#regency!soap

[mimiiis]

Regency!Au — ft. 141 x Fem!Reader

❥ join me, dear reader, in a small and silly au full of stories on how I think it would be like to court the CoD men in the regency era.

❥ each story takes place within their own time, with each passing route you are a completely different woman! Every member of the 141 has their own unique story so do not fret if I have not written your fave yet, it is all planned in a specific order </3

❥ im so excited to be making this series! please be patient with me as I write and get through it all :,) Bridgerton is my all time favorite comfort show and mixing it with a fandom I've wanted to write for a while now is something very fun for me, I have had this idea for over a year and I'm so happy to finally be sharing them! These stories will take heavy inspo from the show and books in terms of tropes and small details, everything i know about the regency is limited so please be patient and kind when or if i make a mistake :,). if you like anything or have thoughts, feel free to leave any notes or something in my inbox ♥︎♥︎

☆☆☆

General John Price - Must be love pt.1

+ more stories to come...

♥︎

[lologoinsolo]

Unedited blurb of an idea I’ve had for over a year or so but is finally seeing the light of day.

Part 2ish

Okay, okay but imagine Reader is like the fourth Princess to the King of (whatever country) and is forced to marry a certain Lord Riley. The reasoning is Reader’s father fears the support that Lord Riley is gaining. And it just so happens that the man has no wife, only rumors of a partner that supposedly is of the “masculine” nature…

Now, Lord Riley is a bastard son that rose to power, he became a leader of sorts and has earned the respect of the “lesser” folk. The nobles despise and fear Lord Riley more than the King and though the firstborn Princess is unwed the King chose YOU to marry the Ghost of Nobles. Just to spite him, to say that he’s not good enough no matter how many titles or lands he has. Lord Riley will never be good enough for the first so he’ll have to settle with the last.

You’re wed before you can even meet the man prior. Your only way of speaking before the wedding bells was through letters. You didn’t expect anything back from him but he surprised you in more ways than one. The gentleness in his letters were a juxtapose to his fearsome reputation. Proclaiming you to be beautiful, fairer than the moon and warmer than the sun. You thought maybe your soon to be husband was different than the rumors but once met at the cathedral, it’s as though the man from the letters was not the same man at the alter.

A full month passed and you became Lady Riley, it’s no secret that the marriage was simply for your father to bring him to a heel. Your husband seemed to despise you, spoke single words and never shared a bed not even on your wedding night. It’s a sham of a marriage but at least you’re away from court and away from your father. You’re allowed that kind of peace since your home is now further up north. It does get lonely but your saving grace is in your bodyguard, a Scotsman with a heart of gold and an eye of knowing when you’re sad.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Thinking about…Regency!141 AU

Regency!Price who is a widower. He lost his wife and child during childbirth. Since then, Price has lived a fairly lonely life, vowing to never remarry to not further leave himself to potential grief. He throws himself into his work and his estate, expecting to remain single and heirless until his death. But a certain someone comes stumbling into his path, and suddenly Price’s life becomes bright and vibrant again.

Regency!Soap is the rake of society. He flirts with every woman who crosses his path (married or not). He indulges in too much drink, loves a good duel, and genuinely enjoys the fact that he’s living his best life. But Soap is the first-born son. There are standards and expectations. The pressure is mounting, and he needs to find a wife fast.

Regency!Ghost who is the brooding bachelor of the bunch. He’s confident, well-mannered, and handsome, but he’s incredibly cold upon first meeting him. Many young women fancy him but he doesn’t appear to fancy them. Until he meets one who has a mouth and demeanor that easily matches his. Ghost loathes her, but he also loves her.

Regency!Gaz is the newest eligible bachelor. He’s landed. Rich. Handsome. He’s charismatic, and a favorite amongst the ladies. But Gaz is harboring a secret. One of his dearest friends, a woman he adores, has his whole heart. But she’s engaged to another. Her wedding is arriving quickly, and he might just be selfish enough to ruin it all just so he can have her.

CoD Headcanons / AUs / Quick Writes Masterlist

[emmster]

More Pride and Prejudice AU from last month’s patreon

[briarscreek]

Regency era!Johnny MacTavish has an important question to ask you.

“are you a spy?”

that question alone ripped the rose colored glasses of your courtship right off of you. now all of his gestures in the past few months had a motive.

why only call and come to you at your house? because he’s a gentleman he actually wanted a chance to rifle through your sponsor’s office.

why take you to a public tea house? he wanted to show everyone how serious he was about you. he was watching who you interacted with to see if you slipped any unidentified documents.

why risk scandal of taking an evening stroll in the gardens without your chaperone? he wanted to know you in every way unfiltered, bonnie. he was watching to see if anyone followed you to leak information.

it all made sense. your brain put pieces into place while your heart broke into a million more. upset. anger. despair. embarrassment. humiliation. rage.

“no” you stated firmly with your back now straight as a board. you knew the look in his eyes meant only business so you had to make sure your answer got through to him, you knew pleading your heart out wouldn’t.

“good” he let out with his breath.

“I believe we have nothing else to discuss, Lord MacTavish” Lord MacTavish? you haven’t called him that since your first meeting, he insisted.

“uh, wait—“ he hastily stood and tried to walk after you.

“you have asked your question Lord MacTavish, and now you may stop. there is no need to continue this false courtship any further. I hope my answer satisfies you, my lord.” with a hurry towards your carriage, you stepped in. your chaperone had a few choice words with Captain John (Johnny’s chaperone), before they loaded in the carriage with you. it was then you broke down, now far enough away from his house.

the ring box in Johnny’s pocket now burned even hotter, with a different kind of anxiety he was about to choke on.

[ladypensivewrites]

In Your Eyes Pt.1

Soap x Servant!Reader | smut | masturbation (f) | Regency Era | I swear it's only a coincidence that both of my first fics on here have similar titles… | This is my first time ever writing smut, so feedback is welcome. | 1,849 words

In your eyes, Lord Johnny Mactavish was everything the ideal man should be. He was generous, kind, sweet, and funny. A little rugged at times but never lacked manners. He worked along with his servants and workers, and was never cruel. Lord Mactavish had kind eyes, a charming smile, and a voice that commanded respect and exuded trust. He had big hands and strong arms, a broad frame that showed his many years working the land he owned along with the men he employed. He had money, a big estate in the countryside, and was a man of honor. He would make a perfect husband and father. However, what you thought of him did not matter.

In his eyes you were his worker. One of many servants that kept the estate clean, welcomed his guests, and served his food. Your interactions with him were reduced to serving his meals or tea, during the monthly pensions he personally handed each worker, and in brief passing with only an exchange of small, kind greetings. Maybe even to very subtle, accidental touches—your fingers brushing momentarily only. The closest you’d ever gotten to him was cleaning his bedroom or his study, or doing his laundry, where your curiosity would get the best of you. You would snoop around occasionally with the excuse of arranging messes or dusting off surfaces if you were to be assigned that day to clean his room. 

You couldn't help it. You wanted to know more about the enigmatic Lord Mactavish. The older servants always had nice things to say about the young lord. He was different from so many close-minded, cruel rich men. He wasn’t lazy, he didn’t hit or insult his workers, he was hands-on and willing to get dirty. He was odd, they said. But if odd was like that, they would take it. You would take it.

In very few words you had become obsessed with Johnny Mactavish. Or well… the idea of him. At least you could be honest with yourself about that. You barely knew him. Actually, you didn’t know him at all. You were barely two years into working at the Mactavish Estate. You knew your boss didn’t even think of your existence until payday.

And… 

He wasn’t as perfect as you had made him to be in your mind. Yes, he was all those nice things. But he was a man after all. At least once a week he would either go out to the gentlemen’s club or bring back the usual girls. Very pretty women at that.  With elegant dresses he gifted them. With ridiculously beautiful smiles and handsome laughs. A rake. That is what he was. 

By all means you weren’t an innocent, prim-and-proper noble lady, either. You knew what men brought ladies into their bedchambers for. It was definitely not to play croquet, that’s for sure. The head maid would always tell the others to not go into the second floor during those days and the girls always gossiped. You obeyed of course, even as foolish jealousy creeped up on you. You knew it was stupid, and it felt childish. You didn’t want him to be with other women, and not because he was unmarried or because you expected him to be as much of a saint as he seemed to be, but because of your absurd crush on him. You wanted him to be faithful to the imaginary relationship your mind created. 

Which is why you crossed the line. Not that he knew. But you did. You were assigned to clean his room today, and you hid your eagerness. But then the head maid told you the lord was in a haste. He had a “friend” coming over, so the room had to be clean by the evening and the sheets had to be changed. You picked your cleaning supplies and headed upstairs, even as your body tensed. You walked through the spruce doors of his bedroom and placed your bucket down on the floor, the water splashing slightly. You worked on polishing the floors, wiped at your forehead as sweat gathered there in a thick sheen, then moved around quickly after. Anger made your blood boil even more than it already did, the burning heat of the summer coming through the open windows adding to your discomfort. 

You dusted off every surface, the feather duster clutched tightly in your unforgiving grip to the point that the wooden edges of the worn handle pricked and dug into your sweaty, calloused palm. You dropped the duster, filled up the jar at the basin near the door with fresh water and replenished the hand towels. Then you moved to the bed to change the sheets. What was the point? He would bring one of his lady friends here, make a mess and then you or another maid would have to clean the next day again. You grabbed the thin cotton blankets and tore them off of the bed and folded them. Then you grabbed the covers and started to pull them off, almost tearing the fabric as it caught on a corner. You cursed under your breath and stopped.

You needed to calm down. 

So you gently freed the corner and gathered the fabric in your arms. With a breath in, the scent of the sheets hit you for a second. You blinked and looked around. Curiously you pressed the sheets to your nose and inhaled, then sighed. God… He had the musky scent of sandalwood, basil, and bergamot, with a hint of fern from his soap. You folded the sheets carefully and moved back to the bed, extending your hands to the pillows. You dragged them towards you and let your fingers run over the silk. With a hesitant tuck of your bottom lip under your upper teeth, you leaned down and pressed your nose to one of the pillows. Your eyes fluttered close as your fingers curled into the cover, your mind racing with the thought of what it would be like to lay next to Lord Mactavish and press your nose into his neck. Maybe he would grab your hips, pull you in. Would you be naked? No, maybe clothed in a modest sleeping gown. Then, perhaps in the bright morning, he would softly, subtly push up the skirt of your gown as he ran his hand over the length of your leg up to your thigh.

With that image you bit down on your lip and pulled back. Looked around again and listened quietly, making sure no one was working outside the room before you reached under the thin layers of your work uniform and pulled your drawers down. With your heart pounding harshly against your ribcage you climbed into the bed. You could feel your heartbeat thump against your pulse, making your body feel hot and your face flush warmly. The heat wasn’t caused by the weather anymore and you knew it. It was thrilling even if it should have felt wrong. You swallowed thickly before pulling your skirts up again with shaky hands and slotting the stacked pillows vertically between your thighs, straddling them. Leaning forward and placing your hands flat on the bed you moved your hips forward and backwards trying to find the familiar sensation of self indulgence. 

You closed your eyes and kept imagining. He would slip his hand, yes, between your legs to feel the heat gathering between your inner thighs. You pressed your cunt down, the silk beginning to moisten under you and catch against your skin. He would find it, the little pebbled nerve of your clit, so you reached your hand between your legs and found it as it pulsed and twitched needly. You whimpered as you imagined his rough, Scottish accent as he whispered in your ear. “I need you, lovie.” 

“It is daytime.” You would tell him, trying to seem innocent, and he would laugh in that sinful tone that made your sex heat up and slick. You had heard him laugh before. It was a beautiful sound and you yearned for it. To be the reason he laughed. You wanted to see his gray eyes crinkle on the corners as his lips stretch in that wide, boyish grin. Wanted to feel his lips against your skin as his fingers pinched and circled your clit slowly, torturously. You whined and covered your mouth with your other hand. 

You pressed your thighs harder against the pillows, making them bunch up slightly more against you, causing the perfect friction. The silk caught between your folds, the soft fabric rubbing against your clit along with your fingers deliciously. You moved the hand away from between your legs and grasped the top pillow to force it harder against you. Your eyes rolled back, your breaths becoming ragged and fast as you breathed through your nose. A moan slipped, muffled by your palm, as your legs began to shake, your tummy tight. 

“Johnny-” You whined, dropping your hand from your mouth to grasp at the bed. Your hips stutter, the friction becoming too overwhelming. “Johnny- You…” You hiccuped and shuddered, “You’re mine, my Lord. Mine- Oh-” You tried to keep going, push longer, but it was too much. You wanted so desperately to put your claim on him. Leave your mark behind. The thought of him finding your slick, your release, on his sheets would be satisfying. You wanted those women to know he was yours. Your scent to be all over his bed. So, you halted, your sharp pants filling the empty room. With wide eyes you ran a hand over your heated face, your head pounding along with the rest of your body and your heart. You placed a hand over your mouth as if trying to calm your breaths, slowly easing your grip on the pillow. 

Yes, you wanted them to know. You wanted him to know of your affections, of your desire for him, but you knew this wasn’t the way. You didn’t want him to find out this way, even if the thought felt like a rush. Exhilarating. He would be disgusted. Appalled by you. You didn’t want that. You didn’t want him to hate you, let alone lose your job because of this… mistake.

You ultimately let go of the pillow and, with shaky legs, moved off to stand up. You quickly put your briefs back on, even as sticky slick made your folds feel uncomfortable. You then grabbed the pillow, grimacing at the spot of wetness you left on the silk, and slid the cover off, the other pillow following. Your chest felt heavy, your mind replaying your actions over and over. Guilt creeped up on you, so you grabbed a new pillow from an elegant storage trunk to replace the soiled one. 

It's fine, no one will find out. You thought as you gathered all the laundry from the floor along with your cleaning supplies and placed them into your basket, moving to clean the bathroom. Unfortunately, someone would know, as his gray eyes had witnessed everything through the half-opened door.

[ryuzakemo128]

Foul Play

Pairing: Duke!Poly!141 x Pirate Hunter/ Princess Female reader CW: Blood, gruesome and graphic details, death, pirate hunting. Protective female reader. Words: 420 Credit for Dividers: @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics Masterlist Summary: “WHERE IS HE?!” you yelled out. The halls moving the sound through faster than you assumed it would have.

You stormed through the front doors, kicking them in with your feet, marching into the mansion, covered in pirate blood, “WHERE IS HE?!” you yelled out. The halls moving the sound through faster than you assumed it would have.

Price couldn't believe his eyes when he saw you, the man you were glaring at. He was the one who gave you the contract. Only for him to double-cross you later. Bringing back the head of the pirate, he sent you on a wild goose chase. Now rests in your hand.

You weren’t glaring at Price, much to his relief. Your eyes were on your contractor. Phillip Graves. 

“You have some kind of nerve to be here.” you snarl. “Do you know what this is?” You shoved the severed head, which resembled the description of the pirate he made up. Only vaguely fitting it. 

“Leave, take your foul forked tongue elsewhere. You can take your claws and your lies to somewhere else.” you shoved the severed head further into his chest. Which coincidentally betrayed the four men. “Did you really think sending me away from those four would do you any good?” 

You snapped your fingers in front of his face, grabbing his cheeks to make him look at yours. “Don't look at them. You're not dealing with them. You. are. talking. to. me. And when I say you leave, I mean it."

Phillip Graves. Your former contractor. 

Traitor to the four dukes. The scoundrel who sent you on a wild goose chase after a pirate he claimed was too ‘elusive’. Though, his story always felt too tacked on to be real. When you found out that pirate was indeed fake. You hunted a different pirate and came back with their head instead.

So now there it is. The four of them. They finally saw just how protective you are over the people you loved. You practically dragged that man out of there by yourself. Something Ghost still finds alluring, bewitching, captivating. 

Johnny and Kyle exchanged a knowing look, understanding the bond that had formed between the two of you. Simon remained stoic, his eyes never leaving yours, a hint of admiration flickering in the depths of his gaze.

John said, “We don’t take betrayal lying down.” Sometime afterwards. 

“Good thing you took it standing up.” you quipped.

Ghost let out a low chuckle, his masked face betraying no emotion, his eyes shone with amusement. Soap and Gaz exchanged a look, surprised by your audacity, yet impressed by your fiery spirit.

[luxurystark-jackson]

so i started impulsively watching downton abbey and it’s so fucking funny. episode 3 is literally prettyboy guy from turkey comes to england and visits downton. convinces mary to let him hit. then fucking. gets a heart attack of some kind. pussy so good he straight up Died

[cutiecusp]

@misshugs @soraya-daydreams @rynbeerose @enjisbf @frudoo @yesornowaitidontknow

[mydearestdarlingdead]

Count on the gay men to be talking about their employers refusal to consummate their marriage while they're having sex

[knittinglizards]

man i do not understand the appeal of bridgerton at all

[mimiiis]

So more abt my regency au 😚 (apologies if there are any similarities to others ideas). I don't want to spoil it to much so I'm just going to share the tropes and stories I've been inspired by ^_^

I’ve already posted some stuff about John Price (read here!!) , but I’d like to say his story is very much Daphne x Simon coded. I was inspired by the “I burn for you” scene of their story and wanted to make my own take on it but with him ofc. Pining and brother's bfs are the major tropes of this small story.

And now for my future projects of my au!!

Baron John(ny) Mactavish!! Eee omg , his story will most definitely inspired by Anthony and Kate. Enemies to lovers, him and his love interest bickering and driving each other insane. Both of them are hella stupid and cannot tell the difference between hate and love. His story takes place after John's.

After Johnny is Gaz! Marquis Kyle Garrick finds himself falling for his old family friend when she's is in her first year on the marriage mart. Based off of Penelope x Colin. Longing and friendship will be major tropes in his fic, I will not lie I am most excited to write his.

And at last, Duke Simon Riley. Queen Charlotte vibes all the way. Arranged marriage, angst, "I can fix him" vibes all around. Since this story will (most likely) be the last of this series I def want to make it my most serious and treat it right.

I'm unsure as to how many parts I am going to make each story , but I don't want to drag them on for too long. This series is supposed to be my fun lil baby and I don't want to hurt myself over it :3. As ive said in the series master list, the stories are written in a specific order so it may take me a bit to get around to ur fave. I thank and appreciate anyone who is willing to stick around long enough, Price chapter coming next week (hopefully!).

also small ps, all the stories are named after Laufey songs, teehee. 🤭

[lologoinsolo]

Hello :)

Just read your ‘unedited blurb’ about the fourth born princess married off to the illegitimate son Lord Riley… now I’m hungry for words. Please don’t let the starving children in Australia die.

It’s so cruel to taunt us with these tasty little snacks and no sustenance. Needs our meats and taters to fight off the drop bears.

x

Part 2 of this, slightly more edited drabble.

You’re a good wife. At least you believe so. You do your duties, you run the house well enough, you speak kindly to the servants and maids and butlers. You keep a smile on, a genuine smile towards everyone. You do tend to splurge on fresh flowers that you place in nearly every corner of the estate but that’s just to brighten up the old walls. You do your absolute best to be as prim and as proper as a wife of the Riley name should be.

But it’s… it’s just not enough.

“Good morning, husband,” you greet upon the top of your stairs, your hand on the rail as you make your way down. You have a hard time catching him long enough to speak to him. He really does live up to his nickname as The Ghost. “I’ve asked the maids to prepare… your…” the words you would’ve said dies when he turns from you. Didn’t even nod this time nor give you the dignity of a short conversation. You sigh, eyes closed before you roll your shoulders and head to the dining area.

Your breakfast sits for you waiting to be eaten and the servants stand at the ready to indulge any desire you might have. The chef here is exceptionally better than the one at the palace but at least that dining room had your sisters. The seats were always filled and the lighter was constant. Your eyes flicker to the doors, hoping against hope that today will be the day your husband eats with you. But alas, across the table sits an empty chair that’s hardly been sat on and food that is getting colder by the minute. Like always.

You eat in silence, striking conversations with the servants is a hard thing to do since they just nod away to what you’re saying. “My husband works too hard.” Speaking aloud but the servant that’s pours your drink merely winces, “please, send his food to his study.” Putting on a smile, this one genuine yet sadder. “Oh, and make sure to warm it for him before you send it.” Giving one last instruction as they go to take his food away.

After breakfast, you make your way to the garden’s greenhouse. It’s your little spot of sunshine that you’ve payed a keen eye to. You love your flowers, this place didn’t have much save for weeds. You’re hoping that once these bloom then you can put them in the house. The large greenhouse isn’t just for soon to be flowers but also where you’ll read. You’ve made a small library for yourself, just the books you took from your home at the palace. Even now, reading seems to be the only way for you to escape a loveless home.

“Mornin’, my lady!” The booming voice of your bodyguard jolts you from your seat and you almost throw your book. You still don’t know why you need one, you never leave the estate anyways. “I ken ye’d be ‘ere,” he smiles and it’s as warm as the sun, a hand settles on his hip as he leans closer to you. “Readin’ yer books again, my lady?”

“Johnny,” your hand over your chest, your heart might have jumped out. The book that was almost thrown sits on your lap now. “Yes,” catching your breath, “I am reading… again.” You’ve never seen a man dress like him when you were growing up. Sir— or just Johnny, as he had asked, is dressed in clothing that speaks of his proud heritage. The green and blue kilt, the leather, and the two sharp looking axes attached to his hips. The term, “Scottish warrior”, comes to mind. It’s something that you’ve heard your father speak about. Granted your father had nothing good to say about them. He never had anything good to say about anything in general actually.

“Yer makin’ me lazy, my lady.” He sighs like you’ve turned away a crying puppy.

“How am I doing that?” It’s refreshing in how he speaks to you. It should upset you that he’s so open with you but you’ll take what you can get. At least he tries to keep his manners, you’ve heard him curse only once but he promptly apologized for it. “If you are bored of your charge then perhaps you should ask Lord Riley to relieve you of me.” Turning your face a little, you go to pull your book out in front of you.

“Cannae do that,” puffing his chest out. Far too prideful to admit any sort of defeat, “ye ken there’s a library that yer husband puts donations to?” You quirk a brow at him, when did Lord Riley start doing that? He continues on, “it’s very big compared to yer lil greenhouse. It’s in town and there just happens to be a nice little bakery nearby.” Trying to sound as convincing as he can. He’s kept up with your routines and needless to say. He wants to get you out of the cage you’re squeezed in. Plus, a little birdie told him that you have a sweet tooth that’s almost as bad as Simon’s is.

Rubbing at your chin in thought, “okay…” placing your book down. No harm in getting out, you just hoped it would’ve been your husband that would’ve been the one to do so. A flitter of a fantasy that maybe he would’ve taken notice to you keeping to yourself here but… maybe he just has too many things to work on?

“Thank you, Princess,” smiling down at you once more. His hand outstretched for you to grab and you take it gladly. He pulls you out of your seat easily and takes a small step back so you can walk in front. His eyes have always been on you since you came in. Watching your graceful figure moves about the halls like a feather. He’d think you’re a swan with how you move, a pretty little thing that’s nestled in these cold walls. It cuts him deeper in the chest that any knife when he knows why your husband isn’t paying attention to you the way you deserve.

He’ll have to speak to Simon again, maybe get him to build you your own library in the estate. God knows it took some long and hard convincing to get the man to make donations to the towns library. It’s worth it to see how your eyes light up though. You flutter around and talk his ear off about all the books, talking more than he’s heard you speak since you’ve came about being Lady Riley. He swallows thickly when your back is turned once more to pile on another book to your growing collection.

He can’t keep doing this, not anymore. Not to you.

[emmster]

sneaking out of a fancy mask party to lay in the grass with your lover. Pride and Prejudice AU was November's theme for my patreon

alt version (daytime) below the cut

[atopvisenyashill]

an update on my hotd display - it had about as many circs as any other display (sad, altho at least it wasn't a dud) but of course the only books that got picked up WERE THE HISTORICAL FICTION and non fiction and not the sff i was trying to push. my patrons are ALLERGIC to fantasy my GOD.

anyways i'm doing a tudor one next because six the musical is here and i feel like having looked at what plantagenet and tudor non fiction we have in the collection so i understand the war of the roses better is really helping me out here. but i did not know how much mystery historical fiction there is in the tudor era laskjdfld

[ryuzakemo128]

How Did You Find Me?

Pairing: Duke!Poly!141 x female reader/ you cw: drug use, protestation, smut, sexual tension, your ex shows up, hinting at possible opium repeat use. Words: 627 Masterlist Divider Credit: @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics Summary: How did they find you there?

John interrupted your time with your ex, he noticed you were blindfolded and your ex’s cock was about to slide into your wet, sopping warmth when John decided to walk into your bedroom. You didn’t think he’d find out so quickly. You were mistaken when you thought you could hide this from him. 

What were you doing with your pathetic excuse of an ex? You should have gone to them instead if you were this desperate. 

What are you doing getting all hot and bothered, squirming around for a guy who would pretend your relationship wasn’t real to satisfy his mother’s concern? 

Eyes burning with a fury you could feel despite the pastel pink silk blindfold covering your eyes. You picked it out, thinking it would be a fun time to spend separating yourself from the four dukes whomst thought were losing a lover a month ago. 

You never thought they’d find you this fast. As you were always careful about who was looking at you, who saw what part of you and where. How did they know to find you in some dingy little brothel on the coast of Somalia? 

The thought of you getting yourself caught in such a compromising position. Both terrified you and aroused you at the same time. 

But the voice cutting through the fog is unmistakable. High from the opium you took to take the edge off. Thinking, ‘They’re not going to know. They won’t find me down here’ and ‘I’ve done a little prostitution work for the guy. Who says I can’t do it again?’.

It wasn’t until you were carried off the bed by someone else completely, it wasn’t until the blindfold is ripped from your face that you see someone other than John. Simon’s glare through the bright sunlight, sun rays spilling through from outside peering through the windows. The sudden bright light making you squint your eyes. 

Was your ship that recognisable in the dark, gloomy skies? What urged them to find you like this? Who told them to look for you? Why did they look for you?

The low groan from the depths of your throat as the room spiral, just enough to make you sick if you opened your eyes again. The nausea building inside your stomach. The combination of gin and opium. 

A dreadful idea on your part. One could also say it was a godawful one. A careless action to undertake.

“Who do you think you are? Recklessly endangering yourself in a…..place like this?” Simon hissed into your ear.

You tried opening up your eyes again, “I can explain everything.” 

The four dukes weren’t having any of it. They spotted you after months of trying to find you again. “I’d rather not hear your excuses right now.” John wiped the opium from your nose, his anger palpable, clearly appalled with the state they found you in. 

Your creamy nectar all over the centre of your thighs like a begotten, exiled son, a symbol of your lost innocence to a man who didn’t even bother to remember your name after he’d had his fill. 

The desperation mixed in with the opium, the sex, the lust and the carnal need to be taken like you were some kind of thrill seeker. Seeking out new tastes only to forget them as soon as you have taken the first bite. 

It wasn’t the first time you tried opium. As you so drunkenly state on the way to your lovely Defiant. Leaving your ex behind. Right inside the brothel’s room, heart pounding inside his chest. Fuming with rage at their interference. 

By the time you were awake again or conscious again, you were inside your bedroom heaving, vomiting into your bucket. 

How did they find you there?