#But it requires a serious polish

[privateolives]

I saw people talk about their Zero Time Dilemma fixes around the tag so I thought I'd dump in my convo on the topic too (With shout-out to @oriko-magicas's galaxy brain read on Akane and Junpei)

Absolute wall of text below.

Me: I'm having trouble finding it, but there was a post talking about Akane and Junpei in Zero Time Dilemma that I really liked the interpretation of It's essentially talking about how Akane don't want anything but the perfect future with Junpei. She went through so much and spend so long aiming for fhe one needle hole solution to live that she can't settle for anything but her ideal fantasy ending anymore. Meanwhile Junpei still experiences time the way it normally goes and he was burned by 999. He knows things will never be the same cause THEY'RE not the same, but he's willing to work with that to stay with her And I think it's a super thematic read, especially when you consider their VLR attitudes

Friend: Yeah, you know, that actually makes a lot of sense to me

Me: https://www.tumblr.com/privateolives/730880206913552384?source=share

Okay I’m thinking of ztd again, and it’s how Akane only accepts a future with Junpei if it can be fairytale perfect. She wants so desperately to be that kid who died in the incinerator again, the one… There it is

Friend: That would certainly explain the way she frequently reacts to this new cynical, jaded Junpei

Me: I don't think that's her exact motivation for that ending but the sentiment is perf Yeah

Friend: It makes much more sense to me. Every time she shakes her head and says "what happened to you" it's because she's hopeful to see that same boy she used to know

Me: I think Junpei's attitude would make a lot more sense if the assholery was played up when Akane acts like he should still be the same like he was before 999. Or like the world could be how they saw it before then. It'd underline the dynamic better of "I need you to be the person I cried out to back then" and he's like "I love you but you literally made that impossible" … paired up with Carlos like "I am begging you to just talk" Carlos: you are both cute and valid but I NEED you to communicate

Friend: I think maybe part of it is that Junpei's jaded asshole net is thrown a bit wide. 'cause on one hand it is like he's upset at Akane for 999 and part of it is like he's upset that she acts like he should be the same after that, but then there's also all the shit that he went through since then and it feels like he blames her for that as well He's been through a lot in what has somehow just been one year and it feels like, perhaps fitting for someone who has also become an alcoholic, he's looking to put the blame for it all on someone

Me: Yeah Also I've been thinking, and I think there's an easy fix to the stupid "complex motives" crap. And a lot of Delta honestly

Friend: hell yeah let me hear it

Me: The whole frame he jeeps setting up with the snail. It's all about a series of small butterfly effects that cause an extremely specific outcome. That's what he wants to do too, same as the other zeroes, but he has one particular handicap: he can't shift or read timelines. He won't just know how to make the bricks fall to get the exact outcome he wants. But if he could gather enough shifters, he could read their hopping around through their minds. Because resonance would make the memories clearer. So he sets up the game that can only be completed by getting the exact result he wants and then introduces the piranha - Mira - to the equation to ensure it won't be a dead end stalemate Then in the end he can explain that yes, his motives are complex. Because the solution to save 8 billion without killing 6 billion is a hairline precise set of circumstances that he wouldn't be able to figure out what is naturally. So he had to make them create it. He had to make them all resonate to read them and make them all resonate to give them all awakened shifter powers for the future and to read at all. Furthermore I would play up his ego. The smugness of his own intelligence being double edged to believing he has to cause this himself because he's the only one who can. A staunch belief that he HAS to be what causes the bricks to fall as they should. And it'd make his point of "but I didn't do anything in this timeline. Everyone is prepped and noone is dead" more valid. Because he doesn't shift. He doesn't emotionally register all the timelines he massacred to get this one. He only know the actions that caused his personal outcome as a list of checked boxes checked off through their memories

Me: Furthermore, there could be another reason why he has to be the one triggering these events. I was super annoyed that it was like "Oh so now free the soul isn't enough. We need another terrorist group with a world ending leader. And what was the left thing about?" Well what if its not a separate terrorist group. What if the religious fanatic he's talking about is himself, transported forward in time. A younger version of himself is ending the world to create the ideal existence Dio was talking about. But the Delta who arrived in the original way back when doesn't shift. He has to live all those years. He meets interesting being like Sean that makes him realize that the differences between people makes for various choices that makes life beautiful. So now he has to find a way to out-checkmate himself to stop himself. How? Prep a group of people capable of doing what he can't to try and outsmart him. And set up a winning condition entirely set on being able to do that.

Friend: that's actually so brilliant because yeah I think definitely the weakest part of this outcome is that it doesn't really solve the problem that he set out to solve "You're all really motivated now!" oh so… what they wouldn't have tried to stop a terrorist attack if he hadn't made them all kill each other? the heck is that also, yeah I was going to ask you about that at some point. like, he doesn't mention Left at all in ZTD and I was confused if Sean was supposed to be related

Me: I don't think so. Because he was an old man when he met Sean in the hospital. But I think he was fascinated by Sean's approach to life And maybe made him consider that something could be beautiful outside of Left

Friend: this man just goin around creating marvels of science to preserve dead little boys

Me: I'm thinking part of it is also like Solving the conundrum of giving him whatever he wanted. He has his dreams of the future. He can give him that. But he's not in despair of having to die before that reality. So he gives ukm the option of death too By just giving him the option at all, he's ensured both will happen somewhere Thus the ideal outcome of how he can have both comes true Lastly, Mira's ending. I think they should have empathized more that she became a killer to understand experiencing emotions instead of just pretending them. She chases Eric because she thinks she wants to feel that rush again, but her connection with Sean could show her something different. That either through resonance she could experience emotions through others OR that you can still essentially be human even if you're only able to "simulate" having those emotions, like a robot (:Sean) does.

Me: Meanwhile Sean both wants better for and cannot forgive Mira for her crimes. But thanks to the choice with the bad and happy ends, he has an answer for how to both make Mira live with her crimes and ensure a future where it doesn't happen. By creating a split timeline where she goes back and stops her crimes from being committed. In this case, the original Mira would still know and have to live with what she did. But in the other timeline a young Mira never becomes the heart ripper and the crimes are undone. The sins are therefore both being punished and remembered for happening and erased to begin with at the same time.

Friend: you know what I like that one. that's a good way of interpreting it, especially with the way the transporter works also, doubly digging this idea. Mira being shown this robot child who either somehow experiences emotion or at the very least simulates it in such a way what it fools everyone (and also is capable of calling her out on her own emotional mistakes) should have so much more of an impact on her

Me: Yeah Like I genuinely think you could fix this game either a few tweaks

Friend: yeah absolutely also I'm not sure what the amnesia element really did for it? I guess it was to confuse the SHIFTers so they wouldn't know they had already SHIFTed but to what end?

Me: It might be to confuse the computer. Keep it from figuring out its not the real Sean too fast If it remembers being Sean it'd be easy to compare and contrast all the things that Sean definitely couldn't do or know and reach the conclusion If it doesn't remember being Sean, there's nothing to compare any contradictions to. It can only just assume that the reasons are things it can't remember Also, if the computer ONLY has Eric and Mira, it makes it more incentives to latch onto them and care about their situations, despite them both being monsters in their own right Oh Also The Carlos thing Rather than just "I couldn't have met you guys" you could do: 1) in order to fix this we need phi and Sigma here. That means we need a timeline where Akane and Junpei escape but don't stop Zero or the radical-6 outbreak. So he breaks in to bust them out. 2) they need the timeline where Delta gives them answers. Meaning they need a timeline where Zero "wins". So he can't interfere. 3) split worlds principle. By just introducing the choice to stop zero's plans or not, he's creates both options. This is the world where he doesn't stop Zero. But because he comes pre-packadged with the knowledge of what's gonna happen, he can still tail actions to secure the timeline that'll allow for them all to stop zero So there is a timeline where he stops Delta before DCOM, but because of the anthropic principle (there must be a perciever for the option to be percieved) Akane and Junpei never see it because they never had to go through the game. They only percieve the option where Carlos didn't stop Delta in time

Friend: that makes perfect sense to me gosh imagine that timeline, though. Akane and Junpei never go to DCOM so they never meet there poor Junpei is probably still chasing the ghost of this woman who …wait what was her reason for going to DCOM again?

Me: So her and Sigma could stol the outbreak Stop Of radical-6 ALSO also

Friend: yeah that's what I assume but I swear the game acts like she doesn't even know about Sigma or Phi or the outbreak

Me: (I've thought about how to fix this game a lot idk if you can tell) The thematic relevance of "but then I couldn't have met you guys" can actually be valid if you flip it around.

Friend: hahaha understandable how so?

Me: Because of Carlos, Akane can come to terms with the changes in Junpei and see the validity in the "broken" futures by showing there's things worth remembering even in the imperfect ones. Like the argument Junpei makes at the end of VLR, the relationships after the disasters still mean something to the survivors. And Carlos helps Junpei realize there's still fundamentally good people in the world and come to terms with Akane and what she did and who she is now. By inserting Carlos they're able to help mend their relationship. And if Carlos never met them because the DCOM experiment didn't go down like it did, their relationship wouldn't have been mended either They'd still just end up like how they did at the end of VLR. Essentially dead to each other "You're not who I thought you were, goodbye"

Friend: very true it certainly seems like by this game they were never really going to be able to talk it over on their own he was a necessary mediator

Me: Not to mention If Carlos never met THEM, he'd never realize the cause of the reverie syndrome to save Maria

Friend: True! Gosh she's kind of a whole anomaly herself

Me: Yes! I think it could be cool if the they worked her more into Carlos and his abilities tbh Let's think back to the 999 lore The idea of the Sender and Receiver If Maria was the "sender", she could have gone into reverie when she was stuck in the fire, trying to save herself and her family. She continues to be stuck in reverie because she keeps simulating how to a) save her family totally and b) save Carlos from all his other eventual dooms The problem with saving her family is that there is a huge world crisis going down soon that's gonna wipe out most of humanity anyway! So? Make sure Carlos goes to DCOM to save her and have her essentially be a satellite quantum simulator to feed Carlos his insights And through that also learn from Akane and Junpei (or just the experience itself) that either the timeline where their parents was also saved still exists but isn't percievable Or come to terms with their death by still having Carlos that survives both DCOM and the would-be apocalypse And thus be able to lay the endless simulations to rest and wake up (With the added cute twist that she already knows Akane and Junpei and their relationship with her brother when she wakes up. Thus why she's so invested in it in the epilogue)

Friend: that is a bizarre kind of adorable and sweet! she's his own quantum computer though I wonder if they'd be able to still use those abilities after she wakes up in that case

Me: I'm guessing it'd just go back to working like it did in 999. Carlos himself might be able to do it on his own from longtime exposure too, who knows.

[jarchivussy]

does anyone want to overthrow the polish government for me rq

[hoe4hotchner]

can i request aaron x prosecutor!reader where there's a case or smth and he's worried about her being a victim so in the middle of her preparing for an upcoming court hearing he forces her into his office. he swears it's for her safety but she's irritated and they may or may not have a little argument in front of the team 🤷🏾‍♀️

bonus if the unsub contacts her directly 👀

Overruled | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Prosecutor Fem!reader | WC: 0.8k | CW: Threats mentioned, argument, mention of death, power dynamics.

The knock on your office door was curt and authoritative. You didn’t look up from your notes, flipping through the organized chaos of case law and precedents sprawled across your desk. The highlighter cap clenched between your teeth shifted as you marked a line in a recent appellate decision, your mind already structuring the argument you would present in court.

“If it’s not an evidentiary ruling or a direct confession, I don’t have time,” you called without missing a beat, barely sparing a second to acknowledge the interruption.

The door opened anyway.

“You’re coming with me.”

That unmistakable voice had your hands freezing mid-scribble. Aaron Hotchner.

Slowly, you lifted your gaze, arching a brow. He was standing in your doorway, tie slightly loosened, his usual rigid posture even stiffer than normal. His jaw was locked, and his eyes—dark, serious, resolute—they left no room for negotiation. There was an energy about him, one you recognized as equal parts command and concern. He wasn’t here to discuss, he was here to dictate.

You exhaled through your nose, placing your pen down deliberately. “I have a hearing in less than—”

“I don’t care.”

You narrowed your eyes, fingers tightening against the polished wood of your desk. “Excuse me?”

“You’re not safe.” His voice was a low, unwavering command. “Pack up your things.”

You scoffed, leaning back in your chair, arms crossing over your chest. “Oh, that’s rich. Is this about the threats? Because unless they’ve escalated to something actionable, you know as well as I do that speculation isn’t grounds for detainment. I deal with threats all the time, Aaron. Occupational hazard.”

“This isn’t a debate, counselor,” he shot back, stepping further into the room, the movement subtle but deliberate, reinforcing his presence. “We have credible intelligence that your involvement in the Martinez case has made you a target. That’s more than enough reason to remove you from your office.”

Your fingers curled around the stack of legal briefs on your desk, grip tightening. “Credible intelligence or speculation?”

“I’m not arguing with you about this.” His tone was clipped and controlled, but you could hear the underlying frustration laced beneath his professionalism.

“Well, you’re going to have to,” you countered, standing now, matching his intensity. “Because I don’t answer to the FBI, and I sure as hell don’t answer to you, Agent Hotchner.”

Something flickered in his gaze, a fleeting flash of something you couldn’t quite place. His jaw tensed, his hands flexing at his sides as if physically restraining himself from saying something he knew he shouldn’t.

“You’re being reckless,” he ground out.

“No, I’m doing my job,” you shot back, stepping around your desk to meet him head-on. “A job that requires me to be in that courtroom tomorrow, not hidden away in protective custody like some fragile witness.”

“A job that requires you to be alive to argue it.”

The air between you crackled, the tension no longer just about your safety, but about something deeper—an unspoken battle of wills, of concern masquerading as control, of autonomy clashing with protectiveness.

And then, of course, it had to get worse.

“Uh, should we—”

You turned your head sharply at the sound of a voice, only to find the rest of the BAU team gathered near your doorway, watching the unfolding showdown with varying degrees of concern, amusement, and outright alarm.

Prentiss cleared her throat, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Should we leave you two alone, or…?”

Hotch’s jaw flexed, his already strained patience thinning. “Go back to work.”

Morgan chuckled under his breath but raised his hands in surrender, retreating with a murmured, “Man’s on a mission.”

You exhaled sharply, rubbing at your temple, frustration giving way to something more complicated.

“Aaron.”

He stiffened at the use of his first name. The team had disappeared, but the weight of the conversation remained, pressing down on both of you like an unseen force.

“I’m not asking you to like this,” he said, voice lower now, edged with something almost—pleading? “But I need you to trust me.”

Your throat tightened. You wanted to fight him on this, wanted to push back, but beneath the stubbornness was something undeniable—the quiet and insistent worry in his eyes.

“You’re going to miss my closing argument,” you muttered, trying to salvage the last shreds of control you had over this situation.

His lips pressed together, as though he were biting back the words he really wanted to say. Then, finally: “I’d rather miss it than have to give your eulogy.”

The fight drained out of you all at once. You swallowed hard. “Damn it, Aaron.”

“Pack your things.” Softer now, but no less firm.

You exhaled, shaking your head, but finally, you reached for your briefcase. The gravity of his words settled in your chest, heavier than you wanted to admit.

“Fine,” you muttered. “But if I miss my hearing, you owe me dinner.”

His eyes softened just a fraction. “Done.”

[28harryssunflower]

Royal scandal - a mini series: Part 1/4

Royal scandal: Part 1

The grand dining hall of Buckingham Palace was oppressively silent, save for the sound of silverware clinking against fine china. Candlelight flickered off the polished mahogany table, casting long shadows across the velvet-draped walls.

Harry pushed the food around on his plate, barely listening to his mother’s polite small talk with one of the visiting dignitaries. His father sat at the head of the table, regal as always, his expression unreadable.

Then, with a deliberate clearing of his throat, King Edward turned his attention to Harry.

“It’s time we discuss something important,” the King said, setting his wine glass down with a soft clink. The conversation around them quieted instantly.

Harry sighed, already knowing where this was going. “Do we have to?”

“Yes.” His father’s tone was firm. “You are twenty-one, Harry. It’s time you start taking your responsibilities seriously.”

Harry exhaled sharply and leaned back in his chair. “I am taking my responsibilities seriously.”

The King scoffed. “Is that what you call the drunken outings? The constant presence of your name in the tabloids? The string of women you leave behind without a second thought?”

A muscle in Harry’s jaw tightened. “What I do in my personal life is my business.”

“Not when you are the Prince of England.” The King’s voice grew sharper. “You cannot behave like some reckless commoner with no obligations. Your duty is to this country, to your people. It is time to act like it.”

Queen Anne sighed softly, placing a gentle hand on her husband’s arm. “Perhaps we should discuss this privately.”

“No, we will discuss this now,” the King said. “Harry needs to understand the weight of his position.” He turned back to Harry, eyes cold and unwavering. “You will be married within the next six months.”

Harry froze.

His fork clattered against his plate, the sound echoing through the silent room.

“What?”

“You heard me,” his father continued. “You are of age, and it is time you settle down. If you do not find a suitable wife soon, I will choose one for you.”

Harry let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking his head. “You can’t be serious.”

The King’s expression didn’t waver. “I am.”

Harry’s heart pounded in his chest. “That’s ridiculous. You can’t just force me into a marriage.”

“You are a prince, Harry. This is how things work. A marriage will stabilize your image and strengthen alliances. You will choose a woman of noble standing, someone with grace, intelligence, and the ability to uphold the duties of a princess. No more scandals, no more reckless behavior.”

Harry pushed his chair back abruptly, the legs scraping against the marble floor. “And what if I refuse?”

His father’s eyes darkened. “Then I will make the decision for you.”

Harry clenched his fists, rage bubbling beneath his skin. “So that’s it? You’d just hand me off to some woman I don’t even love? Someone who only cares about the title, the money, the power?”

His father’s gaze remained hard. “Love is a luxury, not a necessity.”

Harry let out a bitter laugh. “That’s easy for you to say. You already have everything you want.”

Queen Anne frowned, her voice softer. “Harry, I know this may seem unfair, but-“

“No.” He cut her off, his voice sharp. “It’s not fair. It’s my life.”

His father stood, his towering presence only adding to the tension. “You are a prince before you are a man. And you will do what is required of you.”

Harry’s hands curled into fists at his sides. His entire life had been dictated by duty, by expectations, by rules. But this? This was too far.

Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the dining hall, ignoring the calls of his mother and the murmurs of the guests. He needed air. He needed an escape.

That was how he found himself in the heart of London hours later, dressed in worn jeans and a hoodie, stepping into a dimly lit bar.

The place smelled of whiskey and cigarette smoke, the low hum of conversation blending with the faint sound of a jukebox playing an old rock song. It was exactly what he needed.

Behind the bar, you were wiping down the counter when he approached. You recognized him immediately - how could you not? He was the Prince of England, his face plastered across tabloids and news outlets constantly.

But instead of gawking or treating him like royalty, you simply raised an eyebrow.

“What’ll it be?”

Harry smirked, but there was a bitterness to it. “You’re not gonna bow or curtsy?”

You snorted, leaning on the counter. “You want me to? ’Cause I’m pretty sure you came in here looking like a regular bloke for a reason.”

He blinked at you, caught off guard. Most people fawned over him, desperate for a selfie or a conversation that they could brag about later. But you… you didn’t seem to care.

And for the first time that day, Harry felt like he could breathe.

So he told you everything. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the way you just listened, nodding along without judgment. You even did a few shots with him, making sure he had a good time. He didn’t have to be Prince Harry here - he could just be Harry.

And when the night ended, it didn’t feel like a mistake when he ended up in your bed.

One night turned into two. Then three. Then a routine.

Harry kept coming back, and you never asked for anything more than what he was willing to give. No expectations, no pressure. Just him.

But that all came crashing down one night when, at nearly 3AM, frantic knocking at your door jolted you awake.

You barely had time to open it before Harry barreled inside, his face streaked with tears, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths.

“I can’t do this,” he choked out, collapsing into your arms. “My father’s going to start looking for a wife for me. I can’t- I won’t… be forced into some loveless marriage with a woman who only wants the title. I just want-“ He sucked in a breath. “I just want to be happy. I want love. A real family. Not something arranged for me like I’m some pawn.”

You held him, running soothing circles along his back. You wanted to say something comforting, but what words could possibly fix this?

And then, an idea struck.

“Harry,” you murmured, pulling back just enough to look into his red-rimmed eyes. “What if… what if you introduced me to them?”

His brows furrowed. “What?”

“What if we got married?” You swallowed hard, nervous about his reaction. “I mean, at least we like each other. It wouldn’t be forced. And it’d buy you time - keep you from being stuck with someone awful.”

Harry scoffed, shaking his head. “They’d never let me marry a bartender.”

“Then I won’t be a bartender.” You took a breath. “I’ll tell them I’m in college, that I’d drop out for you. We can make this work - we just have to convince them.”

He stared at you, searching your face for any sign of hesitation.

Then, against all odds, a small, breathless laugh escaped his lips.

“You’re mad.”

“Maybe.” You shrugged. “But so are you for coming here at 3AM crying in my arms.”

Harry let out a deep sigh, rubbing a hand down his face. Then, he looked at you again - really looked at you.

“Alright,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Let’s do it.”

The plan was simple.

Well, as simple as introducing a commoner bartender to the King and Queen of England under the guise of being a respectable college student could be.

Harry sat across from you in your small apartment, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together as he stared at the floor. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the weight of the world pressing down on him.

“This is crazy,” he muttered.

You leaned back against the couch, crossing your arms. “A little.”

“They’ll never go for it.”

You shrugged. “Not if you walk in there doubting it. You have to make them believe it.”

Harry let out a deep sigh and dragged his hands through his curls. You could tell he was struggling. He wanted a way out of this marriage arrangement, but deceiving his family - especially his mother - wasn’t something he took lightly.

“You know they’ll do a background check on you, right?” he asked.

“Obviously,” you said. “Which is why we have to be smart. I’ll tell them I’m in school, that I study… something impressive.”

“Political science,” Harry said quickly. “That would make sense. It would explain why we met - maybe at some charity event or lecture I attended.”

You nodded. “Right. And we’ve been seeing each other for months now, just keeping it quiet.”

Harry exhaled sharply, glancing over at you. “And you’d really do this?”

You looked at him, taking in the uncertainty in his eyes. This wasn’t just about helping him avoid a loveless marriage. It was more than that. Somewhere along the way, what started as casual hookups and late-night conversations had turned into something deeper. You liked him - more than you should have, more than you were willing to admit.

So you swallowed down the nerves creeping up your spine and nodded. “Yeah. I would.”

His lips parted slightly, his gaze searching yours. You weren’t sure what he was looking for, but whatever it was, he must have found it.

Because he whispered, “Okay.”

The next few days were a whirlwind of preparation.

Harry took care of the logistics, ensuring that you were given the right credentials, setting up a believable history of your supposed time at university. He even had someone help polish up your online presence - social media accounts cleaned up, LinkedIn updated with impressive details that made you sound like a brilliant up-and-coming scholar rather than a bartender slinging drinks to London’s rowdiest crowds.

Meanwhile, you practiced.

You memorized details about your “studies,” learned the etiquette of addressing royals properly (even though Harry assured you that his parents wouldn’t expect you to bow or curtsy), and prepared answers for the inevitable questions about your background.

But the hardest part wasn’t the preparation.

It was the waiting.

The night before you were supposed to meet them, Harry stayed over. You sat together on your couch, both nursing glasses of whiskey, the air between you heavy with unspoken thoughts.

“If this goes wrong…” Harry murmured, staring at his glass.

You shifted closer to him. “Then we deal with it.”

He let out a humorless laugh. “You make it sound so simple.”

“Maybe it is.”

Harry turned his head toward you, his green eyes filled with something unreadable. His gaze flickered to your lips for the briefest moment before he shook his head and looked away.

“I don’t deserve this,” he muttered.

You frowned. “Don’t deserve what?”

“This. You.” He swallowed. “I dragged you into this mess, and you’re willing to lie to my entire family just to help me.”

Your heart clenched. You wanted to tell him that it wasn’t just about helping him.

But instead, you smirked and nudged his shoulder. “Well, I’m not doing it for free. I expect lifetime access to the palace’s wine collection.”

Harry huffed out a small laugh, shaking his head. “Deal.”

Buckingham Palace was even more intimidating in person.

You had never been inside before, and now, standing in the grand foyer with its towering ceilings and ornate chandeliers, you felt very, very small.

Harry stood beside you, dressed in a sharp navy suit, looking every bit the prince he was. He had told you not to be nervous, that his mother would be kind and his father would be fair.

But none of that mattered when the King and Queen of England entered the room.

Queen Anne was graceful and poised, her smile warm as she took you in. She was beautiful, elegant in a way that made you understand why the country adored her.

King Edward, on the other hand, was… intimidating. His gaze was sharp, assessing, his posture rigid as he studied you.

“So,” the King said, his voice deep and measured. “You are the woman my son has been seeing.”

You straightened your spine, keeping your expression polite but neutral. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

There was a pause. The tension in the room was thick, like everyone was waiting for someone to say something that would determine the entire outcome of this meeting.

Queen Anne smiled. “Harry has spoken highly of you.”

You glanced at him. He was staring straight ahead, jaw clenched.

You turned back to her. “That’s very kind of him.”

“What is it you study?” the King asked.

“Political science,” you answered smoothly. “I’ve always been passionate about government and international relations.”

The Queen tilted her head. “How did you two meet?”

Harry stepped in. “At a private charity event. We got to talking about politics, and we just… connected.”

The King didn’t seem convinced. He studied you for a long moment before finally saying, “And tell me, if this were to continue - if it were to become official - would you be willing to give up your personal ambitions to stand by my son’s side?”

Your stomach twisted. This was the moment.

“Yes,” you said without hesitation. “If it meant supporting Harry, then yes.”

The Queen seemed pleased with that answer. The King, however, remained unreadable.

Finally, he looked at Harry. “A word. Alone.”

Harry stiffened, but nodded.

You watched as he followed his father out of the room, your pulse pounding in your ears.

Queen Anne turned to you with a kind smile. “Would you like some tea while they talk?”

You managed a smile, but your mind was racing.

The moment the King led Harry out of the room, your stomach twisted into knots.

Queen Anne, ever the picture of warmth and grace, poured you a cup of tea with delicate hands, as if this were nothing more than an afternoon social call. You tried to steady your nerves, tried to ignore the fact that just beyond these walls, Harry was being confronted by one of the most powerful men in the world.

You wrapped your hands around the fine china cup, more for something to hold than to actually drink from it.

The Queen studied you for a moment before speaking. “I must say, I was quite surprised when Harry told us about you.”

You forced a polite smile. “I imagine so.”

She let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head. “Not because of who you are, but because Harry has never been one to commit. Not to anything that wasn’t forced upon him.”

Your throat tightened. Was this a test? A warning?

“You must mean a great deal to him if he brought you here,” she continued.

You hesitated before responding. “I’d like to think so.”

The Queen smiled knowingly, but there was something sharp in her eyes, something that told you she wasn’t as easily convinced as she seemed.

You were about to say something else when the doors swung open, and Harry reentered. You barely had time to assess his expression before he turned to you.

“We should go.”

Something was wrong.

You set down your tea and rose to your feet, glancing at the Queen, who simply nodded in farewell. As you followed Harry out of the room, you kept your voice low.

“What happened?”

He didn’t respond until you were outside, stepping into the sleek black car waiting to take you away from Buckingham Palace. The second the doors shut, Harry let out a sharp breath and ran a hand through his hair.

“He doesn’t believe it,” he muttered.

Your stomach dropped. “What?”

“My father. He doesn’t believe us.”

You swallowed hard. “What did he say?”

Harry let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “He said I’m lying. That this is all an act to get out of my arranged marriage. That you’re nothing more than an excuse.”

Your chest tightened, but you forced yourself to stay calm. “So what now?”

Harry turned to you, his jaw tight, his green eyes dark with frustration. “Now? Now he’s going to do everything in his power to prove I’m lying.”

Over the next week, the scrutiny was relentless.

The palace had people digging into your past, scouring every detail of your life, looking for any reason to dismiss you. Paparazzi started sniffing around, and before long, tabloids were already speculating about Harry’s “mystery woman.”

You’d never been under this kind of microscope before. At work, people whispered when they saw you. Your coworkers asked questions. And when the first grainy photos of you and Harry surfaced online - him walking you to your door, his hand lingering on your waist - the media frenzy only grew worse.

But the real pressure came from within the palace itself.

Queen Anne invited you to lunch three days after your meeting, her expression as gentle as ever but her words careful. “You must understand,” she said, her hands folded neatly on the table, “this isn’t just about Harry. It’s about the monarchy, about the future of the country. If you truly care for him, you must be prepared for what this life entails.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a challenge.

And then there was the King.

He summoned you alone one evening, without Harry’s knowledge. The meeting took place in one of the palace’s smaller sitting rooms, the air thick with unspoken tension.

The King sat across from you, his sharp eyes assessing, calculating. “You think this will work?” he asked bluntly.

You held his gaze. “I think Harry should be allowed to choose his own future.”

A small, humorless smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “And you believe you are that future?

You swallowed, keeping your expression steady. “I believe I care about him enough to try.”

The King leaned forward, his expression unreadable. “Tell me, how much is he paying you?”

The words struck like a slap. Your breath caught in your throat, but you refused to let the shock show.

“I’m sorry?”

The King’s lips curved into something that might have been a smile if it weren’t so cold. “I know my son. He is desperate to escape the obligations placed upon him, desperate enough to go to great lengths to do so.” He tilted his head. “So tell me - how much did he offer you? Money? Status? What was the deal?”

Your blood ran cold.

Your entire life, you had been underestimated, dismissed by people who thought they were better than you. But this - this was the King of England accusing you of being a gold-digger, a liar, a pawn in his son’s game.

And you wouldn’t stand for it.

You straightened your shoulders and met his gaze head-on. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, I don’t need Harry’s money. I don’t need his title. I don’t need anything from him.”

The King studied you, but you weren’t done.

“I didn’t come into his life looking for a way out of mine. And I certainly didn’t agree to this relationship because of what he could offer me. I care about him. I see him as a person, not just a prince. And if that’s not good enough for you, then I don’t know what is.”

A beat of silence passed.

And then, to your utter shock, the King chuckled.

It was a deep, knowing sound, like he had expected you to break and was almost impressed that you hadn’t. He stood, brushing nonexistent dust off his perfectly tailored suit.

“Well then,” he said. “I suppose we’ll see how long you last.”

And just like that, he walked out, leaving you alone in the vast, empty room.

Your hands trembled slightly as you exhaled.

This wasn’t just a test anymore.

This was war.

When you told Harry about the conversation later that night, he was furious.

“He what?” Harry’s voice was sharp, his hands clenched into fists as he paced your apartment. “He accused you of- bloody hell.”

You sat on the couch, watching him wear a hole into your floor. “Harry, calm down.”

“No.” He stopped, turning to you with fire in his eyes. “He had no right to do that. No right to treat you like-” He cut himself off, his jaw tight.

You stood, walking over to him and resting a hand on his arm. “I handled it.”

Harry’s expression softened slightly, but the frustration didn’t leave his eyes. “You shouldn’t have to handle it.”

You sighed. “I knew this wouldn’t be easy. And honestly? I think your dad respects me more now.”

Harry let out a breath, dragging a hand through his curls. “That makes one of us.”

You smirked. “Oh, come on. What would be the fun in this if there wasn’t a bit of royal drama?”

He let out a small laugh, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

You grinned. “And yet, here we are.”

Harry exhaled and cupped your face with his hands, his thumbs brushing lightly against your cheeks. “Yeah,” he murmured, his voice softer now. “Here we are.”

And as he kissed you, slow and deep, you realized something terrifying.

This wasn’t just a plan anymore.

You were falling for him.

And if this all went wrong, you weren’t sure your heart would survive it.

It had been two weeks since your confrontation with the King.

Two weeks of scrutiny, of whispered meetings with Harry in your apartment, of watching the media dissect every little movement you made. The palace hadn’t officially acknowledged your relationship, but the press had already put the pieces together. Every tabloid ran their own version of the story - some calling you a mystery scholar, others labeling you a gold-digger who had seduced the prince.

And through it all, Harry had been by your side.

He showed up at your apartment almost every night, exhausted and frustrated, but unwilling to let this fight go. You’d stay up for hours, strategizing your next move, trying to find a way to win his father over. But as much as you prepared, you knew one thing - if the King had already made up his mind, nothing would change it.

And that became painfully clear when Harry got the news.

The King had begun the search for his future wife.

Harry stormed into your apartment that night, his face red with anger, his curls a mess from running his hands through them. The moment he saw you, he grabbed your face and kissed you - desperate, urgent, like he needed to remind himself that you were real.

When he pulled away, he was breathing heavily.

“He’s doing it,” he spat. “He’s already selecting candidates. He’s meeting with their families, setting up discreet meetings.”

You felt your stomach drop.

“Harry-“

“I won’t do it.” His voice was sharp, unwavering. “I won’t marry some aristocrat I don’t know. I won’t be forced into a life I don’t want.”

You swallowed, reaching for his hands. “Then we have to do something.”

He exhaled shakily, his grip tightening around yours. “Like what?”

And that’s when the idea hit you.

“An engagement.”

Harry blinked. “What?”

You took a deep breath. “If we announce our engagement first - publicly - then your father will have no choice but to acknowledge us. He can’t force you into another marriage if the world already sees you as taken.”

Harry stared at you, his green eyes searching yours. “That’s insane.”

You shrugged. “A little.”

There was a beat of silence. Then, to your shock, Harry let out a small, breathless laugh.

“You’re serious.”

You lifted a brow. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He ran a hand down his face. “Because this isn’t just pretending anymore. This would mean… forever.”

Something in your chest tightened, but you kept your voice steady. “Is that really so bad?”

Harry’s expression shifted. He stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Not if it’s with you.”

Your breath caught.

And then, just like that, the decision was made.

The palace was in chaos.

The moment Harry posted a simple photo on Instagram - his hand wrapped around yours, a stunning engagement ring on your finger - the world erupted.

News outlets scrambled for statements. Social media went into a frenzy. And within an hour, Buckingham Palace was forced to issue a public response.

You sat in your apartment, your phone buzzing nonstop, watching the royal spokesperson deliver a carefully worded statement on TV.

“His Royal Highness Prince Henry has announced his engagement. The Royal Family was not made aware of this decision beforehand, but we offer our congratulations and will provide further statements in due course.”

Not exactly the warmest endorsement.

But it didn’t matter. Because now, the entire world knew.

And that meant the King couldn’t erase you.

Harry had warned you that the palace would summon you soon.

He just didn’t expect it to happen the next morning.

You barely had time to process the news before a sleek black car arrived at your apartment, and suddenly, you were being driven straight to Buckingham Palace.

By the time you entered the grand hall, your nerves were on fire.

Harry was already there, standing tall in front of his parents. Queen Anne looked composed, her lips pressed together as she studied you. But King Edward…

He was furious.

His gaze cut through you like a blade. “So this is how you do things?” he said coldly. “Announcing an engagement without our approval? Trapping us into accepting this circus?”

Your heart pounded, but you refused to back down. You lifted your chin. “Harry made his choice.”

The King scoffed. “A choice? No, this is manipulation. A desperate attempt to back us into a corner.” His sharp eyes turned to Harry. “And you. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“Yes,” Harry said, his voice unwavering. “I chose her.”

The King clenched his jaw. “Do you even understand the consequences of this? You think you can just marry some commoner and expect the world to accept it?”

Harry’s expression darkened. “Maybe the world would accept it if you did.”

The tension was suffocating.

And then, for the first time, Queen Anne spoke.

“I’d like a moment alone with her.”

Everyone turned to look at her. The King frowned, but after a long pause, he nodded. “Fine.”

Harry hesitated before turning to you. His fingers brushed against yours in a silent reassurance before he followed his father out of the room.

And then it was just you and the Queen.

She studied you for a long moment before finally speaking. “Are you in love with him?”

The question caught you off guard. You opened your mouth, then closed it.

Were you?

This had started as a plan - a way to protect Harry from an arranged marriage. But somewhere along the way, you had fallen. Fallen for his laughter, his late-night rants about music, the way he looked at you like you were the only person who had ever really seen him.

So you took a deep breath and told the truth.

“Yes.”

Queen Anne’s expression didn’t change. “And do you truly believe you can handle this life?”

You swallowed. “I don’t know. But I’m willing to try.”

She was silent for a moment. Then, to your shock, she let out a soft chuckle.

“You remind me of myself,” she murmured.

You blinked. “What?”

She smiled, but there was a knowing sadness in her eyes. “When I married Edward, I wasn’t what the world expected, either. I was too bold, too outspoken, too… untraditional.” She sighed. “But I loved him. And I fought for my place here.”

She met your gaze.

“So if you truly love my son, then fight for him.”

Your breath caught. “Does that mean…?”

The Queen smiled faintly. “It means I won’t stand in your way.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs.

She wasn’t giving you full approval. Not yet.

But she was giving you a chance.

And right now, that was more than enough.

When you walked out of the room, Harry was waiting.

The moment he saw you, he rushed forward, his hands finding yours. “What happened?”

You took a deep breath, then smiled.

“She’s on our side.”

Harry’s lips parted in shock. Then, without thinking, he pulled you into his arms, lifting you slightly off the ground.

And as he kissed you - right there in the halls of Buckingham Palace - you realized something.

This wasn’t a plan anymore.

This was real.

And you were ready to fight for it.

You weren’t surprised when the King requested to see you alone.

After all, Queen Anne may have been willing to give you a chance, but King Edward? He wasn’t one to accept things so easily.

So when a royal advisor arrived at your apartment with the summons, you didn’t hesitate. You knew what this was. A test. A final attempt to break you, to make you doubt yourself, to push you into walking away.

But you weren’t going anywhere.

You were led through the grand halls of Buckingham Palace, your footsteps echoing against the marble floors. Every corner of this place reminded you that you didn’t belong here - not yet. But if the King thought he could intimidate you into submission, he was about to be very disappointed.

The advisor finally stopped in front of a massive oak door. “He’s waiting inside,” he said stiffly.

You nodded, took a deep breath, and stepped in.

King Edward was seated in a large armchair near the fireplace, his posture straight, his hands folded neatly over his knee. The room was dimly lit, the flickering flames casting shadows across his face. He didn’t look up immediately, instead staring at the fire as if deep in thought.

You didn’t speak first. If there was one thing you’d learned from watching him, it was that he commanded every room he was in. He expected obedience. Expected people to fold under his silence.

So you waited.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he exhaled sharply through his nose and turned his gaze toward you.

“Sit.”

It wasn’t a request.

But you stayed standing.

“I’d rather not.”

His brow arched slightly, the first sign of surprise. “Is that so?”

You lifted your chin. “If you called me here just to intimidate me, Your Majesty, I’d rather skip the formalities.”

Something flickered in his eyes - annoyance, amusement, you weren’t sure. He studied you for a long moment, then leaned back in his chair.

“You think you’re very clever, don’t you?”

You shrugged. “I think I love your son.”

His jaw tightened. “Love.” He let the word linger in the air before scoffing. “Do you have any idea what it means to love someone like Harry? What it means to be part of this family?”

“I understand more than you think.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. “Then you understand that this isn’t a fairy tale. You are not a princess. You are not meant for this life.”

You clenched your fists. “Who decides that? You?”

“Yes.” His voice was sharp, cutting through the room like a blade. “I decide. Because I have spent my entire life protecting this family, this monarchy, from people like you.”

Your nails dug into your palms. “People like me?”

“People who don’t understand what this life requires. People who think love is enough to survive it. People who will break under the weight of it.” His eyes burned into yours. “You think you’re ready for this? Ready to be scrutinized, criticized, torn apart by the press? Ready to be hated by the people who don’t believe you deserve to stand beside him? Ready to sacrifice your life, your privacy, your freedom?”

Your throat tightened. You had thought about it. But hearing it like this - so brutally, so coldly - made it real.

Still, you didn’t back down.

“I don’t care what the press says about me,” you said firmly. “I don’t care about the public’s approval. I don’t care about titles or palaces or any of this.” You took a step forward, your voice unwavering. “The only thing I care about is Harry. And I won’t walk away just because you think I should.”

The King’s expression darkened. “You are playing a dangerous game.”

“So are you.” You met his gaze without flinching. “Because if you keep pushing Harry away, you’ll lose him.”

The muscles in his jaw tensed. “You think he’d leave his family?”

“I think he’s already considering it.”

That hit its mark.

For the first time, King Edward looked genuinely unsettled.

Good.

You took another step forward, your voice softening just enough. “I don’t want to take him from you. I don’t want to be the reason he walks away. But if you force him into a life he doesn’t want… if you push him into a marriage that will make him miserable… he will leave.”

Silence.

The King stared at you, his expression unreadable.

And then, in a voice so low it was almost a whisper, he said, “Do you truly love him?”

You swallowed hard. “Yes.”

He exhaled slowly, his eyes closing for a brief moment. When he looked at you again, something in his gaze had shifted.

Not acceptance. Not approval.

But understanding.

“Then prove it.”

Your breath caught. “What?”

“If you truly love my son,” the King said, standing to his full height, towering over you, “then prove it. Prove that you can handle this life. That you can handle me.”

You squared your shoulders. “I already have.”

His lips twitched, like he wanted to smirk but refused to.

Then, without another word, he turned and walked past you, leaving the room.

The moment the door shut behind him, you finally exhaled, your hands shaking.

You had won - for now.

But this war wasn’t over.

Not yet.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed before the door finally opened again.

Harry rushed in, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on you. His brows were furrowed, his jaw tense. “What did he say to you?”

You swallowed, still feeling the weight of the conversation. “He tested me.”

Harry stepped closer, reaching for your hands. His were warm, steady - grounding. “What do you mean?”

You met his gaze. “He wanted me to back down. To walk away. To prove that I wasn’t strong enough for this.”

Harry exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Of course he did.” His grip tightened around yours. “And?”

You let out a slow breath. “I didn’t.”

His expression softened, something like admiration flickering in his green eyes. “You stood up to him.”

You gave a small, tired smile. “For you? Always.”

Harry cupped your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones. “You shouldn’t have to fight for me.”

“But I will.” You held his gaze, unwavering. “If that’s what it takes, I will.”

Harry let out a breathy laugh, but there was something vulnerable in it. Like he wasn’t used to being fought for. Like he had spent his whole life being treated as an asset, a pawn in the monarchy’s game. And now, here you were, standing in front of him - defying the King himself - just to be with him.

His lips met yours, slow and lingering, as if he was trying to pour every unspoken word into the kiss. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“I love you.” His voice was hoarse, like the words had been sitting on his tongue for too long.

Your breath hitched. You had known it - felt it - but hearing it was something else entirely.

You smiled, your fingers curling around his collar. “I love you too.”

A soft knock at the door made you both pull apart.

A royal advisor stepped in, looking as stiff as ever. “His Majesty requests an audience with the Prince.”

Harry frowned. “Alone?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Harry looked back at you, hesitation flickering across his face. You squeezed his hand. “Go,” you whispered. “See what he wants.”

He exhaled through his nose, clearly reluctant, but nodded. He pressed one last kiss to your forehead before following the advisor out of the room.

And you?

You stayed behind, your mind spinning.

Because while you had won the first battle, you knew the war was far from over.

Harry returned hours later, his face unreadable as he shut the door behind him.

You stood from the couch immediately. “What happened?”

Harry dragged a hand through his curls before finally looking at you. “He gave me a choice.”

Your stomach dropped. “What choice?”

His jaw clenched. “Stay in the royal family and marry someone of his choosing… or leave it all behind.”

Silence.

Your heart pounded. “Harry…”

His eyes softened as he stepped forward, his hands settling on your waist. “I told him my answer before he even finished speaking.”

You swallowed hard. “Which is?”

His thumb brushed against your hip. “You.”

Your breath caught.

Harry took a deep breath, his voice steady. “I’d rather walk away from the crown than lose you.”

Tears burned the back of your eyes. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do.” His hands moved to cradle your face. “I was born into this, but it’s not my life. It’s theirs. And if I have to give it up to be happy, then so be it.”

You shook your head, emotions threatening to overwhelm you. “I don’t want you to resent me-“

“I could never resent you.” His gaze was fierce, unwavering. “You are the only thing in my life that feels real. And I won’t let my father take that from me.”

A tear slipped down your cheek. “What happens now?”

Harry’s lips pressed into a firm line. “We fight.”

And looking into his eyes, you knew one thing for sure.

You weren’t fighting alone.

You weren’t going to stand by and let this happen.

The moment Harry told you what his father had said - what he was threatening - something inside you snapped.

You knew the King didn’t approve of you. That he wanted you gone. But to go as far as to force Harry to choose between you and his entire family?

No. Absolutely not.

So while Harry was in another wing of the palace, distracted in a meeting, you stormed through the halls of Buckingham Palace with a fire in your veins. The staff gawked as you passed, but no one dared to stop you. Maybe it was the determination in your stride, or maybe they were simply too stunned to believe what they were seeing - a commoner marching straight toward the King’s office unannounced.

You didn’t knock.

You pushed open the heavy oak doors with more force than necessary, making them slam against the walls.

King Edward looked up from his desk, startled for only a second before his expression turned to cold disapproval.

“You are out of line,” he said sharply.

You didn’t care.

You stepped inside, shutting the doors behind you. “You can’t do this to him.”

The King leaned back in his chair, regarding you with a blank expression. “Do what?”

“Don’t play games with me.” Your voice shook with anger. “You know what. You can’t just kick your own son out of the family because he refuses to be your puppet.”

Edward’s eyes darkened. “You think this is my doing? Harry made his own choice.”

“No, you forced his hand.” You stepped closer, slamming your hands onto his desk. “You gave him an impossible choice: abandon me or abandon his entire family. Do you even hear yourself?”

His jaw tightened, but he remained silent.

Your chest heaved, your voice growing desperate. “You’re supposed to be his father. His family. And instead of supporting him, you’re pushing him away. You’re punishing him for wanting to be happy.”

King Edward let out a slow breath, his gaze sharp. “And what would you have me do? Let him throw away centuries of tradition for a woman who doesn’t belong in this world?”

You clenched your fists. “I don’t give a damn about tradition. What I care about is Harry. And whether you like it or not, he’s still your son. You can’t just cut him off because he refuses to live his life according to your rules.”

The King studied you, his eyes cold. “And why do you care so much? Is it because you fear losing your new luxurious lifestyle?”

Your anger flared so hot it nearly burned.

“You think this is about money?” Your voice rose, filled with frustration. “You think I’m doing all of this because I want a title? A palace? You have no idea who I am.”

The King arched a brow. “Enlighten me, then.”

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to steady. “I love Harry. Not because he’s a prince. Not because of his wealth or his status. I love him because he’s kind. Because he’s funny and stubborn and passionate. Because he’s the only person who has ever truly seen me.” You swallowed hard, eyes burning. “And I refuse to let you take him away from the people who love him just because he refuses to be your perfect prince.”

Silence.

You could hear your own heartbeat pounding in your ears, feel the tension in the air so thick it was suffocating.

But you didn’t back down.

“I will fight for him,” you continued, voice unwavering. “I will fight for his happiness, for his right to choose his own life. Even if it means standing against you, I won’t give up on him.”

For a moment, the King just stared at you.

And then-

He grinned.

A slow, amused grin that made your stomach twist.

“Welcome to the family.”

Your breath hitched. “What?”

The King leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. “You passed.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

His smirk deepened. “You think I was really going to cast my own son out?” He scoffed. “Harry may be reckless, but he’s still mine. I needed to see if you were strong enough to stand by him. If you’d crumble under pressure… or if you’d fight for him.”

Realization hit you like a freight train.

“This was all a test?” you said in disbelief.

The King’s expression turned knowing. “Did you really think I’d let my son marry someone who wouldn’t protect him?” He exhaled, shaking his head. “Harry is emotional. Impulsive. He needs someone who will stand their ground, someone who won’t walk away when things get difficult.” He gave you a pointed look. “And you just proved that you’re exactly that person.”

You were still reeling. “So… you approve?”

The King chuckled, standing from his chair. “I wouldn’t go that far.” He smirked. “But I’ll allow it.”

Your lips parted, but no words came out. After everything - every argument, every moment of doubt - he was letting you stay.

You had won.

Just as you were about to respond, the doors suddenly flew open again.

Harry stormed in, his green eyes wide with panic. “What the hell is going on?” His gaze darted between you and his father, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “I leave for one hour and suddenly you’re having a meeting without me?”

You turned to him, still stunned. “Harry…”

The King smirked. “Relax, son. Your little spitfire here just proved herself.”

Harry blinked, completely thrown. “Proved herself?”

The King clapped a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “She’s a fighter. You chose well.”

Harry’s mouth fell open. “Wait- you mean?-“

“I won’t stand in your way,” Edward said simply. Then he turned to you, eyes glinting with something almost… proud. “But be warned, young lady - being part of this family is no easy task.”

You lifted your chin. “I never expected it to be.”

The King studied you for a final moment before nodding. “Good.” He glanced at Harry. “Try not to embarrass me, son.”

And with that, he strode past both of you, leaving the office like nothing had happened.

Harry stared after him, then turned to you. “What the hell just happened?”

You let out a breathless laugh, still processing. “I think… we won.”

Harry blinked. Then, without warning, he grabbed you by the waist, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around. You shrieked in surprise, laughing as he kissed you - deep, desperate, filled with relief.

When he set you back down, he pressed his forehead against yours. “You did this for me?”

You smiled. “I’d do anything for you.”

His green eyes burned with love. “God, I love you so much.”

And as you stood there, wrapped in his arms, you knew - this was just the beginning.

The moment the King gave his reluctant approval, everything changed.

There was no more hiding, no more sneaking around. The press exploded with headlines about Prince Harry’s shocking engagement to a commoner, the royal advisors scrambled to prepare the public for the news, and the palace staff suddenly had to make space for you in Buckingham Palace.

And you?

You were caught in the middle of a whirlwind.

Standing in your tiny apartment, surrounded by half-filled boxes, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness.

This place had been yours. A space that belonged to no one else, where you had lived freely, without the weight of the crown pressing down on you.

Now, you were about to trade it all for a palace.

For him.

Harry sat on your couch, watching as you folded a sweater into a box labeled clothes. His elbows rested on his knees, fingers playing with the rings on his hand.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

You exhaled, forcing a smile. “Yeah. It’s just… weird.”

Harry nodded, understanding. “I get it. This is a big change.”

You looked at him, searching his face. “Are you sure about this? About me moving in?”

Harry scoffed, standing up and wrapping his arms around you. “Are you kidding? I’ve been dreaming about this since the first time I woke up in your bed.” His lips brushed against your temple. “I want you there. I want to fall asleep with you every night. Wake up with you every morning.”

Your heart melted a little. “You’re so cheesy.”

“Only for you, love.” He smirked before looking around the apartment. “Do you want to keep this place?”

You hesitated.

“I mean… it’s not like I need it,” you admitted. “But it’s the first place that ever felt like mine, you know?”

Harry nodded in understanding. “Then keep it.”

You blinked up at him. “What?”

His smile was soft. “You don’t have to live here, but it can still be yours. Somewhere to escape when the palace gets too much.”

Your chest tightened. How did he always know exactly what you needed?

You wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. “I love you so much.”

He chuckled. “I know.”

Walking into the palace with your belongings felt surreal.

The grand halls, the expensive paintings, the endless corridors - it still didn’t feel real. You weren’t just visiting anymore. You lived here now.

Staff members were already bringing in your boxes, setting them in the suite you’d now share with Harry. It was massive, more like an apartment within the palace itself, with high ceilings, antique furniture, and a balcony overlooking the royal gardens.

You turned in a slow circle, taking it all in.

“This is insane,” you whispered.

Harry grinned, leaning against the doorway. “A bit different from your apartment, huh?”

You shot him a playful glare. “Just a bit.”

He walked over, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. “You’ll get used to it.”

You leaned into him, sighing. “I don’t want to lose myself, Harry.”

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “You won’t. You’re you - the woman who stormed into my father’s office and yelled at the King of England.” He chuckled. “Trust me, no palace is gonna change you.”

You smiled, relaxing into his embrace.

Maybe he was right.

The next few weeks were absolute chaos.

Meetings with royal advisors, endless dress fittings, security briefings, and etiquette lessons that made your head spin. There were rules to follow now - how to sit, how to speak, how to wave (yes, there’s an actual royal wave).

Every day was another step closer to the wedding.

And every day, it felt more real.

One afternoon, you sat in the Queen’s private sitting room, flipping through a massive book of wedding venue options. Queen Anne sat across from you, poised and elegant as ever, but her gaze was warm.

“You must be exhausted,” she said knowingly.

You exhaled, nodding. “There’s just… a lot to take in.”

She smiled. “That’s an understatement.”

You hesitated before speaking. “How did you handle it? When you married the King?”

Her smile faltered just slightly, as if she were recalling something distant. “It wasn’t easy,” she admitted. “I had to fight for my place, just like you.” She studied you for a moment. “But I see now why Harry chose you. You’re stronger than you realize.”

Warmth bloomed in your chest. “Thank you.”

She nodded, flipping to another page in the book. “Now, let’s pick a venue before the King takes over and insists on Westminster Abbey.”

You laughed. “God forbid.”

She smirked. “Exactly.”

For the first time, you felt like you truly belonged.

This wedding - this life - was yours. And you were ready.

The morning of your wedding dawned with a golden sunrise spilling through the palace windows. The air buzzed with nervous excitement, and the entire world seemed to be watching.

Today, you would officially become a member of the royal family.

[transformers-synergize]

Do you have any more stuff for Sunny & Sides? Your designs for them are some of the best I've seen, and I'd love to know more about your plans or headcanons for them!

No pressure ofc, I support you and your absolute galaxy brain :D

Sure, here is a bunch of random stuff about in no particular order, lot of this stuff was just pulled from my notes but whatever lol 

Sunstreaker is egotistical, he knows he is the best and makes sure everyone knows it too. He also has the skills, looks, and combat prowess to back it up. Sunstreaker only really cares about himself and Sideswipe, considering pretty much every bots below him or not worth his time. He often makes sly comments, belittling or cracking jokes about bots whom he deems lesser. His friends are either Sideswipes friends who can tolerate him or bots who think he's cool, which is usually due to factors outside his personality. He's always down for a good fight, being ruthless and downright merciless in combat while still somehow managing to get as little dirt, energon, or other various combat filth on himself as possible, sometimes being nearly spotless after a battle aside from the energon coating his blade. Sunny likes to keep himself in good condition, making sure his paint is perfect and his polish shines, it really helps accentuate how he's the best.

Sideswipe is the nicer of the two brothers. He's outgoing and usually pretty friendly. Sideswipes is always looking for a fight. He loves the thrill of combat. He often treats serious situations more like a game than the high-danger situations he often places in. Sideswipe often can't sit still and always need something to do, and if there is nothing fun to do then he will make his own fun, he is often sparring with his fellow Autobots, trying risky stunts, pulling pranks on other bots and generally just causing chaos. He's very impulsive, often doing the first thing that comes to mind because he thought it might be fun, never considering the consequences. He's kinda like a jock who treats war like a sport with an almost ruthless approach to combat. He often tenses and banter with other autobots, sometimes making jokes at their expense, but unlike Sunny, he usually knows when to stop or when he's gone too far.

info dump bellow↓↓↓

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker both emerged during the Autobot Decepticon war and never known peace times. They are the youngest of the crashed Autobots, both being around a thousand years old, which is very young when your species can live to their hundred thousands.

Twins are what happens when a shuttle-sized spark splits into two, so before Sideswipe and Sunstreaker split, their emerging was highly anticipated because shuttles are rare and extremely powerful, but their spark ended up splitting. When they finally emerged, it was a great disappointment.

they were mentored by Inferno and, to a lesser extent, his conjux Redalert (they are one of the many reasons for Redalerts anxiety). Sideswipe has a pretty good relationship with his mentors Sunny… not so much 

Sunny hates Earth, it's filthy it's wet it's squishy it's sticky it's too hot, at least compared to Cybertron's frigid temperatures, and its dominant species are nothing but a pain he hates he has to hide his existence from the stupid inferior fleshy creatures that rule this dirtball of a planet he hates how often on missions he has to have a fleshy human chaperone to perform basic task that he could easily do himself or wouldn't be a problem if humans just didn't exist. Whichever bot or bots are on a mission with Sunny where human help is required, the other bot will always be the one transporting the human because Sunny refuses to let a human inside of him.

Sideswipe likes Earth, there so much to see it his first time being anywhere without the war consent looming present of the great war, but having to hide all the time on Earth is frustrating, he's been able to seek out and do some street races without Prowl knowing, he likes quite a lot of human stuff human music is pretty good and he like some human tv shows and movies mostly the ones with a lot of actions and explosion, he like interacting with the humans he's allowed to interact with especially Carly and Raoul, thought Sideswipe often struggles to understand how fragile humans are and often can put them at risk without even knowing it. Sideswipe is still a little homesick for Cybertron, even if he's only ever known it as a war-torn mess.

their poses often mirror each other

Sunny tells Sideswipe to smile with his mouth closed because his split beak. 

Sunny is the decision-maker of the two, and though Sideswipe may make destinations for himself on his own as a pair, Sunny always has the final say. 

Sunstreaker hates Sideswipe stickers but gave up on trying to remove them because whenever he tried, he got his claws sticky. 

Sunstreaker and Tracks have a bit of a rivalry going on, though Tracks hates Sunstreaker more than Sunstreaker dislikes Tracks. Also, Sunny usually comes out as the victor of most of their little spats.

Sideswipe pulls pranks but doesn't dare prank Sunstreaker because he knows there will be hell to pay if he messes up his brother's paint job. 

sideswipe loves to cause chaos, Sunny often help

Sunny has some artistic talent, though he doesn't use it much

Sunstreaker always makes sure his frame is clean and in near-perfect condition. Sideswipe doesn't care as much but Sunny, make sure Sideswipe keeps up to a certain standard.

Sideswipe is very extroverted, loves interacting with other bots, and will talk to basically anyone. Sunny is more introverted and prefers to keep to himself and select bots. Sunny tries to encourage his brother not to hang out with bots he considers not good enough to be associated with them which is most bots.

-----------------

As for plans for them, I like keeping what I share plot-wise pretty vague. They appear pretty early on, and they both are pretty plot-important. I don't really care about spoiling characters who appear in the first seven chapters. After that, I'm a little more sneaky and vague about who will appear.

[pforestsims]

I'm a fan of traits & trait mods and I really liked Atomtanned's mod /based on Dill's Turn-Ons & Turn-Offs/. This is quite an extensive edit - I just wanted to adjust it a little for my game and once I started I couldn't stop xD

Atomtanned's Trait-Based Chemistry EDIT

& (optional mod) ONLY TO Chemistry

⚡ Download: SFS ⚡BOX

11.11.2024 third UPDATE of Chemistry Mod. Fixed: Loner not triggering Introvert TO, Alien genetics trigger Alien TO correctly, Facial hair TO triggers correctly, Hats do not trigger Intellect TO, Cologne doesn't trigger Occult TO. Thanks for the fixes go to @episims . Correct file has "Update3" in the name

*Archive contains PDF file with detailed list of changes (added / removed stuff) and a few notes.

🟢 Trait-based Chemistry mod edit is available in 7 Languages: English, German, Finnish, Polish, Swedish, Russian, French

❕ New stuff: added Facial Hair TO (replaces Daydreamer), Business Shark TO (was: Serious), Expressive TO (was: Unique). Increased hobby and interest requirements from 5 to 8 pts, Formal wear added to Stylish TO - and more...

I also included an optional mod that switches off Zodiac / Aspiration chemistry and balances out the chemistry bolts gain - so it makes chemistry betwen Sims much less complicated. Obviously it will only be useful for those who like to control every aspect of their Sims romantic lives. Details under the cut.

You'll need Traits /and stuff required for these to work/.

Credits: @atomtanned , @lilbabydilljr , Epi for their TO replacements, @lazyduchess for Lua script

@peanuttysims for No Zodiac & Aspiration attraction (MTS2 link)

I used TS4 icons, icon mashups/ edits, and my own.

Thanks: @tvickiesims , @vegan-kaktus , @lilakartoffelbrei . Special thanks to @episims for all the support 💎🤗

*This is for The Sims 2

More under the cut:

Trait-based Chemistry mod

It will replace original TS2 turn-ons and turn-offs with entirely new ones (only hair colors and fitness/fatness are unchanged!).

It conflicts with NickM406's No More Loading the * Family mod , and Tunaisafish’s Attraction Fix, make sure you don't have tunaisafish_fix_attractiontraits package in your Downloads.

🟢 It's compatible with mods that change /or switch off Zodiac chemistry, Aspiration chemistry, or both.

⚡TURN-ONS / TURN-OFFS:

Note: I've added and removed some stuff, for example Plantsims and Bigfoot from 'Occult' TO, and Zombies from 'Undead' TO!

(This is an edit of the list posted by Atomtanned: )

Adventurous: 3 vacations, Adventurous, Daredevil, Sailor, Brave

Alien: Trait, skin, eyes

Animal Lover: 2 pet friends, Animal Lover, Cat Person, Dog Person, Equestrian

Artistic: Artistic, Avant Garde, Photographer's Eye, Savvy Sculptor, Flower Arranging/Pottery/Sewing silver badge, Arts & Crafts hobby, Creative skill

Athletic: Athletic, Equestrian, Loves to Swim, Sports/Fitness hobby, Body skill

Business shark: Born-salesperson, Ambitious, Mean Spirited, Snob, Workaholic

Charismatic (charisma): Charismatic, Irresistible, Schmoozer, Star Quality, Charisma skill

Cultured (bookish): Avant Garde, Bookworm, Film & Literature Hobby

Expressive: Excitable, Childish, Party Animal, Dramatic, Over-Emotional, Diva

Facial hair

Fitness / Fatness - original

Foodie: Natural Cook, Cuisine hobby, Cooking skill

Hair colors - original

Indoorsy: Bookworm, Computer Whiz, Couch Potato, Hates the Outdoors, Film & Literature Hobby, Games Hobby

Infamous (bad reputation): Bad Reputation*, Evil, Mean-Spirited

Intellect (high IQ): Genius, Logic Skill

Introvert (reserved): Brooding, Loner, Unflirty, Shy, No sense of humor, Grumpy, Socially Awkward, < 2 Outgoing personality points

Laid Back (slacker): Couch Potato, Mooch, Slob, < 2 Active personality points

Musical: Natural Born Performer, Star Quality, Virtuoso, Music & Dance hobby

Occult (mystical): Werewolf, Witch, Fairy, Mermaid, Supernatural Fan

Outdoorsy: Angler, Green Thumb, Loves the Outdoors, Sailor, Gardening badge, Fishing badge, Nature hobby

Outgoing (social): Irresistible, Flirty, Natural Born Performer, Party Animal, Social Butterfly, > 8 Outgoing personality points

Plant Lover: Eco-Friendly, Gatherer, Green Thumb, Vegetarian, Flower/Gardening badge, Plantsim, Fairy

Rebellious: Daredevil, Inappropriate, Hot-headed, Rebellious.

Stylish (elegance): Snob, Diva, Irresistible, Cosmetology badge, Fashion interest, Formal wear

Technology: Servo, Bot Fan, Computer Whiz, Handy, Vehicle Enthusiast, Robotics silver Badge, Mechanical skill

Tidy: Neat, Cleaning skill, > 8 Neat personality points

Undead: Ghost*, Vampire

Well-Liked: Good reputation*, Friendly, Good, Proper, Nurturing.

*"Ghosts" = sims turned into playable ghosts, with Ghost trait (and Mermaids are sims with mermaid trait, but ofc you don't need these to be able to use this mod).

*Known issue: Servo (as such) doesn't trigger this TO. That has been fixed.

🔸 Hobby requirements in Dill's / Atomtanned's versions (as well as interest) were set to 5 points, which is kinda an average in my game. I don't want TOs to trigger too easily so I've increased these to 8 points, just like Skill point requirements.

Update: I've removed One True Hobby checks, so now only actual hobby enthusiasm points matter for triggering TOs.

I also increased good reputation requirement from 30 to 60.

Above is the comparison of original vs new TOs, in the exact order.

FYI I've fixed the little mistake I've found in the mod - in my version stylish TO works as it should.

If you have any questions about how the game calculates attraction, read this.

And here's free version (SFS) of my buyable ReNuYu potion default, will be useful if you'd like to correct TOs for all your Sims.

"ONLY TO Chemistry" mod

Conflicts with No Zodiac Chemistry by Belladovah , chemistry mods by Peanutty (it incorporates their "No zodiac and no Aspiration"mod) and any other that contain Attraction Constants BCON and Attraction Tuning BCON.

In unmodded TS2 game, interests and skills do not play part in attraction. Trait-based chemistry changes that only to some extent because Zodiac and Aspiration are more important. To make TOs the crucial attraction factor in my game, I disabled Zodiac / Aspiration Chemistry, and tweaked bolt requirements.

This mod makes chemistry between Sims straightforward and TO-based however various bonuses to attraction also apply (!), like Beauty Wish, Vacation bonuses, bonus for very good rep or penalty for extremely bad reputation (even if your Sim likes bad guys, they will be put off by Dirty Dirtbag status, and enticed by extremely good rep). Anyways, if you use this mod and your Sims have no other attraction bonuses, then:

if one Sim has a turn-on towards the other, and the other has none, it results in no bolts

if one Sim has two turn-ons towards the other, and the other has none, Sims have one bolt chemistry

if one Sim has a turn-on towards the other, and the other has a turn-off, it results in negative chemistry

if a couple has single turn-ons towards each other, it gives them one-bolt chemistry

couple has three turn-ons, that gives them two bolts

couple has three turn-ons, one turn-off, that gives them one bolt

couple has double turn-ons, they have three-bolt chemistry

Special bonuses granted by mods for certain Traits like the "irresistible" still matter of course.

[paradiseismine]

Finn and his characters cuddling you - headcanons

Pairing: Finn Wolfhard + Finnverse characters x gender neutral!reader

Warnings: rather fluffy with a tinyyyy bit of spice, ok? No smut this time ❤️

Summary: how Finn and each of his characters would cuddle with you 🥰

Love note from Nina: my last two Finn-related fics pretty much flopped, and that made me quite sad. I considered abandoning this account, I’m not sure if I should just keep putting these fics out into the world, even if no one cares. Anyway. Trying to write some fluffier stuff as well 💕

Finn Wolfhard (himself)

Our beloved boy won’t say it to your face, but he’s a sucker for some cuddles. He was a bit more reserved regarding physical affection when you two met, but with time, you truly made him a serial cuddler. Whenever he has some time off, you’re required to meet up with him and cuddle him for a good couple hours. Finnie lovesss putting his head on your chest and listening to your heartbeat, or just lying on top of you altogether. He says it’s really calming, and his anxieties all seem to melt away. If you run your fingers through his hair, humming or whispering sweet nothings to him, it’s over - he’ll either fall asleep in a minute or get the urge to, you know, take things further. Being able to relax and trust someone so much actually turns him on quite a bit.

Boris Pavlikovsky

It’s hard to make this one ask for cuddles, he’ll mostly just lie beside you in bed and cuddle you without a word, or make you lie down with him if he knows you’re not busy. Being a big spoon all the way, expect him to attach himself perfectly to your butt, and get used to feeling his erection a bit while you’re cuddling. It doesn’t mean anything, though - he’s just relaxed, he’ll say, nothing malicious. There has to be some serious hand holding all throughout the cuddling session, some neck kisses and sweet words in Russian or Polish as well. Also lots of “love you forever, kochanie”, “you smell so good, wish I can smell you forever”, that delicious accent never failing to make you smile.

Mike Wheeler

After a d&d campaign or a stroll at the mall with the gang, your paladin expects some good time alone with his sweetheart - and cuddles are mandatory for him. He’ll normally take you to his room or to his basement, put his arm around your shoulder with the lamest “fake yawn” move and cuddle you. You’ll laugh and embrace him fully, still amazed that he actually pulled off that cliché on you (and well, it worked). Mikey loves some light making out and tender caresses as you two cuddle, even if they don’t lead to anything - he just loves touching your body in anyway he can, just feeling that you enjoy his company and his touch is more than enough to get him smiling like a little kid.

Miles Fairchild

Cuddles are a bit rarer with Miles, but that’s just because he doesn’t really know how to ask for them. Non-sexual affection is a bit harder for him, you’d always known that. So, you can just initiate the cuddles whenever you want them, and he’ll never deny them. When you two cuddle, he’ll embrace your body fully, tangling his legs to yours, arms around your torso, all of it. Usually you’re on top of him, he likes to think he’s protecting you. He’s not very vocal on expressing his feelings for you, but he’ll run his fingers through your hair gently, ask if you’re comfortable, if you need anything, and talk about anything you want.

Trevor Spengler

You know Trev can’t resist some good cuddles. He was a bit shy at first, but as you two got closer, he felt more comfortable to ask for cuddles and kisses when he’s feeling a bit needy. When you two are in bed, he lovesss to be the little spoon and wear you like a human backpack. If you’re on the couch or on the backseat of the Ectomobile, he’ll cradle you like you’re a baby, making sure to caress your face gently and pepper you with kisses. When you watch horror movies with him, it’s his time to shine, as he gets to squeeze you in his arms and “protect you” from the ghosts and monsters in the films. He finds it adorable when you squeal and rush into his embrace as you get jumpscared.

Ziggy Katz

Our favorite internet celebrity is THE cuddles man, hands down. He’ll always make sure the bedsheets and blankets are fresh out of the dryer and that he smells amazing himself. The lighting is always a bit dimmed, mostly provided by the neon signs in his room. He’ll ask you to put your head to his chest and cuddle him as he runs his fingers through your hair, gently playing with it. Expect a lo-fi playlist to be playing softly on the background, as well as some slow kissing here and there. If it’s later in the evening, you two will probably end up dozing off and having some good repairing sleep together, only to wake up completely tangled up in each other’s arms the next morning. He just loves having you around and sharing that kind of intimacy with you.

[astrologydray]

🤩Capricorn MC and how you can achieve fame🤩

A Capricorn Midheaven (MC) achieves fame through hard work, discipline, and long-term success. Ruled by Saturn, this placement gives you a serious, authoritative, and highly respected public image. Your success comes from dedication, persistence, and a strong reputation built over time. Capricorn MCs often rise to fame through business, leadership, politics, or any field that requires mastery and endurance.

🐐 Slow but Steady Rise to Success – Unlike those who gain overnight fame, Capricorn MCs climb the ladder step by step. Your recognition comes from years of experience, consistency, and proving your expertise.

🐐 Respected & Authoritative Public Image – People see you as capable, reliable, and professional. Whether you’re an entrepreneur, executive, or public figure, your reputation is built on credibility and status.

🐐 Mastering a Craft or Industry – Capricorn MCs gain fame by becoming the best in their field. Whether in business, law, politics, finance, acting, or even entertainment, you are known for your work ethic and leadership skills.

🐐 Traditional Success & Longevity – While some MCs gain short-lived fame, Capricorn MCs are built for legacy. You don’t just want fame—you want respect, influence, and long-term stability.

🐐 Reputation is Everything – With Saturn’s influence, your public image must be carefully built and maintained. Fame comes when people trust your leadership, expertise, and ability to handle responsibility.

🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐

Tips for Maximizing Fame:

‼️ Be patient & consistent – Your success takes time, but it will be long-lasting and well-earned.

‼️ Maintain a professional & polished image – Capricorn MCs gain respect through their serious, mature, and disciplined public persona.

‼️ Climb to leadership positions – Whether in entertainment, business, or politics, your path to fame involves rising to the top through hard work.

‼️ Build a legacy, not just a moment – Aim for a career that stands the test of time, not just fleeting popularity.

‼️ Embrace Saturn’s lessons – Challenges may arise, but they will make you stronger and more respected in the long run.

[koiiiji]

Gurlllllllll. I just saw your Gitae fic I'm so happy there are some frequent Giate x reader writers. So I was wondering if you could make a Gitae x reader anorexic reader. Like him and reader are in a pre-relationship thing and Gitae becomes a little aware of his feelings. Thank you babe😘😘��💋💋💋💓

GUUURL U GOT THIS YOU GOT THIIIIS 💞💞

lil reminder ; anorexia is a actually an illness and can cause you to death, be cautious with it, and if you need any help please, address the doctors!!

you're impossible

author’s note ; as i said anorexia is actually scary, BUT i do tolerate skinny bishes aesthetic! like top models, 90s fashion and stuff, it was tough, but girls had standards and followed it, i honestly find it really cool because being THAT strict and demanding to yourself requires a lot of discipline and strength, but the results are beautiful!!🙂‍↕️🙌🏻💋💌

tw ; f!reader, skinny body description, drugs mention, Gitae maybe ooc

the clinking of glasses and low murmur of conversation filled the private lounge. Gitae Kim, ever composed, leaned back in the plush booth, his broad shoulders cutting an imposing figure against the rich leather. His dark eyes were sharp, but his posture was as casual as ever, one arm draped lazily across the back of the seat.

across from him, you sat rigid, your lithe frame radiating tension despite the elegance of your black silk dress. it skimmed over your collarbones and down your almost skeletal figure, a reminder of the exacting standards that defined your life. faint shadows beneath your cheekbones only highlighted your beauty — sharp and delicate.

yet here you were, sitting across from a man whose world was the complete opposite of yours.

“you always look like you’re about to snap in half,” Gitae said, his deep voice cutting through the noise.

you blinked, startled, before darting a murderous look at him. “excuse me?”

he smirked, his gaze flicking over you — not with disrespect, but with an infuriating level of observation. “you’re too skinny. makes me wonder if models eat anything other than coke and champagne.”

your nails bit into your palm, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. “is this why you called me here? to critique my body?”

“relax.” he chuckled, his tone maddeningly unbothered. “just making an observation. you can sit there and hate me all you want, but we both know you’re only here because that guy… Todd told you to be.”

“don’t remind me,” you muttered, your tone icy.

the mention of your manager — a relentless man who only cared about the money this arrangement brought — made your stomach twist. he had sold you and few other girls on this partnership with honeyed words about exclusivity, global connections, and untouchable prestige. what he hadn’t mentioned was that you’d be acting as the unwitting courier for Gitae’s cartel

“and here i thought we were business partners,” you added bitterly, taking a sip of the untouched water in front of you.

“we are,” Gitae replied smoothly, his smirk fading into something more serious. “you get my product through the circles i need. in return, your career stays untouchable, and you don’t get your hands dirty. sounds like a win-win to me.”

you clenched your jaw. “easy for you to say. you’re not the one risking your reputation every time you step into an airport or a gala.”

he tilted his head, studying you for a moment. “oh, don’t be such dramatic, doll. your guy, Todd make sure that you girls flight private jets all around the world and barely step into any customs inspections... and aside from that” he added, thinking a little. “after all, you think anyone’s looking at you and seeing anything other than perfection?”

your breath caught at the sudden change in his tone — soft, almost teasing, yet there was an undercurrent of something genuine. you didn’t know how to respond, so you looked away, staring at the polished wood of the table.

“i’m not perfect,” you muttered, the admission slipping out before you could stop it.

for the first time all evening, Gitae’s smirk vanished completely. “maybe not. but you’re close enough to make everyone believe it.”

the weight of his words settled between you like a tangible thing, making your chest tighten. you hated the way his voice softened just enough to feel intimate, as if he saw through the veneer of control you worked so hard to maintain.

“you’re impossible,” you muttered, leaning back in your seat and crossing your arms.

Gitae let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “and yet, here you are. every time.”

you hated that he had a point. No matter how much you loathed this arrangement — or him — you kept showing up. maybe it was the sense of obligation, or maybe... maybe it was something else. something you didn’t want to examine too closely.

“why do you keep looking at me like that?” you asked suddenly, your voice cutting through the silence.

Gitae froze, caught off guard by your bluntness. he recovered quickly, his smirk returning, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“like what?” he asked, feigning innocence.

“like you’re trying to get under my skin,” you said, your gaze piercing.

Gitae’s jaw tightened imperceptibly. you weren’t supposed to notice. usually he prided himself on being unreadable, keeping his emotions in check. but somehow, you had a way of slipping through his defenses, and he hated how vulnerable that made him feel.

“you're imagining things,” he said, leaning back and taking a slow sip of his whiskey.

“am i?” you pressed, your voice softer now, almost teasing.

the tension between you was palpable, the air heavy with unspoken words. for a moment, Gitae considered brushing you off entirely. but something in your eyes — sharp yet fragile, defiant yet curious — made him hesitate.

“you’re fascinating,” he said finally, his tone quieter than before.

your heart skipped a beat, though you masked it with a scoff. “fascinating?”

“you’re in a world that should’ve broken you a long time ago,” he continued, ignoring your sarcasm. “and yet, here you are. fragile, maybe. but not weak.”

you stared at him, your pulse quickening. you didn’t know what to make of his words — or the way they made you feel.

“don’t read too much into it,” he added, leaning back and picking up his drink again. “i’m just making an observation.”

you rolled your eyes, though your cheeks burned. “you’re impossible.”

“and yet,” he said with a faint smirk, “you keep showing up.”

you glared at him, but you didn’t deny it. as much as you hated everything about this arrangement, there was something about Gitae that kept pulling you back — something you didn’t fully understand.

“don’t get any ideas,” you said after a long pause, your voice firm but lacking its usual bite.

Gitae chuckled softly, the sound laced with something almost... fond. “too late for that.”

the silence that followed was thick with tension, neither of you willing to break the fragile thread connecting you. finally, Gitae stood, towering over you as he adjusted his jacket.

“i’ll have someone send over the details for your next... trip,” he said, his tone casual again. but as he turned to leave, he paused, glancing back at you. “and try not to skip meals, will you? you’re too skinny for your own good.”

your cheeks flushed with irritation — and something else — as you watched him walk away.

you hated him.

you hated the way he made you feel.

and yet, you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering when you’d see him again.

MASTERLIST

[ollieolliewrld]

Welcome to the tumblr writing space! I'm confident you'll do amazing here!

If I may request DMC- and take your time with it -what kind of partner the twins would realistically prefer. Whether it be personality types, deal breakers, what they are willing to compromise for/with, what they expect etc. I'm curious of others takes on these types of things and I'd like to see yours, when you have the time. Whether it's DMC 3 or 5 (or post 5) era, is up to you.

Happy writing! Again, take your time and polish as much as you feel you need to. Have fun!

Love, love, love this! Thank you for the request and the kind words <3 I’ll be taking the DMC 5 and post 5 era but I may revisit this once I finish playing DMC 3 fully!

**This is not a fluff piece it is a bit more serious** 

1.3K words

Dante

✭ Ideal Partner

-Dante’s ideal partner would be someone who has a good understanding of their surroundings

-He’s looking for someone perceptive so that you both share a mutual understanding of situations 

-Basically, he doesn’t want to hold their hand and baby them through life

-If something happens he is going to make sure they are ok but also expects that they will not crumble completely

-Dante has been through hell and back when it’s time for him to settle down he is not playing games 

-He’s a grown man who wants his chance to finally relax

-The cocky attitude he keeps up can get him through a lot but his partner is the one who truly pulls him through it all

✭ Deal Breakers

-Will not put up with tantrums

-He can understand if you get emotional at times, he doesn’t expect you to have it all together 24/7 

-But you cannot throw a fit if something does not go your way

-Dante cannot be everywhere at once and with the state of things there are going to be times when he will have to cancel a date or movie night 

-If you cannot understand that he will not stay

-If he is going to be with someone long-term they need to be understanding of his background 

✭ Compromises

-Dante would not want his partner anywhere near combat unless they have proven to be fully capable

-After that, if you really wanted to he would be willing to let you take on some missions of your own

-He would also compromise if his partner wanted to do very typical couple things

-Like he would get a matching jacket with you or something like that but he would not do anything with writing or graphics

-If you two are going to do something it will be done tastefully and hopefully in red

-Dante wouldn’t have many things he would not compromise on, if he truly wants to stay with you he will make it work and swallow his pride once in a while as long as you are willing to put the work in to meet him halfway

✭ Expectations

-He expects that you have life skills

-You would not need to be a pro at finance or a god in the kitchen but you would need to know how to live on your own

-Dante cannot always be there even though he wants to be and he does not want the additional worry that you are going to explode when he leaves

-His ideal partner would have their head screwed on, not perfect, but able to pick themselves back up when they get knocked down

-He also expects you to support him and be there for him

-There are times when he needs a shoulder to rest on and he would expect his partner to be willing to be that

✭ Must-Have Qualities

-Dante requires someone with a sense of humor

-You need to be able to laugh and understand his jokes

-You would also need to be a good listener 

-He won’t talk your ear off but he needs you to remember what he tells you 

-It would mean a lot to him if you remembered the small things too

-Being sociable/outgoing must be your personality type

-He needs someone who can go out into the world with him and interact

-Yes he enjoys spending time rotting on a couch with you but when you two are out he wants to show you off proudly 

-Having you being confident and able to explore with him is a must

Vergil

✭ Ideal Partner

-Vergil needs a patient lover

-He is not socially inept but he is not extremely experienced in how to lead an average life and relationship

-Ideally, they would be willing to understand what he has been through and all that has shaped him into the man that he is today

-He is a loyal lover who needs someone that will stay with him through it all

-Someone resilient would fit him

-Again, like his brother, he is a grown man he does not have it in him to baby someone through life, you need to be able to stand on your own before he could settle down

✭ Deal Breakers

-He is not messing around

-No one-night stands, no FWB, he is going for the long-term

-It is end game or nothing with him

-If you could not take things seriously he would leave

-Vergil looks at life with seriousness he is not going to be with someone who continuously makes jokes every two seconds

-He is also looking for someone more submissive as in they will follow the decisions he makes without fighting him

-He is willing to take the time to explain why he made the decision but he will not take the time to go back and forth with you when he knows what the right thing to do is

✭ Compromises

-Vergil can be a little too serious at times and forgets to relax

-He wants to get things done the right way and will lose himself to his work

-Being with someone who can let loose and live would be a change in pace for him but he would be willing to compromise 

-As long as everything is handled he could spend time with you having fun

-It is very hard for him to let go of his control as he wants to be constantly motivated However, learning to take a step back and take a breath is not going to throw all of his work out the window

-Once he sees that you could slowly work him up to the very mundane aspects of life like reading a book at the beach together

✭ Expectations

-He expects you to be willing to work with him

-As I have been saying, you need to be patient with him

-Vergil is willing to learn and change but he has his own problems he is working through

-Life has not been kind to him and he will be open about that so he would expect that you do not hold that against him

-Any mistakes he makes are not done to harm you, they are done because of a lack of experience 

-He is not in tune with his emotions and has a hard time expressing his feelings as well as picking up on yours

-Hopefully, you would be able to work with this and understand where he is coming from

✭ Must-Have Qualities

-It cannot be stressed enough that he is looking for someone patient

-You do not have to be a saint he will be working with you as much as you are working with him 

-He doesn't want you to give up on him

-Vergil is looking for someone who is level-headed, not over-emotional

-He just does not know how to be around someone who can fluctuate in emotions very quickly

-You would need to be intelligent, not like a genius, but able to understand directions and pick up on your surrounding 

-He wants you to be a safe place for him so you being understanding and willing to take the time to get to know him means a lot 

-It will take some time for Vergil to open up to you fully but once he does the man is locked into you and not going anywhere

Author’s Note: I really hope this is to your liking! I would love to hear what you think and if anyone has any opinions of their own! <3<3

I had a blast brainstorming this, thank you for sending in this request!

[narfin-frood]

Silly question but how do you art?

Or more like, how is your process to draw? Your lines and posing are so loose and show the feeling of a character so well, like, how do you make your art so real with only a few lines is what most amaze me. Anyway I hope I'm not bothering you and that makes sense, thanks for reading!<3

you're not a bother, don't worry! i'm not sure if there's an appropriately concise answer to a question like this, but i'll try to explain my process for poses a bit, and if there's anything else specific you'd like to know about my process, feel free to ask, and i'll try to answer!

for posing, i find it's very helpful to start by thinking about what situation the character is in. you don't need a location or a background or anything (unless you're being #serious about it). for this, i chose "picking up something way too heavy" (cont. under cut, wall of text ahead)

keeping it very simple is key!!! do not worry about details!!! i am very bad at this. i love to add a little detail or two, like his eyes or his little expression, but i have to catch myself before i get too into it, otherwise i'll forget the point of what i was doing and/or get bored. use just enough strokes to get the point across, and stop there (for now).

i draw fast and loose, with long strokes, which also happens to help with the problem that happens if you start with any specific part of the body. it's important to start with... everything at once, or else you won't be able to see what needs to be changed or fixed until it's too late and you've already decided on where you want the head and the left arm to be!

to display effort & strain without just contorting the character's face, you gotta think about just how heavy the object is, how one would go about grabbing it comfortably, and whether your character is smart enough to lift with their legs.

wander is great (read: BEST CHARACTER DESIGN EVAR. i love him kisskisskiss) because he's not grounded in any sort of reality until necessary, and his limbs have no bones, but he still has specific proportions and volumes to refer back to if you get carried away with the wackiness. posing a character made up of several noodles of varying widths is very simple, because you can do basically whatever you want to push and pull and make it as clear (and/or as funny) as possible.

start with your line of action, in this case the long line connecting his neck and his left foot. think about where the floor is, so you can make the feet of your character and whatever else is touching it coexist in the same reality. think about clarity: big, simple shapes are your friends, and if you're not getting the gist of the pose through the silhouette alone, try again! there's NO shame in hiding the first layer and doing a couple more sketches until you land on something you really like. Don't polish a turd, especially if you yourself think it's a turd. it'll make you feel like you're wasting time, and drawing is about having fun and experimenting, so if it's getting boring or frustrating, it's time to try something else.

wander and other characters with no bones and no rules are great for posing because you can do things like make their arms bend the wrong way just to play with the clarity of the pose. this:

un-breaks the arms and makes a little more sense for somebody with elbows, but some clarity in the action is lost when the arms don't curve upward and away from the very heavy object he's straining to pick up.

grounding your characters is both more complex and easier than it sounds, and it unfortunately requires you to think about perspective (i know. i know. i know it sucks and it's confusing. i hated it for a very long time but once it clicks, you'll have it in your brain forever)

fudging a perspective grid is fairly easy, just draw several parallel lines and have them get closer to each other as they recede into the distance, and then do it again in the opposite direction. you can use the transform tool in whatever program you use most to fudge this for even less effort, by just getting a png of a grid and fucking with it

now that you've got your floor, think about those feet. the grid makes it fairly easy to envision how a shoe would look sitting on that floor:

this is also where having an understanding of volumes comes in handy, because things farther in the distance will in fact look smaller, but it's up to you to figure out just how much smaller it would be in comparison to the other identical thing with the same volume that's closer to the camera. usually it's almost negligible, but it becomes easy to spot if it's a little off.

and here's the pose i settled on! i made his noodle arms more extreme for extra XD factor and i put him on his tippy toes for that extra bit of height!

a lot of the principles i'm talking about in this post i mainly pick up from consciously watching my favorite cartoons (and live action shows) and if i really, really like the way something is done, or if i see something that i've never really registered before, i'll screencap it or i'll pause or i'll just keep thinking about it until i draw again.

this is called "building a visual library" and it's the #1 easiest and most important way to practice. it requires no drawing, unless you want it to. look at lots of art by artists you love, and if you see something and you think to yourself, hey, this looks really good, by all means, absorb it.

art is great and it's really fun and there's literally nothing wrong with taking inspiration where you can find it!! seriously!!! absorb your favorite parts of every art style you find cool and fun and put it into your own! you're the only person who can draw the way you draw, and while replicating an art style is fairly easy (or it can be, depending), matching it perfectly is Literally impossible, so don't worry about being derivative. Nobody will notice, and if they do, it's okay to say you're inspired by them! encouraged, even!

my own art style, like everybody else's, is a frankenstein's monster containing all of the things i've loved before!!! and i think thats beautiful and if anybody tries to tell you you've gotta be 100% original and have "your very own style", they're a filthy liar and they're definitely (consciously or not) already taking inspiration and reference from the things they themselves find cool and awesome.

ANYWAY. wall of text over.

TLDR: draw quickly, use long strokes (try not to pet your lines), have a specific situation to put your character in, get familiar with volumes and proportions, and have fun!!!

[emma23]

Nail polish and threats :

Marc/ Steven/ Jake x reader

It was one of those nights. Jake Lockley had once sworn he wouldn’t babysit anyone outside of Marc and Steven’s shared chaos, yet here he was, driving his cab through the pouring rain with Y/N tied up in the backseat. Her stubbornness was as legendary as his bad temper, and tonight it felt like they were in some kind of endurance match to see who could out-annoy the other.

"Let me guess," she drawled from the backseat, twisting her wrists slightly in the loose bindings, "you’re not even going to offer me snacks during my abduction. Worst kidnapper ever."

Jake scowled at her through the rearview mirror. "You got a real funny way of beggin’ for your life, sweetheart."

"Begging? Please." She scoffed. "I’ve been through worse than you, Lockley."

His grip on the wheel tightened, a muscle in his jaw ticking. "Keep talkin', and you’ll find out exactly how bad I can be."

She leaned forward, unbothered by his threat. "Do you even know why Marc wanted to drag me into this mess, or are you just blindly following orders like a good little lapdog?"

Jake slammed the brakes, the cab skidding slightly in the rain. He turned to glare at her. "You wanna find out what happens when Marc’s not in charge?"

Her grin widened. "That’s exactly what I’m counting on."

The plan—if you could call it that—was for Marc to "convince" Y/N to cooperate with their latest mission. Jake, of course, was the muscle, brought out for situations requiring a heavy hand. But now, standing in the dimly lit warehouse, it was clear that Y/N wasn’t going to make this easy for anyone.

"You broke my nail!" she suddenly yelled, holding up her hand dramatically.

Jake froze, blinking at her like she’d grown a second head. "Are you kidding me? I just threatened to kill you, and you’re worried about a nail?"

"Do you think I’m afraid of death?" she countered, her voice dripping with mockery.

Jake blinked again, at a loss. "Most people are."

"Well, I’m not most people," she said with a smirk, examining her hand. "But I’ll tell you what I am: a woman who refuses to die with a bad manicure. So if you’re going to kill me, at least let me file this first."

From somewhere deep inside, Marc’s voice piped up. "Is she serious? Jake, what is wrong with her?"

“Nothing’s wrong with her,” Steven’s gentler voice chimed in. “I think she’s brilliant. Honestly, mate, maybe we could let her go?”

Jake rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath. "One of you needs to shut up, or I’ll tie her up again just for the peace and quiet."

"What was that?" Y/N asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Nothing," Jake snapped. "Mind your business."

"Hard to do when you keep muttering like a lunatic," she shot back.

After a while, Marc took over, his presence evident in the way Jake’s sharp features softened and his shoulders relaxed. He pulled up a chair and sat across from Y/N, his demeanor calm but authoritative.

"Y/N," he began, his tone measured, "we need your help."

"Well, you kidnapped me, so this isn’t exactly a great start," she said flatly.

Marc sighed. "Jake doesn’t have the best…tact. But this is serious. People could get hurt."

"And you think tying me up is the best way to ask for help?"

"To be fair, you did punch me the last time we saw each other," Marc said, raising an eyebrow.

She smirked. "You deserved it."

"Maybe," he admitted. "But that’s not the point. We need you, Y/N. And you need us, whether you want to admit it or not."

She leaned back in her chair, studying him. "You’re better at this than Jake," she finally said.

From deep within, Jake growled, "I can still hear you, sweetheart."

The conversation shifted again when Steven took control. Y/N noticed the difference immediately—the way his eyes softened and his posture became less aggressive.

"Hiya," he said, giving her a tentative smile. "I know this is a bit…intense, but I promise, we’re not trying to hurt you."

Y/N blinked at him. "Who are you right now?"

Steven chuckled nervously. "I’m Steven. With a V."

"Steven," she repeated slowly, her brow furrowing. "Wait, how many of you are in there?"

He hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. "Er…three, actually. It’s a bit complicated."

"No kidding," she muttered. "So let me get this straight. Marc is the grumpy one, Jake is the homicidal one, and you’re…the nice one?"

"More or less," Steven said, nodding.

"And yet, I’m still tied up in a warehouse," she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Steven grimaced. "Right. About that—"

“Don’t untie her,” Jake barked.

“I wasn’t going to!” Steven shot back internally.

Y/N watched the silent exchange, her eyebrows raising. "You guys argue with each other in your head, don’t you?"

Steven blinked at her, startled. "How did you—"

"It’s written all over your face," she said with a smirk.

Hours passed, and the tension in the room began to thaw. Marc returned briefly, ensuring that Y/N wasn’t going to bolt the second they untied her, but it was Steven who ended up sitting with her the longest, chatting about anything and everything.

"Jake’s not as bad as he seems, you know," Steven said at one point.

"I don’t know," Y/N replied, her lips twitching into a smile. "He seems pretty bad."

"You’d be surprised," Steven said. "He cares a lot more than he lets on."

"Does he, though?"

"Oi, don’t make me regret being nice to you," Jake’s voice snapped from somewhere deep within.

Y/N laughed, the sound warm and genuine. For the first time that night, she felt like maybe—just maybe—she could trust them.

"That was a mistake," Jake muttered later, his voice gruff as he leaned against the wall, watching Y/N curl up on the couch.

"Which part?" she asked, smirking at him.

"All of it," he said. "You, this mission, everything."

"Don’t sound so happy to be here," she teased, her tone light.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You’re gonna be the death of me, sweetheart."

"Maybe," she said with a grin, "but at least you won’t die alone. You’ll have Marc and Steven to keep you company."

Jake groaned. "You’re impossible."

"And yet, here you are,"

[davesbigwhirlwind]

My forced formal transformation story - the things we do for love...

Sam was the love of my life. She was more stylish, more cultured, more intelligent. I had a reasonable job and was a fairly popular and trendy guy, but I was punching above my weight and I knew it. But we clicked. There was a connection and it just worked. I'd do anything for her. 

We'd been going out for about 5 months when she suggested I should move in to her family home. She lived with her father in a large house alongside their 2 staff. Now her father was a traditionalist, and, like her, was very well educated and informed, and I liked the fact he was very direct. He was a successful business owner and by default seemed to be in business mode, and always wore a somber suit and a serious expression on his face. His wife had sadly passed, but I respected the great job they had done in raising Sam into the fine woman she was. 

He told me that he'd be glad of me to move in - separate rooms of course - but as our relationship was clearly serious he wanted to help us, but emphasised that he wanted to help me develop both intellectually and physically, and while he would take things slowly, he would require me to embrace both the learnings and recommendations he made to help guide me towards being a good husband, should we reach that point. 

I readily agreed. 

A month later and I moved in. Stephen started straight away teaching me much of his knowledge on everything from etiquette to literature, and the art of being a good partner. He explained the man's place was not about fashion, beauty and flamboyancy, but, rather about masculinity, dependability and stability, and being understated, while allowing Sam to take the limelight. He explained that the correct appearance was every bit as important as how you act and how would help guide me through these factors over the months ahead. 

The first change came the following Monday. I woke to find in my wardrobe that all my t shirts had been replaced by good quality white formal shirts, and accompanying white vests to wear under them. And I was gutted to see that my entire trainer collection had disappeared and been replaced by 3 pairs of, very traditional, formal lace up black leather Oxford shoes. Even when selecting my smartest dark jeans, they still looked very out of keeping with the formal white shirt, and pulling on the shoes the leather creaked as my feet adjusted to being wedged into the pointy toes. I tied the laces and saw my face reflecting in the incredibly highly polished leather uppers. Walking in these shoes was a challenge, as the smooth soles meant I had to walk much more slowly and with poise, in order to not skid. 

I would never have chosen these clothes but went along with it, with Sam encouraging me. I got a few wise cracks about shiny shoes at work but that was about it. I worked in IT so it had a fair variety of oddballs, from geeks wearing cartoon t shirts, to goths, so while my change in style was out of character for me, it wasn't a major issue. 

I also needn't have worried about the jeans not looking right, as, by the end of the week, these had all been removed, to be replaced by heavy, pale grey wool trousers, tightly tailored and with razor sharp creases that hung straight down with just a small break above the seam which grazed the top of my Oxfords. A shiny black formal belt was also provided. 

This became what I wore every single day. It felt particularly strange wearing this at weekends when seeing friends, and the wise cracks at work focused on it being my school uniform, but Sam kept me up, telling me how handsome I looked. If she was happy, then I'd cope. I no longer worked out at the gym, and I controlled the time I spent with friends to ensure I committed the time to my new family and to this process.

The following Saturday Stephen announced we'd be making a trip to his barber. 

I was straight into Anthony's chair, and with a glance on the mirror I got a last look at my prized hair. Everyone loved my hair. I got lots of great comments about it. it was long, luscious, tousled and framed my face beautifully being roughly parted to drape down and across my forehead and feel flowing to lying on my collar. 

There was no discussion as Anthony combed through my hair. For years my shoulder length hair has been roughly parted above my right eye, but now a very severe straight part was created on the far left side of my head with the hair scraped to either side of this stark white line. 

Without ceremony the clippers were powered up and ploughed up the left side of my head towards the part, while Anthony used his comb to angle out the hair so that the clippers left a slightly longer length at the top, but otherwise a fine pelt of military length hair was left three quarters of the way up. This continued round my head as my ears became uncovered for the first time. And boy are my ears massive. Alarmingly so. Jug ears without a doubt, and definitely having benefited from the hair that had very satisfactorily covered them for over 20 years. Next Anthony took his scissors and was cutting the top down with massive chunks. Nothing longer than an inch and a half remained. The next shock was just what a big forehead I had. With so little hair, my facial features were really standing out. A razor then took off the hairs at the back of my neck, that had never caused an issue before, but were now clearly too scruffy to remain, while my sideburns were removed to the top of ears.

Pomade was then rubbed into my hair and a comb carefully pulled the hair across my head, while Anthony styles a small quiff at the front and showed me how to re-create this. 

He showed me in the mirror the remains of my hair. The uniformly clipped hair ran over half way up the back of my head before tapering to a slightly longer length leading to a small ridge ran round my head at the point that the clipped hair met the wet-looking slicked hair on top. This ridge dipped slightly at the back, but still remained high up my head, allowing the virgin scalp to shine through across most of my head. This was very much a short, no-nsense business man's haircut

I went to sit with my cold - and much lighter - head, while Stephen got a trim. I realised he had an identical cut. Same left part, clipping, ridge, slicked quiff. Though Stephen wore the cut far better as he had far less expanse of clipped scale due to having a much lower hairline and smaller, rounder head. While my head was very clearly very elongated and egg-like. He also had small ears that sat neatly tucked into the side of his head, unlike my satellite dishes. I ran my hand down the back of my head, which sent a shiver down my spine from the bristles that were an alien feeling. 

Sam looked genuinely shocked when she saw me. I couldn't blame her as my features seemed to have moved round my face from this brutal cut. My massive pale gleaming forehead and giant ears exposed for the first time, and the brutality of the cut showing the elongated oval shaped head that had been hidden for so many years. I felt shell shocked, but Stephen offered a rare word of encouragement by saying how positive it was that the men of the house were now setting a clear standard on grooming. I truly hated this haircut and how it made me feel and look, but a part of me also really felt proud that Stephen wanted me to take on part of his style. This really was a defining moment of moving from fashionable to formal. 

Friends and colleagues either looked in horror or laughed but told me it would soon grow. However I very much doubted this would be allowed to happen. It was the second haircut 2 weeks later that got the worst response, as no one could begin to fathom why I would inflict this same style on myself for a second time. But this became routine that ever 2 weeks we'd both be shaved, trimmed and slicked to ensure the stubble remained short enough to pass muster. 

I think even Stephen realised I needed to get used to my new look as the next few weeks were more about using my new skills, such as Sam and I attending small dinners at home with close friends and associates of Stephen.

Then, an upgrade came. A plethora of very sombre ties in shades of navy, burgundies and dark green appeared alongside a navy double breasted blazer with rows of gold buttons running down the front sides. This became standard attire, as my heavily starched shirt collars now became buttoned to the top and digging into my neck, with a Windsor knotted tie, together with tie clip as standard from morning to night and the blazer whenever with company, and fully buttoned whenever I wasn't seated. I now looked like an off duty naval officer, but it did too make me sit up straight and hold myself taller as a result. 

A couple of other hurdles came over the next month. First I was taken to the opticians for the fitting of my new glasses. It was a surprise to me I was getting glasses, as I lived constantly in contact lenses, having only a small pair of rimless frames for emergencies. However the frames that had been chosen for me were big gold framed aviator glasses that filled the width of my face, and the frames glinted in the light as I moved. However as I was so myopic the lenses were extremely thick, and the lenses shrunk down my eyes (one of my best features, which now looked weirdly small and watery and hidden by these large rectangular fishbowl lenses, with strong reflections) as well as creating a very visible cut in the side of the lenses meaning my head looked like it had had chunks taken out of it. My contact lenses were removed and these became a daily dominating feature on my face, as the world now saw me as a bespectacled man for the first time. Due to the weight of the large panes of glass that now sat across my face, they kept sliding down my nose. They were adjusted, but the result meant the arms of the glasses dug into the side of my face, creating permanent creases in the temples of my head.

I also had my tattoo on my arm removed by Lazer. It wasn't appropriate. It was a painful correction. Both in the emotional loss of something I loved and the physical agony of it being eradicated. 

This was me now, this was my daily uniform. I didn't now need to spend time thinking about what to wear or what to buy, as it was already a given. When I stood beside Sam, she looked radiant and beautiful as ever, while I remain dependable and reliable beside her. Ultimately I was grey. Yes I looked very smart and could be very charming, but no one would give me a second look beyond my formal and traditional appearance. I admit that the old me used to like the glances I'd get from women checking me out, and I would flirt with women and preen myself to be as attractive as possible. Now no one I would have found attractive would give me the time of day, and if people stared, it was now for very different reasons This was me now. Formal, nerdy, a bit ugly. From my smartly quiffed hair and geeky big glasses and smart outfit. But I was fully committed to Sam, as it should be, and that was what mattered. 

[glyphwrites]

Sub!Megatron and his sassy Dom Optimus discuss a scene

Have a precurser to smut that popped into my head today. I might end up writing the actual scene at some point, but I'm just way too busy rn. If i ever do, it'll go up on ao3 as a whole fic.

Despite the effects of the war and its aftermath, Megatron hadn’t had too much of a problem with his sex life. Though he couldn’t say he’d had a stable partner throughout that time, he had plenty of friends and admirers to spend time with, and left those encounters feeling perfectly satisfied.

However…

Personally, Megatron was a switch, enjoying practically any position and dynamic. There were a lot of mechs willing to let him dominate them, take control out of their servos and give them a fun time. But when it came to his own desire to be submissive, he simply didn't have the same range of options. Most Decepticons weren't comfortable with domming their leader, and those that were generally weren't interested in doing anything gentle. Which - a little rough play could be fun, but it wasn't Megatron's preference. That left his friends, where unfortunately the problem persisted. Shockwave would much rather follow his commands, Starscream had always focussed too much on degrading him, Straxus he didn't trust an inch and most of his other generals were uninterested. Strika was the only one he'd repeatedly fooled around with in that manner (technically Lugnut as well, but he was very firmly submissive), but even then they'd both been able to agree that they didn’t quite click. 

So life continued as before, Megatron feeling fairly satisfied with his various encounters but never quite completely fulfilled.

Then he met Optimus Prime. And, well, a lot of things happened. He died, for one thing. But after everything else that happened, after their squabbles were over and their alliance was solidified, Megatron had found himself falling for the mech… and eventually, falling into his berth. It had certainly been a whirlwind romance, especially considering how long it’d been since he’d had a proper partner. Once flirtations and teasing had become something more serious, and after their first few tumbles, they’d inevitably begun to talk about what they wanted from their strange new relationship. Megatron had laid out his own preferences easily, before revealing how he identified as a switch with some hesitance. He’d so wanted things to work out, wary of turning Optimus away at the thought of him desiring submission.

Megatron still remembered the grin that had spread across Optimus’ face, like the sun coming up. “Hey, that’s perfect! So am I.” Not for an instant had Optimus judged him; in fact, he’d been quite excited discussing their very first proper scene together, and just as enthusiastic carrying it out.

It’d been the best submissive experience of Megatron’s life.

He could still remember lying in berth together afterward, Optimus running a cloth laden with polish across his heated plating. Right there and then, he’d vowed to repeat the experience as often as he possibly could.

And life had gone on.

---------------------------------------------------

Once again, it’d been a long day filled with meetings, forms and petty squabble between his officers. Megatron had headed straight for his quarters the instant the last meeting finished, eager to sit with a cube of warm energon and perhaps a datapad as he decompressed. Instead, when he arrived he found that Optimus had beat him back to their shared rooms, and was now doing something with a selection of boxes on the coffee table. He glanced up as the door closed, flashing a smile at Megatron as he entered. To Megatron’s optics, his partner looked distinctly dishevelled in the way that usually implied he’d been working with his servos again. Although Optimus’ job description now mostly covered tactical analysis,  organising military logistics and fighting on the battlefield, he still often seemed to find some kind of job or task that required building things or tinkering with the guts of a spacebridge. At this point it was so frequent as to be ubiquitous, and Megatron wasn’t even that surprised at the sight.

“How was your day? I thought you’d be kept a little longer, to be honest.” Optimus straightened from his work, hopping over the scattered boxes on his way over to the door.

Megatron couldn’t help but smile at the sight, his worries melting away for the time being as he bent down to answer Optimus with a kiss. “It was perfectly fine, though you’re quite right; I managed to weasel out of my last meeting a little earlier than usual.”

Optimus laughed, slinging his arms around Megatron’s neck and kissing him back. “Well, that’s good to hear!” They stayed in the doorway for a few minutes longer, holding each other close. Megatron delighted in pressing Optimus against him, feeling his spark thrumming through his plating. 

When at last they broke apart again, Megatron glanced back at the chaos in the centre of their living area and couldn’t help but ask about it. “Are you building us some new furniture?” Optimus generally preferred to mess with machines, but he wasn’t that discerning with his projects.

“Oh! Not quite…” Optimus pulled away a little, looking from Megatron to the boxes and then back away. He smirked, teasing and smug in equal parts as he placed his servos on Megatron’s chassis “Actually, I’ve got something special for you.” He grinned up at Megatron for a moment longer, before pausing and tacking on another few sentences in a hurry. “Only if you're up for it, of course! I know it’s been a long day.”

It had in fact been a long day. But something about Optimus filled him with energy, and now Megatron couldn’t imagine a better way to spend his evening. “That sounds exciting.” He replied, catching Optimus to kiss again. “I’d certainly be happy to find out.”

The answering grin practically lit up the room. Optimus skipped back over to the table while Megatron followed at a more sedate pace, although he felt just as eager. Digging into one of the boxes, Optimus retrieved what appeared to be… a coil of braided wire? It shone in the light, iridescence glimmering as he turned it. He offered it to Megatron, who lifted and examined it carefully.

Thanks to his past exploits, Megatron had a fairly good idea of what this was. “Planning to tie me up?” He tested the shining rope between his digits, and frowned. “It’s certainly pretty, but it doesn’t look very strong.” He turned it over for a moment longer, before catching sight of the way Optimus was gesturing to him and handing the coil back.

And then Optimus grinned impishly, taking the end of the braided wire and wrapping it around his other servo, pulling it tight between them. “That’s the point!” 

Something about that mischievous grin, that cocky tone of voice, that confident stance… it did things to Megatron. He swallowed lightly, unable to move as Optimus stepped closer, giving him an evaluating look as he wound the rope between his servos. “So, here’s the deal.” Optimus was right up in his face now, so close that their chassis were touching. “I’m going to tie you up and play with you.” His tone was utterly matter of fact now, but it still did plenty to excite Megatron. He liked the way Optimus managed to dominate him despite their differences in size and age, the confident way he ordered Megatron around. Optimus pressed one servo to his chassis, drawing a circle over his spark. “All you have to do is enjoy yourself… and not break it.” He smirked even wider. “Think you can manage it?”

That was one of the other things he liked about Optimus’ style, the way he challenged Megatron. Composing himself, he leaned down, matching Optimus’ smirk despite the way his spark burned with excitement. “I dare say I’m up to the task.”

[linkemon]

Kaeya Alberich (selfship)

Selfship was made for xivia___ on Wattpad.

You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here. Consider supporting me on Ko-fi. You can also check out my commissions if you’re interested. Other selfships can be found here.

~ Being Kaeya's fiancée comes with many difficulties. The main one is his constant absence. The knights have had their hands full lately. But that's not all. You haven't been idle either. The paperwork is overwhelming you. This has led to you rarely seeing each other. Because of this, you especially appreciate the moments when you spend time together.

~ A man tries to remind you to take care of yourself, but he doesn't do much of it himself. You have to watch out so he doesn't overdo it.

~ He loves how you throw yourself around his neck to greet him every time he comes back from a difficult, dangerous fight. You only do it with people who are close to you, like Jean. He grumbles that you would do it with everyone, preferably his coworkers, which you don't want to agree to.

~ He can be overly dramatic, even in public, which often embarrasses you. He can complain that you don't pay enough attention to him when you're walking around town and you see something interesting.

~ One time you were shopping and the old ladies at the stall started telling you how lucky you were. You didn't know why, but Kaeya had gained their popularity. Later you found out that they were supposedly very depressed because they saw him as a candidate for a husband for their granddaughters.

~ He calls you my sweetheart. Your relationship is full of such sweet words from him. He also won't resist kissing you out of the blue. Especially when he goes somewhere for a longer time, he says he needs more kisses in advance.

~ Diluc doesn't know what you see in his brother. He treats you with cold politeness and that's it. You never found out why they have such a bad relationship and they won't explain it to you. You don't press it but it saddens you how they treat each other. However, you know that your future brother-in-law is ready to help you if you were in a really bad situation. He told you about it right after you got engaged and it was one of the few things he said to you in your entire relationship.

~ You have to forgive Kaeya for often sitting at the bar. That's one thing that will never change. He likes to enjoy a glass of wine after a hard day. He'll try to convince you to go out with him. After all, Angel's Share also has non-alcoholic drinks. Just be prepared to deal with him when he overdoes it.

~ He gets extremely effusive when drunk. He also tends to tell tales. Including ones that exaggerate your merits. Once he made up that you defeated a magician without any weapons. People in a bar clapped and the next day the rumors spread and they congratulated you on the street, asking for details. You were pissed at your fiancé for that for the next week.

~ His cryo ability helps you especially in the summer. He will gladly cool your drink or hold your hand under the pretext of hot weather.

He can also walk on water. He is strong enough to freeze its surface to some extent. His favourite pastime is doing it while skating, in the summer. This requires a lot of trust from you because one wrong move from him and you will end up in the water. If it is shallow, he sometimes bathes you on purpose. He finds this extremely amusing.

~ Your dates are usually picnics near Mondstadt. You usually have to organize them because Alberich would be satisfied with a simple walk. He explains it by saying that anywhere is perfect, as long as it's with you. He doesn't really feel like cooking and you know it.

~ If monsters attack you then, he will defeat them in a showy style. Even if you can defend yourself, he will still want to do it himself. He likes to show off. He wants to be your private knight, protecting you from danger.

~ The man has a serious dilemma. The wedding is coming up and he still hasn't told you where he really came from. It's not that he doesn't want to but his childhood memories are deeply embedded in him. He's still ashamed of his hesitation on that fateful day. Diluc has never forgiven him. How differently will you look at him? He doesn't know for sure. It was a long time ago and his view of the world is different but the fact remains. However, he is certain that no matter what he does, your safety in the future is important.

[gvfgal]

How to Fall in Love in Ten Days

+18 series, minors DNI

A/n: Alrighty folks, things are about to start heating up. We’re getting closer to the end 👀👀 As always, let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist, leave your questions, comments, and concerns wherever you see fit, and as always, enjoy 🤍

Content Warnings: mutual pining, sexual tension, a bit of teasing?, voyeurism, masturbation (m!rec).

Word Count: 5.2K

Day Six: The Office

By the time the following day dawned, the overwhelming carnal feelings had subsided, leaving you grateful for the respite. Yet, you knew those emotions still simmered beneath the surface, ready to ignite at the slightest provocation.

The morning sun filtered softly through the lace curtains of the breakfast room, casting a gentle glow over the polished silver and delicate porcelain set for breakfast. The aroma of freshly baked bread and rich coffee filled the air, a comforting contrast to the charged emotions of the previous night. The room itself was a haven of tranquility, with its delicate floral wallpaper and the soft ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner.

Seated alone at the table, you delicately spread fresh plum jam on a warm scone. The scone, still steaming from the oven, melted the jam slightly, creating a perfect blend of flavors and textures. You took a small, appreciative bite, savoring the sweetness that contrasted with the slight tang of the fruit. Just then, the Duke entered, a roguish smile playing on his lips. A rush of relief swept over you at the sight of him, one you hardly fought to hide. Though he looked as dashing as always, your excitement had less to do with physical attraction and more with the anticipation of spending more genuine time together. You found yourself craving this connection just as much as the other. He greeted you with a bow, exaggerated in a way that made you giggle despite yourself.

“Good morning, Your Grace,” he said, straightening up with a twinkle in his eye. “Did you sleep well?”

“Good morning, Your Grace,” you replied, smiling. “I did, thank you. And you?”

“Like a log,” he replied with a grin, crossing the room to sit opposite you. His movements were fluid, almost catlike, and he seemed to bring with him an air of cheerfulness that brightened the room. “Though I confess, I had the most peculiar dream involving a race and a certain charming lady besting me.” He chuckled, his eyes dancing with mischief. He was in a bright mood, and you had a sneaking suspicion it was for reasons similar to your own.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Perhaps it was not a dream, but a vivid memory.”

“Ah, that would explain it,” he said, his tone mock-serious. “I shall have to train harder to regain my honor.”

You laughed again, the sound bright and clear, and Daniel felt his heart lift at the sight of your genuine smile. There was no need to mention the dinner of the previous evening. What had transpired was a testament to the growing feelings between you, and that was enough for the moment. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, his gaze fixed on you with such intensity that it made your heart flutter.

“Tell me,” he said, his voice low, “what shall we do today, my lady? Shall we ride again, or perhaps a walk in the gardens?”

Before you could respond, Sebastian approached and handed the Duke a sealed letter. He opened it, his expression shifting as he read. When he looked up, the playfulness in his eyes was tinged with regret. He cast his eyes to Sebastian and then back to you.

“It appears I am needed in the Duchy today,” he said, his tone apologetic. “There are some urgent matters of business that require my attention.”

The last thing he wanted to do was leave the house without you. He’d found growing comfort and pleasure in being around you, and for the first time in years, the thought of attending to his business irked him.

You didn’t want him to leave either. You had already thought up ideas of what the two of you could indulge in today, and the thought of him leaving left you feeling like the wounded bride you’d felt like on your first days together. You nodded anyway, trying to mask your disappointment. “Of course, Your Grace. Duty calls.”

Sebastian watched the two of you for a moment with a concealed smirk before slipping out of the room again, not missing the way you two seemed perturbed by not being with one another.

“I shall try to return as soon as possible, hopefully with enough daylight saved for at least one activity.”

You shook your head, “Your duty as the Duke comes first. I shall be right here when you return, there’s no need to rush.”

He wanted to shake his head in return. Suddenly his duties didn’t seem as important as spending time with you. If he could blow the whole thing off he would, but unfortunately the matter was urgent.

“Besides,” you added, trying to ease his visible displeasure, “I’m sure there are some things that need tending to ahead of our ball in a few days.”

Daniel smiled, albeit wistfully, and nodded. “Yes, of course. Until this evening, then.”

You watched him go, your heart heavy with the unspoken wish that he could stay. As the door closed behind him, the room felt a little colder, a little emptier. You sighed, turning back to your scone, trying to focus on the day ahead. The jam on your scone seemed less sweet, and the warm, inviting aroma of the breakfast room felt somewhat hollow without his presence.

You spent the first half of your morning in the stables with Elpis. You considered taking her for a short stroll, but it wouldn’t have been the same without Daniel. The remainder of the morning was spent perusing titles in the library, losing yourself in the scent of aged leather and the quiet rustle of pages. The tranquility was a welcome reprieve, but all too soon, Roslyn arrived to assist you in your office, where you finalized the decorations and menus for the rapidly approaching ball. After several hours of meticulous work, every detail was addressed, and Roslyn departed to ensure the plans were executed flawlessly.

While still in your office, you decided to turn your attention to a stack of correspondences that had sat waiting for you in the corner of your desk. Most were letters from esteemed families who had, for various reasons, been unable to attend your wedding, yet each conveyed their heartfelt congratulations and well wishes.

You responded to each letter with the same courtesy, despite recognizing only a few names from your youth, the others were mere shadows in your memory.

After signing the last letter, you gathered the stack and entrusted them to a servant for dispatch. With your tasks complete, you found yourself aimlessly wandering the halls, restless and yearning for something—or rather, someone.

Daniel had not yet returned, and you had exhausted all your tasks for the day. Your thoughts drifted to him—his stories of childhood, the infectious melody of his laughter, and the way his eyes sparkled when you shared anecdotes from your own youth. You realized then that you missed him. It was a strange, almost foreign sensation, this longing for his nearness and, dare you admit, his touch.

Your steps, guided by your wandering mind, led you to the Duke’s office. You paused before the ornate doors, debating whether to enter. The temptation was strong; you had never seen the interior, and curiosity gnawed at you. Secondly, it would offer a semblance of closeness to him in his absence until he returned. You wondered if the furniture retained his intoxicating scent, permeated by his constant presence. And lastly, entering his office would provide a further glimpse into his world, a deeper understanding of the man who was becoming so significant to you.

Technically, there was no prohibition against it. You lived there, after all, and had received no explicit instructions to stay out. Yet, it felt like an invasion of his privacy, especially in his absence.

Your hand was on the knob before you fully registered your decision. Slowly, you turned it, careful not to make a sound that might attract attention. The door opened with a soft creak, and you stepped inside, your heart pounding with adrenaline.

You hesitated in the threshold, taking in the sight before you. The room was a study in understated elegance, filled with dark, polished wood and rich, burgundy leather. Tall bookshelves lined the walls, filled to the brim with volumes of all sizes, their spines a rainbow of faded colors. A massive mahogany desk dominated the center of the room, its surface impeccably organized, papers stacked neatly beside a brass inkwell and quill.

The air was redolent with the scent of aged paper and the subtle tang of leather, mingling with the faint aroma of the cedar wood that paneled the room. It was Daniel’s comforting scent that seemed to envelop you, making you feel as though you were stepping into the very essence of the Duke himself.

The room was dimly lit, the sunlight filtering through heavy, brocade curtains that framed the tall windows. You crossed the threshold and closed the door behind you. Your fingers trailed lightly over the smooth, cool surface of the desk, the texture was pleasing under your touch, a tactile connection to the man who spent so many hours here.

A pair of high-backed chairs, upholstered in burgundy velvet, sat before the desk, inviting and regal. You could almost picture Daniel seated behind the desk, his brow furrowed in concentration, or perhaps leaned back, lost in thoughts, thoughts of you, perhaps.

Your gaze traveled around the room, noting the small, personal touches that spoke volumes about the Duke. A collection of polished stones and fossils was displayed in a glass case, evidence of a childhood fascination that had not entirely faded. An antique globe sat in one corner, its surface worn smooth by years of curious fingers tracing over its continents.

Then, your eyes fell upon a large portrait hanging on the wall across from his desk, and you felt a pang of tenderness. It depicted a young Daniel, perhaps seven or eight years old, standing between his parents. His mother, a striking woman with warm, kind eyes, had one arm draped protectively around his shoulders. His father, stern but with a hint of a smile playing at his lips, stood tall and proud beside them.

The portrait captured a moment of familial warmth and unity, a stark contrast to the solitary figure Daniel often seemed to be. You stepped closer, studying the young boy’s face. His eyes, even then, held a glimmer of the intelligence and determination that had become so characteristic of the man he had grown into.

You reached out, almost without thinking, to touch the frame of the portrait. The wood was cool and smooth under your fingertips, grounding you in the present moment. The sight of Daniel’s younger self, flanked by his parents, stirred something deep within you—a longing to be a part of his life, to share in the history that had shaped him.

Stepping back, you allowed yourself a moment to simply absorb the atmosphere of the room. It was a space that spoke of duty and diligence, but also of personal interests and hidden depths. It was, in every sense, a reflection of the man you were coming to know and care for more deeply with each passing hour.

You crossed back over to one of the cases to inspect its contents further. The glass-fronted cabinet held an array of artifacts, each meticulously arranged. There were gilded trinkets and miniature sculptures, their surfaces catching the light and gleaming with a muted luster. Among them, you spotted an ornate inkwell, fashioned from silver and engraved with intricate patterns, alongside an array of quills, their feathers pristine and elegant.

“Pretty fascinating, isn’t it?”

You jumped with fright at the sound of the Duke’s voice, clutching your chest as you whipped around to see a smirking Daniel leaning against the door frame. How had you not heard him come in?

He didn’t appear angry in any way, but you felt the need to apologize anyways.

“Your Grace,” you sighed, trying to calm the rapid pulsing of your heart, “I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to… intrude?”

Daniel stood watching you in amusement for a moment longer, his eyes dragging the length of your body before finding your face again. “There’s no need to apologize. This is your house, you can visit any room you please.”

He pushed himself off the doorframe and shut the door behind him. You were thankful for the privacy, but also fearful of what you might find yourself getting up to without watching eyes.

Daniel quietly strolled further into the room, coming to stand near you by the cases. He folded his arms behind his back and inspected his collection.

"Where did you acquire all of these?" you asked, seeking to ease the heaviness that was rapidly beginning to form in the room.

"Some of these belonged to my father," he replied, pointing out a few, "others were gifts, and some came from my travels." He gestured to a specific item on the top shelf. It was a small silver carving of what appeared to be a kraken, though you weren't entirely familiar with the mythical creature.

"That was a gift from my friend Jacob. He brought it back after one of his voyages when he was only sixteen years old."

"It is most enchanting; he must have paid a large sum for it."

Daniel smirked. "Knowing Jacob, it was probably stolen."

You gasped in shock before both of you fell into a fit of laughter.

Turning away from the case, you began, "so, this is where you spend your days hiding away, is it?"

Daniel felt a twinge of embarrassment at your statement and struggled to find words to reply. Nothing he could say would excuse his childlike behavior.

"It is rather charming," you continued, sparing him from having to reply. "I can see why one would wish to spend ample time here. There is much more to see than in my simple office."

Daniel chuckled. "Only more to get distracted by, if I'm being honest."

You leaned back against the front side of the desk, displayed in a way that immediately heightened Daniel’s senses. He tried not to show his reaction, but he rather liked seeing you there against his desk in that way. The smell of your floral perfume hung ever so slightly in the air, and he fought back the urge to inhale deeply, to experience the way your scents mingled together.

He watched as you inspected the family portrait hung on the wall, wondering what was going through your mind as you did so. In truth, you were trying your best not to look at him for too long. The more you did, the more difficult it was to restrain yourself and all your lascivious thoughts.

But the Duke felt there was too much space between you. He had raced back home to be near you, but this wasn’t quite near enough for him.

He made a movement in your direction, and when he did, your nerves sent your body jumping, causing you to knock one of the items on his desk to the floor with a thud.

"My apologies," you stammered, leaning to retrieve it, but Daniel was by your side in an instant, stopping you from moving with a gentle hand over yours.

You looked from the item on the floor to your hands together, and then into the Duke’s eyes. They were fiery and amorous as he held your gaze. Slowly, he lowered himself to the ground where the item lay beside you. Your breathing began to pick up, and while he lingered so close beside you, you couldn't move a muscle.

With the item clutched in his grasp, he began to rise from the ground, his movements deliberate and languid, a bold hand caressing the blush fabric of your dress as he ascended. Unable to resist any longer, he inhaled your scent deeply, savoring it as a memory to recall later in the solitude of his chambers.

“Your Grace,” you shuddered bashfully, “what…” Your voice trailed off as his touch continued its upward journey. He placed the item back on the desk, his wandering hand coming to rest upon your cheek, the other wrapping around your waist.

It seemed he could no longer control himself, but you did not resist. You wanted to see just how far this intimate moment would go, to see if this would finally be the moment you both surrendered to your desires.

“I could not stop thinking of you while I was away,” he breathed into the small space between you. “All day, my mind was consumed with the idea of being near you again, so much so that I could hardly bear it.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and leaned into his touch, causing an agonizing sigh to spill past the Duke’s lips. Oh, how he craved this more and more.

“I missed you. I could not stop thinking of you either,” you admitted, brushing your lips against his but not feeling bold enough to kiss him. The touch was becoming almost painful to resist.

“Indeed?” he questioned, nuzzling his nose against yours. “What was it you were thinking of?”

When you did not, or more so, could not answer, his hand around your waist gave a gentle squeeze that made you gasp.

“Do not go silent on me now,” he spoke against your lips. “What were your thoughts while I was away?”

The Duke was enjoying this very much, but you found a sense of resilience within yourself not to give in too easily. There was still a silent battle waging.

“Why don’t you tell me what it was you were thinking of while you were away?”

The corner of his mouth turned upward in a salacious smirk. “I can admit my thoughts were rather similar to this,” he quickly assessed the way your bodies were pressed against one another, “amongst other things.”

“Things like what?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

Daniel’s brow cocked. “That would be telling, now, wouldn’t it? And if my duty speaks anything of the man I am, then you would see that I am much more a man of action than of words.”

Before he could finish his sentence, you crashed your lips against his, unable to restrain yourself any longer. He kissed you back with fervor, wrapping you in his embrace so that you would not lose your footing.

It was an ardent tangle of lips and breath, a wild and unrestrained exchange that left no room for decorum. Passion overpowered precision, each movement vehement and perfervid. It was a kiss that spoke of the raw, unbridled yearning that lay beneath the layers of conflict that had consumed your marriage, an intensity that rendered every other sensation meaningless.

When a throaty moan escaped your body, Daniel quickly realized how precipitously the moment was escalating. Summoning the last vestiges of his restraint, he tore himself away from you, stepping several paces back.

It took you a moment to regain your composure, but when you did, the Duke was regarding you with an unreadable expression.

Both your chests were heaving, and you had the mind to seek out his lips again, but he began shaking his head.

“I must apologize,” he said, you could see the disappointment washing away the lust in his features, “I should not have done that. I’m unsure of what has come over me.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but no words came forth. When the silence became unbearable, Daniel stormed out of the room, leaving the door ajar as he distanced himself from you once more.

Things were eerily hushed in Sterling house for the remainder of the afternoon leading up to dinner. You’d closed yourself in your room with your racing thoughts, and figured Daniel had done the same since you had been occupying the only other place he sought refuge in the house.

Roslyn and your maids came to help you freshen up for dinner, but they’d finished early, whisking themselves away to their next tasks, leaving you with a little time to kill before you were expected in the dining room.

Without knowing it, you found yourself wandering the halls like a ghost again.

As you turned the corner to the hallway that Daniel’s bedroom occupied, you were confound to find that the door was slightly ajar. This was unusual, the doors to the Duke’s room were usually always shut tight, even when he was absent. You tiptoed over, feeling ashamed for your constant prying, but you couldn’t seem to help yourself when it came to him. You were led on by your desires, feeling as if you were going mad trying to catch even just a glimpse of your husband.

Peeking your head in, you took in the sight of his room, a parallel to the masculine sanctuary of his office. Dark mahogany furniture, deep green drapes, and a singular shelf lined with books. The bed, grand and imposing, was impeccably made, and the scent of sandalwood lingered in the air, along with the scent that you had come to realize belonged to the Duke alone. His desk, cluttered yet organized, hinted at his mind that was constantly at work; he couldn’t escape it even in the comfort of his bedroom. There was a large painting of a ship at sea hanging over the fireplace, and on the mantelpiece, a collection of small, intricate figurines similar to ones you’d seen in his office earlier. Despite the room’s opulence, it felt distinctly his—a blend of austerity and hidden warmth, but as you looked around, you realized the Duke wasn’t present in the room like you thought he was.

You stepped in further, but stopped in your tracks when you heard a noise coming from what you assumed to be the bathroom.

You were statuesque as you waited for another sound, and it wasn’t long before one graced your ears.

A moan. Low and guttural in nature. You furrowed your brows together, unsure if you had heard correctly, but before you could step closer to improve your hearing, it sounded out again, this time with your name at its tail end. Your heartbeat began to quicken, but you couldn’t seem to find enough common sense to turn and leave.

In fact, you crept closer, your ears seeking out the sounds coming from the other side of the door as if they’d been tuned to them only. The door was closed, but not entirely, all it would take was a small push to open it. And push you did, with trembling fingers, just enough so that you could peer inside.

The Duke’s back was to you as he sat in the bathroom’s large ornate clawfoot tub, his curly hair fanned out over the edge behind him as more ragged breathing and choked groans escaped him. The water from the tub lapped in time with the movement of his arm, and though the tub shielded you from seeing what was truly taking place, you had a rather clear notion of what Daniel was engaged in, having been privy to similar circumstances with your older brother, ones that you tried not to think of in that moment.

This was an intimate moment, one that propriety dictated you should have retreated from the instant you comprehended its nature. Yet, despite your best efforts to avert your gaze and leave the Duke to his private musings, you found yourself unable to tear your eyes away from him.

You watched motionlessly, holding your breath to not give away your position. The way his back muscles tensed every so often, the motion of his arm working at himself, the salacious sounds he coaxed from himself as he did so, it was all so tantalizing. You didn’t even have the mind to feel ashamed for watching, too consumed by the show the Duke didn’t even know he was putting on for you.

Seeing him that way made it very apparent how desperately you wanted him; better yet, needed him. You desired it more fervently than your very next breath. The fear that this longing might wholly consume you if left unfulfilled gnawed at your soul, but it was a battle you no longer wished to wage.

You wanted the Duke, and from the sounds and looks of it, he undoubtedly wanted you too.

When a curse left his mouth with your name again, you found yourself suddenly too overwhelmed, and you retreated from spying before an achy moan of your own escaped.

You made your way back to your room, but you couldn’t wipe the image of the Duke from your brain. And you knew it’d be permanently etched there until you got a chance to endeavor him yourself.

Daniel did not grace you with his presence at dinner that evening; instead, he dispatched Sebastian to reassure you that all was well, though he needed to catch up on some pressing work.

You found yourself grateful for this reprieve, uncertain if you could have faced the Duke after your earlier indiscretion. Moreover, it provided a welcome respite from the internal tumult you had been contending with whenever the Duke was in your presence, allowing you to cultivate an air of tranquility. You sat quietly, savoring your meal, and wished for the presence of the violinist from the previous night to provide some diversion. This solitude was markedly different from the isolation you had felt in days past. You did not feel abandoned but rather content—well, almost content.

Once dinner concluded, you retired to your chambers, silent as your maids assisted you in preparing for bed.

Slipping beneath the fresh linens, you found yourself tossing and turning, thoughts of your husband filling your mind until, at last, they gently lulled you into slumber.

The sun cast its golden glow over a sprawling meadow, where the laughter of children echoed in the warm air. Two boys and a girl played, their faces radiant with joy. The eldest boy, dark-haired and mischievous, helped his younger sister to her feet after she stumbled. Nearby, a young boy with golden curls chased a butterfly, his chubby hands reaching out in earnest delight.

The stately manor stood in the background, its windows gleaming in the late afternoon light. Standing nearby, watching the children with a serene smile, was you, your every feature exuding grace and warmth. Your dress fluttered softly in the breeze, and your eyes, filled with love, followed your children’s every move. You turned and smiled, your gaze meeting that of Daniel standing a few paces away.

“Look at them,” you said, your voice filled with tender amusement. “They grow so quickly, do they not?”

Daniel smiled back, his heart swelling with pride and contentment. “Indeed, they do. It feels as though just yesterday we were welcoming our firstborn.”

The girl, with dark curls cascading down her back, ran over and grabbed Daniel’s hand. “Papa, come play with us!”

Daniel laughed, allowing himself to be pulled into the children’s game. “Very well, but I must warn you, I was quite the champion at hide-and-seek in my day.”

The children giggled, their joy infectious. As they played, you stood back, your heart warmed by the sight of your husband and children together.

Your eldest boy, after hiding and being found, ran to to where you were standing, his round face so similar to Daniel’s it made your heart swell all the more. “Mama, did you see? Papa found me so quickly!”

“I did, my love,” you replied, kneeling to embrace him. “Your father has always been very clever.”

As the game continued, Daniel found a moment to stand beside you again, your hands naturally finding each other’s. He squeezed your hand gently, his eyes reflecting a deep, unspoken love.

“I have never been happier,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “This is everything I ever desired.”

You smiled up at him, your eyes shining. “As have I, my love.”

Suddenly, a rhythmic, persistent tapping began to intrude upon the idyllic scene. The edges of the meadow started to blur, the children’s laughter fading into the distance. The tapping grew louder, more insistent, pulling Daniel from his dream.

With a reluctant sigh, he awoke, the tapping now unmistakably real. His head swiveled until he found the source of the noise. The latch on his window was loose, and the howling wind outside sent the windowpane tap, tap, tapping.

He threw back the covers and repositioned the lock until the wind was no longer a problem. But after his dream, one he hadn’t expected to have in a million years, he knew sleep wouldn’t find him again so easily.

Pulling on some nearby lounge clothes, the Duke slipped out of his room, down the hall, and around the corner to his office.

A few lamps were still lit in the room, illuminating the space just enough that it wouldn’t draw any attention to his whereabouts.

He walked the room aimlessly, something he didn’t do often. Usually, he was right at his desk to work, but he wasn’t seeking work this time of night. He wanted to see if your scent still lingered in the room, hoping to catch just a fragment of your being in your absence. It was faint, but he could distinguish it, and it brought him a foreign sense of relief.

His office, a place he spent many hours, didn’t feel the same anymore. It felt oddly empty, more vast than he remembered it. Colder.

He couldn’t figure out the reason why, until his mind flashed to you again. It was you that was missing from the room, giving it its inviting warmth. The room hadn’t had your presence before today, and so Daniel had never known it any differently. But now that you’d graced it with your presence, the room felt empty without you.

Daniel sighed, running a hand over his face. He was falling for you, fast and hard, beyond the physical attraction.

You were beginning to etch your way into his mind, body, and soul. He was beginning to live and breathe you in a way he’d never expected, and not so soon.

He crossed the room to the window, casting his gaze off into the distance. Though the sky was dark, he could see the storm clouds beginning to form as the trees and shrubbery in the garden swayed with the increasing wind.

He stood there for a long time, the weight of the evening’s events settling upon him. He hadn’t meant to hide from you during dinner, but he felt he could hardly face you after what he got up to earlier. He feared if you saw his face, it’d give away everything he was thinking and feeling. Not only that, but the dream he’d had earlier seemed to begin to blur with reality, leaving him yearning for a future he could scarcely believe was within reach.

Taglist: @jakekiszkashangnail08 @josh-iamyour-mama @freyjalw @gvfsstardust @peaceloveunitygvf @positivegvfthings