lack of sincerity infuriated you, older women with tea parties akin to that of toddlers and the gloved hands they rest on their chests as they shake their heads at the utmost ridiculous things. While the tautly curled hair stays perfectly in place, rage resided in you at an unfathomable height. But, it was not without its reins, and as its rider, you had to lead your rage onto a path that would result in your success.

You chose this night carefully, knowing that it was on the last of every month, when the money came in from gambling, debts and the crown, that your father quite literally liquified his earnings. You shiver in your nightgown, every fireplace in the house was still burning, and the oil lamps were flickering away, though the household was asleep save for yourself. The main doors shifted open as the intoxicated man made his way in. And you steady yourself before greeting him.

“A good night, I'll take it then?” You ask with a breath of a laugh, wrapping a shivering arm arm around his shoulders and leading him over to the plush sitting chairs by the fire. He waves you off when you offer him water and so you sit on your knees by his feet. Grasping his hands on your own. He regards you with a suspicious look.

“I… I wanted to ask you something.” You start carefully, eyeing his look. The rug is warm from the flame and the way it illuminates his face, you wonder how many times your mother sat with him like this, or how often he looked at her in such confusion.

“Well? Get on with it then.” He slurs leaning further back into the red velvet. Causing you to shift and bunch your nightgown.

“I wanted to ask if, if you thought, the lord...”

“Lord Nython.” He confirms, watching you jump as the fire crackles, your nerves electrified by what you mean to bring up next. And it gives away your intentions before you can ask them. After all, your father may know you better than you had originally thought.

“Do not tell me what I think you are about to do.” he warns tilting his head down so the orange light reflects the way he regards you through his brow.

“I think we could make a better match.” You try and appeal to his motivations. “I think we stand to make a better-”

“I’ve been given offers.” He interrupts, the liquor making him less angry and more level headed as you had intended it to. “No one will wed you for the price Lord Nython will.” He moves to stand, the conversation finished, but you are not, having given yourself a stern word of not settling until you are free from the man's clutches.

“There are richer men outside of Coruscant.” You say with more force than you had intended. The translucent fabric whooshing as you stand. Your father pauses at the helm of the stairs, like a Blurg righting itself after an unsuccessful charge, he is listening.

“Naboo royalty, even a low Alderanian Lord would double Nythons offer.” You take cautious steps forward, hoping that his underestimation of your intelligence works in your favor.

“Those men are oceans away, Nython will wed you tomorrow if the crown gave its blessing.” He counters, but it is not a dismissal.

“Consider this an investment then, the payoff would surely be worth it.” You press carefully, like a healer tending to an inflammation, you palpate the area with caution looking to avoid the most sensitive of the inflamed tissue. Your father huffs.

“Providing you could snag a suitable man.” Hope flickers within you, and it warms you more than the fire ever could, it makes you feel power, and control. And hope, like it does with most, makes you foolish.

“Love is a powerful motivator.”

His booming drunk laugh shakes you, fear flooding you as you realize your mistake. But you were so close! So tantalizingly close to being free from the wretched man.

“You think men marry for love?” You see him wipe away tears of laughter as he sways on the dark oak staircase of your home. “You my dear, are even more dull than I thought.” You shake with anger and anxiety.

“I want to be in love! Like you an-”

“Do not say you mother and I. Ha. You are truly delusional.” He interrupts, taunting you with drunken laughter. Your father never speaks of your mother, and when he did it was pushed aside in favor of something else. But alcohol has a way of loosening tongues.

“I… I-” you stammer, if there was one thing you remembered about your mother it was the love she shared with your father and the stories of growing up and falling into a love so pure with someone it made your heart ache for it.

“We were not in love, she despised me, and I her.” He spits from his place on the stairs. The height difference adds to how small you feel. How his pitiful stare shrinks you and sends chills into your bones.

“I do not under-“ He interrupts again:

“It was an act! Pretend! Meant to fool young girls into thinking they could have a life as such. And even in death she continues to lie to you!” You blink away tears and think, you try to think he is lying, that they were happy, she was happy, and that in his intoxication your father lies.

“She was adamant that we would be in love for you.” He sighs, and drops to the stairs to sit and lean on the railing. “That we would keep up pretences for your sake so that you would strive for such happiness.” With his words it is as if he is taking away the core memories of your mother.

“I will not marry that man.” You have to push the words out, but the meaning is clear enough.

“Yes.” Your father says ever so sternly. “You will.”

“I shall not!” You fight back, hating how your eyes cloud with tears and emotions bubble up. “He looks at me like one does cattle, I am nothing more than a trade deal to that man!” both parties know you are right, from the first meeting when he had stalked around you, looking up and down, tutting here, humming there. Not engaging in any conversation that you’d deem intellectual or interesting. You’d been disgusted then, and you are still disgusted now.

“Please!” Your father wipes drunken saliva from his chin, “Lord Nython is giving us so much gold for your hand in marriage you should be grateful, and a renowned war hero like himself. You will wed that man even if i have to drag you to the altar.” You’re stunned, and horrified, and your father leaves you weeping on the dark oak stairs, a mess for one of the maids to clean up before he wakes in the morning.

Tag list: @the-mandalorian-clone-lover @peacefulwizardfox @rex-meshla @s1st3r @and-claudia @kamino-mermaid

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