#jewellery luring

[staryuee]

GIVING THEM A FRIENDSHIP BRACELET

꒰warnings꒱ not proofread…:3

⠀꒲ ` synopsis . . . how would your significant other react when you give them a friendship bracelet made by your own kind hands?

⠀꒲ ` characters . . . diluc, kazuha, kokomi, scaramouche, heizou, itto, cyno, lyney, lynette, freminet, furina, neuvillette, navia, ga ming, chiori, arlecchino

⠀꒲ ` notes . . . this reminded of primary school days of making randomly coloured loom band bracelets…sniffles, the good ol’ days of giving your crush bundled up daisies that had bugs on them from the schools yard and then immediately running away (i am a lesbian i had no such experience in just talking for the sake of poetry ☆〜（ゝ。∂)

R. DILUC — 迪卢克

“what’s this, my love?” he cautiously surveyed the tiny strings and charms with a shocked yet rather satisfied expression. so this is what you were so focused on for the last couple hours…? he can’t help but feel slightly relieved that instead of wasting away at work you were merely crafting a cutely childish gift for him.

“it’s a friendship bracelet! look, i even managed to find these cute strawberry charms for you.” you laughed and start fiddling with the short strands near his scalp, fiddling with them and folding them over to create a stem-like shape.

diluc softly exhaled in amusement, wrapping the small piece of jewellery around his already bedazzled wrist. it takes him a real good second to actually realise what you just said. awkwardly coughing into his hand, diluc catches your attention, “darling, you do realise we’re married?”

a smile possesses your face as you hook your arm with his. “of course i do! i just thought it’d be cute, you know?” he smiled in response.

diluc is no stranger to friendship bracelets. after all, him and kaeya used to make those for each other all the time. sometimes that young triplet consisting of a very dedicated jean, a shy kaeya and a mischievous diluc (sometimes a cutsey barbara who tried to eat the beads) would gather together to create and exchange such bracelets.

a tradition that diluc might’ve let go of but had never forgotten. when you go to sleep at night diluc immediately places your bracelet into a drawer where he kept all of the ones from his childhood.

K. KAZUHA — 枫原万叶

“is this a friendship bracelet? that’s very considerate of you, my love.” kazuha tilts your chin to press a feather-light kiss onto your lips, his touch so tender it was like being touched by sunlight itself. “but i thought we were passed our journey of friendship?” his hand travel down to your hips. squeezing them intently to bring you close to his flowery scent.

“or do i need to remind you that we’re lovers?” taking your hand in his, kazuha leaned his head down to press his lips against your knuckles, eyes peeking through his bangs as if to entice you. and, well, of course it did. kazuha knew just a simple glance at you paired with an affectionate grin was enough to lure you into loving his arms.

kazuha didn’t expect for a piece of handmade jewellery consisting of maple leaf charms with red string to become so sentimental to him, but it was only a matter of time till the bracelet helped become an engraved memory of you. he’d kiss it each time you were apart, hold it up against moonlight while stargazing, trying to illustrate your figure within a constellation.

wandering became more exciting. he’d get to slowly part from your lips, while still having a perpetual reminder of the love you shared with a few pieces of strings tied to his wrist alone.

kazuha, though content with this, always secretly craved to hear the sound of your voice as you called his name and reached out to him. however, within his life he’s learned one thing that has truly stood out; it’s the small things in life that mirror true beauty.

S. KOKOMI — 珊瑚宫心海

“your excellency? what is that on your wrist?” gorou tilted his head curiously, his ears twitching in tandem.

“hm? oh, this?” she shakes the coral coloured bracelet, making the beads and fish charms jingle excitedly as if they were jumping within sea waves. “haha, [name] gave it to me. it’s a friendship bracelet!” kokomi shows it off with pride, a flutter of flapping fins hit her ribcage in the form of her beating heart at the prospect of people seeing the deepness of your ocean-depth bond with just a few beads on a string.

burnout is utterly debilitating. as kokomi spends only a few minutes in her recluse corner within watatsumi, even the shimmering of pearls and the quiet sound of the shore isn’t enough to bring her fragmented energy to rest. nesting her head upon the bundled arms that laid carefully on her desk, she attempted to snooze. finding that she can just barely flutter her curled eyelashes close before an unbearable ache pinches her eyebrows into a knot.

feeling defeated, kokomi sits back up and taps her fingers absentmindedly on the wood, finding just a tiny bit of solace in the sound of clicking and clacking. wait…she quickly glanced at her wrist, noticing she completely forgot to take off her bracelet when preforming her duties. despite her fatigue, kokomi can’t help but exhale a smile. calloused fingers tweezing the bubbly fish charms in an attempt for stimuli that wasn’t so agonising.

she’s so glad she has you, even if that memory of you is withheld in something children share for an intended promise of foreverness.

SCARAMOUCHE — 斯卡拉姆齐

“are you twelve?“ scaramouche raises his eyebrows at you with a sneer, a look of either disgust or confusion on his face. “if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you were mocking me.”

“you’re short but not kid short!” you retorted to appease him, rolling your eyes at his annoying theatrics. did he really have to be so bitchy all the time? i guess when people say that short people tend to be the most angry because all that wrath is bottled into such a teeny body it’s very true…

the friendship bracelets (yes you made two!) were a representation of his journey from the malicious “balladeer” to the slightly less malicious and more so bittersweet wanderer. a contradicting colour palette yet his frosty and asshole attitude remained the same no matter what hue of the rainbow he was dipped in (should’ve been named skittle not scaramouche).

“if you don’t like it that much you don’t have to wear it, it’s not like i’m forcing you.” a pang of disappointed squeezed your chest heavily. it would’ve been fine if he just threw it away after a week or so. you would’ve been extremely hurt yes, but it’s better than having your own lover reject a handmade gift without even a thought for your feelings.

seeing your frown lines and the way your eyebrows scrunched together, scaramouche sighed and immediately snatched the bracelets back. quickly covering them over his wrist and crossing his arms over his chest defiantly. “i never said i wouldn’t wear it, stop being whiny.”

the slight embarrassment he felt was worth every stroke of blush on his cheeks if it meant he could see you smile brightly at something so childish.

S. HEIZOU — 鹿野院平藏

“it’s not our anniversary.” heizou stated simply.

“nope.”

“neither of our birthdays.”

“nope.”

“not a special achievement either.”

“nope.”

“alright, love, spill. what’s the occasion, hm? just in the mood to spoil me with your affections?” heizou threw his hands up in defeat. not being able to use his detective experience into deciphering why you decided to be so cute today and bless his otherwise uneventful day.

carefully, you wrapped the bracelet around his eager wrist. “no occasion~ just felt like giving you a friendship bracelet to show my love for you.” he raises an eyebrow. leaning to your eye level, heizou procures a look of confused distaste at your seemingly innocent admission. “friendship?” he looks away dejected, placing his hands on his hips. “and here i thought i was your very cool and sweet boyfriend.”

brushing away his dramatics and looping your arms around his neck to pull his pouty face in closer, you retaliate. “oh hush, you’re still my lovely dramatic boyfriend.” heizou smirked and leaned in impossibly close, his breath tickling your soft skin generously.

“then, could you show your love for me in another way too?” begrudgingly, you caved. moulding your lips with his while his hands gradually situated themselves on your hips. a chuckle escapes his occupied mouth, leaving a tingling feeling down your spine as you pull away, a bright smirk on his face. “thanks for the bracelet, baby~ i’ll be sure to wear it as my lucky charm during investigations!”

A. ITTO — 荒泷一斗

“well of course you’d want to bless the almighty arataki itto with such a gift! i humbly accept your offering~” itto sways a thumbs up, tongue rolling across his pointy teeth in an extravagant display of confident hubris. all in vain, of course. no amount of bravado could dull the charming blush on his cheeks; the way his grin hoisted into a genuine smile of gratitude or the way his eyes glistened with a familiar light; childlike wonder.

itto was never and has never been accustomed to such small things in life. honestly, he was lucky for a stranger to not throw insults, physical objects, hits, kicks, spit, and the like for his mere existence. a friendship bracelet was an event that was so far out of reach for the oni that the only thing he wanted to do right now was to kiss you stupid.

but, he couldn’t. he stood still, twiddling with the beads that nested against his wrist with a haze that was absentminded you felt like tapping him would cause a bubble to burst above his head for water to splash him awake.

the word “friend” doesn’t even register into his brain. he’s too content with the knowledge that your bond meant something to you. that he meant something to you.

you’ve never seen itto so quiet before. he’s usually this giant (literally) ball of energy that bounces around the place and shares an infectious attitude of confidence and joy with no restraint even to the most stoic, but right now, it was like he was that small vulnerable child again given a chance at redemption for simply living.

CYNO — 赛诺

cyno tilts his head to the side as he stares with pinched brows at the weaved threads of purple and yellow beads and charms that you held in front of you with a delicate hand. “what’s the bracelet for?”

“it’s a friendship bracelet!” taking the initiative, you wrap the bracelet around his relatively small wrist and watch in awe as it seems to match his palette perfectly. perhaps not his personality, but maybe if he wore this around regularly people wouldn’t be so frightened by his frozen features.

cyno went quiet for a moment, a look of confusion on his face. a look that made you shrink in shame. did he not like it? was something wrong with it? is it too childish for someone with such an esteemed status? all such baseless thoughts get immediately dispelled once cyno’s lips curl into a subtle grin, his eyes narrowing devilishly.

you’ve often seen this look when he’s about to score a rewarding win in a tcg tournament. but, he also had this look when…fuck. you sigh in defeat and simply let him say it. “why did the friendship bracelet break up with its partner?”

“…ha. why?”

“because it felt tied down.”

you know how in animes when someone says something very fucking stupid, it’s like the world echoes with silence to allow the person to truly feel the embarrassment from their words? you hoped that’s what cyno felt when you blank stared him with a thin line for your lips, hands clenching and unclenching as you fought the urge to squeeze his cheeks together.

“do you get it?” he asks, but before he can ramble about the absolutely articulate construction of his pun, you spring into action and press your lips passionately on his. of course, he replies eagerly. enjoying the clicking of the beads hitting together as his hand made it’s swift, instinctive movement to your waist.

LYNEY — 林���

“mon ange…is this for me?” lyney smiles gently at you, sneaking the red bracelet onto his wrist. unable to take his away from the fine craftsmanship and the adorable details of hats, doves and some card charms. knowing you thought of him so directly and so in depth made his heart flutter the same way a dove’s wings expand after being liberated from a cooped cage.

“of course it is, it’s a friendship bracelet!” you clasp your hands behind your back, awaiting either his praise or his teasing — whatever he was in the mood for more. despite the happiness that surged through his heart like a bad game of throw the dart, believe me you shot him hard in the feels, lyney frowns.

“but, mon chéri…” he sighs in despair, a theatric hand over the very heart you had gripped tightly in your hand with a mere few beads of coloured wax. “i haven’t gotten a gift for you, i feel rather ashamed of myself.”

“don’t worry about that, this is just meant to be my good luck charm for you during your shows and…” your voice trailed off to him. not because he was uninterested but because he loved the buzzing sound of your melodic syllables each time your lips opened.

“ah, my dear,” lyney paused your affectionate rambles politely, “you’ve got something here…” you tilt your head to the side quizzically and await for him to point at it or take it out. he grins wildly. “well, isn’t that cute?” lyney chuckles softly and while leaning suuuper close to your ear, ‘magically’ pulls out a rainbow rose from seemingly no where.

“it seems we’re even now, hm?” he gestures, handing the rose over with a wink, leaving a cheeky kiss to your jawline in gratitude.

LYNETTE — 琳妮特

knowing lynette’s character and demeanour intricately, you’re aware that grand gestures aren’t at all her thing. she can barely handle a tea time conversation with someone if she’s forced to play an active role.

the bracelet sat enclosed within your palm as you rambled on about your day to lynette, feeling an unshakable amount of anxiety vomiting into your gut for no reason but overthinking. you’ve been avoiding giving her this bracelet for a week now in fear she’ll find very little value or use in something so minimal.

“you have something you want to give me.” a phrase intended as a question, but said more so as a statement.

“i…uh, how did you know?” you laugh and play with the strings of the bracelet cautiously as to not break it.

“your eyebrows are furrowed and you keep glancing away from me.” she analyses you like a real robot…i guess she’s really committed to that bit. either that or she just loves you too much that being unable to read your expressions would be a grievous sin on her part.

with a sigh of defeat, you slide over the bracelet to her with an awkward smile paling your usually joyous lips. “i made a friendship bracelet for you…thought it’d be cute.” lynette doesn’t understand people around her a majority of the time. truly, she doesn’t even want to, it’s not like she needs to either since she has her brother to leech on and others to fool with her robotic party trick and yet, she can’t help but wonder why it is you choose to defend yourself over something so sweet.

“thank you, it’s cute. i’ll wear it for my next show if i’m able to.” her lips curve upward in what to most would seem like a twenty degree uplift, but to you, it meant quite literally everything.

FREMINET — 菲米尼

nothing. no amount of experiences with his interactions with people could’ve prepared him for the absolute heart attack that was this gesture.

he loved it, too much. he wishes he could just dip back into the ocean depths. indulge in a meaningless conversation with the tidalga, or even express his feelings of adoration to you to pers. but currently, it was only you two sharing a humble moment together. no person he could lean in, no space he could rush the words he’d love to say to you in gratitude for the gift.

and you knew that. and that’s what he also loved about you. how willing you were to accept and love him even with him being less socially adept than a coral reef. feeling the cool and vibrant coloured bracelet tilt around his wrist and knot in place, he smiled wobbly.

between the silence, you knew that the quiet smile and nod meant more than his stammered and hushed words could ever express. leaning in to press a kiss to the side of his wrist and cheek, freminet manages to gulp a bit of courage and swallow his static and tingly anxiety, reaching to kiss your forehead. letting his lips linger momentarily before he backed away. “thank you…”

FURINA — 芙宁娜

heartbeat pounding in her ears. eyes narrowing into puffy circles. her bottom lip bitten brutally by her gnashing teeth. hands shaky, making her teacup tremble within her grip. why were you glaring at her so intensely?!

first the invitation for a tea party with only you two as the special guests. second the ominous letter claiming you two “need to talk.” and now, you were completely quiet and calmly snacking, drinking away several blends of tea without a word! it was absolutely ridiculous to think the one person she has entrusted her still mending heart with is ignoring all the clear signs of hesitance and vulnerabilities within the relationship despite them all being initiated by them!

“so, furina.” you clasp your hands together, an impish look transforming your usually peaceful face. her heartbeat stammers as her eyes meet yours in a tender glance. “uhm..yeah?” furina attempts to appear more courageous than she is, but truly, she’s shitting it (for lack of a better term).

the silence stretched on for too long before you giggled and pulled up a blue and white toned bracelet from your sleeves, shaking it with your fingertips with a kind smile. “i made you a friendship bracelet!”

a ghost wavered out of her frightened soul, the tea in her hand put down at this point so she can savour the comforting feeling of her head in her hands. being a gorgeous, shining star in the spotlight of fontaine’s grand stage, furina isn’t a secondhand stranger to gifts. whether they’ve been given to her personally, awkwardly, silently, with no words signed or a creepy letter attached expressing their reverence.

she wishes you’d sometimes go that route instead of matching her in these theatrics! begrudgingly, despite the little flutter in her heart, she slipped the bracelet onto her wrist and looked at you with a pout that you couldn’t help but lean in to kiss.

NEUVILLETTE — 那维莱特

neuvillette hums a tune along to the orchestra of the vinyl. an accompanying sound of his pen hastily itching onto the paper adding to the rhythm. his door opens and while he’d normally remain quietly focused on his piling paperwork, he recognised this particular patter of footsteps coming towards him. you.

smiling habitually and peering his head up, neuvillette greeted you lovingly. “hello, my love. what brings you here today? did you get in trouble?” he knew the reason you’d come ushering into his office was hardly with the intention of getting him to aid you with your troublesome quarrels, but rather, you just wanting his love and affection that he was more than willing to fulfil. if time allowed, of course.

“no, no. nothing like that, yet…” you grinned and neuvillette looked at you with a playful look of disappointment at the hesitance. “i made you a gift!” with a prideful aura that was less arrogance and more pure joy, you presented the bracelet to him. he wasted no time in stirring the small bundle of fabric and beads with his gloves. “look,” you pointed eagerly, “i even managed to commission some furina and melusine charms! you know how we always joke about them being like our children? i thought i’d be a cute addition!”

he exhaled a satisfactory laugh in agreement, interlocking your hand in his to press a kiss to your knuckles in thanks. “cute, indeed. thank you, mon chéri. you’re too sweet sometimes.” you sit on the edge of his desk, watching excitedly as he places the bracelet onto his wrist. “as a gift in return, after i’m done with work, how about we take a nice stroll together? i assure you, no rain will interrupt our serenity so long as you’re by my side.”

NAVIA — 娜维娅

immediately gushes at you as your palm opens to present the gold and blue hued bracelet to her, adorned with rose charms that you personally painted in gold and a greyish blue to accentuate her outfit if she decides to wear it. it was less a decision and more a necessity.

she delicately handled the bracelet onto her wrist and kissed both of your cheeks in gratitude, “thank you so much, sweetheart! this is so cute…but what’s the occasion? it’s not our anniversary or anything like that.” navia smiled at you, playing with some of the little roses and twirling them around in appreciation.

“it’s a friendship bracelet!”

her lips pucker into a pout as she starts to coddle you within her arms, occasionally swinging you around gently. “you’re so absolutely adorable!” she nips at your earlobe, kissing it as a form of apology. “but honey, you do know we aren’t just friends right?” navia captures your cheeks within her palms. “we’re lovers!” she presses several kisses across your face, ending her affectionate spillage with a press of her lips on yours.

“oops— haha, sorry i got lipstick all over you, darling.” navia chuckled and began wiping away all the lipstick smudges from your pretty face. yet her attempts bore no fruit. instead of wiping away anything, she only made it oh so much worse. “ah well, guess we both got presents from one another today?” she snickers, twirling her wrist to show off the bracelet with a wink.

GA MING — 嘉明

if you thought this man’s eyes couldn’t get any brighter, then you’re absolutely dead wrong. if you thought he could jump high while lion dancing, you’re also absolutely dead wrong!

he could outrun god right now. if you asked him to defeat a hoard of lined up mondstadt and liyue treasure hoarders, he’d do it in a heartbeat. what possessed you to be so cute?! do you seriously think he can take another heart attack like this after the one he had during lantern rite?

you aren’t able to say much or even explain your reasons for as to why you decided to make this nor what it even is or represents before ga ming smacks his lips messily all over your face. a mixture of your own gloss from kissing you earlier and his own saliva stick to your skin sloppily and you can’t help but feel both enamoured and grossly repulsed at the mixture of sticky wetness on your cheeks as well as the love that seemed to glow like fireworks.

“mmuah~! i love you so much…are you trying to make me cry?” he pouts, becoming a giggling mess as soon as you roll your eyes at his dramatics.

he keeps the bracelet on every day. sometimes he’ll be pouty all day if he’s unable to wear it in fear of it snapping and wasting away all your precious hard work due to either his negligence or the pains of manual labour…he’ll have to cope with simply glancing at the red imprints the beads had left intended onto his skin for satisfaction.

CHIORI — 千织

“what is this?” she jingles the vivid and strong orange coloured bracelet in front of her face, appreciating the tiny details of the cute sewing equipment charms and what looked to be handmade porcelain bows embedded onto some beads.

“it’s a friendship bracelet!” you gleam at her, pride evident in your face at your creation. she hums in agreement; it was certainly something alright.

“oh. cute.” that’s all the genuine feedback she could give you without mentioning how tacky it would look with her attire — it was an affectionate gesture, one which she didn’t want to undermine and therefore, with little complaint despite her own personal conflicts, she slipped the bracelet onto her wrist, extending her hand out and twirling it to admire the craftsmanship.

you won’t see her actively wearing it out in every day life, perhaps you’ll manage to sneak a glimpse of her playing with the beads while she’s going over some designs in her sketchbook but otherwise, her gloved hands contain nothing but the smell of perfume.

not that she’d admit it outright until you asked, but the real reason she refuses to wear your bracelet daily is for a simple reason; she doesn’t want it to break in order to have that constant reminder of you as she goes to bed and stares up at her ceiling with the bracelet being coddled between her fingertips.

ARLECCHINO — 阿蕾奇诺

“you’re so childish.” she muses, tracing her nails across the beads, eliciting a weird clacking sound as the charms and beads hit against each other. “but i suppose that’s also an alluring aspect to you.” she ushers the bracelet onto her wrist. despite it being completely covered, there was something even more intimate about her gift being a part of a hidden identity for her; your affection only intended for your gorgeous eyes and her narrowed ones.

tilting your head to her eye-level, you can smell her musky perfume. she leaned in for a kiss. her lips tasting like flavoured gloss consisting of all sorts of red berries, an accurate mirror to the rosey colour of her bright lips. a sneaky hand traced circles around your hips and waist as she attempted to take your breath away. a scythe is a befitting weapon for a woman who’s kiss was practically a notion for death.

she’s used to her children offering gifts and trinkets to her. rocks, random jewellery they crafted with glue, messy crayon drawings, sometimes even in the most macabre scenarios, blood itself. each of those, however, she cherished wholeheartedly. the same way she’d cherish the bond between you two that she’d never allow for anyone to break.

so long as she continuously receives silly gestures like this, she’s convinced she’ll be able to hold you within her embrace with very little effort.

©STARYUEE do not copy, steal or repost ♡ ᴜsᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ɪʜᴇᴀʀᴛɢᴀɴʏᴜ

[writingjourney]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭

Your betrothal period feels entirely too long. You and Benedict make the most of the wait, especially once you spend your days together at Aubrey Hall. Or: Five times you and Benedict have to restrain yourselves before your wedding and one time you don’t.

pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

content: 6.5k words, regency romance, secret meetings, stolen kisses, smut (morning sex, v fingering, p in v), 18+ MDNI

Masterpost – Ao3 Link

───── ⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆ ─────

1 Closet

“Ben–”

“Shhhhh.”

His mouth closes around your nipple, breasts spilled over your stay that he tugged at desperately mere seconds ago. You tip your head back, fingers tangled in messy brown curls. His tongue draws a soft moan from your lips, the kind you could not hold back if you tried.

Benedict removes himself with a pop and looks up, innocent eyes over pink, kiss-swollen lips. “They are going to hear us!”

His scandalised tone is what lures the giggle from you.

Benedict, alarmed but no less amused, brings a hand up to seal your treacherous lips. “Shhhh!”

An incredulous smile spreads across his face and you tug at his lapels, intent on kissing it away. His weight has you pressed against the shelf behind you, the hard edge biting into your lower back. You moan into his mouth with the combined vigour of pleasure and pain.

Benedict breaks the kiss with some effort, brow furrowed in distress. “Do you want us to get caught?”

“It is too tight in here I rather think,” you bemoan and urge him to switch places with you. He has the height to his advantage. “Besides, we are already betrothed.”

“Betrothed, yes, but not wed.”

You ignore his complaint as you fix your state of undress, then wrap your arms around his neck to remedy the offending distance. A second of hesitation passes before he leans back in and resumes to bruise your lips. You wonder, sometimes, if the passion you share is of concerning strength.

As air becomes scarce he breaks away to attend to your exposed skin. His lips press to the round of your bosom, your clavicle, then softly venture forth to your sensitive neck. He lingers as long as he can get away with, then pauses by your ear. “How long have we been in here?”

“I should think a few more minutes will go unnoticed…” you whisper.

Benedict hums, the sound deep and warm against the shell of your ear. You rake your fingers through his hair and he bites your earlobe in turn. You are moderately concerned for your jewellery but then his nose tickles the inside of your ear. Another giggle escapes you as the tingle runs through your body and leaves you shivering in its wake.

Once again his hand moves to cover your mouth as his eyebrows rise in alarm. The warning look under his enviably long lashes is a sight you have grown rather fond of. The thrill of these stolen moments makes them all the more memorable, rare as they are.

You smile against his fingers before pressing an apologetic kiss to his palm. “I shall endeavour to be quiet from now on.”

His gaze softens with a twitch of his mouth. “One of these days Anthony will have my head…” he whispers before leaning in to kiss you yet again.

⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆

2 Music

The music is unmistakably yours. The practiced tunes lure him from the sweltering heat of the gardens into the cooler corridors of Aubrey Hall where they arrived just yesterday morning. Anthony insisted on hosting the wedding here, of course, and how could Benedict not rejoice at finding himself under the same room as you at last?

He stops, leans against the frame of the open door to the drawing room and drinks you in. The piano is angled away from the open windows, your back turned to him. Bare skin shimmers in the sunlight, diffused by sheer white curtains that stream dreamily in the mild breeze. He follows the line of your shoulders where they rise and fall as your hands dance across the keys, then up the curve of your spine where your neck is exposed under pinned-up hair. The music seems to carry the ease with which you hold yourself.

He notes that your maid is not with you, a sign that the staff is kept busy with wedding preparations. Or perhaps you sent her away as you are prone to do, craving solitude – and opportunities to meet him. Benedict finds himself chasing these moments in which he gets to have you to himself like they’re his sanctuary, so precious that he has to pile them up with care like gemstones in the shrine of his love for you. One day soon he will be able to display them more openly. For now he has to grasp them as they appear.

You only hear him when his steps have reached so close that not even the rugs can muffle them anymore. A few weeks ago you might have been startled by him appearing out of nowhere but by now it is rather natural that he should find you when you are alone. It seems he has a sense for it.

When you look up he is already urging you to scoot over. The double piano bench is rather narrow but you think he might be closing in more than necessary. You’re acutely aware of the press of his thigh against yours.

“Do not let me disturb you, dearest,” he says in the dulcet tone you know means mischief.

“Is your goal not to disturb me, Mr Bridgerton?”

“My goal,” he whispers, leaning in conspiratorially, “is to be closer to the music.”

His breath on your neck does nothing to enhance your ability to focus. The first few notes are not quite rhythmic as a shiver runs through your limbs and down your fingertips. You soon find your footing, however, and the song comes to life in the form of a moderately slow but all the more magical sonata of your own composition. Sheet music is quite expensive and your collection rather limited. To add some variety you recently began to write your own, significantly inspired by Benedict and his artworks.

“Beautiful,” he whispers to himself and you smile as you transition into a faster section of the song that reminds you of fairies frolicking in a meadow, drunk on honeydew and starlight.

However, you soon realise that he did not talk about the music. His hand dances along your back, fingertips drumming over your spine until they come to rest on the swell of your hip on the other side. It is the closest thing to an embrace, his arm a comforting support behind your back. His proximity, if thrilling, does not deter you. Your hands remember exactly what they must do – over a decade of tutoring has left its marks.

Your confidence is short-lived. His hair tickles your ear as he leans in, a soft press of his lips to your shoulder, devoted, sensuous and… lingering. Your fingers slip but for a moment. It is enough to draw the wrong tunes from the instrument, a cacophonous quake that has you wincing in surprise.

“You must stay focused,” Benedict warns, lips still warm on your skin, “or everyone shall hear that you are… rather distracted.”

“How fortunate that I am known for my stable countenance.”

“Hm, yes, that is what they say about you, my darling, “ he whispers. “If only they saw you as I do, falling apart at the mere idea of a kiss.”

You close your eyes and recollect yourself, trying desperately to ignore how he feels against you. Despite his warning he shows no signs of stopping, not even as you resume your play. The next kiss hits the crook of your neck. You feel his nose against your jaw as he inhales your scent, rose oil and soap. For a moment his warm exhale against your throat overshadows the fact that is fingers curl at your hip, a not so innocent squeeze that you feel somewhere between your legs.

You’re aware that both of your families are just outside in the gardens, that the open windows and the steady breeze carry your tunes far out on the premises. Muscle memory serves you and you finish the hardest part of the song without more than one or two off-key notes. Benedict has been silent, lips lingering just below your ear. Just as you move on to the conclusion his mouth gets more insistent, sucking gently at your delicate skin as he gets carried away.

”Benedict,“ you warn. Crooked tunes are one thing, a vivid red kiss mark another.

“Forgive me,” he whispers, pressing tiny kisses along your neck now. “I cannot help it.”

You finish the song with a relieved exhale, wondering if a musical number has ever felt so painfully long before. Benedict has lost his patience, it seems. His free hand comes to rest on your sternum as though he needs to feel the agitated rise and fall of your chest. You only have a moment to relish in the soft feel of his palm on your bosom before he curls his fingers over your jaw and forces your head to turn to him. His kiss is dizzying, starved. He tastes of the strawberries he must have had outside just earlier.

You allow him to kiss you breathless before you remove yourself. He tries to chase after you, as he is wont to do, but a finger on his swollen lips has him halting. His expression rivals that of Newton when he is in want of a treat.

“We must go back outside before they find us,” you say. “It is already suspicious enough that I played off-key the moment you stepped inside.”

“I blame you for being such a flawless musician.”

“I blame you for being such an irresistible distraction. Now come on, my darling, I am suddenly in want of some sweet strawberries.”

He sighs woefully and you cannot help but kiss the pout from his face.

⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆

3 Painting

You see the corgi’s bottom disappear around the corner. The Viscountess runs after him to retrieve the pall mall ball he stole from the lawn, her mallet swinging from her side as the heated game between her, Anthony, Colin and some of your own relatives is interrupted. The laughter of little children accompanies your every step as you and Eloise take a turn about the house, exerting your legs for a stroll after the small luncheon you had earlier.

Perhaps mere intuition. You glance up to one of the windows upstairs just as it gets pushed open. The rolled up white sleeve and bare forearm disappear from view and you have to resort to using your parasol to hide the direction of your gaze as it lingers long after. A purposely given sign or mere coincidence, you are eager to find out.

“Excuse me, Eloise, I would like to… cool down inside for a moment,” you lie. “I am running quite hot in the sun.”

“Ah, yes, cool down,” she murmurs. “I am sure it is not at all because you cannot bear to spend even a minute without my insolent brother.”

She waves you off, her words mere teasing. You have no doubt she is rather glad to return to her books instead of parading around with you.

Thanks to the many diversions offered in the gardens you manage to slip back inside mostly unnoticed. Aubrey Hall, as grand as it is, is still more of a maze to you than a house and you wander around for longer than expected. A waste of your time with Benedict, certainly, but the manor more than makes up for it in beauty and family history at every turn.

When you reach the right corridor, you note that one of the doors stands ajar. With the window open you can feel the soft breeze carrying you towards the room, the mildly chemical smell of paint assuring you that you are correct.

Benedict is busy. He is seated on a wooden stool, wearing nothing but his ruffled white shirt, the collar open wide to reveal most of his chest, suspenders sitting somewhat tight on his shoulders as he moves his brush across the canvas like it’s his sole purpose in life. Your stomach warms at the sight.

Everything he does inspires love, the way he holds the brush, the way his face is scrunched up in concentration, lips slightly parted and tongue wetting the corners of his mouth. When he spots you by the door his expression morphs into the crooked smile that never fails to have your heart aflutter.

“Do not let me disturb you, dearest,” you echo and he cocks his head to the side.

“Is your goal not to disturb me, Mrs Bridgerton?”

“Not my name quite yet,” you correct. “Though I do rather like the sound of it.”

“Hm. So do I.”

He picks up more paint with his brush and you approach the easel, watching him work. The subject is a still life, for lack of better choices you assume. The fruit in the small basket has seen better days, though he omits the putrid details in his painting.

“I should have you sit for me,” he comments, noticing your doubtful gaze. “That way I might not get as much painting done but at least I would have something worthwhile to look at.”

“If we were to be left alone in a room for hours I doubt you would get any painting done.”

He chuckles, depositing some more of the red paint on the cheek of an apple. “Are they all distracted outside, then?”

“Mhm, your brother is busy ruining my family at pall mall,” you say. “He should give them a chance at winning or they might call off the engagement after all.”

“Are they quite ambitious?”

“Not as much as your brother and the Viscountess, I daresay.”

He sets his palette down to give you his undivided attention but before he can stand and seize control you’ve already wrapped your arms around his neck from behind. Without his waistcoat there is hardly a barrier between you now, the thin shirt allowing you to properly feel his shape underneath as you press against his back. Your lips find his cheek, your hands the opening of fabric at his shirt and you can’t help but pull at your gloves, desperate to feel his skin. The moment your warm palms connect with his chest the brush slips from his fingers, clattering to the floor.

“You must stay focus, remember?” you tease.

“What if I don’t want to?” he whispers, suddenly breathless.

“Then you can focus on me instead.”

He does. You crave more room so you slowly run your fingers up his suspenders and let them slip from his shoulders, one by one, until you can open his shirt even wider. You admire his bare torso, the freckles that litter his body like stars in a pale night sky, soft hair and even softer skin.

The kisses you press to his neck and shoulder are nothing short of reverent, the muse admiring the artist. Benedict gives you full access, one hand gently resting on your wrist and the other in his lap. Braver now, you run your thumb over his nipple and the deep moan he releases is nothing if not obscene. You smile to yourself, repeating the movement to which he reacts by letting his head fall back against your shoulder. His hand reaches for his knee in a tight grip.

“You are certain everyone is occupied outside?” he asks, voice strained.

“It seemed so,” you reply. “Though, if you keep making these noises, they will hear you through the open window and knowing your brother he will sense my presence up here.”

“Hm perhaps Anthony will challenge me to a duel if he finds us.”

“Don’t even joke about that. Besides, he would have to challenge me to a duel since I am currently dishonouring you.”

“And whatever would you duel in? Who can vex me more?”

“Do I vex you, dear?”

“You do, s-so much. Ah.”

“And how so?”

“Do you really have to ask, you little temptress? How am I expected to wait another week?”

His patience has run thin. Before you can react he has swivelled around. Two broad hands grab at your hips and he pulls you into his lap with a fluent turn of his upper body. The stool wobbles precariously under your combined weight but somehow, miraculously, Benedict manages to balance it out. His thumb feels wet when he swipes it over your cheekbone, drawing you in for a proper kiss.

Benedict has a tendency of getting carried away when you’re alone. You slow him down with a tug at his unruly hair. His tongue swipes across your lips and you allow him to lick against yours for but a moment. Somewhere in the back of your mind, prudence and common sense battle with the unhinged desire that his touch provokes at all times. You pull away with a regretful sigh.

“Do not think I am handling this any better than you,” you whisper.

His lust-filled expression has you doubting your own sanity. You are close to losing your composure at the way his lips curl in discontent when a childlike squeal outside reminds you that you are in fact not the only two people in the world. Benedict reluctantly eases his grip on you and you manage a safe distance.

“I shall let you get back to your painting,” you say. “I expect someone will be looking for me soon.”

“I will join you outside in a moment.”

You smile and make for the door before your senses leave you yet again. The corridor feels violently empty without his presence but you are not yet around the nearest corner when you are met with the broad frame of another Bridgerton. Anthony spots you with an expression that borders on disapproval but carries the same hint of perpetual fondness he cannot shake ever since marrying his wife.

“Has your… game ended, my lord?” you ask, trying to appear innocent.

“Hm, I see yours has as well. You should… wash your face.” He gestures to your cheek with a raised brow, brisk steps carrying him past you. “And I shall have a word with my dear brother.”

When you bring your fingers to your face you are met with the wet texture of undried oil paint, apple-red. You notice another stain by your hip soon after, fingerprint-shaped no less. Even though you will have to change into a different dress now you can’t bring yourself to regret your impromptu visit, not when Benedict’s taste still lingers on your lips. The shouting from the other room stays out so you assume his brother found mercy on him as well. No duel today after all.

⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆

4 Picnic

The weather is most pleasant as you traverse the vivid green meadows with Benedict by your side, hand placed securely in the crook of his arm. It was decided that two days before the wedding the whole party would embark on a picnic to enjoy the outdoors. The chosen destination is a nearby lake and while the servants set up the location you are all taking an extensive walk across the countryside to see more of the surrounding lands of the Bridgerton’s ancestral home.

The walk is short in distance but with both of your family’s making the trip it is a rather time-consuming endeavour. Your relatives have decided to inspect every single tree and field on the way, complimenting the Viscount and his mother on the beautiful piece of land his family calls their home. The smaller children are meanwhile distracted by pebbles, sticks and the odd insect that crosses their path, particularly intrigued by the colourful butterflies that flutter excitedly over a plethora of blossoming weeds and flowers and refuse to be caught by their eager little hands.

You and Benedict use the time to focus on each other. You have fallen back just enough to speak freely and you count the amount of love-sick smiles you receive every time he lures a giggle from you. He is adorable when he’s with others, more adorable still when he is with you.

By the time you reach the lake you are at twelve smiles. The set-up is too lovely and serene, a shame to be disrupted by two dozen people swarming to it for refreshments. In the shade of high broadleafs and so close to the water the heat is much more bearable.

“Benedict, fetch your betrothed a lemonade, will you?”

You find Violet, as you are now allowed to call her, with her hand reaching for your gloved elbow. Benedict and her exchange looks that speak of their intimate knowledge of the other’s thoughts, his challenging and hers that of a mother who has to remind her son of his manners. You fight off a smile as he excuses himself. He never likes to leave you alone with his family.

“Will you sit with me, dear?” Violet asks. “It is rather difficult to catch either of you alone these days.”

“Forgive me, I know we are toying the line of propriety by spending so much time together already–”

“Oh, nonsense! I am sure neither Anthony nor your family mind. In fact we are rather excited to see you getting along so well.” She leads you to one of the blankets by the side of the picnic arrangements, littered with pillows of sky-blue embroidery that invite you to rest. “You must know that a love match is all I ever wanted for dear Benedict.”

You do your best to find a graceful sitting position on the uneven terrain, keeping your latest encounter with Anthony to yourself. “I daresay it is rare to find a love that is so genuine.”

She smiles at you, a motherly smile that is all the proof you need that you have long since been accepted into the family. “I am inclined to agree, my dear. It is rare indeed.”

For a moment you sit in comfortable silence as the breeze sweeps through the clearing, leafy-green canopy swaying and rustling to the rhythm of the cooling wind. You spot several ducks gliding across the lake, some more sitting in the gras by the shore. It is idyllic. If a life with Benedict means spending more time in this part of the country you know you will spend many a happy summer with him.

When you focus back on the party you notice your betrothed approaching the scene with a somewhat hesitant smile, still adorable in its crookedness. A reassuring look is exchanged and he slowly lowers himself to your level, hands occupied with refreshments.

“I shall take my leave,” Violet says. “I hear Daphne and sweet Augie require my presence.”

You are certain that they are alright on their own but you will not miss an opportunity to be alone with Benedict if she offers it so willingly. Once she is out of sight Benedict hands you the lemonade. The first sip is just what you need after the walk.

“And… since you are so fond of strawberries,” he says, “I secured you the last few before the children get their hands on them.”

“Thank you, my dear.”

He smiles genuinely now and you lean a bit closer. A comfortable silence settles between you, even though the party more than makes up for it in noise. The strawberries are sweet as they only come in June, picked ripe and fat with juice, staining your gloves red at your fingertips. You care not. Not when Benedict secured them for you, not when his eyes are fixed on your mouth with every bite you take as though he envies them every sinking of your teeth.

You offer him one but instead of taking it he leans in and presses his lips to the corner of your mouth, sucking the juice from your lips.

“Ben–” you warn.

“Shhh.”

Another kiss before he pulls away. You glance around nervously but everyone seems too occupied to notice. On the blanket you place your hand next to his and toy with the ring on his pinkie, hooking your finger in his bigger one. Benedict looks at the strawberry still in your hand, then back to your eyes, a honey-sweet smile gracing his lips.

“Perhaps I would like one after all,” he says, “now that I know how delicious they are.”

He is a tease but you lift the fruit anyway, holding it up to his mouth. He takes his time to take a bite, eyes intensely glued to yours. Perhaps you are too far gone to care, perhaps it’s the way he commands all of your attention with a mere look, but the world around you blurs into nothingness. It is unfair, you think, how every freckle and dimple you discover on his face makes him even more beautiful.

As he swallows you finally notice a few pairs of eyes on you. Heated cheeks have you sitting back, covering the worst with a press of the back of your hand. But before you can compromise yourself any further one of the children squeals in terror and the whole party shifts their focus to sweet Augie who has got too close to one of the ducks. The bird has spread its wings to run to safety, quacking in sudden irritation. The other ducks follow swiftly and soon the whole swarm flutters back to the lake in a whirlwind of feathers and chatter.

You use the distraction to grin at Benedict. His eyes are fixated on you as though the turmoil around you is of no significance to him, a soft, affectionate expression no doubt prompted by your flush. You dare to lean in once more, kissing the sweet strawberry juice form his lips. He looks down to your intertwined fingers, removing his in favour of fully grasping your hand.

You cannot bring yourself to care what it looks like to anyone else as you both let yourself fall back into the pillows, watching the fluffy white clouds travelling across the sky.

⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆

5 Night

A sudden bang like thunder has you shooting bolt upright in bed. You are momentarily confused, the room not as familiar as your own quite yet. Bright moonlight, blue sheets, sheer curtains. Aubrey Hall.

It is the night before the wedding.

You can’t remember falling asleep, only the anxiety that kept you up all evening. Another, quieter bang and you realise that it is your door. Not a knock though. It sounds like someone is using their entire body to get it to open.

You think the whole house must have woken up but beside the ruckus at the entrance to your bedroom everything is eerily quiet. You’re entirely too trusting. Perhaps bringing a makeshift weapon would have been helpful but you approach the door in just your nightgown, barefoot, empty hands. Intruders would attempt to be quiet, would they not?

You are met with Benedict tumbling straight into you. His body is heavy with the lack of his own coordination to support it and you struggle to hold him upright. He recovers before you can fall, stemming a hand against the doorframe.

“Whatever are you doing here?” you yell-whisper, sleep still clinging to you in such a way that it seems absurd and almost dreamlike to find him in your room.

Benedict giggles. He does not laugh, he giggles. “I am here to see you, of course.”

His lull is evident and reality clicks into place. “I believe you are quite drunk!”

“I believe I am quite in love,” he corrects. “And is that not the same thing?”

Suddenly you feel very bare in your sheer, lace-trimmed nightgown with your hair undone and face still crusted with sleep. Benedict is hardly noticing your state, half-leaning on your shoulder, half-leaning in the doorframe. He smells of liquor and smoke.

“Where are you coming from?” you ask, trying to steady him with your hands. He is falling against you again, though you suppose he is doing it to be closer now and not for lack of balance.

“Spent the night with my bro‘ers,” he explains. “A ugh… tradition.”

“Getting drunk the night before our wedding? You are going to feel awful tomorrow!”

“I am not that drunk,” he argues, though his pupils appear wide in the relative darkness of the room. “Just enough to… calm the nerves. Now, do I get my goodnight kiss, pretty please?”

“You are too drunk for a kiss,” you argue, even though his exaggerated pout is rather convincing.

“I am not that drunk, love, I swear.”

“Too drunk to know that you should not be here. Have you lost your mind?”

Another pout, this time, unfairly so, combined with that pleading tone you can never resist. “I had to see you. Make sure you’re… still here.”

His words confuse you more than they enlighten you and you know that the noise combined with your talking might wake someone else any moment now. You cannot draw attention to the rather compromising position you find yourself in, no matter how soon the wedding takes place – if only to save face in front of your relatives.

He may not be too drunk to walk but his unsteadiness is concerning you enough to make an impromptu decision. “Let me take you to bed.”

He giggles again, clearly misunderstanding, and rubs his nose against your cheek. You stop, returning the clumsy embrace you find yourself in. He continues to nuzzle, inhaling deeply in a way that tickles your neck in all the sensitive spots and his hands wrap so tightly around you that he squeezes the very air from your lungs. Your heart swells. Being in his arms unties every tense knot in your body. It is the home you never knew you were missing.

“Oh Benedict,” you whisper, “whatever have you done to me?”

“To bed, hm?”

You gently push him off of you. “Yes, but not mine.”

He grunts but his complaints stay silent as you usher him back into the hallway. You can tell he is more coordinated now but when he uses you as his crutch you allow it anyway. To your dismay, you realise that it is going to take you forever to get to his room. His pace is sluggish, multiple times you have to shush him and he refuses to walk without touching you in some shape or form.

By the time you finally arrive at his bedroom, you are not sure if you’re sleepwalking or actually awake, the sudden rush of excitement upon waking up now slowly catching up with you. It is sheer luck that you enter without anyone taking notice. Benedict exhales a loud yawn that rivals the roar of a lion. You use the opportunity to undress him.

Perhaps it is for the greater good that you do not get further than his waistcoat. He rather suddenly drops himself onto his bed and drags you right with him. The impact has you tumbling across his body, landing in the soft sheets and pillows that are as yet untouched. Benedict pulls you close, eyes half-lidded and heavy. His hands roam your body but it is not sexual at all. He follows your curves as though it is the natural thing to do and with only your nightgown covering your skin his hands feel closer, warmer than ever. You raise a hand to brush back his curly hair, tracing the tired lines of his face, connecting each freckle like the stars in a constellation of your own making.

You think he must be falling asleep, lulled by your gentle caress, but then he suddenly furrows his brow. His eyes find yours as though he suddenly remembered something important.

“You won’t say no, will you?” he asks. “Leave me standing by the altar a fool?”

You smooth out the crease on his forehead. “Are you truly afraid that I would?”

“You must admit… this all rather feels like a dream.” His hand stops at the dip of your waist, resting in the natural valley underneath your ribcage. “A part of me is still waiting for the painful morning after when I wake up and realise that none of it was real.”

“It is real, so very real, Benedict.” You smile, reassuring him. “Though I daresay it is natural to be nervous the night before your wedding. Is this why you came to my room?”

He ignores you, fingers denting your flesh in insistence. “Tell me that you will say yes. Promise me.”

��Of course I will. I promise. There is nothing I want more than to marry you.”

He seems satisfied, eyes falling closed again. His lashes tickle his reddened cheeks. They feel hot underneath your thumb as you smooth it over his skin and you hope he won’t feel too exhausted tomorrow. Even now he is so very beautiful, so lovely, so yours.

“Don’t be scared, please,” you whisper, and then, because it feels right, “I love you.”

His eyes blink back open, the words, so explicit, a novum between the two of you. Your reward is the crooked smile you so adore and he presses his forehead to yours. “I love you.”

You decide that he earned his good night kiss now. It is soft, unexcited, but it lingers and he does his best to kiss back. You note a bitter hint to his taste but it does not bother you. When you break away Benedict is practically asleep and by the time you finally control your love-sick smile you can hear his quiet snores.

You slip from his bed on the empty side and bring your hands to your lips, touching them as though you just kissed him for the very first time. The way back to your room feels like a dream in itself. But you know, you are so perfectly sure, that you will wake up to the happiest day of your life.

⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆

+1 Wed

Mornings start with a soft press of his lips to your shoulder.

No matter which position you find yourself waking up in, it is always the first thing you feel. The kiss is so soft that it tickles and you can never pretend that you are asleep for much longer. Benedict won’t let you because the first kiss is always followed by another and another and another. So many kisses that you can’t hold back your giggles, not when he reaches the ticklish spot by your ear.

You think it is the very reason he does it.

A heavy freckled arm wraps around your front, dragging you across the mattress until you are met with the solid chest of your husband. He is warm against your back, familiar, welcome.

Benedict hums, a hand closing around your breast and squeezing. His lips return to your neck but they are less soft now. If you do not pay attention you have to walk around with your silk scarf again. Paying attention, however, is hampered by his other hand sneaking down your belly and dipping between your legs.

“Good morning,” he whispers, “my beautiful wife.”

“Good morning,” you echo, still quite hazy with sleep.

The bright light streaming in through the curtained windows tells you it is rather late already. However, your eyes flutter closed the moment his fingers slide between your folds. He rubs you gently, waking up your body with the tingles of carefully built pleasure. You can feel his hips shifting forward as well, his cock growing hard against the small of your back, and suddenly getting up is the last thing on your mind.

By now you are customarily late for breakfast.

For the past few days he has done nothing but explore the previously unknown land that is your body, map out its hills and valleys and find the sweetest spots to linger. No matter how much information you thought you had clandestinely gathered, nothing truly prepared you for what it means to love someone, to lean into your passions so freely. But then perhaps Benedict makes it easy.

You gasp when his finger probes further down, slipping into you effortlessly. He adds a second digit soon after. Even so he remains unhurried, taking his time to gift you the sweetest strokes, the gradual build-up of warmth and desire you now know is the most rewarding. The rhythm of your bodies is slow like a dance to one of your ballads but soon your moans grow louder and you roll your hips into his hand with impatience. Your peak draws near and his other hand knowingly rolls your nipple between his fingers, lips pressed firmly to your neck. The touch is enough to take you to the release you so crave. You keen and shiver in his arms as it tears through you, one hand grasping at his biceps and the other buried in the sheets.

“Ben–” you whisper and he chuckles at your breathless voice.

It is evident that he enjoys showing you how good he can make you feel. That it pleases him to worship you whenever an opportunity arises. Mornings in bed are drawn-out, nights short and sleepless, slow hours during the day filled with spying for empty rooms and available surfaces. You wonder if you could extend your honeymoon indefinitely, to spend your days like this forever.

Benedict gives you a mere moment to breathe before his hand releases your breast and cradles your cheek instead. He gently turns your head, thumb pressed to the tender underside of your jaw, and then his lips descent with an impatient hunger. You bury your hand in his soft hair, one of your favourite things to do, and he groans when you tug at his strands. His body has become familiar to you as well, your own map of him ever-expanding.

Slow as your mornings begin, they quickly turn sensual and needy. His other hand grabs your thigh and opens you for him, spreading you apart. You can feel his cock hard against your wet cunt, an anticipatory whimper leaving your throat. Benedict slowly pushes into you, making sure to avoid any discomfort you might feel before he finds a more satisfying pace. Your limbs are still tangled in the sheets, every movement bringing forth a symphony of rustling of fabric and the rhythmic sound of skin meeting skin.

Kisses deepen, lips swell and your bodies move in practiced sync. You feel the warm tingles spreading into every corner of your insides, his softer moans and your higher ones drowning out the world around you until all you know is him. You are still tender and when you come the pleasure feels like liquid fire in your veins. You hiccup as he picks up his pace with you still tight around him, prolonging the sensation. Then he rather suddenly stills, smothering a deep moan with an uncoordinated kiss. You feel his release warm inside of you and smile.

As the world comes back into view, you begin to stroke his hair and lace your fingers with his. He laughs, satisfied, then kisses you again with less insistence. His arm once again wraps around your middle, pulling you close while his lips stay firmly planted on yours. His chest is damp and your own body feels hot as well. You’re grateful for cool sheets and silken pillows.

“I don’t think we should rise today,” you decide, eyeing the window.

“Mhm, I don’t think we should either.”

───── ⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆ ─────

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[shrewsburysworld]

YANDERE POPULAR BOY JUNGKOOK | PART 3

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

Warning:- Accusations of infidelity, murder, delusion behaviour.

*This is a fan fiction. completely fictional. The behaviour of characters in this fiction is not something to emulate. You are responsible for your own consumption. Thank you.*

Yandere Jungkook spoiled you rotten with his luxury, be it the latest market pieces of jewellery or designer clothes.

Yet it never fascinated you, your world became a gilded prison. he showered you with every comfort, yet it was a life devoid of freedom.

Jungkook believed his love was pure and his obsession was justified. To him you were everything, he didn't force you to sleep with him. and you were thankful for that. Maybe he actually loved you, but he was a mentally ill person.

You felt sorry but being trapped in your golden cage began to suffocate you under the weight of his so-called love.

So you took your chance and tried to play with his mind and sanity. you accused him of things he couldn't understand - infidelity, deceit - things that baffled him because his devotion to you was absolute.

One evening, in the grand but empty mansion you shared, you confronted Jungkook. "You're seeing someone else, aren't you?" you whispered, tears brimming in your eyes.

You couldn't afford to take someone else's name because what if he hurt them, you know he is capable of doing that. Jungkook stared at you confused and hurt. "No!! There's no one but you. How could you think that?"

But you wouldn't listen. You wanted out, wanted to escape the suffocating grip of a love that was slowly killing you. In your desperation, you filed for a divorce, hoping to use the accusation of infidelity as your escape route.

The thought of losing you Jungkook to madness. He didn’t understand your accusations, but if there was someone you believed he was cheating with, that person had to be eliminated. His love for you was so consuming that it twisted his logic, turning his actions into something dark and dangerous.

Jungkook began to watch those around him, scrutinizing every woman he interacted with, searching for a hint of the betrayal you believed existed. Then, one day, a colleague’s innocent touch on his arm during a business meeting ignited a spark of rage within him. She was the one you feared. She was the one who would take you away from him.

Driven by his delusion, Jungkook arranged a meeting with the colleague, luring her under the guise of business. It was there, in a secluded penthouse suite, that he ended her life with cold precision. He felt no remorse—only a sense of duty fulfilled, believing he had removed the threat to his marriage.

When you heard the news, you were horrified. Jungkook confessed to you, not out of guilt, but out of love. “I did it for us, Baby!!. She was the reason you wanted to leave. Now we can be together, without anyone coming between us.”

Your blood ran cold. You realized that your accusations, born out of a desperate need to escape, had pushed Jungkook over the edge. His love was not just obsessive; it was deadly. You was trapped, more than ever, in a nightmare from which there was no escape.

Jungkook, oblivious to the terror in your eyes, pulled you close, whispering sweetly, “Now, my love, you’ll never leave me.”

As the walls of the mansion seemed to close in on her, your dreams of freedom shattered like glass. You were his, forever bound by a love that was as painful as it was powerful.

*This is original work. Do not copyright*

Hey Army!! Thank you so much for loving Yandere Jungkook series. If you guys have any further ideas or imaginations for the continuation of this series drop a message/request. 🫶🫶

[sillygoofyqueer]

Bing-ge getting super sparkly/shiny jewelry with magical abilities and the wives are like “Ooh, could this be for me?” only, nah. It’s actually to lure in his future husband. Go away. XD

Ahhh! Shen Yuan making a safe haven for crows is a wonderful idea! Demonic crows or yao, whether they’ve cultivated human form or not, are all welcome! Regular crows too!

Since I love teacher Shen Yuan, of course he teaches all the younger ones too. Just because they spend half their time as birds doesn’t mean they can’t get an education!

The human half of his family are probably from some tiny village who gave offerings to the local crow demons and unintentionally became friends (crows being protective of their people and all). Their village is startlingly safe thanks to crows mobbing anyone who dares try to mess with them! There might be other half-crow kiddos running around too, thanks to the good relations. Shen Yuan tutors the village kids too of course!

(Tiny bit of angst, but Bing-ge burns with envy if he finds out! This half-demon friendly town was here the whole time?!)

This is adorable, Shen Yuan seeing these young children and just being like "...students." Sometimes, if the human children are extra lucky, he'll take them on flights as long as they have 'necessary payment' (usually a cool looking rock and proof that they've done their chores). It's impossible to find Shen Yuan without at least one crow perched on his shoulder or in his hair, unless he's going on - what the others describe as - dangerous escapades to nab cool stuff from Bing-ge's palace, in which he will know and stop anyone who tries to follow him because he's a dumbass with no self-preservation skills, not them! It takes him a startlingly long time to figure out that Bing-ge is leaving things for him on purpose, and he is undeniably shocked when he finds out. He eventually finally takes it as a form of courtship due to other demons' and humans' instance that it probably is. After doing research on crows courting one another, did you know that the males feed the females?? And sing to them?? SO, I immediately thought of the idea of Shen Yuan trying to reciprocate the courting (because he would never be so silly as to reject the emperor, no one in their right mind would) by randomly appearing in Bing-ge's room (much to Bing-ge's delight and confusion) and singing sweetly before feeding a willing emperor apple slices or some shit until Bing-ge reciprocates and feeds him in response and Shen Yuan just pauses and goes "hang on, am I the wife?" and immediately takes to the role without any thought. ("Why would Bing-ge be the wife, how foolish of me!") When Bing-ge finds out about the village that accepts half demons, of course he's a little upset! Why couldn't he have this sort of comfort and love in his life? Why did he have to suffer all this time?? Then he goes to this village so that Shen Yuan can show off his nest to the emperor (sign of trust?) and is immediately hit with the "I want to be here forever" train.

Also, the more you think about it, the funnier it gets actually lmao. He just shows up with these gorgeous trinkets and jewellery and sometimes even clothes (shiny embroidery of course), and they vanish and the wives are all like "where the actual hell are they going? Who do we even complain about??" and it could be like a background thing where the wives all get jealous of each other when there's actually just this bird guy who comes over quite often and started by stealing shit while dropping off helpful things. Imagine how strange that must be for the wives. "Ugh, [wife's name here] is taking all the attention away from us!!", "Really? I thought it was [other wife's name]." Meanwhile, there's just one wife (Liu Mingyuan most likely) who just knows and she doesn't tell anyone, content to watch as chaos ensues while the bird man and Luo Bing-ge fall deeper in love with one another, and the gifts get more elaborate each time. {part three! Part one, part two, part four, part five, part six, part seven!!}

[honeyhenry]

Apple Pie and You and I

A little story of the Seresins aka Hangman being a softie for his girl. Fluff, no warnings, please enjoy!

Jake Seresin, a lone star state boy through and though, always found himself feeling closer to home with a warm apple pie and a country song playing with a gentle thrum on his Pop’s old record player in the room next door.

The only time he felt closer to a sense of home was with you - his lovely lady who had managed to lure and capture the Hangman hook line and sinker by batting her pretty lashes and making him work hard for her attention. It had taken him 3 weeks of smirks that turned to smiles, and insistence that turned into nothing shy of begging, for you to agree to a date. The only holding back he’d done was in omitting to state the thought that had urged him to act in the first place; “Oh, she's gonna be my wife someday.”

The typically cocksure brazen pilot hadn’t the need to utter those words for another 14 months, past the utterly exclusive dating period, nor in between months of loved up sweetness and the pained inevitability of month-long deployments. He’d told you the very moment after his 1 month deployment - which had extended into 7 and a half weeks - of a monogamous routine, where a few pictures and fond memories were just not cutting it any more.

The tarmac had scratched the khaki material of his bags as he'd dropped them with a heavy thud to the ground, only eager to reach your arms sooner. Your little sundress catching in the soft wind, the warmth of the sun heating your cheeks and nose as he engulfs you in his arms, holding tight before he'd pulled his head away to take a proper long look at your pretty face - and then brought your lips to his. He'd kissed you over and over and over, the smile on his face growing every time, your eyes clear and watering, having waited for this moment.

And quietly, once the decision was made to catch your breaths, he'd whispered, lips ghosting over yours, that you were it for him. That he was going to marry you.

According to the Navy, Hangman had no one at home, no next of kin unless you provided the contacts of his parents down in their ranch a few states away should there ever be the need for the passing over of belongings and dog tags to fatefully occur. But Jake Seresin? He had a whole life to get back to; one he needed to kick start with a ring and a question.

The ring itself would be an heirloom, no doubt about it, and had required a trip back to Texas to see his family and share with them his upcoming plans. Having met you a handful of times over Christmas and on big family birthdays, the Seresins were entirely on board. Jake's Momma had given him a close hug with tears in her eyes while his Dad and siblings cheered and grinned the classic Seresin smile. Their family often grew each year, but his Momma and Grammie had worried that their headstrong, flirtatious boy would get too caught up in the ways of the world to settle down. He was a softie at heart, and you had been the best thing to ever happen to him.

They adored you. Enough for Grammie to take her grandson into her study, and open the jewellery box safely nestled inside a locked cupboard door. "This one is a diamond", she'd said as she'd taken out a piece." It's been in the family since before I was born. It's even got the family name engraved inside." Jake had taken it, listening respectfully to his Grammie but still lost in the thought of how the ring would look so beautiful on your finger. Thinking of you being his, forever.

That had been 18 months ago now, and the glinting stone on your ring finger, alongside a shiny golden wedding band, showing that all had gone to plan. Hangman proudly wears his ring too, occasionally looping it around his dog tags if need be. However currently, in the Lone Star state, the dog tags are off and his ring fits snugly on his fourth finger as he holds you close.

It's campfire night at the ranch, and you sit on his lap, curled in and admiring the way his face has caught the sun, inspecting every detail of him in the glow of the fire he had helped to start. He looks between his family; uncles, cousins, grandparents, now and then but his main focus is always you. Your hands clasp his left one as he uses the other to nurse a beer after working up a sweat teaching his youngest nephews to play football earlier that day. It had been so endearing to watch as you'd prepared the barbecue and baked fresh cookies using the special Seresin recipe, with his Momma and sisters.

"I got the recipe from your Mom, for the cookies, so we can have them at home." You'd whispered sweetly as the chatter around the fire continued. "Do you know", Jake murmured, looking deep into your eyes as his green ones pierced into your soul. "Do you know how much I love you?"

Your giggle had been soft and the eye roll that followed made Jake smirk lovingly. Still in awe of how he got the girl that barely spoke to him but was still batting her lashes and playing hard to get. He brings your hand to his lips, kissing the point just above where your rings lay on your finger.

"The kids'll love 'em. You're gonna be a great Mom." He stops smirking and now looks at you, fully focused with a soft, genuine smile. Placing the beer down, he rests his hand on your stomach, underneath the sweatshirt of his you've borrowed that splashes the words University of Texas, Austin on the front. It's old and thinning out but it smells of Jake, so it's something you will happily bask in and nap in and snuggle in until you have to leave his family home once more.

"Shhhh. I already think Grammie knows", you scold him. And she does. Grammie knows and as his Momma watches the two of you interact now, she's certain that she knows too. Call it a Mother's instinct. Jake's little check-ins throughout the day had not gone unnoticed, nor had your daily naps that you blamed on the heat, despite it only being the middle of May.

"But Grammie knows everything, a few more days and I can finally tell 'em all. Been dyin' to sweetheart." His hand rubs your stomach gently, not to raise suspicion but also to comfort you. Sure, as the cookies and apple pie were brought out, he had felt a little nostalgia, but with you in his lap wearing his ring, and his baby in your belly, Jake Seresin had never felt more at home than in that moment.

[lace-coffin]

Hi!!! I really like your headcanons and I would’ve liked if your wrote some headcanons for Brahms Heelshire, Thomas Hewitt and Yautja (male if possible) with a muscular female reader. A muscle mommy if you will.

Pretty please :3

Hi! I’m so glad you like my headcanons that’s so lovely to hear < 3 I had such a good time writing this omg! I’m gonna write a fem yautja aswell for my little lesbian self !

How would the slashers react to a Muscle mommy!Reader? (NSFW)

Requests are open!

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms loves your muscles, he thinks you’re the most attractive person on this earth anyway but the muscles are an added bonus. He always feels so safe wrapped in your big arms when he’s having a bad day, it makes him feel grounded and protected.

He absolutely loves being put in his place, Brahms can be pretty stubborn at the best of times. Refusing to go to his lessons or take a bath? Up you go! Feel free to give his ass a slap if he kicks. He’ll yell and play up but he loves it, being manhandled over your shoulder like an object. Just ignore the boner pressing into you that he totally doesn’t have and is very angry about.

Demands to add your workout to his schedule. Brahms absolutely sits at the table with a little cup of tea and enjoys the show. The way the sweat drips down your arms is absolutely sinful and he loves every moment.

He absolutely hides behind you if you see a mouse or rat scuttle along the floor of the old mansion. Will your muscles realistically help against a mouse? Probably not. Is the mouse actually going to hurt a fully grown man? No. Does Brahms give a shit? No to both.

Thomas Hewitt

Tommy is a big guy himself, especially in the arm department, so he can appreciate how much work and time goes into your muscles. He defiantly has some weights and gym equipment in the basement for when it’s too hot to work out outside or you don’t feel like leaving the house. It’s a lot darker and cooler down there so you don’t have to worry about passing out from the heat or getting sunburnt.

Tommy will make himself ‘Busy’ in the basement when you’re working out. In reality he’s just moving things around pointlessly in an attempt to look like he’s not ogling you from across the room. If you tease him about it his ears will go a cute shade of pink. Let him know he’s allowed to just watch, he doesn’t need an excuse, hell, give him a little show whilst you’re at it.

Arm wrestling is a family event, and by that I mean you and Tommy wrestle and Hoyt yells from the sidelines. It’s nice for Tommy to have someone to roughhouse with without worrying about snapping their arm like a twig. It’s all fun and games so it’s not about who’s winning. Who’s counting anyway? (You’re totally winning)

If you want to fluster him easily then flex for him, pop him a flex whilst you’re helping move barn equipment, he eats it up every time. If you’re sweaty from the heavy lifting too? Even better

Hoyt has less chance of messing with or insulting you if you’re ripped. knowing that he’s an older man and that you could crush him like a tin can saves you from his scrutiny most of the time. Not that you think you would get to kick his ass before Tommy jumped in, but the idea is nice.

Male Yautja

Your partner is used to seeing female yautja bigger and stronger than himself but seeing it on you is so…different and exciting. He’s fascinated by the way the hard muscle sits on your human frame. He’d be lying if he said your strength didn’t lure him in.

He’s super proud of you, shows you off as his mate at any given chance, excitedly talking about how committed to training you are and how you’re perfectly made for hunting. His human is so little but so strong!!

Your mate loves to gift you jewellery and clothing, especially ones that accentuate your arms and midriff, totally not for his own prying eyes or anything. Bone accessories hang around your biceps, hand tied by your mate. He won’t be offended if you gain more muscle and he needs to alter his jewellery, infact he’d be delighted.

You’re not as strong as him considering he’s a massive reptile-esque alien who could crush you like a bug but you’re strong enough for him to not be as worried about hurting you as he would a normal human. You can play rough and dish it out at the same time. Sometimes he lets you win but he won’t tell you that.

Play fighting is always exiting, one minute you’re cuddling in your nest and the next you have him in a headlock, it’s a dirty move but it’s so worth it to see his mandibles flair as he flails in surprise. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t find it a little hot too.

Female Yautja

Female Yautja are known for their strength and stature so having someone who stands on even ground (or as even as it can be with your mates strength) is impressive and new to her.

Dressing you up is a favourite pass time of hers, draping you in the finest silky materials from all over the planets and bone jewellery, hand crafted and hunted personally. Your mate is gratuitous in using semi-transparent fabrics for your outfits, giving herself ample opportunity to see slithers of taught muscles as you go about day to day.

Mating is always intense to say the least, usually females will wrestle the males for dominance during intercourse and well, you pack some weight behind you. Both of you are well defined in the muscle area and neither of you like to loose. Luckily you both have pretty good stamina so you’re not exhausted before you actually get to the deed. Sometimes you manage to pin her and the look on her face is gorgeous, fucked out flustered, she might even tilt her head in submission and give you access to her neck if you’re lucky.

[home-of-renn]

First Impressions

Tucker's first impression of the Addams family is that the whole lot of em are weird - which says a lot considering he's lived his whole life in Amity Park. He thought their whole dark and gloomy schtick was gonna be like Sam's but it turns out they're on a whole other level of creepy and messed up. They weren't the worst people he's ever met and he's relieved that Danny's finally got relatives who seem to actually care about his wellbeing - stupidly rich relatives who weren't obsessive, egotistical, psychopaths who were willing to donate a little green without any strings attached.

But their butler moans and moves like he was just yanked out of a grave and somehow the guy might actually be taller than Mr Fenton.

Their kids are weird but not so bad. Wednesday's dreary attitude could give Sam a run for her money and Pugsley had seemed nice till he'd pulled out a hack saw and an entire string of small explosives from seemingly nowhere (Tucker was finally seeing the Fenton family resemblance).

He had downright refused to step foot into that house after almost having a heart attack from his first encounter with the reanimated, disembodied hand that's got free range of the entire estate.

The grandmother belongs either in an asylum or an urn. She wears so many rings and necklaces and odd pieces of jewellery that she jingles and jangles with every step, yet somehow manages to pop up right behind you every time you turn around.

And Uncle Fester had straight-up serial killer vibes.

The only upside seemed to be the parents.

Mrs Morticia Addams had a figure reminiscent of Jessica Rabbit and wore a dress so tight he almost went half ghost. Sharp features, blood-red lipstick, legs for days and a hauntingly elegant presence. She was like one of those sirens of the deep. Not the kind that befriended seagulls or made questionable deals with tentacled sea witches, but the kind that sat poised on rocks and lured sailors to their watery graves.

He'd initially been so bewitched by Mrs Addams' dark, gleaming eyes that he'd ignored the other dark and handsome figure beside her.

Mr Gomez Addams was a man befitting his shiny cuff links, dapper suit and expensive cologne. He had greeted them with a mesmerising accent and dreamy bedroom eyes.

Mrs Addams stood, poised like a panther, held by a man who walked like he owned the world, and Tucker found himself suddenly besotted with the idea of unhinged grandmothers, murderous uncles, rabid cousins and the lot.

Honestly, the Addamsses are absolutely lovely people. If only he could convince Danny to visit more often.

[zeebreezin]

A Reputation of Some Importance:

Months of planning have gone into this moment. You stand atop one of London’s crooked rooftops, and wait for a ship to pull into dock. The sensation of standing atop a precipice strikes you, of a hundred men scattered across the continent and beyond at your back, of the people you know will venerate this day, even if they never know you. You can almost see it, the Moonlit Chessboard’s spectral pieces sliding across the Zee. Power courses hungry in your vines. White is in Check. Your move. This action will define your reputation, for better or worse. Be sure you’re ready to do this.

A Chancy Challenge Your Watchful + A Player of Chess quality gives you a 55% chance of success.

-> Let It Be Enough.

Checkmate (success!)

The plan is a delicate one. Weeks were spent on the bait alone, engineering a craze for cut rubber jewellery that would lure the Belgian King to celebrate the sudden influx of wealth, stolen from their colonies’ resources & the people that slaved for them. A Reckless Playwright and their many Trendsetting Sycophants become pieces on the board, and soon the tasteless trend takes hold. A few in Brussels convince their king to descend, to shake a few hands below, a show of solidarity with a weak and grasping city. And so, it begins. Matadi, Mombasa, Luanda, Khartoum. Written games of chess are carried through the jungle & across the savanna, moves marked by the banks of the Nile. Forces inside the Congo and out are ready. The reports of the atrocities are drafted, journalists arriving in Brussels while the Belgian King descends below. Once the news is confirmed, the word will break. The Belgian King descends in an amusing display of poorly concealed exuberance. He does not stay for long - a party, a conversation with a few of the Ministry, a nod from the Traitor Empress. It’s unnecessary to your plan, but you seek him out. The disguise of house staff is an easy one to wear, a decade of training sliding on like a second skin. You say nothing to him, of course. But you look him in the eye. You trust only one Licenatiate for the job. The Ravenous Acumen has never failed you when it comes to methods of death, and the toxin is a precise thing. Applied delicately to the stem of a wine glass at the Belgian King’s last meal within the Shuttered Palace. He sets zail hours after. The poison will not kill for hours after application, a corrosion of some core drive leading to lethargy while at zee. It’s the timing that’s critical. Too early, and they risk the ship turning back towards London, towards palace doctors who will know what they see. Too late, and the toxin will be deemed impossible under the sun’s law, and be rendered inert. You see the White King tipping back in your dreams for days, slowly, slowly, slowly. The Belgian King lapses into unconsciousness just after his ship enters the canal. He is dead before the water bleeds into surface tone-blue. No cause of death will be found, laws bent against the forces of the White. No poison could do this, of course. He passed peacefully, in his sleep, and none above will know the agony he died in. Lawmakers arrive home to chaos, to demands for liberation. Belgium will try to hold the colony, of course, those far from the scene. You’ve catalogued their dreams, scandals, and left a bounty for the opportunists. Dossiers left in convenient locations, a flank unguarded. Red will snap up the blackmail, and break their front further. A willing and necessary sacrifice. But the Congo will stay free. All these things come to pass far from your cluttered study. The pieces fall one by one, and now others make moves of their own. Your work is far from over, and it may never truly be over. Much was lost for this, but much will be gained. So many, so far from you now, may finally know freedom, and that knowledge is as heavy as it is peaceful. Those in Wilmont’s End breathe whispers of a Tenebrous Rook, of the unknown that struck down a king. You raise a toast, alone in your study. Is it enough? Have you done enough? Have you earned what you have gained? Would she forgive you, for what you had to do to get here? On this night, at least, you know the answer.

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom.

Heartbreaking Lure

“Are you ready, John?” Sherlock shouts from the bedroom.

“Probably not,” John mutters under his breath.

“Sure,” he says out loud.

John must blink several times when his so-called boyfriend appears in the doorway. If he hadn’t been so familiar with Sherlock’s body and demeanour, John wouldn’t have recognised him. Sherlock looks like someone taken out of the hippie era. A golden-haired wig, long and wavy. He has a cerise coloured hairband across his forehead. The shirt is a loose-fitting thing in denim blue embroidered with yellow and red flowers. Low on his hips, a pair of tight white trousers cling to his muscular thighs and widen considerably just below his knees. Worn trainers complete the outfit.

“You don’t do things halfway, do you, love?” John says rhetorically and approaches the figure he almost can’t fathom is Sherlock Holmes.

Before John reaches him, Sherlock puts on a pair of round spectacles with red glasses, which hide those peculiar eyes of his. 

“You know my ways, John,” Sherlock purrs and pulls John in for a languid kiss.

“I do,” John confirms a bit out of breath after the lovely snog. “Now get your gorgeous arse moving, and I’ll see you later.”

John gives Sherlock’s arse cheeks a good squeeze to emphasise his words and Sherlock gives him a wink before bouncing down the stairs.

***

John feels utterly ridiculous when he’s dressed himself. It’s Sherlock who has bought the costume, and of course it reflects one of the many kinks of the detective. However foolish John feels dressed up as a sailor, he knows it’ll be worth it in the end.

The only way John can get Sherlock to attend a carnival, is for a case, like now. They are both undercover trying to catch the jewellery thief red-handed. 

When John arrives at the posh apartment in Mayfair, Sherlock’s nowhere to be seen.

Clueing for looks somewhere, John thinks to himself and chuckles. 

John’s disguise doesn’t stand out at all. There are all sorts of costumes, from the pompous Marie Antoinette figure to something reminiscent of Jean Valjean when he was imprisoned. A few hippies emerge from another room, but none of them is Sherlock.

John wanders around, his hands clasped on his back as if inspecting a regiment. 

Old habits die hard.

A murmur in his ear, startles him.

“As you were, sailor.”

“Git,” John hisses. “We don’t know each other, remember.”

Sherlock’s rumble is low and makes John’s knees weak with desire. The power Sherlock’s voice has over him should be alarming, but the feeling is far too delicious to fight. 

“The library in five minutes. Second door to the right,” Sherlock whispers and gives John’ earlobe a lick before he’s gone.

John takes a deep breath and steels himself for the confrontation that will happen in a few minutes.

***

“Stop laughing,” John complains when they’re back at Baker Street.

“But, darling, you look so sweet when you’re like this,” Sherlock explains, his voice filled to the brim with glee.

The confrontation had gone well, until the thief had tried to flee. John had tackled the woman, dressed as Zorro, in some sort of boudoir. She had been like an eel in John’s hands and had gotten a hold of a jar of glitter that she had thrusted at John. Sherlock and Lestrade came to his rescue, but the glitter stuck to John’s face, neck, hair and hands.

“I’m taking a shower!” John exclaims while Sherlock still shakes with laughter.

“Jo…John, don…don’t be upset. You look ador…”

“Shut it, Sherlock! Not funny anymore,” John spits and marches to the bathroom.

It takes forever to get rid of all the twinkly bits, and John’s mood has not improved. When he finally turns off the shower, he hears familiar music being played in the sitting room. It’s something John always describes as a heartbreaking lure. “In the Cluster Blues”. One of his favourites, and Sherlock’s way of apologising.

John smiles, his mood suddenly lightening, something only one person in the world is able to make happen so quickly. His beloved Sherlock Holmes.

@flashfictionfridayofficial @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @a-victorian-girl @phoenix27884 @helloliriels @safedistancefrombeingsmart @gregorovitchworld @peanitbear @topsyturvy-turtely @raina-at @7-percent @ninasnakie

[tadpolesonalgae]

Love Fool

Nesta x reader

a/n: This didn’t go in the direction I was expecting, but oh well

Day 2 for @nestaarcheronweek : Metamorphosis

Warnings: mention of sexual assault, Nesta having ptsd from the cauldron, kind of hurt/comfort?

word count: 3,955

Sharp, grey eyes cut across the tavern, picking her out with ease, adorned in a dress of such deep purple it almost appears as an inky blue, velvet warm and inviting as it wraps around her body. Golden clips hold her hair back, thin and golden chains of jewellery sitting around her wrists, hanging from her pointed ears, mouth painted in a shimmery purple and gold.

Horrific beauty that never fails to reel in her attention, luring Nesta’s eyes over no matter who else may be in the room.

She feels bewitched, her heart not her own, her pulse heating whenever the female enters her vision, lips parting to allow air into her lungs. A few times her nails have grazed the pale skin of her chest, assuring herself she is still breathing. That the life hasn’t been pulled from her body without her knowing.

Grey eyes return to her cards, swiftly growing bored of the game. Her drink has been empty for a while, and none of the males hold even a suggestion of the blissful pleasure she’s searching for tonight. The kind that will take her away from the strange tightness in her chest whenever the female manages to pull another glance form her.

The game concludes, but Nesta gives no sign of choice between the males, each in silent competition with the other for a chance to bed her. And yet as they try to initiate conversation, eager to prove themselves worthy, already Nesta can feel that phantom presence shifting through the tavern, fighting to keep from looking—to affirm what she already knows.

Warmth settles at her side as the female slides into the booth, the proximity closer than anyone else has dared risk with her, a distance shared between women, then men have no access to. At least, not without effort.

There’s an intangible shift over the table, the atmosphere changing with the presence of fresh fruit pressed so appetisingly to an already appealing meal. Tantalising and irresistible to any male with hot blood in his veins. Nesta doesn’t believe the female at her side is oblivious to the change she’s caused with a simple movement, believes it was intentional to a degree. Her thoughts are confirmed when one of the males attempts to bring the fluid-bodied female in, switching his approach to what appears to be an easier catch. Unaware of the honey trap.

Remark after remark slips from his lips, accumulating into the suggestion that’s doubtlessly on all their minds, the nature shared between them, fallible and easily redirected with the allure of a hunger being satisfied, greed sticky and oozing from their rough features. It isn’t the first time Nesta’s overheard a proposition like this, but it’s certainly the first she’s so directly been included in, the male making little effort to conceal the explicit fantasy he already drools over.

And while the female at Nesta’s side has no obvious reaction other than a suggestive smile, eyes twinkling with sultry implication, Nesta catches the slight wrinkle to her nose as she returns “I doubt you have the coin to pay for a show like that”, and puts an end to the conversation.

————

You watch as the males depart, understanding they are no longer welcome at the booth you’d commandeered.

Nesta’s empty glass twinkles in the low light, and you call someone over for a refill, enjoying how the liquid splashes in the hold, swirling around like a stormy sea until full. Instead of passing it to her however, you raise it to your own lips, drinking deeply to wash away the grubby looks the males had been trying to glue the two of you together with. Trying to wash away the foul taste in your mouth.

How Nesta finds the conviction to put herself through this each night is alarming to say the least. Her determination to punish herself is indeed remarkable, if not disturbing. But she makes no move to retrieve her glass, sitting alert at your side, cornered and confined to the darker parts of the booth.

The glass clinks on the table as you set it down, at last glancing to her, pinning her with your attention. Her grey eyes ice over, sharp and piercing as they search for a way in, to penetrate past your exterior. To find a soft spot to pry open with bladed words, jamming in the steel she holds within to fracture you, to push you away like every other person in her life.

“How was dinner last night?” You ask neutrally, the painted nails of your fingers grazing along the cold ridges of the glass, tracing the bumps and dips. “The usual,” she replies, quicksilver eyes darting between your own set at the amber liquid at the bottom of the glass. “Really?” You remark, with sarcastic surprise. “You know, that’s quite odd, because Mor tells me you haven’t been a single time in the last six months, so it really is quite impressive you’ve managed to elude her so thoroughly.”

Nesta’s lips purse, silver eyes glinting with something slightly other. “I didn’t realise it was any of your business—what I do in my personal life,” she replies coldly.

“It isn’t really. But you’re making it. You aren’t exactly subtle about your interests.” Her gaze shutters, a sure sign the comment had hit close to a nerve. “You can’t honestly tell me numbing yourself every night with sex and alcohol really works, Nesta,” you continue, speaking while you have her attention. “Whatever problem you’re running from won’t shrivel up and die if you leave it long enough. It’ll be waiting for your return.”

“You don’t know what you’re taking about,” she replies lowly, the edge of a snarl to her voice, and you flick your gaze over her, marking that while she makes no attempts to hide herself, a certain stiffness follows the sweep of your attention. Fighting to not shrink away. “I know grief when I see it,” you reply, taking another drink from her glass. Silvery eyes track your motions acutely, feeling their weight on your mouth as you take what she probably considers the last of her absolution.

The glass thunks upon the wooden table, a clear end to the conversation as you stand, gazing down at her. “It’s already been a long night,” you say idly, watching her from your higher position. “Retire with me. The dark can be dangerous, even in a city of starlight.” Her expression sours at the mention, resentment tucking itself between the slight dip of her brows, the subtle disgust shown in the crinkle around her pretty nose.

“Oh-so-powerful Rhysand can’t keep the streets tidy?” Nesta remarks, but it’s clear she’s trying to rile you. “Worry about yourself before speaking from the gutters,” you murmur softly, low enough fo no one to hear, vicious enough to put an end to her poisonous games. “I think you’re forgetting you’d be included in that cleanse,” you speak quietly, pausing, “at least, as you are.” Unless you change.

Nesta bristles, mercury swirling in her glacial eyes, glittering with something stinging and wrathful, before it’s smothered with self-destructive efficiency. But then she settles in her seat, pressing comfortably into the booth, gazing up at you. “And yet here you are, in these gutters too. A little hypercritical, don’t you think?”

“I will wander worse places if necessary.”

“How noble of you.”

You sigh, feeling fatigue beginning to weigh on you—a buildup of late nights spent keeping an eye on her, subtly, always finding your own company to make it less glaring. Shaking your head, you pin her with a cold look, one that thaws out against her own ice. “Aren’t you tired, Nesta?”

She’s quiet, features unmoving; unyielding. Growing colder, if possible.

“Come back with me,” you say, “start tonight, and by tomorrow you’ll have already taken the first step.”

But she allows herself no reprieve. No relief from the numbing poison.

Soaking in her nest of self-imposed sickness.

————

After that initial confrontation, Nesta only becomes more aware of her presence. How she shines in the middle of rooms, sending shockwaves of laughter crashing down upon her own dim and quiet corners, so raging and wrathful they’re an effort to withstand. To weather.

Night after night she appears, without fail, stalking Nesta’s steps relentlessly with a drive that has her own conviction both growing stronger; more impenetrable, and pausing. On the verge of collapse.

There have been more times in the past month the female has approached her, trying to lure her away from the blissful deadening of her mutinous senses. Usually it’s a subtle dismissal of whatever group Nesta has aligned herself with for the night, a quiet send-off that leaves Nesta with the choice of either integrating herself into a new setting, or to leave for her cold, smelly bed. Usually though, she forges onward, a creature of habit that persists relentlessly, rotting in the dark, grimy corner of whatever establishment she’s chosen.

Nesta worries about that pull, though.

Every step echoes through her mind, every word reverberating through the numbed halls of her memories the next day.

Then there are the rare moments the female will make her intervention more blatant, more difficult to ignore. Her tone sharper than usual, her proximity closer, as if trying to physically force her way through the barrier Nesta has spent years carefully engineering.

On the worst nights, deep in the darkness after at last returning home, having stubbornly protested against leaving, her thoughts wander. Wonder what would happen if she allowed herself to be swept away. Wonder at the tension that warms in her chest with the female’s presence. And in the darkest, most liminal hours, in the utter silence of her small apartment, she sometimes wonders what it would be like to leave with her.

But leaving…going with her…

She would have to return here eventually, and she doesn’t want to crumble.

————

You’re sipping on your drink, leaning against the wall of the tavern facing the street, when you hear a snarl louder than the others, loud enough to reach you despite the carefully thought out distance.

A male growl follows quickly, starving and angry, hissing with aggression, and your skin prickles with awareness. Attention sliding toward the alley Nesta had disappeared into a while ago.

Something thuds on the floor, like a barrel being pushed over, and the sounds of commotion follow, echoing off the brick walls. You turn into the alley, magic swelling at your fingertips, warming your skin as you pull it to the surface.

Nesta steadies herself, trying to dig her nails into the male’s face as he forces himself closer. Your blood pounds around your ears, picking up to a debilitating roar as muscle seizes, fury so cutting you’re nearly swept away in the current. But then your hand settles over his shoulder, and he’s vanished away, displaced to somewhere else. Somewhere you know he’ll be treated well.

Fear-dilated pupils meet your gaze, and you can hear her heart thundering against her ribs, the ragged huffs of breath as her chest rises up and down, the front ties of her dress disturbed, revealing more of her cleavage than usual, and that roar returns to your ears, fighting to calm yourself, to be steady for her.

“Are you okay?” You ask flatly, knowing what will happen if you allow a slip of emotion out. Nesta pants deeply, gaze flickering between you and where the male had been, eyes shuttering, pupils shifting and contracting with fear as she swallows. Then manages to nod.

Your lips purse, fury beginning to abate. Refocusing on the female before you. “You’ll probably stay in shock for a little,” you say quietly, keeping your voice even. “You might start to shake in a bit. Maybe a little nauseous too, but you’ll be okay. You’re safe now.”

Nesta swallows thickly, your attention marking the roll of her throat acutely, noticing the bite on her shoulder, your eyes lingering a little longer than is wise, emotion stirring in your chest. But again you push past it, inclining your chin a little. “Let’s get you back.”

Silver eyes dart about the alley before settling on you, assessing warily. But then she dips her head, pushing up from the wall, hands raising to the roughly tugged-free ties of her dress.

“I’m going to winnow us,” you tell her, keeping your statement clear and steady, speaking so she can process what you mean. She nods her head. “Okay.” Her voice is thick and slightly raw from panic, but mostly together.

Your hand encompasses her own, and darkness wraps around you, icy and startling as wind howls in the background before you’re delivered to the door of your own house, silently bringing her up the steps and guiding her inside. You take your time removing your outer layers, untying your shoes to give her time to process, before copying your actions, remaining quiet. Likely still in shock.

“Why are we here?” She asks at last, a shard of ice creeping back into her slightly shaky voice, “this isn’t my home.”

“It isn’t,” you reply calmly, turning to face her where she’s removing her shoes. It’s a good sign, at least.

But then she stands straighter, raising her gaze to yours, blank and unreadable. “I want you to take me back,” she states, “to my house.”

The two of you watch each other, wills pushing against one another, holding their ground.

“You’ve been through a lot,” you say at last, a touch quieter. “You should stay here for the night.” Nesta manages a shake of her head, slowly walling herself off. “Take me back to my house,” she says firmly, and you glare at her, hard.

When you don’t answer, she turns, making for the door, and panic jumps in your chest, making to reach for her before forcefully tugging yourself back. “Nesta,” you call sharply, having her stop, and you catch the tightness of her shoulders, the slight flinch of her body at the tone. But when she turns to face you, her features are cold and unreadable as ice, already withdrawn and harsh.

You gaze at her silently, brow furrowing a little. “Stay here,” you ask quietly, “just for tonight.”

Her eyes narrow a fraction, and you sense she’s about to speak.

“Please,” you murmur, watching her. “Please, Nesta. One night.”

Her icy gaze shutters, lips tightening.

But, “fine,” she mutters, turning away from the door.

Staying the night.

————

“You can stay here,” you say, guiding her into the room adjacent to your own, a guest bedroom for people you’re more acquainted with. “There are clothes in the wardrobe over there, and a bathing room just through that door. You are the only one with access to it, so you’re more than welcome to use it.”

Nesta steps in behind you, entering the clean space, taking it in with clinical scrutiny as se analyses and examines each trunk, the wallpaper, the ceiling and windows, the rugs over the hardwood floor. “Is that everything?” She asks, turning to you.

“Do you need anything else?” You reply, leaning your back against the for frame, legs crossing at the ankles.

Her nose wrinkles, but instead of irritation rising up at the action, relief again cools your spine. She seems to already be returning to normal.

“I’ll manage,” she responds, a clear dismissal.

One you don’t follow, watching her a little longer.

Then you nod, glad she’s at least accepting help. “Okay.”

————

You’re pulled awake, something tugging in your lower stomach, an urge to see her, to find her, to make sure she’s okay after the night.

But she’s probably asleep by now, so you don’t go. Judging by the colour of the sky, it’s been a few hours since she came back. She probably wouldn’t appreciate you checking in on her, either.

So despite the tension, the prickling of your skin, you abstain from checking on her.

Yet it seems like you’re being drawn to her room. Especially when a crackling shockwave passes through your lower body, skin tingling like water that’s been struck by lightening, oil frying in a pan, and you’re swiftly heading for the door, not bothering to even grab a night robe as you cross the hall for her chambers.

“Nesta?” You call, knocking, listening for noise. Another wave sizzles through you, and something thuds from behind the wood. You try for the handle, but she’s used the latch on the other side, locking herself away, and you knock again, louder. “Nesta, can you hear me?” You call, for the most part succeeding in keeping the panic from your voice, remaining calm.

Your sharp ears pick out a low, muffled groan, and your pulse spikes, winnowing inside.

“Nesta?” You call gently, scanning her borrowed chambers, eagle-eyes picking out how the bathroom door is ajar. You make for it swiftly, carefully opening it up as you again look around the room.

She’s hunched over the latrine, the floor wet, an empty bucket tipped over and on its side, the tap to the bath dripping as if hurriedly shut off.

She groans again, and you move forward, nimble fingers slipping beneath the burnished gold of her hair, pulling it gently from her face as she heaves, body convulsing as she retches, knuckles turning white as she grips the seat, muscles shaking. Your brows narrow in concern—nausea might have been expected, but not regurgitation.

Slowly, quietly, you crouch beside her, one hand holding up her hair, the other soothingly stroking down her back—gentle but firm motions, applied to calm and soothe. The trembling begins to fade, and she groans again, spitting out the foul taste, moving to wipe her lips on the back of her palm. You grab some of the roll, pulling away two sheets and offering them to her. Shaky fingers brush against yours, and she dries her mouth on the roll, getting the corners clean.

“Feeling better now?” You ask, releasing her unbound hair, soothing her shoulder. She tries to shrug you away, moving to sit upright, but her muscles give out, falling back against you. In the same moment you discard the roll, supporting her as she collapses, limbs too weak to hold herself up. She struggles, trying to move, but you wrap your arms more securely around her. “On three, okay?” You ask clearly, knowing how she’ll flare up if you allow even a tinge of concern into your voice. “One. Two. Three.”

The two of you manage to stand, stood close together, and another shudder passes through her. You increase your hold, making sure she won’t fall, keeping her nearby. “Careful of the water,” you murmur, helping to guide her out of the bathroom on her unsteady feet, aware of her light grip on you, nearly falling away with every step.

You sit her in one of the comfortable armchairs in the room, feeling as she gives a sharp breath, another shudder passing through, wracking her chest. Her arms make to wrap around herself, but they’re too weak, too tired, so she ends up placing them in her lap, leaning to one side of the seat.

You move, getting the faelights to turn on, then making for the bathroom. You refill the bucket, vanishing the water with half a thought, before taking a washcloth with you, returning to her.

“Have enough energy to clean?” You ask, setting the bucket down before moving to the wardrobe, retrieving a fresh nightgown for her to change into. You can smell the cold sweat on her.

She makes no move to change into the clothing you’ve given her, or even to grip them. Simply remains to one side of the chair, watching them vacantly. “Nesta?” You call, a touch quieter, moving to be at her side, wary of touching her.

Her silver eyes are rimmed with red, nose tipped in a similar colour, the tops of her cheeks and her upper lip gleaming faintly as you realise she’d been crying. The shudders the result of trying to keep quiet. Your shoulders slope, and you move slowly as you settle your hand over hers, letting her see the movement and choose whether to allow it. You squeeze her hand lightly, watching her silently.

“You’re safe, Nesta,” you say quietly from her side. “Nothing’s going to happen to you here.”

Her thin brows narrow, lips cutting down in the corner as her eyes take on a new gleam, looking wet.

“Where did he go?” She asks, voice raw and faint. Scratchy sounding.

Your lips press into a flat line, looking away briefly before returning to hers.

“Azriel knows what to do with people I send his way,” you answer quietly, marking the thick roll of her throat.

“He won’t be finding you again.”

You wait for some sort of reaction. For her skin to whiten, for a fresh wave of sickness to rise up her throat. But she just swallows, dipping her head in a slight nod, eyes moving to the clothing. “Will you help me?”

You nearly miss a breath, but manage to nod, still watching her. “I—… Yes. Yes, of course.” You turn, reaching for the washcloth, but she makes a noise in her throat, having you look at her, unable to conceal your concern. “I don’t…” she struggles, pupils dilating as she glances toward the pool of water, fear tinging her scent. “I can’t manage bodies of water,” she manages quietly, not meeting your eyes. “They remind me of the Cauldron.”

Your lips part on a silent breath, but then you nod, memorising the small piece of information. You should have realised. It looked like she’d been trying with the bucket before…maybe that’s what caused her stomach to upturn itself. That and the intense events of the night.

“Right,” you manage thickly, getting to your feet. “Do you…” You trail off, suddenly unsure in yourself. She swallows again, “can you just…just sit on the bed. While I change,” she mumbles.

Nodding, you move to the bed, sitting with your back to her. You aren’t foolish enough to offer aid with undressing her. She needs the reminder of her own autonomy right now, to known she can do things on her own.

The material rasps, and you’re unable to help the way your ears pick out the noises, assigning actions to each of them. Pale palms pushing her hair out of the way, trembling fingers undoing silky buttons, clammy hands pushing soft but now-dampened fabric away.

“Okay,” she manages, some strength back in her voice. You turn on the bed, seeing her stood the other side, dressed in fresh new clothes, crisp and clean, unbound hair cascading over her shoulders, down her front.

Nesta moves to take the bucket back to the bathroom, but you shake your head, standing. “Just settle into bed for now,” you say, already moving, “it’ll be morning soon, anyway. You should get as much rest as you can.” You think she might protest at first, but she nods after a pause, moving to the bed, pulling back the sheets and laying down.

When you return from the washroom, she’s tucked under the duvet, hair bundled beneath her head like a halo to prevent lying on it during the night.

You turn the faelight off, opening the locked door to let yourself out, pausing on the threshold. “I’ll see you in the morning, Nesta.”

She doesn’t make a sound, but you can clearly see her open eyes watching you from the dark.

“Call if you need anything,” you murmur, stepping away, bringing the door to a close.

“Sleep well.”

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

The Honey Trap part 3: final chapter.

Note: the idea of sexpionage is wonderful to use in fics, but I want to make it clear that sexpionage is a daunting and grim reality too, and I am very aware of that and do not mean to ignore that. It is a trope I am using, lighthearted, but I do not want to pretend that the actual act of sexpionage is not horrific to many involved. That being said, I will not describe the horrors of it. This is a work of fiction, but created with some knowledge about the real thing.

part 1 - part 2.

Warnings: 18+! smut/angst. brief mention of suicidal thoughts, suggested form of sexual abuse (not described, only hinted to explain the character's emotions).

Pairing: Modern Spy!Sihtric x Spy!Reader (f)

Summary: You and Sihtric both had one more task to do.

Word count: 6k (sorry). 

Masterlist

You and Sihtric continued to meet and hook up over the course of the next few months. You slowly began to earn each other's trust, despite both knowing there was something left unspoken between the two of you, and you both managed to sneak further into each other's lives. You were careful with Sihtric, as you had been told that he was a hardened criminal and a vile drug dealer. But the soft edges he showed you once you began to spend more time with him just didn't add up to his apparent reputation of being cruel and heartless. 

Everything you had learned about him before you were sent to seduce him didn't make sense with his entire behaviour in private with you. You had seduced dozens of men like him, who had done the most terrible things and had produced the greatest amounts of drugs, and Sihtric truly wasn't like any of those vicious men. You were convinced Sihtric was able to kill, no doubt about that, and that he could stand his ground when it came to doing drug business. But something was off. You felt as if you didn't know everything you had to know, and it didn't sit well with you.

Sihtric also didn't know what exactly there was about you that made him question your story. He couldn't confirm that you were a spy of sorts, but it was suspicious how careful you were. He knew better than to fall for a simple honey trap, but he also refused to believe you were setting him up. And why would he be set up? As far as Sihtric knew, he hadn't done anything wrong. Unless you were sent by Skade, but that didn't make any sense as Skade allowed him to be close to her and all up in her drug empire. Sometime ago he had informed his superiors he'd be off the radar for a while in order to infiltrate further, but he wasn't aware that those in charge of him had taken this as a confirmation he had gone rogue.

And beside all of that, you had completely clouded his mind, as intended, for he quickly developed feelings for you after that night you gave him the best blowjob of his life. He had gifted you some expensive jewellery a few weeks after that, a golden ring with a red ruby, which was the ultimate sign that you had him completely trapped and he wasn't thinking straight anymore. And all you had done to get him to this point was sucking his cock and stroking his ego when you weren't sucking him off. That's how easy men were.

But Sihtric also continued to do his job whenever you weren't around, keeping up appearances and sweet talking Skade in order to lure her further into a trap of his own. Because Sihtric had been doing the exact same thing to Skade that you were doing to him, but he had been doing it for much longer with her. And in the end, he could never understand how you had him fooled just the way he fooled her. It had taken a long time before he earned Skade's trust, and he had done it just like you, by the rules he was taught and by engaging in uncountable sexual activities with her to win her over. 

But once he realised he needed to get his hands dirty for her in order to eventually take her entire empire down, he had to go beyond what he was taught and he stopped playing by the rules. Everytime he called in new intel, his superiors would tell him how to proceed but they clearly didn't know who they were dealing with. Skade was a mistress of lies and tricks, and she would see right through Sihtric eventually if he did as he was told by those in charge. So in a way he could agree that he did go rogue, but he never turned his back on his country or meant to disrespect those who had sculpted him into the spy he had become.

And Sihtric definitely didn't work for Skade, but he simply made everyone believe that he did and it took all his self discipline to stay clear headed about it while he would occasionally leak some intel to his employers, who still happily accepted that intel while plotting his assassination behind his back. 

But then you appeared… and you changed everything.

By now Sihtric had figured your story about wanting to become an actress was bullshit, but since you had him wrapped around your finger he didn't care what your motive was, he just wanted to have you around. However, his suspicions about the time and reason of your appearance, and the way you handled yourself, were confirmed when you came over to his apartment one night and spilled a secret because you, without realising it, were wrapped around his finger all the same.

'Cnut?' you frowned after he asked if you knew him, 'yeah, I've heard of him. And I know more than you think,' you smiled with a wink.

'Oh, do you?' Sihtric gave you his half smile as he leaned in closer while he sat next to you on his couch, overlooking the darkened city.

'Yes, but it's a secret,' you giggled.

'Come on,' the charming spy laughed as he placed his hand on your thigh, 'tell me. You tell me a secret and… maybe I'll tell you a secret,' he winked.

You rolled your eyes, but you weren't immune to his tactics, the same way he couldn't resist falling for yours. And so you told him more than you should've when he began to kiss your neck, leaving soft and openmouthed kisses as his lips trailed from your ear to your shoulders.

'Cnut is not dead,' you breathed, 'he's arrested. But you can't tell anyone about this.'

Sihtric hummed in response and slowly slid his hand under your short dress.

'How do I know you're telling the truth?' he whispered against your lips, realising you had still never kissed him.

'You'd just have to trust me on that,' you whispered back, refraining from pressing your lips onto his, 'now, tell me your secret, pretty boy.'

'My secret?' Sihtric laughed softly as his teeth grazed your ear, while his hand moved further up under your skirt, 'I'll tell you my secret,' he murmured, 'but first I want to taste you.'

You watched him smoothly drop to his knees in front of you, his dimly lit apartment casting shadows over you both as you looked at each other for a moment. You knew what was about to happen, and you allowed Sihtric to slide down your panties and to lift your legs over his broad shoulders, while you fell back on his comfortable couch. Your hands moved though his short hair while your back arched with each stroke of his tongue and each movement of his fingers. 

You felt dizzy at how good he made you feel, knowing exactly how and where to touch you combined with the perfect pressure. You never had experienced a man this skilled, which should be cause for alarm, but you were too dumbed down by the way he pleased you that you couldn't think straight anymore. And even if it had alarmed you, you wouldn't have listened to your gut anyway, because all you wanted to focus on was the fact that the most handsome man you had ever met was also the only man who knew how to give you the perfect oral pleasure. And you couldn't give a single fuck about anything else in that very moment while his head was between your thighs, his tongue between your folds and his fingers inside you; kissing, licking, sucking and thrusting until you came with a satisfying moan.

'My secret,' Sihtric whispered after he wiped his mouth and climbed back up to you, 'is that I'm falling in love with you.'

Your breath suddenly hitched in your throat upon hearing his words. You knew you had him trapped, but hearing him say he was truly falling for you… it caused you to feel a sudden pang and you pushed him away as you jumped up.

'Hey,' he scoffed, confused at your behaviour, 'what the fuck?'

'I- I'm sorry,' you stammered as you almost tripped over your feet, your legs still unstable after the intense orgasm he had given you, 'I need… I need to use the… the toilet.'

You stumbled through his apartment as you searched for his bathroom, your head still spinning while your lungs kept demanding more air. You slammed the door shut and locked it, then raked your hands through your hair as you paced barefooted back and forth over his heated marble floor.

'This cannot be happening,' you whispered to yourself in the mirror, 'you can't catch feelings. You can't catch any feelings for that fucking guy! What is wrong with you? Pull yourself together, you dumb bitch! You know better… you've been taught better… you can't fall in love.'

You tried to collect yourself before you left the bathroom, finding Sihtric was smoking outside on his balcony, and you awkwardly told him you had to go back to your hotel. Before he could ask what was wrong, you had already left. And Sihtric hadn't been lying when he told you he was falling in love with you, he just had no idea on how hooked he was yet.

Luckily Sihtric had been out of town for a few days after that disaster of a night you had last time you saw him. You still stayed in touch during texts when he was away, and sometimes he would even call you because he missed you. And it seemed as if he had completely forgotten about what happened that night. But of course he hadn't, he just wanted to move forward with you and wanted to believe you liked him as much as he liked you. So when he was back home after those couple of days, he immediately called to invite you over.

In the days you hadn't seen each other you were able to pick yourself up again and get a grip on the situation at hand. You were here to do a job, nothing more and nothing less. And no matter how beautiful your target was or how you'd gladly let him actually fuck you whenever he would want to, fact was that your goal remained to eliminate him once Skade was arrested. So catching feelings was out of the question, because there was no future at all. 

And so you were back to pretending all over again around him, playing the picture perfect love interest while you slowly forced yourself further into his shady business. And Sihtric? He so desperately wanted you to be the real thing, he was completely blinded and smitten by you, and he had slowly spilled more secrets about the business he did with Skade and about the part he played; closing drug deals for her.

You turned off your emotions when you met him again, or so you thought, but you couldn't keep your hands from lightly trembling when he opened his door and smiled at you. And you couldn't help but feel safe and at peace once he held you in his arms while he told you he had missed you. And after another steamy evening that consisted purely of oral pleasure and no kissing, you found yourself next to him in bed again, both naked with only a thin sheet covering everything below the waist.

'You are so perfect,' Sihtric smiled with his love dazed eyes, 'what are you doing with a guy like me?'

'I guess… I was just born to be a trophy wife,' you joked and shrugged lightly.

'A trophy wife?' he laughed and shook his head disapprovingly, 'honey…'

'Your trophy wife,' you said and gave him a playful wink, which made him weak to his knees once more.

Sihtric smiled at your sweet words, but his smile quickly faded and a concerned look painted his face as if he suddenly realised something.

'Look,' he spoke softly after he sighed deeply, 'the people I work with and the work I do… I'm afraid I will only ruin your life, darling. And I don't want that for you.'

'Well,' you scoffed lightly, 'if you don't want me around-'

'No, no,' Sihtric said calmly and prevented you from getting up, 'that's not what I said, darling. And that is not what I meant either, because I do want you around. I like having you around. You seem to understand me in a weird way, and you're not… you're not scared of the world I live in. Or perhaps you are a really great actress,' he chuckled, 'but you don't seem worried about what I'm involved in.'

'It does scare me,' you half lied, 'but I had a rough upbringing and was taught to take care of myself. And I like being around you too,' you whispered as you traced the scars on his beautiful face, 'I feel safe with you… and loved.'

You hated how the truth was spoken by you. As much as you had tried to tune out any of your own emotions, it was impossible around him and every second you weren't with him you simply craved to be with him. It was overwhelming and frightening, but you couldn't pull yourself away even though you knew you'd have to pull the trigger eventually and kill him.

'Good,' Sihtric smiled, 'I want you to feel safe and loved with me, because you are, I promise. And actually, there's something I have to tell you.'

'What?'

'So, I don't even know if we're really dating,' he said, his silky voice warming you pleasantly once again, 'but I don't do casual dating, I'm quite impatient.'

Sihtric always thought it was funny how impatient he was in his day to day life, while when it came to his job, he had all the patience in the world. And that's another thing you had both learned; to have patience. And you both had all the patience in the world when it came to enchanting your target and finding out their secrets, if you weren't blinded that was.

'What are you implying?' you smiled, then seductively bit down on your lower lip while his eyes trailed off to your bare breasts for a moment and his fingers trailed down your neck.

'I have to leave soon.'

'Leave? Where to?'

'Abroad,' he said, keeping it vague, 'Skade is sending me to close a business deal.'

'Oh? What kind of deal?' you asked, carefully prying as if he didn't know by now that you were well aware of the drug deals he made.

Sihtric chuckled, 'A big deal, darling.'

'So… what is it you want with me? You know I'm not in that business.'

'I want you to join me,' Sihtric said rather bluntly, 'a pretty woman on my arm always looks good during a deal. And if I can't persuade them,' he leaned in and lightly traced your lips with his thumb, 'then maybe you can,' he winked.

You laughed and touched his arm again, like you always did when he made you laugh, which still seemed to be well received as he wetted his lips while he looked at you.

'So,' you said, 'how could I possibly persuade whoever you do business with?'

'All you have to do is look pretty next to me,' he half murmured as he held your chin and leaned in even closer, 'you know, just be my trophy wife. You think you could do that for me, doll?'

You accompanied Sihtric on his business trip a few days later, after careful consideration with your superiors, and you had set up a plan on how to proceed. You travelled first class to some tropical island you had never even heard of, but this wasn't a holiday, because once the plane landed you knew you had to get down to serious work.

Sihtric kept you close the entire time you were together, being unable to keep his hands off you and just desperate to finally kiss you. But you always managed to make him forget about the numerous warning signs he had noticed, by dropping down to your knees and pulling down his pants. It was almost funny how easy to control he was, and yet you couldn't help but feel awful about it. And to make him forget about all the questions he still had about you, dropping down to your knees for him was the first thing you did once you arrived at the hotel room. And when Sihtric took a shower after that, his head still spinning as he stumbled to the bathroom, you were quick to sync his phone with yours so you could track his whereabouts if needed.

And it would be needed later that day, when Sihtric suddenly told you after dinner that he had to go and meet someone. He'd be back in two hours or so, he promised, and while you kept track of his location you also finally found some time to go through his stuff. His location told you he was at some other hotel on the island, and the drive there seemed to have taken about thirty minutes, so you had enough time to snoop around.

You managed to hack into his laptop, which he had foolishly left, and after several attempts you found a way into his seemingly hidden files. You had to give it to him, he knew how to hide his stuff, which struck you as odd as the way he had stored and hidden records on his laptop was done in the same way as you had been taught. You tried to shake the weird feeling in your gut, that he could be a spy turned traitor, and you scrolled through as many files as you could and as fast as you could. 

At least an hour had passed before your eyes landed on a recent file and, once opened, you discovered it held information about the deal he was to make tomorrow, with you by his side. And it turned out it wasn't just a regular deal, it was a deal with some government officials and Skade was supposed to be present too. Shocked by your discovery, you immediately called it in and then noticed that Sihtric's location changed; he was on his way back to you.

When Sihtric returned he seemed completely different. He was quiet and his eyes were empty. He didn't even attempt to kiss you, like he usually tried, instead he just strolled past you towards the bathroom without being able to look at you.

'What's wrong?' you asked him, truly concerned.

'Just tired from the trip,' he half mumbled as he took off his white blouse and his belt, throwing them on the bed before he locked the bathroom door behind him.

His behaviour struck you as odd. He had never looked like this before and beside that, he had showered already only a few hours ago. Once you heard the water running you went over to the bed to pick up his clothes, hoping to find a trace of something that would tell you what was going on. And as you attempted to fold his blouse you suddenly noticed smudged lipstick stains on the inside of his collar, and your stomach dropped. You stared at the stains and sat down on the bed, feeling as if the rug had been pulled from underneath your feet when suddenly everything started to make sense. And just when it all clicked, you received a message from your boss, confirming everything you had just figured out; Sihtric was a former spy, trained exactly like you, and had been seducing Skade in order to get close. And as you remembered reading that Skade was to be present at the deal the next day, you knew exactly where Sihtric had been and what he had done to persuade her to be there. And you knew exactly how empty, disgusted and used he felt right now while he probably tried to wash away the feeling.

And while you tried to keep yourself together, being shocked by finding out he was a former spy gone rogue and also by understanding that the man you had fallen in love with just had sex with someone else, Sihtric fell apart in the shower. Biting down on the towel between his teeth as the hot water rained down on him, tears rolling down his cheeks while his pained grunts were muffled by the towel and the sound of running water. And as you tried to think of how to proceed with your task, which remained unchanged despite your newly gained knowledge, Sihtric wondered how much longer he could do his task. How much longer he could let his body be used by a woman who disgusted him while he had fallen in love with you. And you realised you still had to kill him, because no one, not even you, knew that Sihtric never truly went rogue and that it was all part of his plan to take Skade down.

And Sihtric was done, he realised when he looked at himself in the mirror, and he'd rather blow his own brains out than ever having to sleep with her again. He was done. It had to be done tomorrow. He'd make sure it was going to be done after tomorrow. And with that thought he picked himself up again and joined you in bed, where you both silently wept in the dark as you held each other.

'I know how you feel,' you whispered after a long silence.

And those were the only words being spoken before your trembling lips found his in the darkened room, and you finally captured each other in a long-awaited kiss. Short and soft pecks at first, which slowly turned into longer and deeper kisses, until you tasted each other's tears and felt each other's tongues while your hands were in his hair and his roaming all over you body. 

And before you fell asleep, you both had it figured out without needing to say the words. You were both trapped in the world of sexpionage, and you had both broken one of the main rules: don't ever fall in love.

The next morning you both woke up early. And while still being sleepy, your lips found each other again while hands dared to discover further under the sheets. The room was cool and quiet while the sun struggled to force its light through the dark curtains. You got lost in each other; in the kisses, in the touches and in the sound of the soft and needy moans you both let slip from your mouths. You felt his weight pressing onto you comfortably while his hard cock teased your soaked entrance before he smoothly pushed inside you. 

He kissed you as you gasped at the feeling of him, and he carefully took your hands, locking his fingers with yours before he pinned your hands down above your head while he slowly began to thrust into you. You kissed passionately as you made slow and deep love, which was unlike anything either of you ever felt before, and it felt like heaven. The tenderness in the touches, the love in the kisses, and the sweet, heavy and long moans that you both spilled onto each other's lips were pure and absolute bliss. And you both never thought you would experience intimacy in a safe and pleasant way such as this, and it was addictive. 

After you both climaxed, Sihtric pulled you in his arms as he laid on his back. He took your hand and kissed it softly before he placed it upon his chest, allowing you to feel his beating heart.

'Do you feel that?' he whispered, his voice still raspy.

'Your heart?'

'Mhm,' he hummed softly, 'that belongs to you.'

You closed your eyes in an attempt to fight your tears, but it was already too late.

'What's wrong?' Sihtric asked as he heard you sniffle, 'did I do something? Did I hurt you?'

'No,' you reassured him and buried your face in his neck, 'no. You're the only man who has never hurt me.'

Sihtric was quiet for a moment, holding you tightly wrapped in his strong arms as you wept, and his mind spiralled as he remembered today was the day that everything would end.

'I have to tell you something,' he whispered after you had wiped your tears, 'and I'm risking everything by telling it. My life, my job… everything. I know you stepped into that pub for a reason, the night we met, and I'm still not sure what exactly that reason is, but before we go to that deal later today, I need you to know that I am not a drug dealer. I'm a spy… with the profession being sexpionage.'

'I know,' you whispered hoarsely, 'I figured it out yesterday, when you came back to the hotel. You… you were with Skade, weren't you?'

'I was,' Sihtric confessed, clearly upset, 'and I'm sorry. I don't want to be with her like that, but I learned how to switch my emotions off, so it hasn't been that rough to get to where I am now. But then I met you. And,' he sighed, 'it's like you awakened every emotion in me that I had tuned out for half of my life, and I can't tune them out anymore. The last few times I was with her… it was awful. I had to keep seeing her because I couldn't fuck up the trap I had set up, but I was falling for you in the meantime. And I… I am in love with you.'

'I'm in love with you too,' you said, finally telling him at least something that was completely true, and you started to cry again.

'What's wrong?' he asked again.

'Everything,' you cried, 'everything! I fucked up everything.'

You sat up and Sihtric took your hands, 'What do you mean, darling?' he asked.

'Sihtric,' you said with a sob, 'I'm the same. We are the same. You know there is a reason why I seem so understanding, and it's because we do the same kind of work. We are both trapped, our bodies belonging to those in charge of us, and we can't seem to get out of it. You were my target. I was to seduce you and to get as close as possible to Skade, so I could take her down.'

'You were sent to take Skade down?' Sihtric asked, then scoffed as he was bewildered, 'that is literally why I am here. It was my job to take her down, and I'm so fucking close-'

'But you… you went rogue,' you said, confused, 'they told me you had gone rogue and you were actually working for Skade now.'

'No, no, no,' Sihtric shook his head, 'no, I did everything I could to make it look like that, but I am not a traitor. I still leak intel-'

'What? What do you mean? You are still working for…'

'I am. I am still working for my boss, our boss, it seems. I give intel when I can but I am not playing by the rules anymore, and they know that.'

'But, Sihtric,' you said and swallowed hard, 'they… they sent me to kill you.'

Sihtric froze. He stared at you as the room was faintly lit by the warm sun outside, and he felt his heart pounding out of his chest.

'What do you mean?'

'I was told that you can't be trusted, but I was never told that you still give them intel. You still work for the same people as me, but they… they want to get rid of you because they don't trust you. I was meant to be a honey trap… but I fell in love.'

Sihtric still stared at you, and he then began to laugh out of despair. He already knew you hadn't been fully honest, but that you were a honey trap was beyond him.

'So… nothing between us was real?' he asked, clearly hurt and yet not completely surprised anymore.

'My feelings were real,' you said quickly and took his face, 'I promise, everything was real except for my background story. My feelings were real… but I… I have a job to do. I have a team who is prepared to arrest Skade during that deal today,' you whispered brokenly, 'I have a job to fulfil.'

'I know,' Sihtric said as calmly as possible, but his voice was shaky, 'do what you have to do. I don't want to know your plan, just do it. Because I promise you, I can't take another day living like this anymore. Promise me that you'll kill me too, even if Skade gets away.'

'No, Sihtric-'

'Promise me,' he said, his tone urgent while he grabbed your shoulders, 'if she gets away I will have to continue this assignment, and I can't fucking do it anymore.'

'I… I can't-'

'Yes you can,' he almost shook you, 'you were trained to do that. You can kill me, darling, I'm your task,' he said and grabbed your chin, only to kiss you almost painfully before he spoke again, 'I'm just another target.'

You and Sihtric hadn't spoken a word anymore since that morning. You had breakfast and lunch together, and then both dressed up for the planned meeting that evening. The tension was sharp, but you both tried to ignore any feelings involved in order to do your job. It wasn't easy though, and more than once you both lost control and ended up kissing each other while tears were fought quietly, until the dreadful moment arrived.

You and Sihtric arrived at the agreed meeting point to close the deal. The government officials who were there to buy drugs were already waiting in the abandoned warehouse. You carried a gun strapped to your thigh, which was hidden by your flowy dress, and you walked alongside your target, who was dressed just as sharply and carried a gun underneath his blouse. You played the trophy wife role well, and the buyers fell for your charms with ease while they negotiated with Sihtric. And Sihtric could only admire you silently, the way you wrapped anyone around your finger with ease was a delight to watch, and he cursed himself internally for being just as foolish as those men were now. But at least, he thought, there had been something real between the two of you. And if he was to die today, he would be honoured to have it done by your hands.

And you admired Sihtric just as much, the way he was so confident and knew exactly what he was talking about. But it also saddened you, as you knew he was only able to be this convincing because he had been stuck in this nightmare for far too long. Through your ear piece, hidden behind your hair, you were given updates about the status outside. Then Skade arrived, and by the look on her face when she saw you, Sihtric hadn't told her a word about you. But she knew this was not the place and time to argue, and she trusted him completely so deemed your presence safe.

But she'd be proven wrong within a matter of minutes, when you were warned only a split second before an entire team of black ops stormed the warehouse. You grabbed your gun as you stepped away from Sihtric, and you both saw how Skade made a run for it while the government officials got pinned down to the cold ground and were arrested.

You looked at Sihtric, who never made an attempt to reach for his weapon as he saw how his target seemed to get away, just as he had feared, and he took a few steps back.

'Do it,' he said to you as he dropped down to his knees, 'don't make me go back to her, please.'

Your eyes darted between your target and Skade, and you pointed your gun at Sihtric while Skade reached the doors of the warehouse.

'I… I truly loved you,' you whispered, and a pathetic single tear rolled down your cheek.

'I know,' Sihtric replied, 'I did too. Thank you,' he swallowed hard, 'for at least making me feel something real before I die.'

Your hands were unsteady as you kept the gun pointed at him. And Sihtric closed his eyes before multiple gunshots echoed through the warehouse, followed by a shrill shriek and the shouting of men who were there to back you up.

'No!' you shouted and ran towards Sihtric as a group of men closed in on him.

You pushed through them and kneeled down beside Sihtric, wrapping your arms around his heavy body and kissing his face all over while you cried and barked an order to the men around you, who listened and then backed away as you caressed your target's face without getting a response.

Several hours later Sihtric woke up in what looked like a hospital, and he figured he must be dead once he saw you sitting next to his bed. He tried to move but you quickly stopped him and hushed him when he tried to speak.

'It's okay,' you whispered and gently raked your fingers through his hair, 'you're okay, Sihtric. You only passed out.'

Sihtric looked confused, having no recollection of the events that happened prior to him waking up, except for one thing.

'Skade?' he mumbled weakly.

'You're free,' you said as you held back your tears, 'you're free, sweetheart. They got her. She almost got away, but the door she ran for was locked, so she was trapped. And I… I shot her in both knees so she couldn't attempt another escape.'

'Why didn't you kill me?' Sihtric asked as he began to remember.

'Because I am a shit spy,' you laughed through your tears, 'and I fell in love with my target.'

'The worst spy,' Sihtric chuckled softly while still a little dizzy, 'but not as shit as me.'

'I think you're a great spy,' you said and leaned in even closer, your noses almost touching, 'you made everyone believe you had gone rogue and were a traitor.'

'They're still coming for me about that, aren't they?'

'They are,' you sighed, 'they have questions. But I already heard they won't arrest you or ask me to still kill you. They just want a full report.'

'I got that.'

'I know,' you laughed, 'I've seen the amount of files on your laptop.'

Sihtric frowned at that, then smiled when he realised you had been doing your job while he did his.

'Tell me,' he then said, 'and be honest. Was anything real between us?'

'Yes,' you nodded, 'I already told you that my feelings were real.'

Sihtric smiled with a sense of relief, and he carefully took your chin.

'My feelings were real,' you continued, 'and the orgasms you gave me were real too.'

You both laughed before he kissed you, and then promised you that once all this shit was over he'd take you out on a real date and wanted to get to know the real you. You told him you wanted the same, but you also wanted to know what he was going to do next.

'Skade was my ticket out of this life,' Sihtric confessed, 'I'm done now. Early retirement, or whatever they call it. But what about you?'

'I resigned immediately after her arrest. No one can do this kind of work when you've fallen in love with someone.'

'Good,' he smiled, 'so… are we dating then?'

'I don't know,' you shrugged with a smile, 'are you sure you want to be with me? I mean, you still don't really know me.'

'Honey,' Sihtric said with a sly smile, 'you already had me trapped from the first night we met, what makes you think I could walk away from you now?'

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[extincto]

On the left, huia earrings that I made for mum after she saw the simple huias I made (right). My plan is to sell them singly as I reckon they'd look cool as one dangly with a sleeper or stud in the other side or mismatched, or people could buy a same sex pair instead of mixed without any hassle.

The huia was a wattlebird endemic to Aotearoa, much prized by Māori who would lure the bird by mimicking its alarm call. They would also trap one bird and let it call it's mate to trap them both. Their tail feathers, black with white tips, were highly prized taonga, worn in the hair of a cheif and their close whānau.

Europeans began hunting the bird and wore the gilded beak as jewellery. Between becoming fashionable and predation by rats and cats, the huia was lost by the 1920's.

[cal-flakes]

reader organising a wholesome date for her and dealer rafe (and hiding his phone) because she wants him to have one evening where he’s not stressing about shipments or supply - so she wears his favourite dress and takes him to watch the stars and sunset

╰┈➤ dancing under the stars

warnings: light swearing, mostly fluff.

summary: y/n forces rafe to drop his busy schedule for one night.

she chuckled to herself as she clipped her earrings in, listening silent to rafe’s anxious footsteps scurrying about the house.

y/n timed his arrival perfectly, making sure to be just about ready once he walked through the door, then slipping in and out of the kitchen while he was distracted, pocketing his phone.

adjusting her jewellery one last time, she exited the bathroom, her sandals clicking against the floor as she headed downstairs, anticipating a confrontation.

just as she thought, rafe shifted nervously in the door way, his eyes flirting around the room. “angel have you seen my phone?” he questioned, exhaling in frustration.

his eyes narrowed as she giggled, watching her manicured hand dip into her bag, pulling out his mobile phone. “baby, why do you have my phone?” he asked again, stepping closer to reach for it. before he could grasp it, she quickly dropped it back into her bag.

“because, you’re so busy all the time! so i’ve planned a whole night together, and the rule is that you’re not allowed to stress over anything business related” she exclaimed, summing him to follow her as she opened the front door, exiting into the summer breeze.

“you know i can’t do that baby, i can’t miss any shipments..” he sighed, following after her quickly. “and that’s why…” she sang, quickly unlocking the car. “barry’s going to be looking after shit tonight, m’kay? look, i’ve already spoken to him about it, he’s gonna take care of it” she groaned, attempting to reassuring him as she lured him closer to the car.

huffing, he glanced at her for a second, almost immediately finding comfort in her eyes, at least enough to convince him to get his ass in the car.

sliding into the passenger seat, he clipped himself in before placing a protective hand on her thigh, earning a large grin while she turned the keys in the ignition. “so where are we going?” he spoke eagerly, rubbing gentle circles into her exposed leg. “the beach!” she squealed, pulling out of their driveway excitedly.

“the beach? baby i’m wearing a suit..” he whined, throwing his head back against the seat. “so? it’ll be fun! don’t be such a party pooper!” she teased, eyes concentrated on the road as his bore a hole into her face.

he smirked as his eyes scanned her face, noticing the lack of makeup, paired with a simple sundress that lingered perfectly around her knees.

rafe sighed contently as he listened to her quiet hums, in tune with the radio. i could listen to this all day, he thought, almost worried her quiet harmonies would lull him to sleep.

“hey! look alive! we’re here!” she shrieked, jolting him slightly as he rested his eyes. “i’m coming!” he retorted with a groan, exiting the car.

“what are you doing?” he questioned, puzzled at her sudden disappearance. “be patient!” she snapped jokingly, rounding the car once more, this time with a basket on her arm, full of picnic snacks.

his eyes widened, a sudden warm feeling twanging his heart as he watched her eyes light up, holding the heavy basket like her life depended on it. “i think i might have packed too much..” she frowned, looking between him and the basket, which was overflowing with various sorts of bread.

he chuckled at her silent pleas, swiftly taking the basket from her arm, placing it on his instead.

the look on his face was priceless as she took off in a sprint towards the shoreline, unbothered by the copious amounts of sand quickly filling her sandals.

“rafe look! the moon!” she shrieked, sticking her hand out like a child as she bounced on her feet. “i know angel, it’s bright tonight huh?” he muttered, connecting the dots in his mind.

he wasn’t a moron, and he knew she wasn’t either. rafe was well aware that she’d absolutely spent days planning this, making sure they left the house at exactly the right time, ensuring they got to their destination just as the full moon reached its peaks, glistening down on the soft waves.

“there’s a blanket in the basket, i think we should put it here!” she suggested, pointing to the spot she stood in, right in the middle of the beach. he nodded quickly, setting the basket down to rifle through it before unrolling the large throw blanket she’d brought, laying it out in front of her. “here?”

“it’s perfect!” she sang, quickly situating herself cross legged on the soft material. following suit, rafe lay down beside her, propping himself up with his elbow, allowing his shirt to become disheveled slightly, exposing his solid chest.

“you look nice tonight..” she giggled, cupping his cheeks as she pulled him into her lap, stroking his buzzed hair with the tips of her nails. “and you, look absolutely beautiful my sweet girl..” he cooed, pressing gentle kisses to her clothed hips as he relaxed into her lap.

hours of laughter and stolen kisses passed when she took notice of his first yawn, frowning slightly as she checked the time, disappointed that the night was leaving them so quickly.

“hey..will you swim with me?” she whispered, drumming her fingers against his nose, quickly drawing his attention to her. “swim? what about our clothes?”

“c’mon! it’ll be romantic! and i doubt we’ll get to do something like this again for a while..” she sighed, pouting at him. pretending to consider it, he twisted his face for a moment, looking into the sky, deep in thought. “fine, let’s go..”

y/n squealed in excitement as she jumped up, racing him to the shallow end of the sea.

“ha-ha! i win!” she yelled, splashing around as she shivered against the cold water. “oh yeah?” he teased, a devilish smile plastered on his face as he waded towards her. “no! stay back! you will absolutely not dunk me this time!” she shrieked, desperately making her escape.

too slow against the current of the ocean, he managed to wrap a strong arm around her waist, dragging her under with him. her screams became muffled as a torrent of bubbles escaped her mouth, prickling the surface.

as he brought her back up, she let out a gasp, coughing as she choked slightly. “you…are dead!” she cried breathlessly, launching herself at him, causing him to topple backwards with a splash, water now trickling from his suit pockets.

losing track of time, the pair quickly got lost in the moment, chasing each other continuously around in circles, stealing kisses when they re-emerged from under the surface.

they stood breathless together, holding each other like they’d never see eachother again if they let go. she craned her neck into the crook of his, slowly beginning a rhythm with her hips, swaying to the sound of the small waves crashing.

he mimicked her actions, moving his hands to grip her waist, bunching her sopping dress up. they rocked back and forth, admiring each others features as the moonlight shone down on them, highlighting their prominent features.

y/n’s eyes began to brim with tears as she noticed a large smile settling on his face, so utterly enamoured with the man.

“i love you rafe, thank you for taking the night off with me..” she muttered, pressing a wet kiss to his lips. returning the favour, he deepened the kiss, using a free hand to hold the back of her head, smoothing down her frizzing hair.

“i love you too angel, maybe you should hide my phone more often..”

[garoujo]

✩ ˛˚ . MIKAGE REO ; — reo loves spending his money on you, especially when you look so pretty modelling your new stuff for him.

warnings: f!reader, all characters written 22+, fingering, lingerie [that he buys you], he calls you ‘bunny’. note: a lil gift 2 the reo stans that i seem 2 have lured in2 my nagi stan blog <33 u guys keep me young lmaooo !

reo spoiled you, no matter how much you told him he didn’t have to — he liked it, liked being able to bathe you in lavish gifts, in pretty jewellery that complimented your skin and even prettier lingerie that hugged you just-fucking-right.

“gimme a spin, bunny. you like it? yeah?” he smirks as you try on the newest set he’s splurged on, a deep purple that wraps around the curves of your figure — garter belt and all, hooked onto the pretty thigh highs that makes him feel so dizzy as he drinks you up.

reo loves it, loves this — the way you’re twirling around the bedroom in his apartment for him, dressed in his money and sending him a pretty, doe-eyed look when he shamelessly lets his eyes drag along your figure. he’s pressing back on his bed, elbows keeping him upright so he doesn’t miss a single inch of you, his thighs spread so you can easily slot yourself between them as he pushes himself up to pat his lap.

“look so good, i really know how to pick ‘em.. hm?” he hums, tone low and needy when you slide into him — melting into the way his arms wraps tight around your hips as he pulls you closer. his smile is handsome, unfairly so when he tilts his head at you as you giggle — smoothing your fingertips through his hair while his fingers toy with the pretty lace beneath his touch.

“you have to stop, reo. you buy me so much..” your voice is whispery, pretty when it only makes reo push closer to smear his lips along your collarbones — taking a slow, languid handful of your ass before he’s rocking you along the bulge in his sweats — like he’s showing you how much he fucking loves it, loves you.

“aw, come on, jus’ wanna spoil my bunny. can’t help it when you’re so pretty in everything i buy you, feel what you do to me?” you’re already like putty over him, thighs trembling either side of his lap with every rock and grind of his clothed cock against your panties, accompanied by the way he mouths at the sensitive spots on your neck.

your fingers twist in reo’s hair and you pull, making him groan before he’s pulling you in for a kiss — one that’s messy and eager, driven by the weight of his arousal and the way he can already feel how fucking wet you are for him. you feel dizzy as his tongue pushes between your lips, drinking up the sweet little moans of his name that only spur him on as he grins, fingertips smoothing along the hem of the purple lace panties.

but he doesn’t let you pull away when he finally pushes past the pretty fabric, his free hand curling around the back of your neck to keep you kissing him while the other travels lower to part your lower lips, discovering the warm slick that’s gathering between them. “mmm, i think you like it too, bunny. sure feels like it..”

reo’s fingers pet through your folds until they’re pressing over your clit, and he feels his cock twitch with an ache in his sweats when he watches you twist above him at his touch, feeling you grind and push down onto his hand for more friction that he gives you so easily. you really are spoiled, huh?

your drawl vibrates through his lips— sweet murmuring of his name as his tongue moves with yours and he feels something burst and heat along his neck and back when you suddenly suck on his. he feels himself fumble slightly with the throb it drags from his cock before he’s finding a pace and rubbing at your clit with two fingers, feeling you twitch and wiggle with every swipe.

reo pulls you closer, close enough for him to take you both down onto the mattress as he lets himself melt into the sheets behind him, feeling you whisper needily against his body when he finally lets you pull away from the kiss to breathe. you’re begging him not to stop and it only drives him to press down harder, more eagerly as he drinks in your reactions—watches your body melt into him so intoxicatingly that it feels like his ears are ringing before he’s sinking two fingers into you.

he sends you another crooked, pink cheeked smirk despite his lidded gaze, free hand tracing up the plains of your body as he grabs at the lace bra — squeezing your tits before he’s easing you to bounce on his fingers. he watches your hips twist under his touch when he pushes his fingers deeper, feeling your walls tighten around the digits as he speeds up his ministrations, meeting each of your needy little thrusts as you whine.

“shit—look at you, bunny. gotta get you more of this, gotta come in other colours, right? i’ll get you all of ‘em. you want that, yeah?” reo’s so fucking hard and his words only make you moan before you’re squeezing around him, he knew you loved this — loved him spending his money on you, loved how much he loved it.

“‘ts all mine, can buy everything for you. whatever you want, you jus’ gotta sit pretty and it’s yours.” he’s babbling, he needs you and his words have your hips grinding eagerly into his touch, brushing your clit harder against his thumb as your warm cunt pulses around his digits. you’re sucking him back in everytime he drags them out before you blink down at him, starry-eyed and already fucked out as you push yourself closer, feeling him pull down the fabric of your bra so he can tease your nipples between his fingers.

you’re so pliant above him and it only spurs reo on, feeling him scissor his fingers inside of your walls as he toys with the sweet spots inside of you until you’re trembling — curling over him and drawing yourself close enough for him to mouth at your throat.

his teeth roll the sensitive skin on your neck until he’s sure there’s a mark there, laving his tongue over the raised skin until suddenly he feels your thighs shake and the blissful feeling of your orgasm rushes through your veins. your walls flex and pulse around his fingers as he continues to sink them into you, chuckling smugly as he draws gentle circles into your clit to prolong your pleasure while he continues to bite at your skin.

reo feels on cloud fucking nine with the needy moans and babbles of his name that fall from you, his heavy eyes locking with your own drowsy gaze before he’s swiping his slick fingers over your puffy clit, almost growling when you jolt from oversensitivity. but just as you tremble trying to climb off of him, you hear a faint rip at your panties before he’s moving underneath you, eagerly pushing down the waistband of his sweats as one of his arms prop up his head behind him.

“reo! this was expensive.” you pout and god—it makes him fucking throb with how cute you look, fucked out and mused from his kisses and your orgasm and he can’t wait to have you bouncing on the end of his cock. reo spoiled you with his money, but fuck—you alwayyys made sure to thank him as you help him push down his boxers.

“eh, i’ll buy you another, bunny. need you now.”

© 2023 GAROUJO. do not copy any of my layouts / writing + translate / repost onto any other sites.

[sunshineandspencer]

Not in Kansas anymore (Iridescent, Part 9)

Let me stress, this is not Maeve from the show, but my own Maeve just named the same to send Spencer into hell whenever he thinks about it.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!OC.

Summary: They get sent out undercover for a case, and Spencer makes full use of his role before they have to go back to normal.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: swearing, descriptions of stabbing and blood, general cm violence

Parts: Pt1, Pt2, Pt3, Pt4, Pt5, Pt6, Pt7, Pt8, Pt10

be added to the taglist

Almost a month later, and they’re given another big case. Somewhere out in Kansas, another small town where everybody knows everybody else’s business.

A man, still unknown, had been targeting newlywed couples in towns bordering the one they were now stationed in. The geoprofile that Spencer had drawn up told them that he almost certainly lived in this little town. So far he’d killed seven ‘unfaithful’ newlywed wives, who hadn’t been unfaithful - as far as Penelope could find out.

They know it's a man because he leaves the husbands alive, injured so they can’t intervene, but awake enough to watch. Apparently, the man approaches the house the morning of the attacks, and if the woman answers and talks to him then she’s classed as unfaithful, but if they call for their husband, or the man answers, then they’re spared.

Returning hours later, under the cover of darkness, to attack the couples and have the man watch him ‘save’ their marriage by taking away the ‘problem’.

It’s been brutal.

And undiscovered for so long since the small towns didn’t know where to put all their data into one place. Once a tech analyst in one of the towns realised the connections, the BAU were contacted immediately.

To avoid more deaths, Spencer and Maeve were sent in as a newlywed couple, to lure this guy out as the BAU hadn’t visited any of the towns yet and didn’t know the team members. 

Even the local PD weren’t informed either, to make it as realistic as possible.

Which is how they found themselves standing outside a pretty house in Kansas in a small town that she’d never heard of, his arm around her waist and their matching gold rings glinting in the warm sun. Plus her pretty engagement ring Spencer had produced for her to wear seemingly out of nowhere.

It really is gorgeous, and silver, which is her preferred jewellery type - the gold wedding ring made her very unhappy.

With a soft sigh, she scanned over the house once more, a smile tugging at her lips.

“You know, this house looks too nice for the BAU budget.”

Humming in agreement, he tugged her that extra bit closer to lean his head on top of hers. Hand settling comfortably on her hip.

“I convinced Rossi to hire it out. I’m collecting his dry cleaning for two months.”

Laughing, she slapped his chest lightly with the back of her hand, even as he pouted at the thought of his next two months being entirely taken up by collecting Rossi’s dry cleaning. It’s worth it though, very glad that he’d sacrificed his time for them, because this place is gorgeous. 

She’s always lived in the city, but she could easily see herself settling down somewhere like this.. with someone like Spencer.

Thankfully their neighbours came out to stifle that line of thought, greeting them happily over their white picket fence. Spencer kept his hand on her lower back the entire time, hell, his hand didn’t actually stop moving.

Even as they introduced themselves as Walter and Valerie Reid - both their middle names - his hand smoothed down her spine and then across the small of her back until his fingers ghosted her waist. Somehow able to keep up conversation with their neighbours as he dragged his hand slowly back up her spine, feeling out every ridge as if to convince himself that she’s in one piece. And it just doesn’t work in her brain, how the man who wouldn’t have shaken her hands a couple months ago was now memorising the feel of her.

It had been a month since they made up and sure he had been more tactile with the occasional hand to the small of her back or over her shoulders, but not this much. Forcing herself not to enjoy it since it’s only for the case.

There’s no way he feels even remotely close to the way she does.

“--that right angel?”

That snapped her out of her own head, not even realising she’d started daydreaming about him again. But the silly bastard doesn’t make it easy to focus as his hand brushes hair from the nape of her neck before sliding down her back again.

Smug smile telling her that he knows exactly what he’s doing, and she blinked softly to answer him.

“Sorry love?”

Dammit, not it’s his turn to melt, managing to hold the stupid grin off his face, but the smugness fell into something a little more real as his hand slipped to squeeze the dip of her waist.

“Asked uhm.. if we wanted to look around at kindergartens with them, since we’re trying for a baby. Aren’t we, angel.”

Rolling her eyes, she smoothed her hand down his chest to look at their neighbours, giving them a smile.

“We will be. After we’ve settled, he’s just a little excited.”

The thought of having a kid together should not make her as breathless as it did. Talking with the neighbours for a little longer - even though she’s absolutely not fully with them - before going inside. Where he quickly kissed her temple before getting on with unpacking his bags.

She fully believes she isn’t going to get through this in one piece.

It’s now been two days, and there’s been no sign of their UnSub, which led to them going all out.

They got a large advertisement in the local paper celebrating their newlywed status and having moved in, with a sappy photo of them together. Attended any sort of club or event that had been running to make a big thing about themselves, and loudly went shopping together in the local market that had popped up in the afternoon. Every and each interaction underscored by Spencer’s constant touching and affectionate little kisses to her head, hair or temple.

He is loving every second of having Ava as his wife, introducing her as such every time he gets the chance before launching into their ‘love story’ that felt a little too real. According to their backstory, they worked together as professors at a college and eventually fell for each other after a long period of work rivalry.

Over these last two days, it became so natural to have Spencer practically attached to her hip, that it felt wrong without him. It felt odd to not have him holding onto her or kissing something soft against her temple.

Even in their house, away from anyone that needs to be fooled by their undercover story, he’s no different. It’s hard to convince herself she doesn’t love it.

Unfortunately, he’s had to sequester himself away in their study to do somecase work, keeping a log of everything they do while undercover - and completing hers after losing their card game last night. But then someone knocked on the door, swiftly following that with the doorbell.

Getting up to answer the door, she didn’t even consider that this wouldn’t be one of their neighbours, like it had been for the past two days. However, with the town’s deputy standing on her doorstep, the case flew harshly back into the forefront of her mind. The man had been described as wearing a uniform, this could be it.

Leaning on the door, she smiled out at the man, hoping Spencer wouldn’t wander out to see what it was and blow the whole reason they’d gone undercover.

“Good evening officer, is there a problem?”

“No ma’am, just wanted to introduce myself and make sure you folks are settled in. I’m John Brown, Deputy. Saw your ad in the paper, congratulations.”

Maeve thanked him softly and he held out a hand for her to shake. She saw the way his eyes glinted, knowing this was part of his test to determine whether or not she would be his next victim. A test she has to fail so that he would target her instead of another defenceless woman.

Shaking his hand a little longer than he probably found appropriate. His eyes darted to see if Spencer was going to turn up.

“That’s kind of you Deputy, I’m Valerie. My husband is busy right now, I hope you understand.”

Putting on a bashful smile to appease to the part of him that had to see her as unfaithful. The man is attractive, she’ll give him that, but isn’t anything special compared to her husband down the hall.

It worked, John squeezed a touch too tight before stepping back, hand falling to his badge. 

“No problems at all ma’am, I hope you won’t mind me checking in again sometime.”

Laughing softly, she moved to stand and change her hold on the door, ready to close it and sprint back to Spencer now that she’d spoken to the UnSub. But she needs to maintain this a little longer.

“Please, call me Valerie, I’ll see you soon John.”

Using his first name to really ram it home, and then shutting the door. Calmly turning to walk down the hallway to the study, knowing he could see her through the window.

Turning down and out of sight, she walked straight into Spencer, and he moved to gently hold her against the wall. Hand on her shoulder to hold her still while he finished his phone call, eyebrows drawn together as he scanned her face, making sure she’s okay.

“Yes, I’m sure. Get a team in place for tonight Emily, he’ll be here.”

Christ, he’s looking at her so ardently, she’s not sure that she quite remembers how to breathe.

But then his phone is shoved into his pocket and she has his entire attention - constricting her lungs even further. His hands snaked their way to her hips to hold her still, to ground her back to Earth. Eye contact, steady breathing to coax her own back to normal, the gentle squeeze of his hands to remind her that she’s okay.

“Are you alright angel?”

Honestly, she still melts utterly when he calls her that, and this time he can feel it, the relaxation under his palms as she finally meets his gaze.

“Mhm, I’m alright Spence.You know the profile, he wouldn’t have attacked me at the front door. He’s never done that before.”

“He’s also never hunted in his hometown before, we’re forcing his hand and we don’t know what else he could change.”

Tugging her forward into a hug, one arm wraps around her back, snug around her, the other holding her head to his neck. Breathing her in and just staying like that as her arms immediately wrapped around him. Fisting his shirt in her hands as she leans into his touch.

“Emily has already mobilised a team, they’ll be in place for tonight. I won’t let this guy hurt you. I promise.”

Laughing softly, she practically nuzzled into the skin of his neck, breath warm as she spoke. 

“Careful, I’ll hold you to that.”

Something went wrong. Spencer had been blitzed from behind while they were eating dinner. It had been too soon, they weren’t ready.

Now, as he slowly forced himself up from the floor, something clearly wasn’t right. Picking himself up, trying not to look at the blood that had pooled on their kitchen floor, he scrambled over to the drawer where they’d stashed an emergency gun.

Holding back the sigh of relief at the cool metal reaching his palm, but as he picked it up it felt too heavy - like he was going to topple over.

Probably had something to do with the blood dripping down the side of his face, staining his blue shirt.

Brokenly calling it in to Emily, he realised that the ringing in his right ear was going down - making him aware that there had even been a ringing in the first place. Letting him properly focus on the sound from upstairs, crying. Sobbing, really. But that shouldn’t be Maeve, he’d promised that she’d be fine.

He promised.

Causing him to blatantly ignore Emily and hang up the phone, stuffing his phone in his back pocket and stumbling to the stairs. Ambling up with the gun heavy in his hands, finding the source from their master bedroom.

Wishing they’d never gotten up this morning - or that he’d intervened at the front door. She isn’t worth this case.

Through his hazy vision as he pushed the door open, he saw the UnSub holding Maeve up by the window. Facing the door and waiting for him. Fuck.. he makes the husband watch.

Coming upstairs might’ve just killed her.

“Hello Walter, pleasure to finally meet you. Don’t worry, I met your wife earlier.”

Digging the knife a little harder into Maeve’s side, finally making Spencer aware of the knife pressed into her side. He desperately tried to figure out where it would hit her if he stabbed her, but he couldn’t. He can’t think, Maeve is in danger. His wife.

“Give her--”

“Funny, even with a head injury, you come to save her, gun and all. But she didn’t even call out for you, you know. I dragged her off and she screamed for a Spencer. Bitch was more unfaithful than I realised.”

Panicking, Spencer took a step closer, wanting to bargain and plead and shoot this fucking bastard. For Maeve.

“No, no. That’s- That’s me, Walter is my middle name. Please don’t hurt her, I promised.”

Maeve hadn’t stopped looking at him, so desperately. She had screamed for him, he had promised to keep her safe, holding eye contact as the UnSub laughed. A horrible sound right now as he just wanted this all over.

“What good are promises and vows, when your wife talks to any man that comes to the door, like a common whore.”

“Don’t call her that.”

“I can call this traitorous bitch whatever I want, this is what’s best for your marriage.”

The knife dug in deeper, cutting through the pretty blue sweater she’d worn just to match with him today. All he could do was watch as blood started to seep through, not enough to be serious, but it was still too much for his heart.

Hazy brain trying to sort through what to say. The UnSub’s hatred probably began with his mother leaving his father, regardless of whether or not she cheated - and that pure hatred was cemented when his wifely likely cheated and left him. As if it rationalised his hatred because they’d proved he was right.

But he also knew this kind of man can’t be talked down - his hands were too fucking shaky, and his vision too blurry to try and do anything physical.

Maeve, Jesus, she’s smiling at him softly, even though she had a knife cutting shallowly into her gut and an arm locked around her throat. Her voice wasn’t as level as she had hoped for, but at least she wasn’t crying anymore as she spoke to Spencer.

“It’s alright sweetheart, just take the shot.”

The man doesn’t even seem fazed, as if knowing how unlikely it is that Spencer would get a decent shot off, if any at all. And his grip tightened on the gun, raising it just a little. The action did make him hold Maeve tighter, but there’s no point, he really can’t safely make a shot.

Fuck- he’s terrified that he’ll hit her.

“I- I can’t. Angel, I don’t want to hurt you.”

Sirens finally sounded from outside and the man clearly bristled, looking nervously between him and the window. Spencer was going to fucking throttle whoever just set off those sirens, knowing that it was only going to make the man panic. The police had never arrived so quickly before.

As he was looking for the right thing to say, the man gave Spencer one last look.

“We both know, you’re better off.”

Drawing back the knife and stabbing Maeve in the side, quickly managing to pull it out and get another one in before Spencer’s heavy reactions finally kicked in.

The pain had Maeve doubled over and Spencer fired now that the shot was clear, hitting the man clear in the heart and sending him over - dead before he even hit the floor. Impressive considering Spencer was aiming for his head. 

There had been a scream, and it wasn’t until he was cradling Maeve on the floor that he realised it was coming from him.

Making sure the knife hadn’t been jolted as he violently kicked the man’s body away to make enough room for him and Maeve were on the floor, grabbing for whatever clothes they’d discarded the night before. Desperately trying to stem the bleeding.

Maeve’s hands travelled up his arms, leaving smears he’s never going to be able to tear from his memory, eventually settling in his hair. Until she let out a sad whine, pulling her hand back, all bloody from the injury to his head.

“Spence, sweetheart, you’re bleeding.”

“You’re a little more important than me right now baby. Stay still for me okay, fuck, fuck-- not again, not again--”

Her words were all slurred, and she just continued frowning, not caring that all his focus was on trying to stop her bleeding. Whereas she was trying to get him to refocus, not understanding why she was so important to focus on right now.

“No you- you need to be checked out. You’re so clever Spencer, you need to- you need t’ protect your brain.”

As he was trying to focus on her, he could feel her hands lax from where they’d been smoothing through his hair. Eyes darting up to her face as she started to mumble her words, eyes slipping shut.

“Maeve?! Angel, baby, c’mon, stay with me, help is coming.”

“Oh~ you called me Maeve! It sounds so pretty. ‘M sorry love, I need- I need to rest my eyes, won’t sleep, promise.”

He moved his hands to her face, inadvertently smearing her blood across her cheeks, but he needed her to open her eyes. He can’t lose her - he fucking refuses to lose her.

This woman, carved so perfectly into his heart, isn’t allowed to leave him yet. There is so much more he wants to do with her- hell, he wants to tell the stupid fucking woman that he loves her and he’s an idiot for leaving it so long to tell her. That he’s sorry that she has to be in danger whenever he realises his feelings for her.

Tapping her face lightly while her eyes darted underneath her eyelids.

“Uh huh, it’s real pretty, just like your gorgeous eyes. Keep them open for me angel. Maeve, come on now.”

It had calmed down, the bleeding, the trousers that he’d grabbed from the floor were completely soaked but the blood wasn’t flowing as violently anymore and he could ease some of the panic in his heart.

The knowledge that Emily was outside, the house had already been breached, and there was an ambulance waiting for them was the only thing he was holding onto to avoid breaking down.

But he damn near sobbed when she peeled one eye open to look at him, a few tears dropping onto her face, but she didn’t seem to care.

“You’re lucky you’re cute Spence. But it’s too bright to keep my eyes open, please can you turn the lights of love, please.”

“The lights.. the light is off babygirl, keep that eye open for me anyway. Please Maeve, I can’t lose you.”

Scrunching her face up, ignoring the stab of pain that flickered through her as she gazed up at him. Forcing the other eye open even against the blaring light, trying not to hold it against him for not turning it off yet.

Reaching up, she cradled his face carefully within her hands, like he’s doing with her. So gently, as if she thought he’d break. As if he were the one here so close to dying.

When she smiled again, it took all his willpower to ignore the blood between her teeth.

“You won’t lose me sweet thing, I’m jus’ a little sleepy. Let me have a nap and then we can go back to being married, yeah?”

“No- No! Maeve, come on, eyes open.”

But it was no use, her hands slipped off his face and falling to her chest as her eyes fluttered shut. Smushing her face into his palm as the pain and light started to dim underneath her eyelids, her lips brushing his hand.

“You keep calling me Maeve, I love it so much. I uh.. can we talk about it later? I really like it, but I prefer- I prefer angel.”

Breathing finally evened as she passed out, going limp against his hand as he finally stopped trying not to cry. Pulling her up into his arms and sobbing into her hair, hearing the paramedics scaling the stairs out in the hallway.

Pressing small kisses to her hair over and over, as if he could ever start to make up for not being able to keep her safe. Voice breaking through his words.

“I’ll call you angel forever Maeve, I promise, but you have to wake up. Please- please don’t leave me.”

Want more?! Good!

taglist ( ˘ ³˘)♥ @peachsodameg @angelinajolie0213 @jiggly-puff-12 @khxna @kennedy2156 @trulycayla @none-of-your-bullshit @alexxavicry @meg-black (please tell me if this works because I have never done this and google is useless)

[luvyjwz]

⎯⎯ ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝⌗ drowning in moonlight ★— jake imagine.

⊹ ⋆ﾟ꒰ఎ ���── jake x reader, suggestive (jake potentially being a succubus/siren + nothing is clear bc this was entirely self indulgent), mentions of smut

the water droplets from jake's wet kisses on your collarbone began to trickle down onto the fabric of your blouse. the buttons and cloth messily separated as the article pooled around your torso.

you recollect memories of your past meetings and you fail to find a moment similar to how he caresses your skin at this very time. soft sounds of your clothes being discarded was drowned out by swishes of the ocean. sand crystals tickling your bare skin as he towers over your nearly unclothed body.

the beach was empty of souls and you knew your prayers had been heard. the sun began to set hours ago, families and friends hurrying to their homes leaving you all alone. waiting for the very man who tortured yet healed your soul.

"kiss me properly," you stutter when his thin fingernails prod at your lips. "i've been waiting all evening."

he scoffs to this statement, smiling briefly knowing the effect he had on you, your mind, and your body.

"you think you deserve it?" he whispers, an octave dropping and your heart begins acting under his command. his fingers wander to your back, playing with the elastic of your bra strap as he leans in to leave reddening marks on your neck.

and for another sunset, he left your lips cold.

the following morning you decide to visit the beach during sunrise. the honey sun was a new sight for you as your feet carried you through the salty sand and all the way to the familiar waves. only stray boulders and welcomed crustacean creatures kept you company.

your thoughts once again drifting to the man you loved to visit at sea. he made you feel things you couldn't name, things you couldn't quite comprehend. the way he touched you in the most intimate places, places which you never let a soul touch you before. the way he lured your body into a tantalizing state of mind with his seductive, enticing words.

just sitting here alone, basking in the sun's glory you feel an ache for his presence.

when you reach your hand out to dip into the silky waters, you question yourself, question your reasoning. however, when a familiar head of honeyed blond hair arises from the pits of liquid blue, his head tilted back and water droplets accentuating his built shoulders through a white tunic—the answer comes to you naturally.

you long for the water drops on your bare body as jake makes love to you in the moonlight. his pale blue, misty eyes peering up into your gaze when he pleasures you feverishly. a compassionate, yet thirsty desire in his eyes as he makes you his.

he reaches out for you from the ocean. in just a moment, your body is against his and he's brushing his hands over your features to cup your cheekbones in his grasp. his cold, wet jewellery pressing into your flesh.

"kiss me," jake whispers this time. "i've been waiting all my life."

fighting the urge to break down in his arms, you lean against him and kiss him as hard as your body would let you. numbing feelings and unsaid emotions are felt as you share breaths and after a while he groans, pulling away to burrow his layered locks into your collarbone.

"stay," his voice softer as he mumbles. "i'll take you with me."

he lifts away from you to meet your watery eyes. not much thought goes through your head as you nod profusely, willing to go anywhere as long as you're with him.

a cute smile appears on his puffy lips before he interlocks your fingers and begins takes you further under the ocean...

✧˖°💬📎⋆ ˚｡ 06/30/23

first writing for my bias wrecker x

with love, luvyjwz. ♡