#this is an insertion lace appreciation post

[raydioactivegeorg]

INSERTION LACE!!!!!! I LOVE INSERTION LACE!!!!!!

[Image ID: four pictures of various insertion lace, each displaying different lace patterns and slightly varied cream and white fabric. one has flowers embroidered across the fabric between the lace. /.End ID]

[gothgleek]

How Many Licks? (Just Bite It)

Angus Tully x fem!reader

Summary: You work at the University’s mail room sorting packages and trying to keep yourself from boredom. However- not that you would ever admit it out loud- you look forward to Thursday afternoons when Angus Tully stops by.

Based on my post Dominic Sessa looking like he bites people.

Word Count: 1,900+

Notes: She/her pronouns, Afab reader, Christmas mention, biting, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, unsafe sex, semi-public sex, sex at the workplace, overstimulation, quickies, reader being a brat, calling each other ‘slut’, everyone involved is over the age of 18

Notes: Huge thank you to my friend, Mera for helping me come up with what to call Angus because there is no way I’m moaning that name either fictionally or irl. It’s like moaning ‘Ulysses’ or ‘Cornelius.’ Please be nice as this is the first fanfic I’ve ever posted on Tumblr and first ever reader insert I’ve ever written. I tried being as neutral as possible when describing physical features but please let me know if there is anything that takes you out. Specifically I tried saying bite marks instead of bruises because not all skin tones bruise easily but I’m sure I missed some.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated 💕💕💕

Minors DNI

Your bright red stockings paired well with your wool black dress that hits you mid-thigh. You couldn’t see Angus from this angle, but you could feel his gaze rising up your legs and to the garter belt as you climbed the ladder. You knew he was a boob man but it was too cold for a v-neck dress. You put his package on the top shelf specifically so you could show off your legs when he arrived.

“Thanks, I got them Black Friday shopping.” You tell him, stepping down the ladder, his package on your hip. “Which is what I assume this is?” You shake the box in your hands. It’s not heavy but you can tell it’s packed to the brim.

“Hope so,” You hear him unwrap a lollipop and pop it in his mouth. You cringe as you hear him bite the lollipop.

You step off the ladder and tuck the box under your breasts, pushing them up more. “If you keep biting them, I’m going to start hiding them when you stop by.”

He smiles obnoxiously. “Then you would’ve hid them away by now.”

You roll your eyes, putting the box on the counter. “It’s disgusting.”

“No, it’s actually pretty tasty,” He smirked and took the used lollipop stick out of his mouth. “Wanna guess what flavor it is?” Angus sticks his artificially red tongue out.

“You’re such a slut.” You roll your eyes and shake your head.

---

The piles of new shipments kept the two of you hidden from the public eye as Angus got on his knees, pushing you against the wall. Your stockings had been quickly disposed of, tossed over his shoulder before you could say anything. His mouth was on your left knee, pressing a kiss as he opened your legs. One warm hand rests on your stomach, balancing himself.

He places a sloppy, open mouthed kiss on your inner thigh, above your knee. He licked upwards and bit down, sucking on the flesh between his teeth. He mirrors his actions on your left thigh. You hissed, knowing (and loving) that it would leave marks.

“You smell fucking amazing,” He says against your skin, his big brown eyes looking up at you. Motivated by your scent, Angus’s kisses get sloppier and while his bites are quicker, it is no less painful as he moves upward your legs. You glanced at the entrance to the office, double checking you could freely respond to his actions.

“God, you’re fucking soaked,” Angus said smirking, the cold air making your clit pulse. His thumb lightly moved over your lace covered pussy.

“Did you get jealous of the lollipop? The way I licked,” You jumped as his tongue touched your clit, the lace of your panties adding to the friction. “And bit?” His teeth graze against it.

“God, you’re such a dirty slut,” You tell him, only half teasing.

“And you’re a loud slut,” Angus teases and pushes your dress upwards. “Bite on this.”

You wordlessly accepted and clamp down on the polyester fabric. He slowly pulled down your red panties to show him your beautiful pussy. Since your lower half and most of your torso was visible, Angus greedily took in the sight of your bare stomach and underboob. He kisses your clit and spits on it. He traces his tongue over the sensitive nub and gives you slow, deliberate licks, creating a bigger mess between your thighs.

You let out muffled moans, your fingers tangled in his curly hair and grinding your hips for more friction. Angus once told you he would die a happy man if that meant being between your legs. Today is a good day to test that. You grip his hair, forcing his mouth to wrap around your clit, an action he responds to with a hum of approval. The vibrations make your hips roll and back arch. You can feel him laugh because he knows he has you where he wants you but you cannot care about that now. You hold his head there, pleading whimpers begging for more. Angus removes his hands from your pussy so he could grip your thighs for balance but makes no effort to loosen your grip.

Embarrassingly, it doesn’t take you long to reach your peak. Not when his mouth is making you feel so, so good. Your dress falls down as your mouth opens, a strangled cry echoing in the room, and your nails dig into his scalp as you cum. Angus keeps licking you as if you’re not melting around his mouth. As if your legs are not shaking in his hands from overstimulation. Eventually you cannot take it anymore and you have to push him away. Still, he licks up the mess you’ve created on your thighs before standing to face you with a satisfied smirk.

The intensity of your orgasm leaves you feeling dizzy so his hands stay on your hips as he rises. Though his face is painted with arrogance, Angus gently sits you on the table your boss reserved for processing packages. He lifts your dress over your head and tosses it to the side, impatiently but gently. Your nipples pebble because of the cold air and his lustful gaze.

Eyes never leaving yours, Angus unbuckles his belt and pulls his cock out. He pushed you against the table, kissing you at the same time. You wrap your arms around his neck as you taste his mouth- a combination of your pussy and his strawberry lollipop.

His hand gently pushed your thighs wider as his other hand slipped a finger between your entrance. His thumb gently rubbed your clit in exactly the way you taught him so you couldn’t help the moans that escaped your mouth. He slid another finger in and you gasped out a “Yes!” You rode his fingers, chasing your pleasure. Your moans ricocheting off the walls, not caring how slutty you acted.

But he cared.

Angus pulled away from your breast, not bothering to wipe away the string of spit connecting his lips to your breast. The hand on your thigh paused your movements and his fingers slowed.

“Tell me you’re my slut,” he smirked. You whined in response. “Come on, say it.”

He gently lays you back on the table and takes his shirt off. Angus turned around to see the clock on the wall ticking down the minutes until your boss came back from lunch.

“Tick tock.” He said, emphasizing each word with the tap of his cock on your entrance. “Tick, tock.”

You had no doubt he would elongate this. Last time you pushed your luck, you weren’t caught, but you didn’t you cum either. Angus had the biggest shit eating grin when he came in the following day and you begged him to fuck you.

But you still weren’t going to give him the satisfaction.

And he knew that.

“How does it feel to be a slut?” He murmured against your ear. Angus buried his face in the crook of your neck, biting down and pulling satisfied moans out of your mouth. “To be my slut?”

“I’m not your slut,” You protested between your moans.

He stopped biting your neck to simply nip at it, moving downwards to your breasts. Your trembling fingers grabbed at the curls on the back of his head, encouraging him. Agnus took a nipple into his hot mouth causing your left hand to dig into his shoulder and your right hand to pull his hair. Angus let out a muffled moan of pleasure and sucked on your nipple harder. There was tension building in your stomach but you couldn’t release it until you were around him.

“Say it,” Angus said as he alternated between your breasts. “Say it and I’ll fuck you.”

“Fine! I’m a slut!” You cried. “I’m your slut! Now please! Fuck me!”

Angus chuckled and slid into you. You instinctively wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer. His eyes fluttered as he felt your heat surround his cock. He stared down at you as he found his rhythm. his fingers finding your clit again. Angus’s fingers moved in the same rhythm as his hips.He moved his hips faster, forcing your back to arch off the desk. Moaning, you clenched around his cock.

Angus kept his pace but his mouth suctioned around your breast as his tongue swirled around your nipple faster. The hand not on your clit reached over to grab your other breast, rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Keep going…” You whined, almost begging. The tension was reaching its peak. “So… close…”

Hearing you cry out, Angus pulled away from your beast and watched you fall apart.

He tried to fuck you through your orgasm but he couldn’t help but he wasn’t far behind you. Not when pleasure washed over your face. Not when you squeezed him like that. Not when your voice echoed like that in the small room. With a stuttering groan, Angus came inside your pussy while biting your shoulder.

Your legs loosened around his waist as your body relaxed but your pussy still clenched around his twitching cock, taking every drop of him. Angus’s body relaxed and his mouth loosened its grip on your shoulder. But you can feel his teeth scraping against your tender skin. He pressed gentle, open mouth kisses against your neck as he pulled out of you. You whimpered as he did that, already missing him inside you.

Tiredly and lazily, he kissed his way down your body until he got to his knees again. Angus spread your legs again, watching his cum dripping out of you and pooling on the table. You felt his mouth cover your pussy once again. Though tired, you couldn’t help but arch your back a little when you felt his tongue lap at your sensitive pussy, cleaning you. Angus pulled away before you could cum, though you are thankful he did as your body was not ready to accept another orgasm.

He helped you to your feet and kissed you gently on the mouth. You returned the kiss, leaning against him for balance. However, your orgasms still left you a little tired so you had to break the kiss to retain your balance. Not that Angus minded, he still kissed you, this time peppering them on your neck. Your hands loosely held his neck before you noticed the clock.

“Unless you have a turtleneck for me in that package, don’t you dare leave another hickey on my neck,” You told him as your wits came back to you and he laughed against your skin. He kissed your neck and went to his package on the counter.

“As a matter of fact,” He said, tearing it open and digging around, not caring he was still naked. “I do.”

He pulled out a knit black sweater with a thick, folded turtleneck. You accepted it and marveled at how soft it was.

“For me?” Your eyes were wide.

“Yeah, well, you always complain it’s cold down here, ” Angus shrugged nonchalantly but you could see color rising to his cheeks.

“Plus you know,” He brushed your hair off your shoulder. “It’ll hide those bite marks I left behind.”

You look down at your body to see a map of bite marks and bruises identical to his mouth and fingers. You snatched your new sweater from his hands and threw it on.

[everparanoid]

Fic: The Pleasure, The Privilege is Mine

Wriothesley x Female Opera Singer! Reader

Rating: 18+

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

word count: 31K

tags: fluff, smut, angst

cw: demiromantic!reader, Opera singer! Reader, Reader Has a Hydro Vision, Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Fontaine is lowkey France, Spoiler for 4.2 archon quest, Mentioned Neuvillette, Mentioned Navia, Mentioned Clorinde, AFAB! Reader, fem! reader, PWP, Angst, Angst and Romance, Minor Original Character(s), Post-Canon, Mentioned Charlotte, Hate Sex, Friends With Benefits, acquaintances with benefits, Body Worship, Biting, No use of y/n, Minor Clorinde/Navia, Cunnilingus, Light Masochism, Light Sadism, Shower Sex, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Injury, reader is bad at feelings, Choking, Furina is a good friend, rude reporters, Wriothesley is Bad at Feelings, wriothesley is good at feelings too though, Dom/sub Play, Written before Chevreuse Release, Mentioned Chevreuse, Mentioned Kaveh, Slow Burn, Reader-Insert, Reader is Not Traveler

“Have you heard the rumours?” A woman in a perfectly tailored emerald dress said, holding her lace fan up to her mercury-laden painted face. “What rumours?” Another lady asked. She had what looked like a giant peacock feather pocking out of a headpiece she called a hat.  You could only assume she’d had it specially made for the occasion of looking busy doing absolutely nothing. “Rumour has it the duke is in love."

In which: You are an opera singer who doesn't like the spotlight and Wriothesley is being a bit too careless with his visits.

Mood playlist

(Ao3 link)

Chapters: 1 , 2 , 3 , 4

status: Completed

masterlist

Reblogs w/ tags and comments are very much appreciated! If you enjoyed this, feel free to consider dropping a follow as well! <3

Also, if you like my writing and wish to support me, please consider buying me a welkin via Ko-fi!

[vampire-exgirlfriend]

Iron and Ash

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Baratheon ward reader

Rating: E

Warnings: knife play, cutting, blood exchange, smut

A/N: I had originally intended to stretch this story out to about 15/16 chapters, but when I thought about it (and cried to @jadore-andor ) I knew I had to end it here. There are so few happy endings in Westeros and these two deserved one, which I wouldn't have been able to give them had I continued on with basically a rewrite of the Dance. 

I am by no means done with Aemond, but for the most part, I am done with reader insert. It just doesn't bring me the same joy as oc and ship fic. If anyone is at all interested, I'm posting weekly updates to my enemies to lovers mafia au featuring Aemond and ofc Viserra Velaryon, Paper Crowns. I am also working on a viking au centered around Aemond and an ofc that I am so, so excited about. 

This has been one of my favorite stories I've written and I appreciate y'all taking the time to read it 🖤

masterlist

chapter seven - an ending

The castle sept was aglow, candles lining the aisle and littering the dais at the front of the room, throwing shadows over the walls to creep up toward the ceiling. Courtiers crowded to either side of the great room, whispering amongst themselves at the sudden surprise wedding of the one eyed prince, the sullen second son of Viserys the Peaceful. Hushed voices spoke of the Stormlands girl from a small house who had ensared him, who had surely used witchcraft to climb the Targaryen ladder straight to the top.

The queen had managed to uphold her end of the bargain with no bloodshed. What she had promised Borros and Coldwater was a mystery to you, but the old boar and his plain faced daughters had left court the day after she had broken the engagements with not a single word of farewell. It was Helaena and her maids that helped ready you, that braided the hair away from your face and wove the small silver diadem into the twists. It was Helaena that kissed your cheeks and called you sister, not the girls you had grown up beside.

And now you walked alone through the sept in your white gown, the neck high, the fabric over your chest sheer and dotted with little jewels. Flared sleeves hid your trembling hands, the fitted bodice tight around your ribs before falling into a soft skirt edged in lace. Your slippers made a hushed noise against the stone floor, the sound suddenly so loud in your ears as you approached the dais. The breath was stolen from your lungs when Aemond turned to face you. His hair was pulled away from his face and he was wrapped in a fine tunic, black velvet edged in gold thread, his sword fixed to his belt. He sighed, a soft exhale, as you came closer, a smile breaking over his face, his fingers wrapping around yours to help you up the last step. The crowd murmured at the sight, at the genuine happiness on his sharp face, the crack in his eternally stoic veneer.

Read the rest here on ao3

[typekiku]

TSUKIHIME FASHION REVIEW 4!!!!

hello hello everyone

*insert applause here*

i totally haven't been dealing with some severe writers block for this relatively improvised series of rants no way i just been uhh climbing a.... spiritual mountain! yes! that is it!

i strongly suggest everyone climb their own spiritual mountains it really helps clear *things* up

uh yea whatever

so today we will be returning to the much awaited tsukihime fashion review with the one and only CIEL so go whip up some good ole curry and read along for this rant breakdown of ciel's designs evolution throughout the years.

CIEL

just look at her for a second and reconsider your life choices? have you done your homework today? (if not please go do it thats very uncool) have you returned your library books? have you tied your shoe laces? thats the vibe im getting from her in this pic

suddenly she hits you with this look and its like ugh i could go to war for much less. i could take on maybe a dead apostle or two or even a dead apostle ancestor. sure i'd die but what is death in front of curry senpai amirite? im suuuuuuure she would appreciate that sentiment

on a serious note tho she actually is adorable as hell and i can't believe i only literally just noticed that. the hair especially is to die for.

Takeuchi bless his heart really nailed that cute older student vibe he so sought for

wait wrong pic

now THIS is raw as hell. pure peak 90s edge. i imagine takeuchi was literally sitting on the edge of a blade on the edge of a cliff on the edge of the world.... well theres one more edge joke here but ill leave it be point is this is edgy and i lowkey love it.

i used to feel somewhat indifferent to the design here especially concerning the tattoos which i think i still am. the biggest issue with the tattoos for me specifically the angel wings is simply they aren't symmetrical and thus look bad according to me but everything else is chefs kiss

i talked about this in the roa post but like wtf is wrong with roa man... first thing he does is strip down is bro ok? why does he do this? what does he gain? freak.

CIEL REMAKE

excuse the border im literally copy pastin here ANYWAYs yea idk how i feel about the remake ciel at all tbh to the point that i considered accidentally forgetting this section

its like they brought up her cuteness factor by 100 points in exchange of any edge whatsoever

she got sanitized damn it

SANITIZED

don't get me wrong i still find her cute but GODDAMN where is the edge? where is the allure? i bet she wouldn't ask "Glasses or no glasses" OH WAIT THEY TOOK THAT TOO!! why can't ciel have a good thing in peace... they took away the roa boner yall...

its kinda meh to me overall

again ignore the large size i cba to find a smaller pic rn

yk what she looks dope here so ill allow it. i may be feeling things rn actually its weird because i have never really been a ciel fan but now im gushing over her... huh strange

no comment besides omg hot

ANYWAYS thats all i have to say about ciel

i like her og design much better then the remake because i feel it was very hmmm distinctive is the word i would use.

the remake makes her look much more generic in a sense especially concerning the hair

overall i would say the remake really went for a slightly more generic look in the hair department and i aint really a tm boomer or anything but it is such a shame

thats all i have again so cya folks

remember to read tsukihime right the fuck now or else....

[fabdante]

Fic asks!! Fic asks!! 17, 23, 29 and 47!!!

thank you friend!!! 💖 (questions from this ask meme here)

17. What highly specific AU do you want to read or write even though you might be the only person to appreciate it?

I am full of highly specific AUs! I love a highly specific AU! I often feel like I only think of highly specific AUs and I am very happy this way.

I think the most specific would be these really, really niche crossover AUs me and my girlfriend made of like every single video game we liked at the time the time we made them. The most specific of those was set in Rapture from Bioshock. Except Rapture was set up with different leadership in the 40s/50s. Adam was still discovered, but said leaders implemented heavy restrictions on it that led to the city surviving until the 1980s, in which it had found itself increasingly sectioned off into different gangs/factions. There was also a lot about the impact of Adam on genetics. I have no idea who the audience for that is, but it would only be more specific to me if it was the 90s honestly.

23. What’s a trope, AU, or concept you’ve never written, but would like to?

This is hard. I have little impulse control so like, if the fleeting thought crosses my mind I will write down something. I am also very self indulgent so if I like an idea, I will write it in some form or try to.

I really would like to write a DmC or DMC band au. I struggle to figure out any of the specifics. I have started writing sort of a DMC band AU, though, and I think it's the closest I'm going to get to the band AU idea. (The concept of that one is that it's excerpts of a biography about 90s grunge band Devil May Cry. Which was ironically another idea I was really interested in writing, like a story told through interviews and stuff.)

29. What songs would be (or are) on a playlist for [insert fic]? Explain your choices if you want!

Picking a fic was hard. I went with Crossroads of Catharsis and Contemplation because I really love that fic and I never considered a playlist for it. The vibe is introspection, lo-fi, and also some screaming.

Sleep Patterns by Merchant Ships (I felt like this fit the introspective vibe, this song to me is peak reboot Dante introspection and it just felt fitting here)

Come As You Are (Nirvana Lo-fi) by Tedi Mercury and Alien Cake Music (the original to me encompasses something essential about the themes of DmC/DMC as a whole, and the lo-fi fit the Sam Cham vibe)

Seize the Day by Wax Tailor (lo-fi for that post 'we maybe caused a tiny apocalypses in our city...now what?' vibe)

Heart Heart Head by Meg Myers (very much the Kat and Vergil mood of the fic to me)

Press Pause by Pretty Lights (some more introspective lo-fi to end us off)

47. If [insert fic] was a pair of shoes, what kind would it be? Describe the shoes.

I'm going to answer this for Detours/The Detours Series, my Zutara fic (I named the series the Circumnavigators of Celestial Bodies, the series isn't up on Ao3 just yet though!).

If Circumnavigators was a pair of shoes it would be the first pair of high top converse you buy in high school. You were like a freshmen and now it's senior year. And the shoes are still mostly together, if not a bit beat up for constant use over the past 4 years. They've walked a lot of miles, a lot of halls, a lot of adventures. They're worn in perfectly, formed exactly to the contours of your feet. And they still probably have some years left in them, even if the canvas isn't as sturdy as it used to be and the laces are dirty. But the best thing about the shoes, the absolute best thing, is all the little writing on them. Because you and your best friend who you went on all those adventures with, you wrote on them. They wrote on your shoes and you theirs, and you look down at your feet and you see all these little doodles and notes to you. And some the sharpies faded but some were just written yesterday and they make you smile.

thank you again for the ask!! 💖💖

[sparkle-on]

New project idea + rambling about it under the cut!

Quick sketch of how I wanna alter this light-weight cotton dress I've just had laying around and never wore (^◇^；) I'm turning it into a simple JSK since the skirt is suuuper full and would definitely work with both an A-line and cupcake shaped petticoat once I'm done!

Ignore the lack of ironing, I just took it out of storage to make a concept sketch, and the iron is in a completely different part of the house, LOL.

Skirt and bodice:

My biggest issue with it is definitely the waistline, it's wayyy too low, like, it literally hits at my hipbones ( ;;;・∀ ・).... It's def not the look I'm going for and makes my legs look SO SHORT... So, it has to move!

Because of the length of the skirt (58cm), I don't think I'll have to lengthen it more for my proportions, but I might add lace to the bottom just so the edges stay a bit smoother along the bottom edge, since it's a very light fabric and doesn't want to lay flat or stretch out to its full potential without rigorous ironing, and I fear it might flip up without me noticing if I don't add some weight (((╹д╹;)))...

There's stitching around the bust that used to be with elastic thread, but the previous owner must've thrown the dress in the dryer, because the thread's completely busted! I didn't even realize it was elastic thread until I looked closer and saw the sad elastic sticking out all crusty, stiff and crumbled. I'll have to remove these lines of stitching, and if the holes don't go away with a round of washing and ironing, I'll cover it with some ribbon insert lace!

(There's also the tie in the front, and though it's very cute if worn without a blouse, it looks pretty cluttered with one, so it's likely I'll sew the gap closed, and cover the seam with a bow instead.)

Sleeves:

The same tale goes for the sleeves, the edges have the same sad busted elastic thread, only replaced with elastic on one edge by the previous owner. So, I'll either replace the elastic with a sturdier one, or make the gathering non-stretchy. Or just remove it altogether and sew it back on as a dedicated ruffle instead...?

For the sleeves I'm also thinking of other options I could do, the simplest being to cut them off and turning them into more basic flat straps like an average JSK would feature. Although if I do that I might as well line the whole bodice while I'm at it, since it could really use the added reinforcement with how heavy the skirt is!

If anyone sees this post (which, to be fair, is unlikely), feel free to come with suggestions as well, especially for the sleeves since I'm pretty lost with what I should do with them! I'm looking around Lolibrary for inspiration, but I'm not sure what else would work for this material and style so far, so input is heavily appreciated!

[pale-silver-comb]

So I know absolutely nothing about Leverage except what I've been seeing you post lately and I have to admit you're making it look tempting to watch! Can I ask what are some of your favorite things about the show/reasons you would suggest people watch it? And is there really a poly relationship that is canon?

Okay. Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay. I am going to do my best not to just “asdfghkjl” at you and answer coherently.

In a nutshell, Leverage is about 5 people. 4 are criminals (Parker, Hardison, Eliot and Sophie) with different and unique skill-sets and 1 is an ex-insurance investigator (Nate) who, at one point or another in his career, has tracked down (or at least attempted to) the other 4. The whole show is essentially: man reluctantly reforms 4 criminals to use their criminal powers for good and 4 criminals move into man’s life and stubbornly refuse to leave because, goddammit, now they have morals. 

I’ve got a lot of favourite things about the show but the main ones are as follows:

1. Found family. And I’m not talking about loners who come together to fight crime and happen to co-exist to the point where they realise they happen to have found themselves a family. I mean, Nate and Sophie are the Drunk Uncle and Wine Aunt who somehow become Mom and Dad to 3 beautiful criminal children. Mom and Dad love their criminal babies and the kids love them (as well as each other, but we’ll come to that in a moment). You get amazing family moments such as: Mom and Dad packing the kids lunch before sending them out to kick corporate greed’s ass; Mom and Dad giving the kids ridiculously expensive and personal Christmas presents causing their most Grumpy Kid to go very very quiet and soft as he runs off to gleefully play with his new murder toy; the kids interrupting Mom and Dad’s big Movie Style Kiss to ask if they can please keep their new underground layer and huffing and puffing when Dad tells them no.

2. Found family: the OT3 edition. To answer your question, the OT3 is indeed canon, confirmed by the creator. Now, usually, “confirmed by the creator” infuriates me because most of the time it’s a way for a creator to be seen as “progressive” without doing anything to actually be progressive. That isn’t the case here. The OT3 are built up carefully and while it is obvious the creators didn’t originally intend for all 3 of them to become a relationship in the romantic sense, by mid-season 5 we are given a very clear picture of where Parker, Hardison and Eliot are heading in their relationship. There aren’t any kisses at the end to signal this but there are solid marriage vows in not only one but two episodes. (And by marriage vows I mean literal equivalents of marriage vows: “for better or worse” and “’til death do us part”. I’m not even exaggerating). The OT3 also doesn’t need explicit romantic narratives to convey how much they love each other. Their love is laced through the whole show, from the way they teach each other things to the way they respond to each other and work as a unit. The way they fiercely protect and admire each other. Like someone once said, if you need characters to kiss or say I love you to let the audience know they love each other, you are writing them wrong. 

Aside from that, each of the parings in the OT3 are just. Gah. They are so well done, with friendship being the solid basis for them all. The creators never expect the audience to assume anything about them or fill in the gaps. They give us their relationships on screen and reference many things off-screen to show us how these relationships continue to build in between episodes.

Hardison and Parker are a canon couple and date in the show: it’s approached slowly and they are so goddamned sweet. They are basically every fluffy slow-burn trope with a healthy dash of mutual pining in the mix. They are basically that quote “love is patient, love is kind”. (I would like to add their romance never becomes the focus of the show or overrides the importance of any other relationship they have with the other characters, especially Eliot.)

Hardison and Eliot are the Old Married Couple and from day one are already bickering and looking at each other/making comments that are found in every UST fic ever (not to mention Hardison has a very good knack for making Eliot grin like a little kid, when usually he’s basically an Angry Little Chef Man). They argue, they play, and love each other plain as day. 

Parker and Eliot are more subtle but every bit as wonderful. They have an unspoken connection and understand each other on a level no-one else can. Parker and Eliot are not good with giving themselves over to affection for different reasons (and Hardison plays a central role in helping them realise it’s okay to want it and have it- that boy has endless patience) but there is something so beautiful in the way the two of them come together on their own and develop their own special bond that works for them. Parker and Eliot are that trope where the characters don’t need to speak to understand each other perfectly. They just do. Their love language is a lot of the time non-verbal but speaks volumes. (Parker also likes to annoy the hell out of Eliot and Eliot....just.....lets...her. Because he’s soft. The softest, grumpiest boy.) 

I could go into so much depth for each pairing and their dynamics as a 3 but that's for another post.

3. Subverting stereotypes. There is the occasional hiccup in the show regarding stereotypes but ultimately, Leverage gets an A+ when it comes to writing characters and making them 3 dimensional people who are not defined by certain characteristics or events. Nate could so easily fall into the White Man Pain trope where he uses the trauma of losing his kid as a reason as to why he is entitled to act like a dick. Nate is a dick but he doesn’t use his pain to excuse it and I appreciate that. Hardison is a black man who is soft and nurturing. Easily the most empathetic and patient of the group. He’s nerdy, an actual genius, and has the biggest heart of all the characters. Nate is maybe the glue but Hardison is definitely the heart. Media’s usual aggressive, amongst other, racist stereotypes can fuck right off. Parker is canonically autistic (I am sure this was confirmed by one of the creators) and she is not defined by it. It’s not written as some kind of singular personality trait. It’s part of what makes up Parker but it’s only one facet of who she is and not once is her actions, thoughts or feelings treated like a joke. Sometimes people don’t understand why she does and says the things she does but it’s met with patience and fondness over the course of the show. Equally, it’s not met with over-caution. Parker is just Parker. No-one tries to change her. The other nice thing is Hardison, who always makes sure Parker knows she’s amazing because of who she is and not in spite of it. Finally, Sophie is in her 40s. She’s not treated like she’s past her prime. Ever. She’s sexy, smart and never is she pitted against or compared to Parker (who is younger) for anything. Sophie is amazing and there’s never even a conversation of “I may be older but I am still *insert adjective typically associated with younger women here*”. Sophie is possibly the first female character I’ve ever seen who isn’t just unapologetic about her age but has never had to apologise for her age. It’s a non-issue and that’s that. The women on the show are written so well, right down to secondary characters and it’s beyond refreshing.  

4.) It’s just fun. The show has a “monster of the week” type format. Except instead of a ghoul or a ghost, the monster is some corrupt wealthy and powerful individual or organisation. The show draws on real-life individuals to do this and therefore closely parallels real-life people and events. It addresses important political, economical, social and environmental issues while at the same time remaining fun and light-hearted. The characters constantly get the chance to play dress up and by GOD do they have fun with it. You get to watch Eliot beat up bad guys in the most delightful of ways, usually after a witty non-sequitur and with a weapon you’d never think could be a weapon. The dialogue and back and forth between the characters is everything. And finally - my favourite thing- the team can never resist striking a dramatic pose after they’ve taken down the bad guy, making sure the bad guy sees them. I mean, they COULD just walk away, satisfied they’ve taken the person down, but nope. They gotta be dramatic bitches 24/7 and pose like they are models for every single month of this year’s Criminal Calendar.  

5.) Competence Porn. So. Much. Competence Porn.  

Honestly, I could list a thousand reasons for why Leverage is amazing but to list them would to be spoiling so many amazing moments you’d get to discover for the first time on your own if you do choose to watch it. It’s the kind of show you can watch with an eagle-eye and sink your teeth into. But it’s also the kind of show if, you would prefer, put on in the background for something entertaining while you do something else. Each episode is about the job at hand but it’s made up of so many moments between the characters that show how much the creators and writers care about them. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll do whatever it is you do when something Soft and Wonderful happens that makes your heart melt. I am so beyond grateful for Leverage. It’s everything I always wanted in a show. Nearly every show I’ve watched in the past 10 years has disappointed me in some way, usually either because the writers run out of steam or characters who I love are treated poorly or given some kind of unnecessary “shock value” arc. Leverage doesn’t do that. Leverage is what it says on the bottle. Fandom isn’t something I joined because I needed canon fix-its. Fandom only enhances and celebrates an already excellent canon. 

[ana-benn]

The Enforcer's Gun

Warnings: Smut, mafia AU, Dom/sub, possessive alpha male, gun play, exhibitionism, alcohol consumption (I don't advise copying this part. I've done it and it's a great recipe for a hangover from hell), size kink, thigh riding, object insertion

You'd normally be thriving right now. You had your hair done, a dress that fit well and looks hot as fuck, and honestly you'd spent most of the night getting compliments from random strangers. For all intents and purposes, you were having a good night. Except the one man you wanted to notice how good you looked wasn't paying attention to you.

He was working.

While you could appreciate the fact that he had work to do, you hated how at times like this he could just ignore you. If you'd ever told him that he'd have smirked and informed you that he spoiled you. Which was true, but that knowledge did nothing as you stood at the bar and watched him talking to the owner of the nightclub you were in.

'Contract Negotiations' is what he had called it, but he wasn't exactly in the negotiations business. You flinched as Jordie grabbed the guy by the shoulder and held him fast while Jamie hit him hard in the stomach. You'd learned to find this side of him masculine and entirely too sexy, and you felt the tell-tale slick pool in your panties.

"There you are, you're too good at giving me the slip," Tyler laughed as he saddled up next to you. Normally you'd have Jessi here with you, but she'd just had a baby, so it was you and Tyler. You could've spent time with one of the other girls that'd come, but you didn't exactly like them all.

"That's because you're too busy checking out the sorority girls that just walked it," you quipped. "Why won't this bartender come take my order?" You grumbled as the bartender walked past you yet again.

"He probably saw you walk in with Chubbs," Tyler laughed, signaling the bartender.

"Don't let him hear you call him that in public," you grinned. "He may shoot you."

"Round of fireball shots," Tyler said when the bartender walked over finally. You have him a pointed look and he rolled his eyes, "And a Mai Tai for the lady."

"Plantation rum!" You called to the bartender's back. You rolled your eyes as Tyler laughed at your pout.

"Not everyone is gonna cater to you like Jamie does doll, just the facts," he winked then.

"He's not even catering to me," you grumbled, eyes drifting over to where Jamie was crouched over a bleeding man. Apparently negotiations weren't going well. Or maybe they were, you had no idea. "Why'd he bring me again?"

"You've been asking to come for months," Tyler reminded you.

"And you're baby sitting me because..." You asked.

"Apparently I only do 'pretty things' and this isn't a pretty job. So I got girlfriend duty," he smirked looking down at you.

"Why Mr. Seguin," you gasped in mock outrage. "If I didn't know any better I'd think you were flirting."

"Nah, I like my balls where they are," Tyler shrugged. "You picked a jealous one." Just then the bartender lined up the shots in front of the two of you and set your Mai Tai down before scurrying away.

You rolled your eyes, as Tyler handed you a shot. You clinked them together before slamming back three in a row each. It was a ritual you'd developed when Tyler was on baby sitting duty, and you actually enjoyed the cinnamon burn. You tasted your drink, rolling your eyes as you sipped the tinny taste associated with Bacardi, before grabbing the final shot in front of you and dumping it into the tiki drink.

"Really?" Tyler asked with a raised eyebrow.

You shrugged, "I hate Bacardi, you know that."

Tyler just laughed as he threw back his final shot, "Come on I know you wanna dance."

You let Tyler lead you onto the dance floor, one hand securing your drink firmly. You danced with him for a while, forgetting your annoyance at Jamie for working temporarily. You were laughing and having fun, as Tyler would spin you around and sing along with you. It was completely not sexy, but it was fun and comfortable. Tyler was Jamie's best friend, and you felt almost as safe with him as you did your boyfriend. You'd grown to see him like a playful older brother who would tease you and goof around, but the second someone touched you he's fuck them up.

A few songs in though and he leaned into your ear, "I'm going to hit the head. Stay here." You nodded in acknowledgement as he walked away.

In a place like this it wasn't long before the vultures descended, and a decent looking guy moved in to try and dance with you. "Just waiting for my boyfriend," you'd explained.

"It's okay, I am too," he laughed.

You smiled then and danced a little with him then, soon another guy showed up and your partner left. Tyler still hadn't shown up so you decided to go to the ladies room. As you walked out after washing your hands you held the door open with your foot so you could throw your towel away, not paying attention to your surroundings you were startled when rough hands grab you and pressed you against the brick walk across from the bathroom.

You were about to scream when you recognized the bearded face looming over you, "Jamie?" You questioned. "You scared me."

"Did I?" He mumbled as he hiked your skirt up and pushed into your body as a brought a thick thigh between your legs. The immediate pressure made you gasp in delight, as his lips attacked your neck.

"I don't like watching you dance with other men," he growled as you pushed down onto his thigh harder, dragging your soaked pussy along the dark fabric of his pants. Craving the friction and already desperate for him.

"I-I'm...." You were losing what your wanted to say as he again pressed rough kissed over you'd neck, working down into the cleavage of your dress. You moaned softly at the feel, and bucked into his body. His hands on your hubs suddenly stilled you.

"You're going to cum on my thigh little girl," he said darkly. "But first I think I need to remind you who I am."

Suddenly you felt cold metal touch your inner thigh, as his other hand ripped your flimsy panties from your core. He shoved the lace in his pocket as he spread your slick around your weeping hole, before working you open on his thick finger. You responsive body was preening under the attention, and you eagerly bucked into his hand as his palm grazed your clit.

"Fuck baby, you're so wet," he groaned his head falling into your neck. "Whose got you this wet?"

"You do," you moaned out. "Only you."

"Yeah?" He asked, making you whimper as he removed his hand. He slowly worked the cold barrel of his gun into you soaked channel, as he did that he sucked your juices off his finger.

He worked you until the barrel was seated inside you fully. Before he left it there running his hands along your inner thighs and occasionally grazing your sensitive bud. He was teasing you while your cunt quivered around the gun, you felt so full and stretched around it.

You didn't even notice as Jamie pulled out his phone, but when you saw him take a picture of your body split open on his gun you could've cum right then. He smirked when he saw your hungry eyes watch his every move before hiking you up further by pulling your legs over his hips. You moaned as he nuzzled his face into your neck again and worked his mouth over your favourite spot. You knew well that he'd leave a dark bruise there, and you craved it. You craved that mark of ownership maring your skin. Just the idea made you groan with arousal.

You shuttered as your back brushed against the rough wall in the hallway of the nightclub. The exposed back of your dress creating space for the wall to scratch your delicate skin.

"Please you begged," as Jamie's large hands teased you mercilessly, the warmth a sharp contrast to the cold metal in your soaked cunt.

"You want to act like a desperate whore," Jamie growled in your ear, pushing further into your body. "I'll treat you like a whore." He pulled the gun back just enough, before pushing it roughly back into you. "You'll get off on my gun right here, or I'll make sure you don't cum for weeks little girl."

You sobbed. It was rough, and degrading, but it felt like heaven. You wanted to hate this, but the feel of Jamie's hands on you, as he fucked you with a weapon was indescribable. You wanted more, and yet with a flex of his wrist you felt yourself quiver as you orgasmed all over the shiny metal.

"JAMIE," your cried out as waves of pleasure wracked your body.

As you came down he worked the gun out of you before sliding it into the waistband of his pants. He slowly dragged your cunt along his thigh as you just watched, completely blissed out. He grinned at your expression as you went from being in a post-orgasmic haze, to being fully aroused again, to thrashing against him as you came violent with nothing in your oversensitive core.

He let you come down, cooing in your ear has he did so, "Such a good girl for me." He rubbed soothing hands over your arms and back as he just held you.

Once he'd given you a moment to recover he slowly set you down on shaky knees. You watched him as he pulled the gun out and wiped it off, before pulling the clip from his back pocket and reloading it. You gazed at him shocked as you put it together.

"It wasn't loaded?" You asked, causing Jamie to laugh.

"You thought I'd fuck you with a loaded gun? Come on baby, I told you I'd engage your fantasy I'm not putting my favorite girl at risk," he said with a smile. "Now come on your going to keep my cock warm while I finished working out some more details."

He grabbed your hand and escorted you back to where he'd been all night. He was unashamed as he unzipped his cock and impaled you on it, as you stifled a moan as you settled into his chest. You peppered kisses along his neck as you allowed his beard to tickle the side of your face as he spoke. You felt yourself slowly soaking him as your juices slicked out of your body.

Every once in a while Jamie would look at you and smirk as he felt your walls flutter around him. You were on edge and desperate for friction. By the time you were left alone, realizing that the club around you had closed and it was just you and Jamie you were borderline feral for him. You moved to get off of him, so he could take you home and fuck you, but instead powerful hands held you in place. You looked at Jamie, shocked, before he lifted you slowly and brought you back down roughly.

You understood what he wanted and slowly tucked your knees under you. You worked yourself up his cock, before the hands covering your hips brought you back down. Your responsive body trembled at the give and take you were doing with him. His eyes never left you, watching as you worked yourself to the edge again, he wanted to see you come undone.

With no adrenaline in your veins this time your climax came softer, more subtle, you whimpered out as your body quaked around him. Jamie groaned and pulled your lips to his as he reached his own peak. Once he'd calmed himself he slowly lifted you off I've him. Tucking himself back into his pants he slung a lazy arm around your waist before nodding at the bartender you'd dealt with earlier. He threw some cash on a table and ordered him to lock up. You felt you face heat as you realized you hadn't been alone, but ultimately you didn't care.

It had been a good night.

[jotunn-loki]

you are mine

FANDOM: star wars (prequels) PAIRING: anakin skywalker x gender neutral!reader RATING: explicit, NS// FW!! WC: 1,439 WARNINGS/K¡NKS: oral/blow jobs, dreamsharing, padawan!reader, padawan!anakin, fluffy smut

SUMMARY:  Anakin looks beautiful when he sleeps. He's radiating happiness, and you decide to join him in his dreams.

(gif is mine😊)

A/N: i wanted to attempt smut with a gender-neutral reader since i feel like reader inserts are usually quite gendered. and as I'm having a gender crisis myself...this came out of it, i guess? so apologies that all the pleasure-giving is focused on anakin and not the reader, but we all do want to please him, right? ;)

also! written for @anakinswhore​ ‘s bithday. happy belated julia!!

* * * * * * * * *

Anakin’s smile was warm as you knelt beside him, though he did not know you were there. At this late hour, he was fast asleep, head turned to the side and padawan braid spread across his pillow. The haircut he was forced to sport wasn’t the most attractive thing he could have had, but he had to make due, and so did you. All the padawans did.

Besides, you knew, it would soon be over, and you would become true Jedi knights.

But Coruscant’s summer was coming to an end, and as the days began to bleed into the crispness of fall, Anakin’s hair had grown longer, rugged at its edges. He’d be forced to shave it again soon, but for now, you could admire it like this, on the fringe of possibility.

He was beautiful right now, chest rising and falling, that stupid smile on his angled face. He must have been having a pleasant dream, you thought, and you wanted to experience it with him. Is it possible? you wondered, rising to your feet from beside the bed and creeping around it to lay beside him.

Just a moment ago you had stepped from the bathroom with water glass in hand to see him peacefully in slumber, knelt at his side to kiss his cheek, and now you were finally going back to sleep. The thought, the simple routine, was calming, a gentle reminder of everything that you and Anakin were able to steal from each other without the Council or your masters knowing.

You settled into the bed with a sigh, wrapping the comforter around your body and pulling yourself to Anakin. Seemingly sensing your presence, he turned, arms reaching over you in an unconscious embrace. Anakin, your mind whispered, heart aching for him. Let me in.

After a few moments, feeling acutely the warmness of Anakin’s muscles against your skin and his legs tangling with yours, you felt yourself fall into a haze, seeing the lights of Coruscant’s midnight traffic blur into streaks of orange and yellow as your eyelids became heavy and your breathing slowed.

Everything was perfect.

And as you fell under the horizon of sleep, Anakin’s mind opened for you, and you gladly stepped into it.

It was a pleasant dream, as you had expected. Anakin’s back was to you as you slipped into it, but there was no clothing upon it. You smiled gratefully for that, seeing his muscles rippling with a slight sheen of sweat.

But you couldn’t recognize this place. It was dry, sandy, with only a few craggy rocks scattered across the landscape and larger caves in the distance. On the horizon, two suns set in the orange sky, one lower than the other, almost lovers.

“Where is this place?” you asked Anakin, wondering if he’d hear you. Wondering if in this dreamscape, you were even corporeal.

But to your surprise, he did respond. “Tatooine,” was the smooth word that slipped out in his rich voice, that voice that had never failed to captivate you, the voice that so obviously was toned in the accent of the Outer Rim. Now, you understood where that had come from.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, and it wasn’t a lie. The warm colors of the planet pulled to you, so different from the stark cityscape of Coruscant.

Anakin turned to you finally, his beautiful face twisted in a slight grimace. “It’s sandy.”

At that, you laughed, knowing how much he hated sand. “Well, alright,” you agreed. “That’s true. But it’s still beautiful.”

Anakin shrugged. “Not as much as you.”

You couldn’t help the heat that crept to your face as he spoke and stepped closer. “Anakin, I—”

“Shh,” he whispered, eyes suddenly lidded heavily and staring intently at you, only at you.

Around you, the world shifted, the sands of Tatooine shifting to something completely different—it was darker here, and there was a bed, large and soft and surrounded by lightly flowing curtains.

“Where is this?” you whispered, breath quickening as Anakin captured your lips, hands suddenly all over you, trailing from your chest to your sides and down to your thighs. There was a comfort in the firm press of them, and you felt yourself burn at his touch.

“I made it up,” Anakin replied, pulling away from you to speak and giving you a little wink. Something in his eyes, though, was just a little...almost. Not quite matching up to the rest of his confidence. “Do you like it?” His voice quivered, almost imperceptibly.

You laughed, pulling him onto the bed and crawling on top of him, running your hands over his shoulders with a sigh. “Oh, Anakin. Of course I do.”

You kissed him then, pleased when he let out a low moan. You could feel him hardening against you, and you smirked. “Let me take care of that for you.”

Anakin’s eyes widened as you drew away from his face, hands fumbling at the edge of his pants and undoing them.

Soon, his cock was before you, red and pulsing with a drop of precum leaking from its tip. Slowly, you leaned toward him, tongue gently licking it away. Underneath you, Anakin shivered. “Why are you so gentle tonight, my love?” he asked. “You’re not normally this way.”

You gave him another tantalizing lick and Anakin threw his head back, breathing laced with a moan. “You’re killing me.”

Smiling, you shrugged. “I wanted to try something different.”

He only grunted in response, and you continued in your task, finally taking his cock into your mouth fully, pushing him into your throat as far as you could. You felt yourself begin to panic when your gag reflex set in, but Anakin groaned as your throat pulsed around him, and so you steeled yourself instead of pulling away, drawing your tongue in an ensconcing stroke along his shaft. It was worth it to see Anakin’s gorgeous face stretch itself into a beautiful pout as his mouth parted, little moans escaping him.

“Oh—that’s so good,” he panted, hands clenching into fists when you began to bob up and down along the length of him, lips caressing his cock. You took his hands in yours, entwining your fingers as he bucked into your mouth and you took it fully. This was intimacy beyond anything you had experienced in the real world, and half of you wondered that if this dream was just that...a dream. If you’d remember any of it in the morning.

You began to move even faster as you felt him pulse within your mouth, your own body still tightly burning at the sight of him nearly ruined before you. It was true, what he had said—the blow jobs you gave him were usually fast, or at least only for a short period of time before he’d wait to come inside of you. But this...this was everything beyond that.

It was torturous for him, and you loved watching him reach that precipice.

“I’m almost there,” Anakin finally panted, sweating against your touch. His body writhed in its approaching orgasm, and you could feel your own pleasure mounting from the sight. You’d need to come soon too, after all of this. But for now, all you cared about was Anakin. “Oh, my love, I’m almost—”

He let out a long moan and shouted your name as he tightened within you and then finally reached release, hips pressing into your face sharply. You felt, then, his seed spilling into your mouth, tangy and unique, as usual, and gladly, you swallowed it all, every single drop as you tightened your lips around his shaft.

You couldn’t get enough of him as his brows strained and the beautiful pout of his lips opened in a little ‘o.’ He was amazing. He was gorgeous.

Finally, you pulled away, licking your lips slowly as you looked up at him again. “How was I, Master Skywalker?”

At that, Anakin’s eyes flared, and you smirked. You knew he loved it when you called him that. “You did wonderfully, my love. I think I have to reward you.”

At his words, a flare of heat ran down your body, igniting you to further arousal. “Thank you, Master Skywalker.”

He smirked, and you felt those hands coming to caress your neck and back, pulling you beside him on the bed. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you whispered. “I thank the Force every day that you exist.”

“As do I,” Anakin murmured, those plush, pink lips nipping at your earlobe and traveling down your neck and jaw. “You are mine.”

“And you, mine.”

* * * * * * * * *

A/N: Reblogs/comments/reviews are always appreciated! As always, this is also posted to my ao3, MavenMorozova. LMK if you want me to make a taglist!!

Happy belated birthday Julia! 💙

[gwynrielendgame]

Gwyncien part 3

Idk if y’all will like this one as much. It’s kind of a filler but it took forever to write so I’m posting it anyways. I’ll tag people who have asked below.

Gwyn thought she might puke and it had nothing to do with Lucien's winnowing abilities. She never thought she would feel so nauseas especially after the blood rite. She supposes that the imminent fear of death had her more distracted from her typical anxieties. Now that she could focus on the fact that she was actually leaving Velaris, she felt sick. She grabbed onto Lucien harder and closed her eyes tightly. What felt like hours later, although it was truly only a minute or two, Lucien spoke.

"Welcome to the band of exiles." She opened her eyes to a surprisingly large castle. She was not sure what she expected, perhaps an abandoned cabin, but the building was spectacular and beautiful.

"Jurian and Vassa are excited to meet you." Lucien added as they continued to stand out front. It appeared that he would allow her to stand here for as long as she needed. She knew that if she demanded he take her right back he would. His words finally caught up with her brain that seemed to be running a mile a minute. Why would his closest friends be excited to meet her she thought. It made her anxious for the first time. Perhaps she mistook his friendly countenance for something less than it actually was. She would address it later. She began walking towards the door, mumbling under her breath.

"Let's get this over with."

"That's the spirit!" Lucien inserted much more enthusiasm than necessary into his tone. He grabbed her arm and laced it through his which had her feeling very grateful. Her knees were shaking as she walked and she knew he could tell. Gwyn felt the need to remind herself that he had a mate. She wondered if he would be desperate enough to make a move on her. A large, beautifully decorated foyer greeted them. Two very beautiful people stood in the middle of the white marble floor. Gwyn tightened her hold on Lucien when she saw the new male, stopping them mid-walk. She started her mind-stilling technique as the anxiety clawed at her chest and throat. She would eventually have to face men if she ever wanted to get her revenge. She could not allow a few measly physical reactions hold her back. She took one last deep breathe and then continued walking towards the couple. She spent less time analyzing the female, but from what she saw Gwyn knew she was beautiful. She also had red hair, however, Gwyn's hair was more of a copper/bronze red while Vassa had a deep maroon red. Gwyn kept her eye on Jurian though.

"You are making her nervous, standing there like two parents ready to scold their children." Lucien reprimanded his friends with a roll of his eyes. The female waved his comment off, completely ignoring him. Gwyn did not miss the look they shared, however.

"I am Vassa and this is Jurian." She gestured to the male next to her. "It is a pleasure to meet you. I have heard so much about you." It unnerved Gwyn that the few interactions that she had with Lucien warranted Vassa knowing much about her. She did not think much on it as she continued to watch the beautiful male. He had hair cropped short to his head and a deep skin tone. His looks were not what had her distracted though. It was the weapons. Gwyn found it unnecessary for him to require weapons while meeting with her. Instead of exchanging pleasantries like socially integrated Fae would, she began her questioning.

"Why so many daggers?" She gave him a scathing look while cocking her head to the side. He would not manipulate her into believing anything but the truth and she wanted that to be conveyed in her facial expression. His eyebrows shot up into his hairline as if he were surprised.

"I could ask you the same question." He threw back at her with a smirk. It only infuriated her more. He could not tell she had daggers on her. She was wearing a cloak over her priestess robes with silver majesty strapped to her thigh. There was no possible way he could see the outline through her clothes. She narrowed her eyes and waited for him to respond. The staring contest was only broken when Lucien cleared his throat and Vassa nudged him.

"Fine." Jurian conceded with a smile. "Vassa is woefully bad at handling anything sharp, so I have taken on the role of her protecter while soon-to-be high lord is out and about." Both Vassa and Lucien seemed annoyed by his explanation. The anxiety began to loosen in her chest though. He was not completely trusted, but in this moment he would not attack.

"Gwyn." Is all she managed for an introduction. It seemed good enough for Lucien because he began leading her off to the side of the room towards a grand staircase.

"I will be showing Gwyneth her room and then we can talk." He threw over his shoulder. She held onto his arm all the way up the long staircase and through an even longer hallway. She laughed internally at the size of the mansion considering only three people resided here. A thought occurred to her when they finally came to a stop at a door.

"How many people live here?" She finally let go of Lucien and took a step back.

"Just us three. And now you. Occasionally we have a guest or two, but I will give you ample warning before that time. This will be your bedroom here. Mine is right across the hall if you need anything. There is a lock on the inside, but if you would like I can show you how to set up some furniture to keep the door from opening at all." Lucien gave her a small smile. It made her soften towards him even more.

"Thank you. I appreciate that. I appreciate all that you have done for me. Truly. I cannot say thank you enough." She gave him a short hug to convey her gratefulness. He returned it, hesitantly. His touch was feather light. As though he did not want to touch her and make her uncomfortable. She stepped back towards the door once more and began to walk inside.

"I will come get you before dinner. You have a full wardrobe to pick from in there if you would like to change. If there is anything you require, just ask." Gwyn nodded and then he was gone.

The first thing Gwyn noticed was that the satchel she packed earlier before leaving was sitting on the bed. She had been so nervous about everything else that she had not even realized it was missing. Gwyn continued to survey the room. It was beautiful. The decorations reminded her of the night court. Lucien really did pay attention to the smallest details. Gwyn truly believed Elain was an idiot for not giving Lucien a chance. The bedding was all black and the drapes twinkled with specks of a shiny material. It almost made them look like stars. The bed was unnecessarily large and so was the desk that was off to the side of the room. It had been such a mentally exhausting day that Gwyn decided a nap was needed. She locked her door and stripped off her cloak. She knew the lock would do nothing against winnowing, but as far as she knew only Lucien could do that. She placed her desk chair under the doorknob anyways. She fell onto the bed without even removing her priestess robes. She did remove her dagger and place it under her pillow for protection. A small smile graced her face as she thought of a certain spymaster who also slept with a dagger under his pillow.

Soft footsteps woke Gwyn from her sleep. She had no idea how long she had slept, but knew that dinner must be approaching if it had not already passed. A light knock on the door made her jump.

"Gwyn? Dinner is almost ready if you would like to join us downstairs." Lucien yelled through the door. Gwyn's racing heart began to slow as she realized where she was and who was speaking to her.

"One moment." She decided this dinner was not worth changing her clothes so she grabbed her dagger, putting it back in its sheath, and flattened her hair down with her hands. She did not want to keep Lucien waiting after all. The second she stepped out of the room, a sly smile crossed the male's face.

"What?" Gwyn demanded a tad self-consciously. She flattened her hair once more.

"Enjoyed a nap I see?" He was teasing, but that did nothing to stop her from shoving him.

"Oh shut up and show me the dining room." A real smile graced his face as he put his arm out for her to grab. She was half tempted to shove his arm away for his teasing. Instead, she rolled her eyes and held onto his arm anyways.

"Your wish is my command."

The castle was truly beautiful. Gwyn knew she could spend hours looking at the art pieces- some of them looked familiar. She would guess those were done by Feyre. The marble flooring and intricate ceilings were only part of the beauty. It has clearly been decorated. Perhaps Vassa and Lucien bonded over similar tastes in rugs. The thought made Gwyn giggle internally. The castle was so large that it took them about five minutes before they reached the dining hall. Gwyn took her place next to Lucien across from Jurian and Vassa who were already pleasantly discussing Vassa’s doomed fate. They quickly stopped talking once she sat down and turned the conversation to her.

"So I have been dying to know," Jurian begins "is Rhysand as much of a prick as he pretends to be?" Lucien sent him a glare which only had Jurian shrugging with an innocent expression upon his face. Gwyn sighed.

"Depends on who you are. He is kind to me, but only out of pity from what he witnessed at Sangravah. I have seen him be cruel to those he purposefully does not want to understand. I am not here as your spy though. That is as much from me as you will get about Rhysand." Gwyn truly felt a level of gratefulness to the high lord, however, he often squandered any other positive feelings she had of him by constantly looking at her as if he was seeing that day in Sangravah all over again. It did nothing to help her forget. Jurian gave a contemplative look before turning his attention to his plate. Vassa decided to try her hand at conversation.

"How are the Archeron sisters? I know the death of their father was hard on all of them." Vassa took a sip of wine. Gwyn did not want to discuss this either though. Speaking of Nesta made her miss her sisters.

"They are as well as could be expected." It was generic and had the fiery red head pursing her lips in displeasure. Gwyn did not quite care.

“Gwyn is a beautiful singer.” Lucien finally changed the subject to something that she did not mind engaging in. “We will need you to sing for us sometime.” Gwyn nodded in agreement. The conversation continued on with Lucien boasting about Gwyn, talking about her training as a Valkyrie and winning the blood rite. She started feeling uncomfortable with all the compliments he was sending her way. It reminded her of a conversation she needed to have with him. Right now was as good of a time as any she supposed.

"It was extremely generous of you to offer your help, but I feel I should inform you that I am not interested in anything other than your friendship." Gwyn interrupted Lucien mid-speech to clarify. He looked startled by her statement. Jurian choked on his wine and Vassa cackled like there would be no tomorrow. It made Gwyn feel as though she was on the outside of some joke they all knew.

"Excuse me?" Lucien, for once, looked genuinely surprised. It was as if he could not quite believe she would say that and needed her to repeat it just in case he heard her wrong. Maybe Gwyn misinterpreted some of his advances.

"I know our coupling seems inevitable," Gwyn explained further a bit shyly, not quite sure of herself anymore. "But I am not interested in any one that is not Azriel." Vassa's cackles slowed down to more of a chuckle and Jurian kept sending amused looks to Lucien.

"Gwyn, I am your grandfather." Lucien approached the topic slowly. "I assumed your mother talked about me, but, and I really hope this is the case, you did not know this?" His tone lifted up at the end in questioning.

Oh, Gwyn thought. She was not easily surprised, but this topped the cake. She tried to think back to anytime her mother mentioned her grandparents, but the instances were few and far between. Gwyn realized she did not even know their names. Suddenly, every compliment and favor from Lucien no longer appeared odd. He was complimenting and bragging about his only living granddaughter. This took much longer to process than Gwyn would like to admit. Unexpectedly, she felt an unwarranted amount of anger towards Lucien.

"And you waited until this very moment to tell me? What the hell Lucien? Or should I say grandpa?" Her tone was more hostile than it had been with anyone else. The sarcastic comment at the end had the red-haired male cringing. Jurian and Vassa started laughing once more.

"I know this is not great timing to interrupt, but I, for one, will be referring to you as grandpa from here on out." Jurian inserted. Vassa gave an amused smirk, but said nothing. It earned him a glare from Gwyn and Lucien though.

"I apologize, Gwyneth, for the delayed reveal. I thought you knew that's why I offered to help you, though. I assumed your mother had spoken of Jesminda and I. She was rather young when we had to surrender her, I suppose." Lucien looked so genuine that Gwyn's anger diminished as fast as it had appeared. Gwyn's family history had always been a mystery to her. She might finally get some answers.

"Jesminda is my grandmother?" Gwyn inquired. Her own mother had never given details. This adventure was beginning to answer many questions she had always had.

"Yes." Lucien said. Gwyn was trying to understand his expression and tone. She spent another minute watching him. Their other table mates had gone quiet as well. It did not take a genius to understand the moment. Jesminda had never been mentioned before to her from anyone and she was not here right now. She was dead that much was clear. Lucien cleared his throat and for a brief second Gwyn could see the emotion he was so desperately trying to hide, guilt.

"Why did you give my mother to Sangravah?" Gwyn realized it probably had something to do with Jesminda's death. She truly wanted more details. Lucien sighed heavily, probably understanding that there were many questions in store for him.

"Beron just ordered for Jesminda to be tortured and executed in front of me. I am certain if he had known of your mother, he would have had the same future in store for her. I had kept the child a secret from everyone except a brother, who helped me hide her after Jesminda's death." It did not escape Gwyn's attention that Lucien neither referred to Beron as his high lord nor as his father. Lucien ran a hand through his hair roughly. Her hair was clearly from him, but it was his one russet eye that had her pausing. An eye that suddenly reminded her so much of Catrin.

"Why did he kill her?" She asked softly. Gwyn realized she would never be able to deny Lucien anything. One look from his russet eye and Gwyn would give in simply because of its similarity to her dead twin.

"Because he's a spiteful old man." Vassa spit out. Clearly, she was just as enraged by the situation. It made Gwyn wonder if Vassa and Lucien had ever been together. Lucien rolled his eyes at the fiery female. He seemed to roll his eyes constantly while he was here.

"Because he could," Lucien added. "Your mother, who was about six at the time, was extremely unsafe even under my brother and I's protection. Beron would put your mate to shame with all the torture tactics he uses. I dropped her off on the doorstep of that church in the middle of the night. I always planned to go back and visit, but I was nervous and I knew she was safe there. I felt it was selfish to visit her since it only put her in more danger." Gwyn felt sad for everyone involved. Sad for Lucien who watched his love be tortured and executed in front of him only for him to have to turn around and surrender his daughter to a church. Sad for Jesminda who died that day. Sad for her mother who must have lived every day wondering where her parents went and why they abandoned her. Sad for Catrin who never got to meet her grandfather.

"I had a sister." Gwyn felt the need to mention. She was unaware of how much Lucien knew, but it suddenly felt important to her that he knew of Catrin.

"I know." He responded with a sad smile. "This family is well versed in tragedy." Gwyn had so many more questions. She had time to ask though. Her questions were making Lucien relive memories that were better left untouched. Perhaps he had endured enough for one night. She looked down at her full plate. She had been so distracted that she had not touched a thing. She began to devour her food as the rest of the table engaged in a debate about seasonings and which was the best.

"Have you and Vassa..." Gwyn trailed off, leaving the innuendo open when Lucien walked her back to her room after dinner.

"She wishes." He chuckled.

"Would you be with Elain if you could?"

"I would not jump into a mating ceremony but I would like the chance to get to know her. She has not given me the opportunity." He answered practically with his arms folded behind his back. Gwyn felt the need to assure him that knowing Elain would not make any of this easier.

"Trust me, it's better this way." She did not want to leave the conversation on such a sore point. As they approached her door, Gwyn jokingly shoved him. "So this would make Elain my step-grandmother?" Lucien was quiet before speaking. It was not the reaction she hoped for.

"Elain does not know. No one knows. And no one can know, even Azriel. At least until Beron is dead. Make no mistakes if Beron were to discover you, he would torture you simply to spite my mother." His lips pursued together in displeasure.

"Azriel is very good with secrets." She felt the need to remind Lucien. He is a Shadowsinger after all.

"Not with his high lord. If Rhysand knew, he would tell Beron if he had too. If Nyx or Feyre's life were on the line, he would do anything to save them. That includes selling you out. This is very important, Gwyneth. You cannot tell anyone- promise me." His stare was so intense that she could not look away. He grabbed her hands in a tight grip to make sure she understood how serious he was. Gwyneth had never purposely kept a secret from Azriel before. Hopefully, Beron would die sooner rather than later.

"I promise."

+++

Two weeks later

"What do you mean she’s gone?" Azriel was shocked to discover that Gwyn had left two weeks ago. He thought she had been avoiding training because of the kiss they shared- not because she was gone. He had been eating dinner with Nesta and Cassian when he finally had the courage to mention the priestess and where she had gone. Now he was mad that he had not asked sooner.

“She left with Lucien on some adventure. I am not really sure. Her note was unclear.” Nesta responded solemnly. The House dropped a piece of chocolate cake in front of her which made a small smile curve at the brash female’s lips. Azriel’s stomach dropped at the mention of Lucien. Gwyn did not know him well enough to go on an adventure with him. Gwyn would not leave her sisters here and she would definitely not choose Lucien to be the first person she left Velaris with. He was certain of that. He also knew Lucien to be a spiteful person. Perhaps he was tired of watching Azriel and Elain parade their relationship around him, making a fool of the one-eyed male. He could have taken Gwyn as retribution.

“He must have kidnapped her. Gwyn would never willingly leave the House of Wind with anyone- let alone Lucien.” Azriel knew this had to be true. Gwyn would never just up and leave. Guilt started gnawing at his chest as he realize he could have prevented her from being taken. If only his shadows would work properly around her, he could have prevented Lucien’s nefarious plans from being completed. His siphons started glowing the longer he though about it. He had to clench his hands around his silverware to keep from winnowing straight to the Band of Exiles and demanding his mate be given back. Nesta gave Azriel an odd look before speaking.

“She left a note that said she was willingly leaving with him and as much as he annoys the shit out of me, I don’t think he would hurt Gwyn.” A frown marred her face now, though. As if she had not considered that her sister could be in trouble. It only annoyed Az further.

“He could have made her write the note.” He reminded in a quiet, harsh voice. Gwyn and Lucien were not friends. She would have no reason to leave with him. Cassian was cautiously glancing between his mate and Azriel. He did not know what to say that would not piss off Az, so he was choosing to let Nesta handle the situation instead.

“She is not in danger.” Nesta declared after peeking at her wrist. There was no possible way for her to know whether Gwyn was safe or not. Even Azriel could not find out given how stubborn his shadows were being. He could always take a trip to the Band of Exiles, but he had to assume Lucien would not be stupid enough to take Gwyn there.

“You do not know that.” His wings flexed in anger. The siphons atop his hands were glowing dangerously bright now. He needed to get his emotions under control.

“Yes I do.” Nesta insisted with a roll of her eyes that annoyed Azriel to no ends. “My bracelet is not glowing. They glow when any of us is in trouble. It’s how I found her in the blood rite. It has not glowed since then either.”

“Hers could have fell off.” Gwyn would not have left after the kiss they shared. It was too important of a moment between them for her to have left immediately after.

“Gwyn and Lucien are friends, Az. You know if you want someone to blame for her leaving, maybe you should look inward.” It was a sharp jab that hurt more than the Shadowsinger would ever admit.

Suddenly though, he could see the hurt on Nesta’s face. It was there for only a second, but he saw it. Nesta was just as hurt by Gwyn’s departure as he was. He finally unclenched his hands from around his silverware- his fight giving out. Nesta was right. Lucien would never kidnap Gwyn especially if he thought it might upset Elain. Azriel chose this time to leave, however. He would not stoop to Nesta’s level and trade jab after jab. He headed to the training arena. It was hours later when slight footsteps could be heard making their way over to him. He was sitting at the edge, his exhaustion forcing him to take a break. Nesta took a seat next to him, resting her head against his shoulder.

"I miss her too, Shadowsinger." He said nothing in return because there was nothing else he could say. "You are worse than I was with the mating bond." Nesta tried again with a joke this time to try and get Azriel talking. She knew he was not normally one to discuss his feelings though. He gave her a withering look at that comment. It was an ongoing joke within the inner circle that Nesta handled the mate situation particularly horrible.

“Shut up.” Was all he responded with and he only said it halfheartedly.

"I am just saying, if you ask me for advice I could save you some time and heartache." They both continued to look out at the Velaris skyline.

"And what precious advice would you bestow upon me?" The comment was dripping in sarcasm, but he decided to humor her.

"Anyone other than your mate will be a disappointment, especially to you. Just accept it and her and everything else will become background noise." She looked up at him for a second before setting her head back down. He was not one to seek out comfort through touch, but sitting here with Nesta made him feel a bit better. Maybe it was because they could both ruminate in their sadness at Gwyn’s departure.

"Ah so wise. I had not considered that." Again the sarcasm was heavy.

"Well if you have thought about it and have not done it then I would consider you an idiot. You do not strike me as an idiot, Az." She was frustrated now- throwing her arms up and crossing them over her chest. He chuckled lightly.

"I think I might be." He admitted. Everything was so confusing with Mor and Elain that he lost focus of what was truly important.

"Gwyn is the most compassionate and understanding person I know. If she can love me, she can love you too. Just be honest with her." Her voice was soft now in a way that it never was. She always seemed to push him even when it seemed the rest of his family refused. It was the thing he liked most about Nesta- she was never scared of him or his feelings.

"Thanks Nes." He settled his head on top of hers and they stayed like that for hours- reminiscing in all things Gwyn.

[honeybeezx]

Armor - Oberyn Martell x Reader x Ellaria Sand - Part 1

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! So this is the first fic I’ve ever posted on tumblr, low key kinda scary😄 But this man and his paramour have been on my mind for the longest. This is a self insert fic, but I don’t really use “Y/N”. Hope you enjoy and any feedback would be great!

Summary: You are an assassin hired by Tyrion to act as extra security alongside Bronn. He brings you back to King’s Landing just as the boy king Jeoffry Baratheon plans to marry the cunning Margaery Tyrell. But with all the guests roaming around, you begin to wonder who is a friend and who is a foe. No one makes you wonder more than the famed prince from Dorne and his captivating paramour.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: mentions of murder, allusions to sex

—————

You never knew anything in the seven kingdoms could make you feel so small. It wasn’t as if you’d ever let it show. You held your head high, walking alongside Tyrion as both of you entered the great hall of the throne room, Bronn on the opposite side of your employer. The Red Keep was even bigger than you had imagined it to be. The throne room was the tallest room you had ever seen. Against the dark ceiling the columns looked as if they stretched up into the night sky.

Every eye in the palace was on the three of you, and you felt no one’s eyes more than Cersei’s. You held her gaze. A woman who lived in luxury her whole life did not frighten you. She may have influence, but you had experience, strength, freedom, and skill with your bow that you were now acutely aware was strapped to your back. Having the protection of Tyrion’s influence and connections and Bronn’s strength and skill with a sword brought a sense of comfort, allowing you to remain calm under such scrutinizing gaze.

“Brother.” Cersei greeted with a soft smile that failed to hide all the vileness in her heart. “You come with friends.”

“Oh no, more like bodyguards. We have so many enemies now a days sister, I like to know I’m protected.” Tyrion smirked, leaving Bronn chuckling. You, on the other hand, would not let your intimidating demeanor fade, remaining as stoic and unyielding as the stone columns that held up the palace you wished to see fall. “May I introduce Bronn, Lord of Highgarden and-“

“Yes, I know all about the Silver Hawk from the North. I wonder if you are half as good as they say you are.” She mocked, her tone anything but genuinely curious. “I am told that you can hit your target 200 meters away and steal their breath before they even know what hit them.” If you didn’t know any better you’d think she was impressed, even if she did look at you as if you were the lowest creature she ever beheld.

“Perhaps I will have an opportunity to display my skills while I am here, your grace.” You’ll see first hand when my arrow is aimed just above your crooked neck.

“Perhaps.” She replied, feigning as much sweetness as a ferrel cat.

The both of you narrowed your eyes at each other. There was no outright exchange of harsh words or petty language, but the furious tension between the two of you was enough to fill the entire hall with uncomfortable silence. You hoped your unyielding gaze scared her. You wondered how many people actually defied her, you wondered how long it would take to get under her skin.

“Yes, well.” Tyrion interrupted, knowing you were bubbling with anger. Cersei was too, and although you allowed her to see your own emotions, it please you a bit to know you could anger her just as easy. You hated Lannisters almost more than anything, but you also knew Cersei’s time would come. She would pay for her crimes, fate would decide her end. You knew that fate had not brought you here to slay the queen regent, as much as you despised her. “As much as I love chatting with you sister, I simply wanted our arrival to be known. We have much unpacking to do and much to discuss.”

“Be careful, little brother.” She warned. “Your guard has little reserve and it seems your little silver hawk has a silver tongue as well. You would be wise to remember that people have been killed for that and less.”

“I’ll be sure to keep very close watch over them.” Tyrion retorted sarcastically before turning on his heal and exiting the great hall. You and Bronn followed, the later unable to contain his amusement.

“I’d say that went well!” He quipped, smiling at both you and your employer.

“She didn’t call to chop off our heads, that is some relief.” Tyrion noted. “But you both must be careful, especially you.” His scrutinizing gaze met yours.

“What? You expected me to just let her try and hold some dominate power over me? Just because she is draped in finest jewels in the seven realms and hides behind the her father’s influence does not mean I will tremble like a child before her.”

Tyrion sighed. “You must, for now, hold your tongue. Your wit does you credit, that’s why I like you, but you must check yourself. My sister is more dangerous than you can imagine. Don’t tremble, but don’t overstep either.” You remembered that Tyrion had been playing the game his whole life, he was basically born into it. He knew his sister better than anyone, and that meant he knew how to get around her better than anyone. You made a note to observe exactly what made Cersei tick, what made her preen under her usually reserved demeanor.

Despite the warm tones of the palace, you felt as though you were walking on ice. One wrong step and you were dead under a frozen tundra. You didn’t like this at all. Tyrion promised your freedom would not be at risk, yet you felt the freedom to speak your mind, the freedom to do as you pleased slip from you more and more. You were being watched here, you weren’t stupid. Every move had to be calculated, every word like honey laced with poison. The faster the boy king could marry, the less people there were for you to worry about. It made you uncomfortable not knowing who was an ally and who was a foe. The one thing you could appreciate about Cersei was that you always knew where you stood with her.

“I will try to remain civil if she approaches me, otherwise I will avoid your sister to the best of my abilities. But she would be wise not to challenge my reserve.” I huffed, earning a laugh from Bronn.

“Your reserve, little hawk, will be undone, whether it be from your words or your arrows.” He teased. You gave him a shove and he stumbled a bit, but not much. The last thing you needed was the oaf calling you “little”.

“The sooner we are out of this horrid place the better.” You huffed.

“I agree,” Tyrion agreed, nodding in understanding, “but don’t hold your breath. There is so much to be done before my nephew’s wedding and I will be relying on both of you to help me. While I am arranging more intimate details with my family, you two will be protecting me, but also doing some side tasks that I will not have time for. Bronn, for the most part you will be either at my side or Shae’s. If the palace discovers her they will use her against me. She can’t be found.”

Shae, Tyrion’s lover of sorts. You had grown close to her on your travels. You were wary at first. Your job was to protect Tyrion, naturally, you were cautious of anyone who might try to hurt him, to get close to him only for information or power. But it was a tough business, out spying a spy, and all your instincts told you to trust Shae. She had not left any of you astray thus far, and though the couple had not named their relationship, you could tell Tyrion and Shae cared immensely for each other. But Tyrion was right, she could be used as a pawn against him, especially if Cersei found out.

There was a sort of kinship between you and Shae. You were both strong, clever women, and she had tended to the few wounds you found yourself with on your travels. She seemed like a sister, and you were grateful for the company and friendship she provided.

“As for our favorite archer, you will be assisting some guests, getting information. I want to know the people attending this wedding, I want to ensure that this wedding goes smoothly. The Tyrell’s are a powerful ally, we cannot lose them.”

You nodded in understanding. Tyrion hired you to protect him, yes, but archery was not your only strength. You could be quiet, and you could listen as well as you could speak. You knew he would ask that of you with all the guests roaming around. You were curious to know what King’s Landing was really like, and even more interested in knowing the people who came here. “Ask it of me and it will be done.”

“Aye.” Bronn agreed.

“You are the most trusted of friends.” Tyrion gave the smallest of smiles. You were hesitant to even be in his service when the lord found you and offered you a job, afraid of losing your freedom. You knew the Lannisters, you knew their foul and power-hungry disposition. Being in their service seemed to you signing your life away. You were surprised to find he did not wish to take such things from you. He hired both you and Bronn to protect him, yes, but he would do the same for you both. You were an odd sort of family, but a family nonetheless. “Get settled and rested for the evening, we’ve had a long journey. We will reconvene later to discuss further plans.”

You nodded and left to your new chamber, one just across from Bronn and down the hall from Tyrion.

The trio was still not aware of the Red Viper slithering about the halls.

——————

Days passed with little to do. You hadn’t seen much of Tyrion. Since your arrival at King’s Landing your employer had become hand to his nephew king and married the pretty Stark girl you later learned was named Sansa. Still, you found ways to spend your time, keeping eyes and ears open for any useful information. You were particularly interested in Joffrey. It was astounding how a little boy could hold so much power, so much evil. You figured he inherited his terror from his mother.

Sansa was an interesting girl as well. Your heart broke for her. She was nothing if not resilient, staying loyal to her betrothed if only to keep herself alive. She was smart, you learned, but not useful when attempting to gather information. She did not deny her loyalty to Joffrey, even to those she liked. You were grateful that Tyrion stepped in to propose to the poor girl, if only to save her from the tyrant king. Both you and Shae kept close eyes on her. She was as smart and clever as Shae and yourself. You had a sneaking suspicion that she could be a close ally, if only your little family could get her away from the palace.

But today was different. Today you left your quarters to explore the palace a bit. You wanted to know what sort of battleground you were working with. It seemed surprising that a palace that was so heavily targeted was so...open. It seemed like light could illuminate any room. Even the gloomy and foreboding throne room could not escape a few beams of sunlight. If you didn’t despise every Lannister crawling about the palace, you had a mind to stay. The palace was only under the allusion of being warm and charming, the people who inhabited it ruined any chance of it being a lovely place. You noticed that the open windows and balconies made perfect outlooks should you need to eliminate a threat with one of your silver arrows.

But for now, the open windows became your place of peace as you ate a bowl of berries, just watching the rest of the sunrise. You saw the sun just barely grace the city with its light before you were called into Tyrion’s chambers. You arrived promptly, Bronn stumbling in a few minutes after you. You rolled your eyes at his lack of punctuality, which only earned you a playful nudge from the Lord of Highgarden.

“Behave you two. I swear I am dealing with children.” Shae huffed, but you could tell behind her sharp features was an air of mischief. Still, you straightened up and diverted your full attention to Tyrion.

“Well, much has happened. Prince Oberyn has arrived in The Capital. I visited him yesterday morning and he made it very clear that he wants to kill any Lannister that he sets his sights on. My father apparently ordered the death of his sister and her children. Our goal, for now, is to keep him happy, to keep him entertained. Bronn, your job will be to appear inconspicuous as you keep a watchful eye over my quarters, make sure no one goes in or out.” He ordered.

Shae huffed. “I’m perfectly capable of handling myself thank you.” She huffed.

“No one disputes that my dear.” Tyrion chuckled. You remember watching Shae stab a man she did not want for laying a finger on her. “I’m not worried about you. But my sister and my king nephew are very powerful. They will know how to use you against me.” He explained. Shae still was not pleased with the idea, but she relented.

“As for our hawk,” he turned to you and gave you a list with names you did not recognize, “you will present these girls to Prince Oberyn in my place. You will tell him that royal duties as the king’s new hand have prevented me from revisiting him, but you hope he enjoys the whores as a welcoming gift to King’s Landing.”

“Excuse me?!” You snapped your eyes narrowing in on your employer. “I am not a squire whose job is to bring in girls for spoiled princes!”

“Do not think of it as that.” Tyrion poured himself a glass of wine, knowing that he should chose his next words very carefully. He could feel your eyes burning into him. “Consider it a diplomatic mission. Besides, the prince wishes to meet you. The legends of the Silver Hawk have reached so far as Dorne and he is eager to make your acquaintance. This is the perfect opportunity for the both of you.”

You still weren’t pleased. “So I am now to serve as entertainment for the prince of Dorne.” You sighed and shook your head. “I am only staying long enough to bring him the girls, then I’m leaving.”

“Fine,” Tyrion relented. “But you will be cordial to the prince. Don’t be deceived by his charming words, he stabbed one of my cousins for a few unkind, brutish remarks. I don’t want to know what he’ll do when he hears your fire-laced words.” If it weren’t such a serious situation, Tyrion might have been amused to hear you use your wit against a prince, but the prince’s history with the Lannisters was anything but a joke.

“I’m sure she can handle herself. Hawks have talons after all.” Shae teased, but squeezed your arm affectionately. You offered a kind smile, but you still loathed this plan.

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Tyrion rubbed his temple like the very thought of you getting into trouble was enough to send him over the edge.

You relented and chuckled a little before placing a hand on your friend’s shoulder. “I will be on my best behavior, but only because you will worry yourself ill.” You teased. “It can’t be too bad if I just deliver your message and leave. I better get going though. Can’t leave a prince waiting.” You snorted. As if you cared what a prince thought.

————————

Oberyn Martell lied in his temporary bed at the brothel, Ellaria Sand at his right, a blond haired boy on his left. He was the picture of lustful bliss, his golden chest glistened as the small rays of light entered the sinful den. But the prince was quiet deep in thought as he started out into the empty space before them. All the pleasure the brothel had to offer could not break his focus.

“Your thoughts are too loud, my prince.” Ellaria chided as she placed a kiss to his chest. “Tell me.”

Even then, Oberyn still could not break his thoughts of you, but he ran a hand through his paramour’s raven curls in acknowledgment. “I think I found our third partner.”

Next Chapter

[mysewingadventures]

Making an 1890s Symington Pretty Housemaid Corset - Part 3 (final)

So... I’m done?

I was going to post an update before and then do the finishing touches but I was on a roll and just finished it this week end!

But yes, let’s get into the actual sewing adventure that led to this beautiful finished product.

Before my eyelets were delivered I took advantage of the time before I got them and added the lining on some panels, doing the back ones first so I could insert the eyelets once I got them. It was therapeutic once you develop a steady rhythm and accept the fact that it’s going to take you a while. For some reason I just love hem stitching... It makes everything look so authentic!

I decided not to line the busk panel as it already had the busk in and the lining wouldn’t really have had any effect at all so I just hemmed the raw edges. I was a little unsure whether I should line the side panels as I had messed up my stitches when making the side boning channels but in the end I tried my best to line it anyways. I also thought I would add some hip padding but I left that out, for comfort reasons and once I tried it on I also wasn’t too pleased with how bulky it made me look. I made the padding though so if I need it for structural reasons I can just quickly sew it in place.

I had done most of the lining on one side and only the back on the other when the eyelets got delivered so of course, I had to put them in to be able to try it on!

I added thirteen eyelets just like in the original and it was a process but I finally figured out the right method to punch the holes and then I got pretty quick at it. Then I could finally wear it for the first time, and let me tell you... it’s *chef’s kiss* so freaking comfortable! It’s hands down the most comfortable corset I own, and even as someone who constantly annoys people trying to educate them that corsets weren’t torture devices I was still very surprised by this. But it makes so much sense - it’s a Pretty Housemaid Corset. It was made for working women so it had to be comfortable. It provides just the right support in just the right places and I honestly didn’t wanna take it off again. But I also wanted to continue.

Next, I finished the rest of the lining and then I could move on to the binding. Binding is probably my least favorite part of making a corset, it is so time consuming but I decided to hem stitch it this time because I wasn’t going to use my sewing machine anyways so I might as well save some time hand stitching it. I actually made the binding out of the twill lining, I’d never made binding before but (this particular) twill made it pretty easy because once you press it with an iron it stays in place, which I really appreciated.

Then it was time for the lace trim! I fell in love with this lace the very first time I saw it back when I didn’t even have a project in mind but I just knew it would be perfect for a corset.

The last part was the flossing. I was going to do the same design as was on the original but I forgot to stock up on thicker flossing thread so I used regular thread but quickly came to the conclusion that it would take me forever, so I used the rest of the cream colored embroidery thread that I had leftover from the Anne With An E dress, but I didn’t have a huge amount so I looked through google pictures and found this design that I really loved.

But yes that was the sewing journey and I’m really happy with how it turned out and especially with the fit! It doesn’t cinch my waist by a lot, but then again it’s not meant to, it’s a corset specifically designed for work. A little padding or a bum pad can certainly help with the illusion of a small waist.

Here she is in all of her glory.

I might post pictures of me actually wearing it sometime in the near future. If the pictures turn out good. I already wore it over my late Victorian skirt and it’s awesome. I might just need a petticoat to cover the edges...

Part 1 | Part 2

[thoughts-on-bangtan]

Let’s talk: Grievances and Cuteness - BTS on You Quiz on the Block

by Admin 1

Today BTS were guests on You Quiz on the Block, a very popular Korean variety show on tvN, and it was a wonderful mix of fun and hilarious, but also serious, vulnerable and honest. Seeing as we don’t have subtitles yet, merely the things our marvelous translator ARMYs managed to translate for us—the episode was 100 minutes long so there was a lot going on and being said—I don’t want to get into detail in this post and instead will wait with that until we have subs and I’ll be able to sit down and watch it properly again, focus on things that stick out to me and I would want to talk about. So that I can do their words justice.

Instead I want to use this post to air some of my grievances, directed at fellow ARMY, “ARMY” and shippers, as well as just gush a little about a few cute moments. The more serious things will be in a different post sometime soon. I hope that’s okay.

Grievances

What is the point of Bangtan going on a show like this, especially one that is broadcast on national TV and very popular with the general public? It’s to share not only their funny side but also their honest and genuine one, share stories that, though some we’ve heard before as ARMY, they’re things the general public doesn’t necessarily know. The point of them sharing vulnerable moments and memories with us is to simply be honest and transparent, something they’ve always highlighted as important to them.

What is the part we play in this, what is it that we should do? We are simply supposed to listen, understand the things they are telling us, put things into perspective so we know what they felt in certain moments and periods of their lives, understand that they’re human too with struggles, fears and sadness, and we should cherish the fact that they tell us any of it at all. They could just as well only show up whenever there’s a new album and comeback and then disappear again, share nothing personal at all and put on entirely fake personas. But they don’t. And we should be grateful for that and happy because of it.

Now, the reason why I even wanted to write this in the first place is this:

Many, and I mean many have decided that instead of doing what I’ve highlighted a moment ago, a far better course of action would be to twist their words, manipulate them, use them to victimize the members (and especially Seokjin), and try to overanalyze them in favor of their desired narratives and especially their ships, even if whatever was being said had absolutely nothing to do with any ship at all.

Before the episode even finished airing, solos/mantis were already up in arms “crying” about mistreatment and victimizing Seokjin because *insert demands they have no right to make at all* and when Seokjin, bless him, was on weverse, he actually replied to a post where he basically said that parts of what he said were too sad/depressing, so he simply asked the You Quiz staff to cut them out, which would explain why he seemed to have “less to say” during his interview section with Yoongi. Did that help? Of course not. Even though it showed not only that he did say more, that he likely said more vulnerable things, but also that he made the decision for himself that he did not want to share that yet, because he’s not ready for it or because he came to the conclusion that he simply doesn’t want to period, and that his wish for them to cut it out was met. Even though it wasn’t BH controlled content, but You Quiz.

More below the cut:

What does this tell us? The members have control over what is aired and what is not. If they feel something is too personal or would come across wrong, they can voice objection and chances are their words will be met and followed. They aren’t victims in need of saving, aren’t helpless boys with no idea what they’re doing. They are serious musicians, respected and treated well. This is a good thing and I’m glad he told us that, even if many don’t want to hear it and immediately claimed that “oh yeah BH told him to shut us up”. The mental gymnastics some are willing to do to make things fit their agenda truly baffles me sometimes.

On the other hand, I’ve seen shippers try to twist words or put others into the members mouths to push their agenda, and we’ve even had one or two asks being sent to us basically sadly wondering if maybe Tae isn’t who we thought he is for Jimin, and neither is Hobi, because of something Jimin said. Even though the thing Jimin said had quite literally nothing to do with either Tae or Hobi. In a way, I get where such vminnies are coming from, as vminnies we would love to just hear vmin talk about each other all day because it’s cute and we love their bond and stories, but it’s not like we didn’t get that. Because we did. Unprompted. Jimin mentioned Tae during their trio interview and told a story, even if we’ve heard it before to a certain degree. And yet it still wasn’t enough? Like come on, please don’t do this. Don’t reduce everything the members do and say to just ship related and non-ship related (thus uninteresting) statements and actions, as though the latter is worth less.

Here is the moment in question:

The way I see it, the only thing we should take away from this is that despite these very human fears and struggles, wonderings if people only care about Jimin because he is BTS Jimin and not Park Jimin, he still had and has good people in his life that’ll remind him that he is appreciated and loved for who he is, and not just for his celebrity status. Friends even outside of Bangtan. Why do we have to take something so incredibly personal, this moment of vulnerability from Jimin, and try to overanalyze it? To twist it to fit a ship? Regardless which one. Or to twist it to fit some kind of narrative, whatever one it may be? Please don’t do that.

Sure, Admin 2 noticed his use of ‘chingu’ when talking about this friend that told him that, and sure it reminded me of what Jimin said to Tae in the FESTA 2020 Rolling Paper, but neither Admin 2 nor I will go and claim that oh he must’ve been talking about Tae but didn’t want to use his name to avoid XYZ because we are not in his head and, at the end of the day, it’s irrelevant who exactly said that to him. That wasn’t the point of that story. Like at all. So why are some people disregarding the point in favor of speculations? Why are some completely ignoring his words, downplaying them as just potential ship material instead of appreciating the fact that he told us that at all?

It’s unfair toward Jimin, and the other members as well when they tell similar stories. Their lives aren’t fictional stories that revolve around romance. They are real people with real lives and more friends than just their fellow members and that’s a good thing since it surely gives them the opportunity to feel less isolated, cut off from the world by nature of their occupation and status. Besides, in the past Tae said something similar as well, how he used to be a social butterfly and make friends easily wherever they went but eventually he understood that people didn’t really care about Kim Taehyung and instead just wanted to know BTS V and be able to use that to brag, so he stopped being so outgoing. And we’ve also seen Jimin talk about cutting out friends in the past if they said something negative about Bangtan, then, a few years later, saying that he’s grown more as a person and learned to not allow these things to affect him as much, to surround himself with genuine people.

So, in light of what he said in that segment, we should be happy for him. And that’s it.

We also saw people use what Tae said about his dad to push the he must be 100% heterosexual because he said he wants to be a dad narrative which, where do I even start. Perhaps with the fact that this statement relies on a mistranslation? Because he didn’t say he wants to be a dad but that he wants to be a person like his dad, that’s his dream. Perhaps with the blatant homophobia this statement is laced in? The disregard for how queer people can also want to have kids, be parents, just like anyone else? Perhaps with how these things oddly seem to just be done to Tae and Namjoon, and especially Tae to use it for ship purposes?

Instead of jumping to conclusions, overanalyzing stories we are not supposed to analyze but instead to simply appreciate, please wait until we’ll have the full episode with subtitles (even though from the past we know that some of it may be simplified so reading what our translators wrote is also a good thing to get the whole picture) and even then, just enjoy their silliness and listen to their words of honesty. Listen to the fact that their fame was and continues to be a heavy weight on their shoulders, how instead of becoming cocky assholes they remained humble and genuine because that’s the kind of people they are and want to be, listen to what they want you to hear and now what you want to hear.

Also, to shippers—this isn’t the place to look for ship content of any kind, for some romantic confessions or whatever, because this was about Bangtan as seven members and their stories of the last ten and a half years since Namjoon joined BH and the idea for BTS was started.

Cute and silly things

Now that that's done, let’s talk about some fun and cute things to lighten the mood, shall we?

One of my favorite moments was when the MIC DROP ARMY came in as a surprise for the members, her confidence was off the charts and the guys looked so genuinely happy. After all it’s been so many months since they’ve last seen ARMY! And I’m so glad she was such a wonderful representative for us all, how she didn’t react with fear or shyness, didn’t scream or cry, but instead did her thing like a Queen. And the way the members reacted when she sent them a finger heart during one of the dances? Absolutely adorable! 

Also, she truly must’ve saved some kind of nation, or maybe two, in her past life since she also was gifted a chicken leg pillow by Tae. He’s just so kind and lovely.

Then we had the members play a game of trying to guess a song merely by the first second (I think) and then having to sing it, though who sang which part didn’t follow the actual order in the song but was chosen by someone off screen which meant that, for example, Tae was doing one of the rap line verses as well as singing Jimin’s part in another, Hobi showed off his vocal skills, and of course, the highlight, Namjoon singing a part from Spring Day. Even though we know Namjoon’s skills when it comes to singing are not the greatest, which I mean in a very loving way, no tea no shade, and yet he still went for it. It was hilarious and cute and showed that he is willing to be silly even if others might laugh at his expense.

Sometime after the episode aired Namjoon actually came onto Weverse to talk about the episode and, among other things, apologized for not singing Seokjin’s guide all that well. One thing I’d like to point out is how, originally, he wrote Jinhyung but then changed it to Seokjinie hyung, which is just a small and precious little detail:

Another cute moment was during ‘dance mafia’ when Tae turned to Jimin to ask him if they did well and Jimin replied that yes, he did well (both using this adorably soft tone with each other), they also hugged for a moment while smiling brightly. See, I said not to look for ship moments, but this is just cute regardless if you ship vmin or not. Admin 2 though would like to comment on how they could’ve given us that hug from a camera that’s a little further away so we could have a more proper look, or a longer shot of it, please?

Honestly that game was hilarious and the members who were mafia did a wonderful job tricking the others, particularly JK was fantastic at it since the second time around no one suspected him at all. Also, the fluffy ear muffs with cat (?) ears on them were adorable. At the end of the segment they were all supposed to strike a pose but Tae didn’t manage to put his ear muffs back on, so they fell to the ground and so Jimin lightly hit/caressed his chest and turned toward the MCs to ask if they could try again so that Tae could look good in it as well.

Actually, speaking of adorable in regard to Jimin, when they were introduced at the beginning of the show as RM-jagi-nim, jagi-nim being the name used for all the guests on the show and also the name on the necklace (given to guests who are fans of the show by the producers) Jimin showed off on weverse in his selcas, Jimin corrected the MC that it’s not Jimin-jagi-nim but Mini-jagi-nim which just…my heart. Too cute.

Lastly, I want to mention how all of them were asked what the first sentence would be if their lives were a book and their answers were just so very…them.

Namjoon: Predictions in life often turn out to be wrong

Tae: I’m a chameleon

Hobi: Dear, people who’ve helped to lead me here

Yoongi: You lived life to the fullest/hard/well

Seokjin: Dope, worldwide class!

Jimin: What kind of life do you want to live?

Jungkook: Hello?

Overall it was an amazing episode that was so fun to watch even without really being able to understand any of what was being said. Still the members genuine personalities shone through brightly and I’m glad they had fun and felt comfortable, especially since it’s been a while since they were last on Korean variety shows and some of their past experiences were…not great. I can’t wait to watch it again once we have subs and to write a more proper post about it then. I hope you didn’t mind this more…serious and “angry” post and understand where I’m coming from with my complaints, but also that you enjoyed the cute moments I highlighted.

[lethargicsunlight]

'Demon': Prologue ♡ BakugouXFem!Reader (Book 1)

Alright I'm doing it.

I'm doing the thing.

It literally keeps me awake at night I gotta write thisss *cough* okay

Originally I was only going to post this unto Wattpad, but getting traction on their website is a little more difficult than good ole' Tumblr, so I'll be posting it on both. Feel free to visit my Wattpad here: LINK if you want to support my writing on that end. (I would so appreciate it)

This post is going to run pretty long, as it will host both the prologue of the story and my author's notes. Just a heads up.

Summery:

A slow-burn action/romance where you begin in the bowels of a Villain base and rise up to join U.A.'s top Hero Class. This life was your choice. In the event of learning then losing the love of a friend, you make a decision that changes your reality at the core--to become an imposter among villains and bring them down from the inside out. The organization that ruined your premature perfect life was known as H.H., after their leader Head-Honcho. His crime of choice: intelligence. Training and conducting espionage agents and assassins across Japan as a means to further the dark underground network. Your training began at thirteen, after managing to impress the multi-faced villain with your stealth and your conviction. Rumors would soon spread through the dark alleys of Naruhata City of a masked assassin known as Demon, whose bare face could steal the souls of her targets. Everything appears to be going to plan; but the Hero Agencies you've been slipping information to are calling for an end to your superior sooner than you had anticipated. Your time as 'Demon' is limited. What will happen when your world comes crashing down? Where will you go, when everything you had known you helped to destroy?

AUTHOR'S NOTES

This is a slow burn fan-fic; and I am not italicizing those words without reason. This is going to be an agonizingly slow action-packed adventure-romance. This is a self-insert story, just like my three-part series 'Some Combat Training' (link) where you as the protagonist will not be described outside of being female, general physique, and a generalization of your uniform(s). Skin, hair, eyes, etc. will not be described at all--besides ambiguous adjectives. That said, I am taking liberties with physique and stature due to the nature of the story. You're abilities rely on stealth as well as close and fast combat, therefore you are described as 'small', 'lithe', 'athletic', and all of those other fancy little ninja woman words. Your personality has been shaped by the events of your life and the people within it; but if I were to describe it I would choose words like: Intelligent, determined, self-sacrificing, quiet, humble, and studious. The story will follow along with the anime for the most part starting at around the time of the USJ event, though at some point the story will branch off and become more my original concoction. (Such as, fast-forwarding the time-line to when the characters are older.) Some information about you as the protagonist will not be written here, as I plan for those to be revelations within the story. There will be angst, blood and gore, adult-humor, trauma, death, bad language and warnings will be listed with each chapter as needed. Feel free to comment on those chapters as soon as you see something that isn't mentioned that might make someone (if not yourself) feel uncomfortable. I will not be offended. This story is meant to get a little dark. Please comment if you can about your opinions! I have never posted an on-going fic before, and anything you have to say I would appreciate! <3 Now, please enjoy this short prologue~ Chapter 1 is being reviewed and edited, to be release very soon! 👹🖤⛓🔪💣 ...four...five...six.. You counted the footsteps behind your left ear, round the corner of the dim abandoned subway. You'd been stationary; still so long that your digits had all but numbed. Turn... one...two...three... The footsteps were distancing from the hall your attention had been set upon. A T-section, where the entity had gone down and away from your destination. You had to cross that 'T' to get to the junction--where you needed to leave a note completely undetected. The slightest mis-step would lead to suspicion. Suspicion would lead to investigation. Investigation lead to the five percent chance they could find that note--and no percentage was too small. It all hinged on absolute perfection. Nine...ten...eleven... This was their fifth round. A patrol. You had to make sure their movement were predictable before this would work--despite having successfully delivered the note fourty-two times and counting--you did not have the luxury of assumption. Only if their stride was even, only if you absolutely knew they were moving at a certain pattern, could you depend on the following information: It took fifteen steps before they would reach the broken light on their route. The haze of the dust and pollutants reflected in the working lights prior to that was your cover. Cross the 'T', leave the note, and cross it again. Out of sight and out of earshot, mission successful. Fourteen... f-- You turn, and it takes three steps to arrive at the drop to the tracks. You bunch and leap, and even the quietest friction of fabric from your uniform creases your brow. You land, just outside of the light's reach on the thin concrete slab beyond. Your eyes track the metals, the jutting wall tiles; that with which the barest touch could emit a sound--and you maneuver around them. Under, creeping low--and over, leaping to land on the balls of your feet and checking your balance before moving forward. Careful to not cast a shadow into the hall. Paced, so as not to move too quickly nor too slowly. Counting, because every second was controlled and calculated. You reach the juncture, and once again

edging the light you propel yourself to land back on the main thoroughfare. The next obstacle--removing the loose brick. Behind a metal bench centered between two closed-in stair cases, where the tile meets what had once been a decorative brick mosaic; eight bricks right and eighteen bricks up, was your note's destination. Just above your head, where you had to bend at an awkward angle to reach. Not practical, less detectable. You're wearing tight fabric gloves with grips on the pads, but thin enough you can feel the texture of the brick as you gently lace your fingers at each of the corners. Lifting, centering, and pulling the brick from its slot. Holding it just right, you can avoid the loud scrapes and grinds--but you have to hold it perfectly centered. Success. In goes the note. As does the brick, back into the wall. But you're only half-way done. Leap. Quiet, maneuver, avoid, measure. Silent. Leap. Hide. You're back is once again at the wall, the footsteps of the lackey you'd been avoiding closing in proximity to the Hall you'd just left. Four... five... six... Your eyes focus on the wall opposite of you as you ground yourself. The next few seconds determined a new reality. Either they followed their pattern, or they didn't. You had to be flexible. No assumptions. If they move towards the junction, you have to follow. If they move towards you, you'd calculate on your feet. Seven... eight... nine.. Turn. ...one...two...three.. You don't relax. Even after you count their steps to fifteen, even as you slip away back through the hall, even as you exit the unattended vent and breathe in fresh air--you don't relax until you're sitting on the floor in your room, calming down, your mask in your hands. After checking to make sure your door had not been opened, and no one had looked for you. No tracks in the dust. Only then do you allow yourself to ruminate on the contents of the note you had written, because you could still see every letter of it in your mind. ------ 55-1, Minami Senju 5-chome, Musutafu Target: Fukui Mitsuo Floor 8 3 AM. 7. Accompanied. Head. ------ For the briefest moment, you feel your hands shake. They always did on these nights. Realistically, you'd left no openings. Tested and re-tested every method. Calculated every movement. Left nothing to chance. But the 'what-if's' still linger, and you let them. The fear is good. It keeps you on your toes, your mind on edge, your tongue to the roof of your mouth. If he found out, you wouldn't know it until it was over. So you pretended he already did. Below you, underground in his base, plotting how to get at you when you were most vulnerable. Tear you to pieces, throw you in a pit or in a cage. No--too risky, he'd just kill you. A dead-end is better than a possibility. You'd learned that from him. You swallow, head turning so the amber morning sky is in your peripheral. All things considered, you would still unfortunately need sleep. You cherished the brief moments of sunlight and let your mind swim in the memories of your childhood spent in the daytime; before retiring to the broken and borrowed mattress. Seven days. You would check the location of your note in two. If there is another note in response, you would create a reactionary plan. The pattern continues. Until he finds out. ...Until he finds out.

[secret-rendezvous1d]

“you’re so beautiful.”

hello, hi.

here’s some long-awaited spencer fluff that got requested to me. it’s loosely based on this idea that someone sent in to me; you should write something fluffy about spence or the reader being sick or having an off day (something along those lines), and the other just being very attentive to them. like checking in on them before the roundtable meetings or in between briefings and maybe they go out to catch an unsub and they're holding hands in the car and just being super sweet and caring :'))))) brb gonna go explode with feels.

explode with feels is how i hope you’ll feel after reading this. it did make me go all mushy inside because having spencer take care of me whilst i’m sick would be a dream come true- but it won’t because he’s a fictional character and that sucks.

this could the last story that gets posted for a while; some things are happening and i just want to take a bit of a break from posting stories on here until i’m feeling comfortable again. i’m still going to be writing behind the scenes so don’t think i won’t be; there’s so much spencer stuff to work from that plenty of stories will be coming. i just want to say that i am incredibly thankful to each and every one of you who has supported this new venture of writing and has enjoyed it so far. 

like, reblog and send in some feedback, please. it’s greatly appreciated and it helps me work out what you want to see and what you are after. if you want something specific then do let me know! i’d love to try and write something for you.

thank you. enjoy.

-

“you’re so beautiful” spencer reid x female reader (reader insert imagine) word count; 4.6k.

* TRIGGER WARNING; very brief mentions of rape, abduction, torture. if you are uncomfortable with that, i advise not to read or read with caution. *

summary; yn falls sick and spencer likes to take good care of her when they’re working on a case.

-

YN woke up feeling like shit.

There was no need for her to beat around the bush and deny herself the truth on how her body was making her feel. Her head ached whenever she moved her vision from side to side and her temples throbbed close to her ears and she could feel her heartbeat from behind her eyes, pumping more vigorously, almost like it could have been heard throughout the entire building. Like the heartbeat effect in a movie when things got tense. Her breathing was shallow, her throat felt constantly dry and in need of hydration and her nasal passages felt like wet cotton-wool had been shoved up each nostril and had been strictly put there to restrict a clear intake and outtake of breath when she needed one. Her chest felt heavy, like she was drowning and had no way of coming back to the surface, and her eyes felt sensitive to the bright light of the pure sunshine streaming through the open curtains, which she assumed Spencer had opened when he woke up.

Despite feeling poorly and her head feeling like it wanted to involuntarily dip downward toward her chest, her eyes begging to have a few more minutes of sleep, she felt physically fine and there was no aching in her joints and no soreness around her neck and her legs felt strong enough to hold her weight and so she felt she could live the natural working day like normal. She could still hear so she could attend the briefing that morning, she could still see clearly so she could see the images of what they were dealing with when Garcia showed them on the screen in the roundtable room, she could still manoeuvre herself around and walk without getting dizzy or wandering from a straight line so she could easily be used in a chase to catch an unsub. She was fine to work and nothing but a couple of cold and flu capsules taken with her breakfast and some regular four-hour intakes of paracetamol through the day would keep her strong and feeling better throughout the day.

She left their bedroom freshly showered and spritzed with perfume and deodorant and dressed in an outfit that seemed like it was fitting attire to how she was feeling; a baggy sweatshirt, that hung loose down her upper body and covered her hands, and a pair of worn-out and black-denim skinny jeans that she kept in the back of her closet for days when work trousers just didn’t cut it for her. When she wanted something a little more comfortable and fitting. The material at the kneecaps almost worn out and torn from the non-stop crawling on her knees during cases that had them in tight spaces, the hems cut up from walking through thorns and shrubbery when cases took them into the wilderness, dried out stains of god-knows what sunk deep into the material which she struggled to get rid of when laundry day came around, and the denim around the inner thigh was wearing thin from the constant running around they had to do and with the amount of time she paced interrogation rooms and paced negotiation rooms when she felt on edge about something in particular. The jumper, she hoped, would keep her warm enough to not get worse symptoms over the next few days that passed so she wasn’t sent home for being ill - Hotch being more careful than strict because he couldn’t have her working excessively when her body couldn’t take the pressure.

What she expected to see, after closing the bedroom door behind her exit, was an empty living room that was void of anything related to Spencer. His house keys taken from the hooks by the front door, his tattered Converse trainers gone from the space beside her chunky black boots, his shoulder bag picked up from the floor by the coat-rack that was also missing his coat. Except, when she looked around and took a note of anything that had gone, everything seemed to have been left in the same place as where they had been left the previous evening when they arrived home; her boots were to the left of his trainers, his bag was hung up instead of left of the floor and his coat was taking up a hook on the rack beside her patterned macintosh. 

He was still home and it took her a moment to realise.

There was a delicious smell of bacon and fried eggs filling the entire apartment, the delectable sound of something sizzling in a pan taking her from the entryway and into the kitchenette, where she found Spencer stood amongst the smells and the sounds and the spitting oil and the steam coming from the cooker. Stood with his back facing her and dressed in the typical waistcoat and patterned shirt, one hand holding a ceramic bowl in a tight grip and the other using a fork to mash two halves of an avocado up, head darting from the pan frying the eggs to the bacon cooking in the grill to make sure there was no burning of any of the breakfast foods he was prepping for a masterpiece. 

“What’s going on here this morning? Are you burning food for an experiment or something?” She questioned, startling him in his spot, a tinkle of metal cutlery colliding with ceramic as he dropped the fork upon your sudden arrival. His body turned so gracefully in his place, the bowl of avocado being left behind on the counter, taking in the standing stature of his girlfriend as she stood in the archway of the kitchen entryway. Her hair damp from the shower but dried enough not to leave wet patches on her clothes, fresh-faced and make-up free, looking so small as she stood with a grin on her face- god, he really loved her., “Good morning, sunshine.”

“Good morning to you,” he smiled warmly, stepping across the expanse between them and reaching for her hands, curling his fingertips into hers and holding them gently in his sweetened hold. He smelt like his musky and sandalwood-scented aftershave, something that always lingered in whatever room he entered, and she loved that it made her feel so safe and secure. The smell of home when they/he were away from home. “You were tossing and turning in bed all night and I heard you sniffling this morning so I knew you were going to wake up a little ill so I thought I’d make you breakfast to cheer you up. Egg and mashed avocado on toast with some bacon to get you going since it’s your favourite at the moment.”

She smiled appreciatively. He was attentive, no matter what the subject was, and his eidetic memory came in hand sometimes when she found a new obsession or found something that she enjoyed because he always seemed to remember and never let it slip his mind. Egg and avocado on toast just so happened to be her favourite meal for the first meal of the day, which she knew would change by next week, and to see him cooking it made her heart race for him a little more than normal. She laced her fingers through his, bringing one of his hands to her lips and pressing a kiss to his skin because there was no way she was going to kiss him on the lips because she knew whatever she had could pass as quickly as it could spread. Much to her dismay, of course, because she liked to sneak the occasional and sneaky kiss whenever they could in between meetings or briefings or orders being thrown about from Hotch. 

“A little ill?” She frowned, head dipping down to her chest before looking back up at him, his eyes full of concern and worry, “I feel fine. Just a little bunged up. A head cold, I would say, Spence.”

He left the space in front of her to tend to the sizzling in the pan that was becoming a little more vicious as it held the cooking eggs, spitting oil as an indication that they were ready to be taken out and placed on a plate and ready to sit upon a bed of toasted bloomer bread that had a spread of avocado along the toasted top. Turning off the hob and sliding to the toaster, slipping two slices of bread into their toaster and allowing it to toast whilst the bacon finished grilling under the heat. And, by this point, YN took it upon herself to sit at the dining table and pour herself a cup of coffee from the cafetiere perched in the middle of the table, steaming with black coffee that had been freshly made before she left the bedroom.

“You look beautiful today, by the way,” Spencer broke the silence of the quiet apartment with a huff and a puff surrounding his words, setting a plate down in front of her and swiping his brow with the back of his hand, “you’re so beautiful.”

“I don’t feel beautiful right now, Spence,” she informed him, eyes focused on the bright yellow yolk of her egg, as he went back to grab his plate and walked back to the table to sit opposite her. She was impressed with his attempt. She liked her eggs cooked in a very specific way when it came to frying them, sunny-side up and with a runny yolk that covered everything when it broke, and he managed to get it perfectly to her expectations. “I’m all bunged up and snotting and leaking from every hole today. I don’t feel so pretty.”

“Every hole?” 

“Every facial hole, you pervert,” she scoffed and rolled her eyes, trying to hide the smirk that would have shown if she wasn’t trying to be a tiny bit serious. However, deep down, she was a little surprised that the innocent face that had sat opposite her at the dining table could even think of euphemisms so youthful and degenerative so quickly and so on subject when sex wasn’t exactly something he was confident in, “get your dirty mind out of the gutter.”

“I still think you look beautiful. Snot all around your nostrils or not,” he said, “absolutely gorgeous.”

“Shut up, don’t flatter me,” she kicked his shin underneath the table and grinned at the contact she felt with her toes, a wince leaving his mouth and a dribble of yolk trickling down his chin, the impact jerking his body and therefore jolting his arm and smearing avocado across his cheek, much to her amusement.  “serves you right, genius.”

“Hurry up and eat, we’re needed in the roundtable room in half an hour,” he shovelled a forkful of toast into his mouth, the crust catching his mouth and swiping a mix of avocado and egg whites across his upper lip.“Try not to sniffle and cough so much otherwise Hotch won’t allow you on the jet.”

“Don’t sabotage my job, Spencer. The team needs me just as much as they need you.” 

“I want you as close to me as possible so I can keep an eye on you. I’m a doctor, after all. I can look after you, carry any meds you need, be your something warm on the jet,” his sentence was halted by the ringing from the phone in his trouser pocket, the fork in his hand being placed on the plate so he could dig around and pull it out, no hesitation in his thumb to answer until he heard YN sniffle and he caught himself before he pressed the green call button. “You’re still alert to everything, yeah? Still good to come into work?”

“Do you mean, am I alert that Hotch is ringing your phone right now to get confirmation that we’ll be in on time?” She wondered, a hint of a smirk on her face when he looked up from his screen and nodded, “then yeah, I’m still good to go to work and treat the any like any normal day, Spence.”

+

“Are you feeling okay?” 

Spencer’s question was full of concern, and she worried that those overhearing their conversation because of the silence inside the confinement of the plane had their ears pricking up at any noise made by any one of the team, his long legs striding across the alley of the plane and crouching down beside the chair YN had made herself comfortable in for the duration of the flight to Texas. Away from everyone else, away from where chat would have been occupied because her head couldn’t take the jokes and the laughter that came from the gentle banter shared, away from being seated next to anyone in close proximity because she feared that she would definitely give something to someone in the tight space they were spending the next few hours. Although, when she looked around the plane for any eyes on her or anyone who had stopped mid-task to focus on what she and Spencer were talking about, she saw everyone off in their own worlds and in their own quiet conversations as the plane coursed its path. 

“I’m a bit tired but I’m okay. The pills before the flight are kicking in,” she smiled and tilted her head to the side and looked at him through red-rimmed eyes and hooded eyelids hanging above her coloured orbs, his arms folded on the arm of the chair she was curled up in. Her legs felt a little achy, in the bent up position they were in, and she remembered to move them and stretch them for a little to make sure her circulation was still running well. “I think I might take a nap right now. How long till we land?”

“Another couple of hours,” Spencer looked at his watch and then looked back to YN, his hand resting upon hers reassuringly, “I’ll brief you on everything when we land, if you want. To refresh your memory. I’ll get Hotch to get me and you to check the abduction site.”

“That’ll be good.”

“YN, get as much rest as you need,” Rossi said, standing behind Spencer and placing a soothing hand on his shoulder, squeezing it to tell him he was there and to not stand bolt upright in surprise. Partly to silently reassure him that she’d be fine if he left her to sleep through the flight to pass the time and partly to keep him stable as the plane hit a bout of soft turbulence from the gusts of high winds. “We’re thankful you chose to come with us but don’t forget to put yourself first sometimes. If you’re feeling rough then tell us. We can work around that.”

She really adored David.

He was like the father of the team; much more to YN because she had joined the team a short amount of time before he had taken over from Gideon. Even though he had common ground with almost every one of the agents in the unit, the two of them still kept a lookout for one another and checked in during intense cases because Rossi knew some of the information was enough to have someone second guess their career paths. He was the one who always pulled them aside when a situation got a little hated, he was the one who always pulled together team functions outside of work, he cooked for them and taught them Italian and he always knew how to shock and surprise them to a point where they weren’t surprised that Rossi had such an emotional and bumpy road in life.

He was the good cop to Hotch's bad cop - but that usually switched from time to time.

“Rossi, I’m fine. Honestly. I feel fine, just a little bunged up in the chest and the nose area. I struggled to sleep last night so I’m just going to try and grab an hour's shuteye,” YN spoke softly, wiping a tissue underneath her nose and balling it up in her fist, “I’ll be fine after a sleep, I’m sure. My grandma always told me that sleep was the best medicine.”

“If you’re sure,” he hummed, taking a step to the left and hiding in the alcove to make himself a cup of coffee, “absolutely sure?”

“This may not be my grandma’s couch but,” she grinned tiredly and nodded, “I’m absolutely sure.”

He smiled and held his coffee cup tightly in his hands, walking back to where he had been situated opposite JJ and Hotch, taking a glance at Morgan who had found himself comfortable on the sofa of the plane, the case file spread out on either side of him as he prepped to take control of the quick brief they always made so they were ready for when they touched down at their destination and split off into pairs to gain better understanding of who they were dealing with this time around.

“Warm enough?” Before his question was over, he was already shrugging off his jacket and opening it up, “here, some extra warmth,” he draped the material over her body and watched as she snuggled deeply beneath the garment. It smelt like him, it felt like him but it wasn’t him and she wished she could be snuggled on his lap and sleeping under his arm because that's where she slept the best- “better?”

“I was fine before,” she rolled her eyes and tilted her head to the touch of his lips, a kiss being placed against her forehead “but this feels nice.”

“Get comfy, I’ll go grab you some water.”

“You don’t need to baby me, Spencer. I’m honestly fine,” she grabbed his arm and stopped him from standing up and moving into the alcove behind her, not that he was going far but she just wanted to enjoy the moment they had going right now. They rarely got the chance to have their own conversation, in their own world, without any interruption from someone who wanted to tease them for something silly, “just stay here. I don’t need any water, not thirsty.”

“You can’t finish a sentence with the letter ‘d’ finding its way to the end of a word,” he said teasingly, a grin on his face because when she rolled her eyes, her head went the movement, like she went to ignore him because he couldn’t say anything seriously when she wanted him to be serious. Except, she wasn’t doing it to ignore him and to silently tell him that she was displeased with what he had said- she was doing it because if he let her eyes move on their own, her head would have been aching for moments afterwards, “let me grab you some water.”

“Spencer, stop,” she whined, “if I want water then I can get it myself. I’m not an invalid.”

“Never said you were but let me take care of you this time,” he was practically begging. She was independent when it came to being sick and she never liked to show a vulnerable side in front of Spencer, even when he tried his best to wear her down to the point where she gave in to his relentlessness, “please?”

She sighed heavily and pulled his jacket further up her body, tucking it beneath her chin and cosying a little deeper into the seat; she supposed she could use him and his willingness to obey orders to her advantage.

“Okay, fine.”

+

Two days had passed since they had landed in Texas, the longest amount of time that they’d ever spent on a case across the borders, and they were closer to the arrest of the predator who had abducted, raped and killed multiple women over the course of thirteen months than they were when they first arrived. Just a few more hours until they solved the case, had it come to an end with an arrest, so they could be on the jet and back in Virginia come nightfall.

She was ill, granted, and that was one reason as to why she couldn’t wait to get home. In the last forty-eight hours since they’d been there, YN’s head cold had turned into a full body cold and she had taken a turn for the worst but refused to work from the hotel room she shared with Spencer and kept her symptoms more secret. Partly because she was selfish - she knew Hotch would want her working away from the case because the chances of her zoning out where pretty high and she wanted in on the arrest of this unsub, she wanted to be the one who got him in cuffs and put him away for the murders of so many innocent women. 

She wanted her own bed and she wanted to cuddle with Spencer and she wanted to sleep beneath her own covers and sleep in a mattress that Spencer wouldn’t check and inform her on all the facts about bed-bugs and larva that could linger within the spring beneath them, in a bed that wasn’t a tiny hotel bed that was put to shame by their comfortable bed at home. she wanted a decent shower to freshen up in because she always woke up feeling gross and no matter how many showers she took, she still couldn’t rid herself of the sweaty feeling that covered her skin. and she wanted 

But she couldn’t wait to get home and try to rid herself of the information and the images she had been looking at and reciting and listening to over the last 48 hours or so. The stab wounds and the lacerations and the markings on the body of a woman who couldn’t defend herself, the brutal depiction of the well-thought out scenario that made YN shudder in her boots, the toture equipment that had been used on them when they were bound and tied up and screaming for their lives, the pictures showing the faces of the women who no longer had a life to live due to someone’s sadistic behaviour. That was the biggest reason as to why she couldn’t wait to go home.

And it was her arrest.

And she felt proud, a sense of accomplishment, that she was the one to handcuff him and walk him out from his tomb in the basement, beneath the house he had stayed in all his life, and pass him off to a police official who sat him in a police car waiting to take him to the station to be put away for the rest of his sorry life. Of course, they prevented any more attacks that this man would have prepared for but it never brought her a full sense of happiness- how could it when they couldn’t save the girls he had tortured?

“Even when you’re ill, you’re still a badass,” JJ claimed, squeezing YN’s hand and feeling the adrenaline shaking through her body. Something that they had all been through and always experienced no matter how many times they brought a criminal to justice for the horrific things they had done. “You did good, YN.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m a badass just-” she coughed into her free hand and Spencer was close by with a tissue from his jacket pocket, passing it to her so she could blow her nose and wipe the residue from her hand that came from clearing her throat, “just trying to be good at my job and trying to do it well to get these sons of bitches behind bars.”

JJ smiled at the two of them and jogged down the steps of the house, running toward Hotch as she filled him in and told him what had happened in the house and who made the arrest and who was their support and back-up in case things went wrong so he could write the report as best and as true to the story as he could. His eyes darted to YN and then back to JJ a few times as she explained in detail, a small smile on his face that was full of appreciation when he looked at YN and made eye contact which enticed a smile back in his direction, deep in conversation before clambering into the drivers side of the car. 

“I’d agree with JJ,” Spencer smiled, laying his arm over her shoulder and pulling YN into his side, pressing a kiss to her hairline, “full of a cold and you still put the job first. That’s badass behaviour to me.”

“Badass,” YN scoffed and rolled her eyes, looking up at him and squinting from the sunlight that seemed to be beaming directly down upon them, “I don’t think so, Spence.” 

They descended the steps outside the front of the house, his arm still holding her close, the soft feeling of grass and soil from the front lawn making a difference to the concrete they had walked upon as they exited the house. YN could feel the heat radiating all around, making her feel a little hotter than usual and she had the  big jumper covering her upper body to thank for that, and she couldn't wait to be back in Virginia in the air-conditioned office that stayed at a calm and cooling temperature, no matter the weather.

“For a genius, I’d take his word for it,” Rossi said from behind them, overtaking them in a haste to grab the passenger seat in the car with Hotch, “he knows what he’s talking about, YN.”

She didn’t need to see his face to see and hear the smirk in his voice, her arm sneaking around Spencer’s waist, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment as she received a well-done from the rest of the team who had watched from behind the scenes.

“Come on,” he leant away from her and looked down at her, “you did so good today. I’m proud of you.”

“I just want to go home now. Although, I’m not looking forward to the flight with these ears. They ache like mad,” she admitted. Her earshad only just started aching that morning, something she thought would pass if she kept clearing out her nasal passages and 

“We could drive home,” “I can make Morgan take us back. He won’t mind.”

“I will mind. It’s three hours by jet, five by car,” Morgan teased, elbowing Spencer in the arm with hopes he took it as a piece of banter and nothing more than that, “no, I can do. Of course. We can grab a bite to eat on the way home, too.”

“No, flying is much quicker and I want to be home and in bed by nightfall,” YN assured, climbing into the car and scooting over to the far seat behind the front passenger chair, situating herself comfortably and clipping her seatbelt around her upper body, “I’ll just take some meds in a second and sleep it off as soon as we get on the jet.”

“Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent, Spence,” she nodded and gave the seat beside her a pat with her finger tips, “let’s get home.”