#if i ever catch my breath i shall elaborate

[katasstrophy]

pillowfight with nagi that starts with shits and giggles but ends with a steamy make out and you pawing at each other’s clothes

[jadeleechsupportgroup]

Closet Prison

“And those pitiable robes return once more to their closet prison.”

You get trapped in Malleus’s closet. Well done.

malleus x reader

cw: none

also on ao3

You are starting to wonder how many different job titles you have collected so far in your short tenure at Night Raven College. Even if you gathered several of them under the ‘Janitor’ heading that Crowley had so proudly bestowed upon you on the first day, there were enough now to make for one hell of a résumé: Glasswork Repair Technician, Antique Plumbing Specialist, Magestone Recovery Agent, not to mention every version of the word ‘therapist’ that existed. Now, you suppose, you could add Laundry Cleanliness Coordinator to the list.

“I demand to speak with someone at once! This is an outrage!”

Ah, yes. How could you forget Customer Service Punching Bag.

You peek out to the front reception area, hiding between hanging garment bags and swiping your over-steamed hair out of your face. You could have easily - and correctly - guessed at the owner of the voice for several reasons, primary among them 1. This happens every week and 2. Anyone would know that voice because no one ever gets to stop hearing it.

No one is coming to his rescue, even though you know you are not the only one on a shift today. But you are the closest one to the door. You balance your fingertips on the white paneling and close your eyes, steeling yourself for battle, your best and brightest fake smile serving as both armor and weapon. You tuck your lint brush into your back pocket in case you need something portable that won’t leave a mark.

“Why, Sebek, fancy seeing you here,” you say in a voice not your own. Your Customer Service Voice is a different person. You don’t know her. “You’re looking very well.”

“No, I am not!” he shouts, rattling the change in the tip jar on the counter behind you. Before you can have a chance to react, he shoves a garment bag with a paper receipt into your face. “You have made a grave error, and you must pay for it immediately!”

Your smile wanes, but you stay strong. “Me? In particular? Are you sure?”

“Who else would have committed such an unforgivable act, human?!”

You fold your arms patiently. “Perhaps you could enlighten me as to the error of my ways?”

Sebek flings down the garment bag in disgust. You catch it, somewhat, but its heft and size make for an awkward movement, something Sebek no doubt enjoys. “Since humans are of such feeble mind, I shall, as they say, ‘spell it out for you.’”

His chest heaves, and you brace yourself for the volume that’s about to assault you and anyone else within a three-mile radius.

“You have misplaced the ceremonial robes belonging to the great Malleus Draconia!”

The urge to beat him over the head with the tip jar strikes you abruptly, but you file it away. Inside, a very small part of you does panic - did Malleus bring some valuable, irreplaceable robes from home? But then you realize what Sebek means, and all you can do is wonder whether you could make assault with a deadly weapon look like self defense.

You put on your Voice again. “Like, his orientation robes? I didn’t even see those come in.”

“Of course not! And now they have landed in someone else’s filthy, unworthy hands!”

“Okay, okay. Sheesh.” You hang up the offending garment bag and check the receipt. Sure as shit, it has Malleus’s name on it. You refrain from suggesting this is all part of an elaborate prank. It would be funny, but you’ve heard enough of Sebek’s voice for one day. “I’ll get it sorted out.”

“See that you do! And that you prepare an apology for Lord Malleus at once!”

You force yourself to take a deep breath and hold it until he storms out the door. The tip jar lives to see another day.

You go over the books and cross-check a few numbers. A simple mistake - someone accidentally skipped a line on one side of the page, so now the entries are misaligned. You check the tag on the inside of the robes and find Leona’s name embroidered on the lining.

The prospect of hiking across campus with a heavy garment bag longer than you are tall is hardly enticing, but you don’t have much of a choice. The last thing you want is for Sebek to come back in ten minutes demanding to know why you haven’t fixed everything by now. You pull on your coat and head outside.

It’s cool and cloudy out - probably normal September weather for some, but you hail from somewhere hotter this time of year, and you’re already cold. The chill hastens your steps as you make your way across the stones and grassy pathways to the Hall of Mirrors. You wish you had a giant mug of hot cocoa or spiced apple cider. One of each, you decide as you step through the Savanaclaw mirror.

The jump still leaves you queasy, but the warm humidity of the pocket dimension embraces you and eliminates the cold clinging to your shoulders. You wander past groups of students, trying to catch glimpses of their faces while avoiding eye contact. You don’t recognize anyone, so with a sigh, you plod toward the main building.

A tall beast-eared student leans against the wall of the entryway like some kind of bouncer. You’re hoping he’ll ignore you, but he stands to his full height and blocks your path.

“You lost?” he asks gruffly.

“I need to give these to Leona,” you say evenly, losing some of the bravado that empowered you against Sebek earlier. “His robes got mixed up with someone else’s.”

He leans in and sniffs the air around you, prompting you to move away, bringing a satisfied glint to his eye. His ears twitch, but he finally backs off and resumes his post. “Go on.”

You find yourself breathing a little more deeply in a vain attempt to slow your heart rate. It would not do to pass out from a panic attack in the midst of all these predators. It occurs to you that you don’t know where to find Leona, but you really don’t want to ask any of these people for directions, so you start wandering. You’re up the stairs and halfway down the hall when a door opens and a familiar head of sandy brown hair ducks out of it.

“…last time I help that guy with anything,” he grumbles to himself. He glances up at you, and his dour expression lifts a bit. “Hey, what’re you doing here?”

“Hi, Ruggie,” you say, breathless from the stairs. “I have Leona’s robes.” You have to pause for one huge breath. “They got switched around at the cleaners.”

Ruggie cackles. “That explains a lot. I’ll swap ’em out - he just went back to sleep.”

“Thanks.” You hand him the garment bag. He disappears back into the room, then returns with a different bag. Unfortunately, it’s no less long or heavy. You decide to fold it in half, hoping it will be a little easier to carry. “Best of luck with…whatever he’s having you do this time.” You gesture vaguely at the closed door.

“Haha, yeah.”

You’re almost too warm from all this manual labor by the time you re-enter the Hall of Mirrors, but the shock of cold that smacks you full force on the other side of the Diasomnia mirror leaves you instantly shivering. Is it always this cold in here? How does anyone stand it? The fog curling around the clusters of thorns at your feet does not help. Unlike at Savanaclaw, you don’t see any students milling about here. Just a long, lonely stone walkway winding up through the mist to the castle.

You hope just a little that the doors will be locked and you’ll have to leave, but no luck. The massive wooden doors are propped open, though nobody is standing guard here. They probably assume (correctly) that no one would waltz in here without a reason.

You try not to make it too obvious that you’ve never been in Diasomnia before, but there are plenty of things to gawk at in the lavishly-appointed lounge. Fine leather seating, antique wood tables that look like the much nicer versions of the ones in your dorm, expensive imported rugs - yet even with all that, and the flickering green candle flames dotting the room, the whole space feels…vacant. Lacking. And cold. So cold you can smell the stone.

“H- hello?” you call out, losing what little courage you had remaining. You consider leaving the garment bag on the nearest chair and escaping to safety, but a set of footsteps catches your attention.

“Why, good afternoon,” says a sunny, cordial voice completely at odds with your surroundings. He smiles and tilts his head to one side. “What can I do for you?”

“Lilia, right?” you guess, and to your relief he nods in response. “I’m just returning these.” You set the garment bag down, suddenly aware of how badly you were scrunching it. “Malleus’s robes,” you add.

Lilia blinks his bright cerise eyes. “Oh, that must be where Sebek went in such a hurry.” He allows himself a light chuckle. “You didn’t need to come all this way just to bring these back.”

“Yeah? Sebek was ready to burn me at the stake for it, so…” You frown over the state of the garment bag. You didn’t mean to crumple it so badly, but it just got so freaking heavy after more than a few minutes. “Would it be alright if I brush these out before I go? They probably got wrinkled, and I’ve reached my quota of stake burnings for the month.”

“Of course!” Lilia seems a little overjoyed at the idea of a visitor, but at least he is polite and appreciative of your efforts. “Right this way.”

You have to endure another set of stairs, passing by an enormous bat-winged chair at the top that would be practically comical in any other situation. Lilia trots along merrily ahead of you, humming to himself as you study the iron latticework of the huge windows lining the hall. Outside, you catch glimpses here and there of the gargoyles that stand guard along the parapets. The green firelight casts shadows through the grating that appear to bring their carved stone faces to life.

“Do you like architecture?” Lilia asks, bringing you out of your musings.

“Yeah, I guess so. This is all…very different from what I’m used to.”

“Well, you are certainly free to stop by at any time. We love having visitors.”

Lilia stops at a set of double doors and tugs them open before leading you inside. He looks about to say something when his watch chirps at him. He checks it curiously. “Hm? Oh, of course. We have a club meeting - I nearly forgot.” He offers you another kind smile. “I’m afraid I must take my leave, but I trust you can find your way out?”

“Pretty sure.” You balance the garment bag on one arm while you try to open the closet doors with your other hand. There’s an absolutely frigid draft in here, strong enough to disturb the curtains, and you wonder if Malleus is one of those monstrous types that sleeps with the windows open. “Thanks.”

“Oh, and be careful with that door. It can stick a little.”

With that, he bounces out of the room.

You hook the hanger over the closet railing and unzip the bag. The damage is minimal, actually; the robes’ heavy brocade fabric is pretty resilient as long as it’s dry. But you spot a few dozen hairs that must belong to Leona. You’re glad you brought the lint brush now.

The cold draft of air spills over your shoulders and freezes your hands. This is getting downright ridiculous. You step back into the main room and go to close the windows, but they’re already closed. The breeze is just there. You grumble to yourself about having two hot cocoas and two apple ciders upon your return home and go back to your work.

Malleus’s entire room looks like it hardly receives any use at all. Whether due to his position as housewarden or his family name, his closet is larger than what you would expect for a dorm room, large enough to stand in comfortably. (Although, for him, you think, perhaps not, as his horns might brush the ceiling. That would be funny.).

You can hardly concentrate because it’s so damn cold. You finally get fed up with it and pull the closet door most of the way shut behind you, leaving just enough of a gap for light to enter. The relief is instantaneous.

You carefully brush and straighten the robes, ensuring all the stray hairs and lint fluffs are removed, trimming a stray thread here and there. You run your fingers over the specially tailored openings in the hood. They’ve been hand-sewn by an expert, even adorned with their own decorative embroidery. You appreciate the craftsmanship, knowing that few people would notice it, let alone care.

As if enraged by your attempts to thwart its presence, the draft of air returns with a vengeance and slams the closet door. You jump - at the noise, the sudden inky darkness, the freshly chilled breeze - and, feeling indignant about it, you push on the door.

Only, it doesn’t open.

You try again to no avail. Then you try pulling on the door, just in case, but it budges even less. You push against it with your shoulder, wondering if this is Sebek’s magical idea of a joke or a punishment, but you’re fairly certain he would rather die than leave you unattended in Malleus’s room. You listen carefully, but you hear no footsteps or voices. Lilia already said he was leaving.

Okay, calm down. Think. And keep throwing yourself into the door while you do it.

You can’t understand why it’s not working. Maybe there’s a magic seal on it. Or maybe you’re just weak. Weak and pathetic.

Frustration turns into a combination of anger and fear and sad. You hate that you’re not able to open the damn door. You hate that you’re getting so worked up over not being able to open the damn door. You hate that thinking about that isn’t enough to make you stop.

“Hello?” you try calling out, but there’s no response. You yell a few more times and knock on the wood for good measure. It changes nothing.

You slump down to the floor and try to breathe. It’s not the dark or the enclosed space that gets to you. Good thing, too, or orientation day would have been a lot more graphic for your audience. It’s just that the whole thing makes you feel…

…stupid.

Your eyes are adjusting to the dark, for all the good it does you, which is hardly any. And the cold breeze has now permeated the supposedly impenetrable barrier, so you’re shivering now, too. You reach up and feel the hem of the robes that caused you all this trouble.

Well, it hardly matters now.

You tug them off of the hanger and snuggle into them. A gentle, woodsy perfume wafts up from the depths of the silk lining, subtle but strong in the enclosed space. You press the fabric to your face and draw in a deep breath. The smell soothes your nerves - fallen leaves, pine needles, fresh rain, even a touch of mycelium.

You don’t have forests around where you’re from. You’ve been to them a few times, sure, on camping trips and one brief foray into the world of hiking, but none of them smelled quite like this.

You lie on your side and stare up in the general direction of the ceiling. The breeze hits your face, so you pull the hood down to shield yourself. You would laugh at how ridiculous this is, but you’re too worn out to care. You roll onto your side and let your eyes loll shut.

“-classes today?”

You mentally tell the voices to go away. You haven’t slept this well in ages.

“They were adequate. I shall go to the library later to acquire some other materials.”

You don’t want to get up. Even though you’re not really that comfortable…

“Excellent idea, my liege! I shall be honored to acquire all the necessary books for you!”

Your eyes shoot open. You’re not dreaming anymore.

The past few minutes - hours? - come back to you, and you scramble to sit up, fumbling with the robes you were using as a blanket. You’re about to try the door again when the voices come back.

“Do not trouble yourself on my behalf, Sebek. I am quite capable.”

“It’s no trouble, my liege!”

You sink back against the wall and try to control your breathing. You don’t even want to imagine what Sebek will say if he finds you like this. Whatever it is, it will cause permanent hearing loss.

You sit in the dark and wait.

“Very well, Sebek.”

“Thank you, Lord Malleus!”

You grit your teeth in annoyance and wish Sebek would go buy a personality since he doesn’t have his own. No wonder Malleus looks to be in such a dour mood all the time. He must have eternal patience to tolerate someone like that. You wouldn’t last ten minutes-

Light suddenly bursts in front of your eyes and blinds you. You squint and hold up one hand to shield your face against the brightness.

Malleus blinks down at you.

You wonder, briefly, what this must look like to his eyes. You, disheveled, wrapped in his ceremonial robes, on the floor of his closet. You are positive that every blood cell in your body is rushing to your face.

You don’t even have time to stand up.

Malleus steps inside and closes the door, plunging you into darkness once again.

“Wh-?”

“Shhh,” he whispers with hardly a breath of air. A rustle of fabric, and his hand locates yours without any of the blind searching you would have done. He helps you stand.

“Behold, Silver! I have been chosen to accompany Lord Malleus to the library!”

“Sure thing, Seb…”

You giggle before you can stop yourself, then clamp your hand over your mouth in a vain attempt to shut yourself up.

“S-sorry,” you stammer hopelessly. “I didn’t, um. It’s a long story.”

Heat soars to your face when Malleus closes his hand over your mouth.

“Shhh,” he says again. You can’t see a thing in the dark, but you can tell he’s listening. He must still faintly hear their voices. You have no idea. You can’t hear a thing over the fervent hammering of your blood against your bones.

You have no idea how long you both stay like that, unmoving, but eventually he pulls his hand away from your mouth. You take several panicked breaths even though you were breathing just fine.

He seems alarmed. “Have I injured you?”

“No, no. Sorry.” You give up and laugh, first from nerves, then relief. “I’ve just been stuck in here for…hours, I guess.”

A bulb of green firelight winks into existence and hovers above your head, where it casts sharp shadows over Malleus’s features. You think of the gargoyle statues. But rather than fierce and intimidating, he looks amused.

“Lilia mentioned that you dropped by to return my robes,” he says. “Did he not warn you about the door?”

You scoff. “He said it sticks a little. Not that I would need inhuman strength to open it.”

Malleus reaches forward and gently tugs the hood off of your head. You forgot you’re still wearing the robes and start to pull them off, but he stops you.

A smile seems to flit across his face, though it may be a trick of the light.

“They suit you,” he says with a low, delicate laugh that turns your heart upside down in your chest. “At least someone has found a use for them.”

“It was cold in here,” you reply lamely.

He leans in close enough that the heat from his breath dances across your nose. “And now?”

You are certain he can hear your pulse louder than you can. One hand is still holding yours, but the other he lifts to the side of your face, brushing the backs of his fingers over your cheek and ear before sweeping through your hair. You close your eyes and sigh into his mouth.

He holds you as though you are fragile, yet something he does not intend to let go. He mirrors your movements, letting you choose how deep or delicate the kiss, sliding his hand down your back to hold you closer. Everything shows that he wants to be careful with you.

Fireworks burst in your heart and under his hands. You reach up to his face, run your fingers through the liquid silk of his hair. Forest and rain and fresh earth overwhelm you, and you realize faintly that it’s not a cologne or anything artificial. It’s the smell of his skin.

You barely nudge the side of his horn with a fingertip. He laughs against your lips and has to pull away.

“Sorry,” you say breathlessly. “I didn’t mean to…”

Malleus brushes your fingers against his mouth, then cradles your hand to the side of his face. “You simply caught me by surprise. That is all.”

“You first.”

You catch sight of his grin before he snuffs out the green flame. “I only wish this had happened sooner,” he says, wrapping both arms around you. You do, too, though what he next murmurs against your ear suggests that his reasons differ slightly from your own. “What a marvelous hiding place.”

[snazzy-suit]

Luigi: Liaison of Ghosts Chapter 9 Snippet(s)

Heyoooo I'm currently sick af and thought I'd share a couple snippets of the next LLoG AU installment. In this chapter, we see how the uneasy truce between Luigi and King Boo began. To no one's surprise, peace-talks following King Boo's release don't exactly go smoothly.

For context, Luigi, Mario, Gooigi, and King Boo are in an underground portion of E. Gadd's lab that's specifically designed to keep ghosts/spirits contained. The professor is watching the following events from the safety of an observation room. He communicates through an intercom system.

Currently, King Boo has snatched up Luigi in a large glove construct (think a smaller version of Master Hand) and is holding the man hostage...

___________________________

“Not another step, plumber! If you so much as twitch I will not hesitate to eat your scrawny brother!”

Mario freezes, aghast, and Luigi supposes he, too, should be alarmed by King Boo’s grisly threat. Instead, a memory drifts to the forefront of his mind, and Luigi feels himself relaxing minutely. He schools his features into some semblance of calm and meets Mario’s panicked gaze.

“He’s bluffing.”

Luigi is grateful his voice comes out level, and his confidence in his statement only rises when King Boo squawks indignantly.

“I most certainly am not!” the monarch snaps, voice shrill. “What could have possibly led you to draw such an idiotic conclusion?!”

“Gee, I don’t know,” Luigi begins flatly, “how about when you wanted to gargle bleach the first time you ever tasted me?” He looks to Mario, and deigns to elaborate. “Back at The Last Resort, King Boo slammed me into a door with his tongue—knocked the wind right out of me. He had the perfect chance to trap me in a portrait while I was catching my breath, but instead he chose to whine about how bad I tasted.”

The reactions to this little revelation are mixed. Mario looks like he isn’t sure whether to be horrified at Luigi’s close call or relieved by King Boo’s pettiness. Gooigi, if his gurgling laughter is any indication, finds it downright hilarious.

“First time?” E. Gadd murmurs through the speakers. “Stars above lad; just how many times were you in King Boo’s mouth that night?”

“…Professor, I am begging you to never repeat that in any capacity ever again.”

Gooigi laughs even harder. King Boo growls lowly, face heating with anger and no small amount of humiliation. He hefts Luigi higher with a snarl.

“How’s this for bluffing?” he hisses.

The construct grasping Luigi moves to hover over King Boo’s head, and the monarch quickly tilts back as they open their mouth. Luigi yelps when the large glove shifts so it is scruffing him by the back of his shirt. He now dangles precariously over tongue and toothy maw. Varying cries of alarm echo throughout the room. King Boo cackles, the metaphorical ball now back in his court.

But not for long.

_________________

(Let's jump ahead a bit in the scene, shall we?) Luigi has broken free from King Boo's grasp and an enraged Mario has powered up with a Super Star to deliver the ultimate beatdown. Luigi is quick to intervene before things go too far...

_________________

“Why are you still defending them?!” Mario demands, growing increasingly more frustrated with each passing second. “They just tried to eat you!”

“But they didn’t,” Luigi stresses.

“Only because you broke free!”

Luigi shakes his head. “No,” he refutes patiently, “they still wouldn’t have gone through with it.”

“How can you know that for sure?!”

“I already told you. Back at The Last Resort—”

“That was then!” Mario interjects. “This is now, Luigi. King Boo is trapped with nowhere to go. He could have just killed you out of spite!”

“I know, but—”

“But nothing!” Mario cries, cutting a hand through the air. “King Boo is dangerous and that’s never going to change! He’s just going to keep coming after us! Aren’t you tired of dealing with them?!”

“Aren’t you tired of dealing with Bowser?!” Luigi snaps.

Mario blinks back at Luigi, startled by his retort. “…what?”

“He’s dangerous, he’s tried to kill us multiple times, and he won’t stop abducting someone we care about,” Luigi says, counting off his fingers as he goes. “Who am I describing: King Boo or Bowser?”

Mario opens his mouth for a retort, but nothing impactful is forthcoming. His jaw works uselessly in the wake of his failed rebuttal. “That’s… that’s not a fair comparison.”

“You’re right,” Luigi agrees, “One of them gets invited to play tennis afterwards.”

“Luigi—”

“Do you not see the double-standard here?” Luigi continues sharply. “Look me in the eye and tell me it’s fair that Bowser—who attacks us and abducts Peach every other Tuesday—gets to walk free while King Boo—who has only targeted us three times—has to be imprisoned forever?”

Mario says nothing. It is silent but for the ambient hum of machinery. Even King Boo, always one to fill the air with his arsenal of targeted barbs and sardonic quips, has been rendered speechless. Luigi can feel the spectral monarch’s gaze boring into his back; it makes the hairs on his neck stand on end. He tries to ignore it. He keeps his focus on Mario, the latter struggling to meet his eyes.

The prismatic light enveloping Mario’s body begins to flicker—slowly, at first, but then in an increasingly rapid pattern until it finally snuffs out. Mario’s shoulders sag, whether it’s in defeat or weariness from the sudden loss of surging power, Luigi can’t say for certain. Luigi finds his own posture slouching, but with relief. He slowly closes the distance between them and places a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“Look,” he begins quietly, lowering his voice to a more private volume, “I’m not exactly thrilled about all this either, but I made a promise to the other ghosts and spirits that I would free everyone. If I go back on my word without giving King Boo a proper chance, how are they supposed to trust me?”

Mario offers no verbal reply, but his grimace and averted gaze convey his discomfort well enough. Luigi sighs.

“Mario, you’re right to be wary of King Boo—I’m not trying to say otherwise. He’s one of the biggest threats we’ve ever faced. One of the few that’s ever…” Luigi trails off, a connection forming in his mind. “…gotten the upper hand on you.”

And as the words leave his mouth, Luigi is struck by a sudden realization. Why Mario’s reluctance to set King Boo free surpassed his own. Why Mario is seemingly content to let Bowser run amuck while simultaneously condemning King Boo for the same actions. Why he is so uncharacteristically angry.

Mario… is afraid.

___________________________

And that's it for now! This is all unedited and susceptible to change, so there's no telling what the final work will look like yet. As cruddy as I feel, it'll be a while before I can seriously focus on this again. Hopefully this little sneak peek will hold y'all over until it's ready!

[bastardsblood]

Hello.... I fear my want for Pierre shall never be quenched.... May I please request a continuation of your last scenario? I need to know what will happen to them next!!!

- 🍆

Hello! Of course! I hope that this sequel to the previous imagine will be satisfactory! I haven't reread the imagine, so I'm sorry for any grammatical mistakes. ^^

Characters: Pierre Nabeel

Scenario: Pierre with a Yandere Reader

Content Warnings: Cultist Idealogy

Lovely markings covered the entirety of his body. 

When the two of you got to a safe location away from your village, you asked the man—Pierre, he was called—to strip. Again, it didn't take long for his mind to get in the gutter, but he showed no reluctance or hesitation in following your orders despite your clarifications, aside from a pouty expression that betrayed his disappointment that he wasn't going to 'get lucky' this time either. It felt a bit jarring and unreal to have your God listening to you—although it wasn't him, not exactly. 

Examine him while you can, and worry about your situation later—you reminded yourself. His markings were the same ones you've seen on ancient scrolls and inside of your most elaborate temples—snake scales as dark as night wrapping themselves around his arms, torso, legs. It was a beautiful sight, even as the man was doing everything to break your immersion by forcing his body into silly poses. 

When it came to Pierre, and not Apophis, you didn't understand him at all. When you asked him about your God, he merely said that he was 'an annoying guy who wouldn't shut up', and although his words made you scowl, there was no hatred or fear held in his tone. It was as if he saw your God as nothing more than an inconvenience, or a 'roommate' sharing his body, rather than an otherworldly being. His eerily happy smiles, his impulsive and unpredictable behaviour, and his untainted innocence were all but little signs that lead you to think that the son of the royal family was a man with more than a few screws loose. 

The more you travelled, the more apparent it became. He was trusting and only saw the good in people, no matter how obvious their manipulation tactics were. A part of you felt strangely irritated, and the first few times even left him to his devices to inspect what he'd do, but in the end, you'd always have to come rescue him. You remember that one time he got involved with a dangerous individual, and it was only by a stroke of luck that you killed him before he killed you. Still, as you were catching your breath, you found something disturbingly strange—for there were no light-hearted comments or surprised laughter. It wasn't until you felt the bloodlust coming from the man behind you that you realised what was happening. 

Finally, you thought, he was here! Apophis, your dear God, has come! You're overjoyed, so, why won't your body move? Frozen in place, you could only hear an amused huff from the entity that was slowly approaching you. When He took your hand, you subconsciously flinched and dared not to look at him. Your heart was beating fast, faster than it has ever pounded in your chest. His presence alone was enough to make your knees go weak and your survival instincts to flare up. Your thoughts became a warped song—He is here! Is He going to kill me? I can't move…! This is an honour. Am I going to die? I want to be eaten and ascend. Ahh, I don't want to die—! 

Your face was forcibly tilted to face the man on whose face you haven't yet seen such a dark expression. Before you knew what was happening, the entity moved closer with a sneer, and licked your cheek. The wet muscle lapped at your face, leaving trails of saliva behind, sucking on and almost pushing itself into the small wound that you couldn't avoid in battle. Oh, you finally realised, it's because of my blood that he came out. 

When he was done, his nails sharply trailed your jawline as he pulled away from you. He then smiled at you, full of teeth, and you hesitantly smiled back. Despite his hold on you, and his intimidating presence, something was telling you he wouldn't kill you just yet—whether it be because he was trying to ascertain your worth or because he saw you as a plaything. Whichever it was, despite your fear, you found his visage enchanting. 

He spoke to you, talking in an ancient tongue that sounded alien to your ears, and yet you listened intently nonetheless. For a while, it seemed as if the entirety of the world had stopped, and the entity being reflected in your eyes was the sole reason you were even born. It was enthralling, seductive, but incredibly nauseating. 

And then, the illusion broke—the markings on Pierre's body receded into their previous state, and the man merely yawned and blinked when he came back to his senses. Despite your confusion, your choked laugh had traces of relief for his return. With a few of his foolish jokes, the world returned to its previous colours, and eventually you were able to get back on your feet. 

Ever since then, you have started to compare the two souls living inside the same body. Comparing their smiles and mannerisms, appearance and articulation; you were enticed and intrigued by both. One, you felt the need to serve faithfully, the other, you strangely felt the need to protect. And you were going to do anything to keep them safe, lest either of them be harmed. 

Pierre made a joke about you being a mother hen, and maybe that wasn't too far from the mark. You made sure he ate properly—and ate proper food—and bathed when needed, even if the latter was often accompanied with whining for you to wash him instead. You justified all of your behaviour, naturally thinking you were doing all of this for your God, but you came to enjoy the feeling of being needed by someone. Pierre was a cheerful person, but he was alone. He had no friends or allies; for those who do not want him gone only want Apophis. 

And, somehow, you found pleasure in that fact. You felt irredeemably spoiled—you both had someone wholly dependent on you and your God always by your side. Although Pierre wasn't aware of any negative aspects of his life, from the stories he'd told you, all of his companionships were short-lived, and he spoke of the deaths of others lightly. A prickle of fear pierced into your skin, and you were weirdly self-conscious of the fact you weren't someone that important to him after all. 

For if you were to be eventually killed or eaten by Apophis, you'd want it to leave a scar. 

[nighty-knight-hartlea]

"You say these two are good fighters?" boomed the captain.

Smirnoff touched his forelock. "Aye. The blond one took three out with one stab. And the black one took the other five with two little knives."

"We had a fight after that," Diam grinned nervously. "I said it wasn't fair and we had to divide the foe up equally. Pirate code."

The captain strode around the two in a circle. "Hmmm. I like the looks of them- names, you two?"

"Redwood. Arlin Redwood," Arlin said quietly.

Diam performed an elaborate bow. "Diamonta Lavinia Sadique."

"What?" rumbled an enormous black Jamaican pirate.

"Diawhat now?" Smirnoff asked skeptically.

Diam sighed. "Just call me Diam. Almost everyone does."

"Well!" The captain gestured to a scrawny boy, who dashed off. "We'll give them the water test."

Diam looked up curiously. "Water test?"

The pirates cheered.

Smirnoff smiled at Arlin and Diam. "It's simple, really. The water test is our way of finding out your sword skills. It goes like this- we have two of our men fill a balloon made of pig guts with water. They tie them to their chests. Then, you fight them. If you manage to pierce the balloon and spill the water without killing the man, you're in. If you don't, you're out. If you go too far and kill, you die."

"And I suppose the two men will be attempting to kill us?" Arlin wanted to know.

Smirnoff grinned. "You catch on quick."

"We'll do it," Diam announced grandly, removing his coat.

"You'se much too clean 'n fancy fer a pirate," grumbled one of the men behind the captain.

Diam's white teeth flashed in a grin as he drew his rapier and pointed it at the speaker. "I'll take that one as my opponent, if you please."

"All right, Bundo?" asked Smirnoff. Bundo shrugged.

"Any choice for you, Arlin Redwood?"

"Whoever."

"Fine then. Samill! Get over here."

The two selected aporoached the first mate. The cabin boy came running up with two round, pale objects and a legth of cord.

"Right then," Smirnoff muttered as he set about tying the balloons into place. "Arlin, Diam- I'd not mind a look at your weapons, if you don't mind."

It wasn't a question. Both men produced their blades.

"Hmmm..." Smirnoff examined Arlin's knives. "Very well-made. Strong stuff. Where'd you get them?"

"Spoils from a Khahnese ship," Arlin replied.

There was a collective intake of breath.

"This is Khahnese steel?" Bundo asked incredulously, looking from Diam's rapier to Arlin's knives.

"Yes they are," Diam said proudly. "That's why I don't use a thicker or heavier blade. This won't rust or bend or break, no matter how it's treated or how long it's used."

"I assume you had those jewels set in the hilt?" the captain inquired. "One doesn't usually see decoration on Khahnese weapons."

Diam smiled. "I couldn't resist."

Smirnoff handed back the weapons. "Beautiful, those."

"I'll be trying a bit harder,"  Samill breathed. "I want those knives."

Arlin's face was calm.

Diam grinned at Bundo. "Ready, messieur? I hope you don't mind getting a bit wet."

"He talks fancy, too," Bundo muttered, then raised his own sword, a heavy cutlass with nicks along its edge.

Diam bowed gracefully. Bundo snarled and stabbed at him.

"This isn't a king's court, Diamonta!" The captain's knell rang. Diam grinned broadly, easily deflecting the thrust.

"Indeed, captain, but I always like to be a gentleman. Now, Bundo, try and move a bit more lightly. That heavy tread of yours does you no good- there, see?"

He neatly sidestepped and flickered his sword, snakelike, under Bundo's outstretched arm and neatly pierced the balloon, sending a miniature cascade of water slopping down the pirate's shirt front.

There was a rousing cheer from the watchers.

"That is fastest ever!" admired the tall Jamaican. "I like this man. We keep?"

"Should he swear in, Bob," declared the captain, "he shall join this very day!"

Diam resheathed his sword with a flourish. "Arlin, I should hate to lose you from my side. Do try not to kill the fellow, won't you?"

Arlin rolled his eye.

His performance was equally good, though his method of piercing the balloon came from behind. A quick, controlled reach-around thrust and Samill's shirt became as wet as Bunto's.

Another hearty cheer came from the assembly.

The cabin boy's mouth hung wide open.

"What's your name?" Diam asked him kindly.

"I- I dunno," the boy stammered, overcome with amazement at being spoken to by such a grand-looking person. "Most jus' calls me 'Enry."

"Then I shall shall do the same," Diam said, with an air of finality.

"Thankee, sir." Henry scuffed the deck with his foot. Diam clapped him on the shoulder, then turned to Smirnoff.

"I don't believe I know your name, messieur."

"Smirnoff," the first mate replied, then pointed out various crew members. 

[kyovtani]

I don’t know much about Bachira (because I just started to come into blue lock) but to me, I think the man would lose it if you send quite risque photos. Not necessarily nudes persey, but like doing the chores on the newest lingerie you had. You send him a message afterwards with something cheeky as a tease, wondering what else those hands off his can do. After all, we do know he has an incredible sense of stamina, no?

Signed with a 🌟

my seeet star you stated nothing but facts and i shall do nothing but agree and elaborate.

bachira is basically known for being playful and the worst tease ever. that's probably why you fell in love with him in the first place, or at least one of the many reasons.

and no matter how flustered he gets you, you're determined to not go down without fighting back, so it's a sweet yet constant bickering between the two of you, which the professional athlete wholeheartedly enjoys.

whenever he's at practice or the gym, he thinks about the things you said to him and the way you rolled your eyes when he started flirting with you – your reactions so cute and genuine, despite the amount of time the two of you have been together.

bachira always finds himself smiling and giggling at your little pouts and eye rolls because even if you tease him back, he's way better at hiding his reactions than you are and to him, it's the best thing ever.

however...he definitely doesn't expect you to send him pictures of you in his personalized soccer shirt with the flimsiest pair of panties underneath in the middle of a practice game.

when he first opens the chat with you, he's talking to one of his teammates, not really paying attention to his phone as the pictures are loading. but once he catches a glimpse of something in the corner of his eye, he nods at the player in front of him and averts his gaze to the device in his hand, only to choke on his next breath at the sight of you.

bachira can barely believe his eyes as he takes in an image of his usually so sweet and calm angel girl spreading her legs in front of a mirror with his shirt clinging to every curve of her pretty body.

he's quite quick to put his phone away after letting out a loud gasp, not realising that his cheeks are covered in the deepest shade of red – basically putting him on a silver platter for his teammates.

yet, none of them are fast enough to mention it, since bachira sprints to the bathroom and hides himself in one of the cabins to pull his shorts down and free his rock hard cock from some of the pressure.

he doesn't reply to you, no. bachira loves your little game and is quick to play along, that's who he is after all.

the next thing you know is the overwhelming feeling of cumming around one of your toys with the sound of your boyfriend's raspy voice on the phone as he guides you through one high after the other – absolutely determined to have you completely fucked out by the time he's done with you.

only to hang up after promising you a sleepless night once he comes home to you. 🥺

[mostwantedintheislands]

Prompt #1

Villain swears to take care of hero by...blowing up a coffee shop?

“What do you even want at this point, villain? I’m so sick of this, genuinely. It’s I fix, you destroy, continuously, for months, then years, then decades. Don’t you have a job? A lover or someone to entertain?” The hero shouted unrestrainedly at the villain who had destroyed the seventh coffee shop brand installment the hero loved- the seventh establishment. 

“You are even cuter when you’re passionate.” The villain neared them until the hero’s back was pressed against the only coffee shop’s only remaining wall. 

“Cuter? I am stressed, villain! I have a college final at 9 and you blew up my only source of will to live. What did this innocent, community owned coffee shop ever do to you?” 

“I will buy you another one.”

“If you wanted to buy me a coffee, you could have just said so, you-”

“I will build another coffee shop that is not a money laundering scheme like this one was.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Your will to live was based on lies.”

Hero stared at villain with the most confused stare as the remnants of their sanity turned to dust. First of all, it was only eight in the morning. They couldn’t do this right now. Second, was villain rich?

“So shall we?” Villain offered their arm to the starstruck hero. 

“Shall we what, villain? I can’t function. I’m going to need you to elaborate.”

“Will you join me on a coffee date before your exam, so we can discuss the plans for the new shop?” Villain grabbed hero’s arms themselves and placed it on their waiting arm. 

“Will the profits go to you?” Hero scrunched their nose. “You sound rich enough.” 

“It will go towards helping clients pay their student loans.” Villain tried to seem nonchalant after they saw hero’s entire face lit up like a Christmas tree. 

But after some seconds of surprise, and the skepticism, Hero immediately narrowed their eyes at villain and removed themselves from their interlocked arms to cross their arms over their chest. Their beloved hero had always been the skeptical type, and they were clever to be so.

“What’s the catch?” Hero thought it was too good to be true. 

“You let me take care of you.” Villain pressed their palm against hero’s blushed cheek as they waited for their answer. 

“Take care of me how?”

“May I show you?” Villain stepped closer to hero until their noses were almost touching. Villain patiently awaited hero’s answer as their warm breath fawned their flushed cheek. 

“Show me.” And with a touch of their soft lips, villain communicated all the ways in which they’d take care of their hot-headed, but adorably righteous hero.

[bl00dgutsgl0ry]

Let Me Feel You For a While

Pairing - Zhongli x Fem!Reader

Warnings - 18+ NSFW SMUT DO NOT INTERACT IF YOU ARE A MINOR PLEASE!!! Breeding kink (im sorry), slight blood, marking/biting, accidental voyeurism? THIGH RIDING YES PLEASE, AND SHARP TEETH MAKE ME DROOL. Oh btw spoilers for the Farewell Archaic Lord I think? General spoiler warning for genshin.

Word Count - 1.7k.

 Other Comments - You guys have NO IDEA how much I love Zhongli oh my god I love him. I slept on him at first but ever since my eyes were opened I realized how wrong I was for that. Anyway enjoy!!

@sadpsychologist @barbqtos​

      Zhongli had money, he was just dumb and never brought it with him; too used to the routine of just making more Mora if he ever needed to buy anything while he was an Archon. This being said, that also meant he had one of the most elaborate bedrooms you’d ever laid eyes on. The room was filled with rich browns and shimmering golds, his bed sheets made from the finest silks. Archons never really slept, which meant the Zhongli had made this room as ethereal as possible just for you. 

     You were laying across the cold white gold sheets, hair clinging to your forehead from the sweat. Your fingers were dancing around your clit, rubbing harshly at times before dipping into your wet cunt and pumping them in and out roughly. You were so horny it was uncomfortable, and since you had gotten accustomed to your lover's large member, your fingers were doing much for you. You needed something better. You shakily stood from the bed, before kneeling down and pulling out the box and you guys only got into when the two of you were really in the mood. You quickly found what you were looking for, as it was the largest thing in the box. You pulled the dildo out of the box before quickly shoving the box back under your bed.

     Zhongli didn’t really like when you took matters into your own hands, as he wanted to always be the one thing that made you melt. He wanted to pleasure you in ways that you never would have imagined. At this point you were quickly pumping the dildo in and out of yourself, lost in the pleasure as you moaned out loudly. You weren’t worried about anyone hearing since you were alone in the house and Zhongli wasn’t going to be home for a while. You can imagine your shock and horror when you opened your eyes to see Zhongli standing in the doorway, dick already straining hard against the large man’s dress pants.

     “Ah you finally noticed my presence.” Your face was even redder when those words left his lips. How long had he been standing there watching you fuck yourself roughly with the large silicone tool. You let out a low whimper, beginning to pump the object in and out of yourself again, too worked up to be embarrassed. You heard Zhongli chuckle lightly before the loud sounds of his dress shoes against the hardwood floor could be heard. You felt Zhongli’s gloved hands halt your movements before brushing your hand away and pulling the dildo out, setting it aside for cleaning at a later time. Soft desperate whimpers falling from your mouth as your chest heaved up and down. Zhongli pressed soft kisses to your face, his gloved hands running up and down your naked body, brushing against your nipples causing you to jolt.

     “You’re so sensitive my dear.” Your hands were looking for purchase on any part of his body, finally landing on his strong biceps. You squeezed his arms hard, wiggling around and continuing to whimper.

     “Nothing feels as good as you Zhongli, please… please help me. Fill me Zhongli, stuff me.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, your lips swollen from chewing on them.

     “Well it looked like you were having a good time with the dildo sweetheart.” Warm embarrassment bloomed in your chest and you desperately tried to pull Zhongli down by his collar. Zhongli’s lips attacked your, passionately biting at yours, Zhongli’s sharp canines drawing blood before he swiped it away with a quick flick of his tongue.

     He continued this assault on your flesh as he went lower. He made sure to mark you anywhere that was visible, it made his pride swell when he saw you walking around Liyue trying and failing to cover up bitemarks and deep purple hickies. Zhongli pulled back to admire his work, before propping himself up on the edge of the bed. Strong arms manhandled you, forcing you to straddle his thigh. You blushed profusely when you realized what Zhongli wanted you to do.

     “But- but your pants Zhongli, I don’t want to ruin them…” A small smile and eyes filled with pure admiration poured into yours. He carded his fingers through your hair, pushing back any strays behind your ear in the process.

     “My dearest, you have always been so considerate, but for tonight don’t worry about anything, just do what comes natural to you. My clothes can be cleaned, and if not I will buy another pair.” Zhongli’s hands gripped your hips tightly, starting to move you back and forth on his thigh. You clit was ecstatic to finally be getting some friction, moans already being ripped from your throat. The ex archons dick was uncomfortably hard, outline clear as day from how hard it was straining against his slacks. Once you finally got yourself into a rhythm he let one of his hands fall from your hips, giving in and palming himself through the thick fabric.

     You moans began increasing in volume and frequency as you got closer and closer to the edge. You gripped onto Zhongli’s broad shoulders, your body quickly becoming tired. The man in front of you noticed this, letting his hand return to your hip as he helped steady your rhythm once again. Tears were threatening to fall from how good you felt, everything starting to become light and fuzzy as you continued to get closer to your climax.

     With a couple more rough thrust against his leg, the coil deep in your gut snapped, sending waves of please surging through your body. Your back arched hard before slumping into Zhongli’s chest. He kept your hips moving, letting your ride out your orgasm on his now soiled pants.

     “My love, do you still want me to fill you up?” Zhongli’s voice brought you back to reality, where you realized how hard he was. The thought of Zhongli filling you to the brim reignited the fire that was just extinguished in you. You nodded reverently before rolling off his thigh and onto your back, presenting yourself to him. A low groan sounded from Zhongli’s throat as you spread your leg wide, the site of you littered with markings making his brain go fuzzy; his only focus now on making you both feel good. You’ve never seen Zhongli rip off his close at such a speed before, until he was stark naked and crawling on top of you; caging your head with his arms.

      Once again Zhongli began to attack your neck, except not as rough, not wanting to cause more pain than pleasure. Without warning, he slammed his dick into you, since you had already worked yourself open for him. Despite this, your walls still clung tightly to him, his large cock dragging deliciously against your walls as he hit all the right places. Both of your were on cloud nine, as he ruthlessly pounded into your.

     Normally when the two of you had sex, right before Zhongli came he would pull out and cum onto your stomach which he of course would clean up later. Not for any particular reason as to why since you were on birth control, it had just become a habit. This time however you wanted to do things a little different. You were getting close, and you could tell he was as well, as his breathing became more uneven and more low pitched noises started coming from him. Your walls fluttered around his cock, causing him to shutter and let out a low grunt. Before it was too late, you tightly wrapped your arms around the ex Archons next, and pulled him down closer so your lips were mere centimeters away from his ear.

     “Cum in me Zhongli, stuff me with your cum. I want every drop of it please I wanna feel you inside me even after you pull out. Archons please please Zhongli let me feel you cum. Breed me.” Zhongli’s eyes widened, those words causing something to snap in him as he was hit with another wave of pleasure, his thrust still maintaining their power but becoming more erratic. You could feel Zhongli’s calloused fingers rubbing quickly against your clit, sending new waves of pleasure through you. The moans coming from the two of you were matched perfectly, as the two of you got closer and closer. With a couple of final thrusts, Zhongli sheathed himself in you as deep as he could go, cumming shooting deep into you. The feeling of his cum filling you up is what sent you over the edge, cumming for the second time; your mouth falling open to form a silent scream. You could feel Zhongli beginning to ooze out of you as he pulled out, which made you shiver.

     “Let’s get you cleaned up shall we darling?” Zhongli was still a little out of breath as he stood from his position on top of you, holding his hand out to you. You grabbed a hold of him, before catching him off guard and pulling him back down.

     “Let me stay full for a little while longer.” Sleep was slowly starting to take over, as your eyelids couldn’t stay open. Your words went straight to Zhongli’s dick, but that was an issue he would take care of himself. For right now, he just pulled you into his chest, allowing you to drift off into blissful slumber.

[write-like-wright]

Please I'm begging you on my knees I would kill for some nsfw herlock x reader content , if you do I'll owe you my life 🙏🙏 Thanks bye <3

Herlock anon here! A female reader would be very good, maybe make her a bit dominant too? Anyway thanks I owe you my life 🙏🙏

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) There's some Sholmes in this house

Pairing: Herlock Sholmes x female reader

Warnings: smutty smut smut, minors avert your eyes, Herlock being Herlock, reader bossing (S)Hoelmes around

Word count: 900 words of horniness

"Do you not think it is time for bed, dearest?" You ask, peering at him from the doorframe. There's an edge to your voice, reserved only for him, only for times like these, times when you need him and he's too preoccupied to notice.

"Nonsense, my dear madam," he retorts, looking up from his desk to meet your gaze. His eyes are as playful as always, but the smile he's sporting attempts to come off as innocent. "Three in the morning is the prime time for detective work! Now, if only I could get this accursed contraption to work!" Herlock smacks the latest invention laying on the table, The Great Thingamajig he's been working on since noon. Next to it are a toolbox, his pipe and two empty pots of coffee. How is he even still alive?

"You misunderstand, Herlock, my dear," you purr as you inch closer to his desk. "It is most certainly time for bed, and, presently, I would quite like to have you in mine."

Herlock laughs, quieter than usual, trying not the wake up the other residents of 221B Baker Street. In one swift motion, he pulls you onto his lap. "My dear madam," he drawls out, his pupils widening as he licks his lips. "I am yours to have anytime, anywhere. Just say the word."

"And if I'd like to have you here and now?"

He lets out a low chuckle, the kind he saves for these special occasions. "If my lady demands it, I fear I am powerless to say no. How would you like me, here and now?"

You ponder for a moment. Anything too elaborate would be quite risque. The violin he plays so expertly, currently resting atop his mess, catches your eye and you decide. "Just your hands will suffice, I think, dear."

If he's disappointed, he doesn't show it. "As you wish," Herlock whispers, making a short work of removing those gloves he's always wearing. You bridge the tiny gap between you, your lips hungrily meeting his, one hand finding its way into his honey-coloured hair. His hands roam your body as you kiss, starting gently at your jaw, moving down your body to cup your breasts, caressing your thighs and even laying a sneaky little smack! on your bottom. He whines when you bite down on his lip and tug on his hair perhaps a bit too hard, if such a thing is even possible with him.

"Apologies, my dear. I could not resist. I'll be good, I swear it," he lies through his teeth. His right hand reaches under the hem of your nightgown and he gently traces his fingertips up your leg. "Ah, I see you came prepared," Herlock muses when his palm reaches your heat. "No underwear? How improper." He punctuates his husky whisper by cupping your sex and giving it the gentlest of squeezes. The sudden pressure causes you to gasp lightly. "Listen, pest," you hiss out, fingers tugging on his locks again. "You've kept me waiting long enough. Get on with it." You finish your sentence with a small roll of your hips.

"Yes," he breathes out as his skilled hands get to work. The playful look in his eyes is now replaced with one of pure hunger, his eyebrows knitted as he focuses on bringing you pleasure. To Herlock's credit, he knows exactly what he's doing. He plays your body like a fiddle, his nimble fingers giving you just the right amount of pressure.

You bite down roughly on his neck when his fingers enter you, desperately trying to keep quiet. Your hips instinctively begin to roll and move on him and around him and you both know you won't last much longer. His free hand is rubbing your back gently, keeping you pressed to his torso while he coos and whispers encouragements into your ear. You're biting on his neck so hard you can't believe you haven't drawn blood yet, one hand tugging on his hair just the way he likes it. He's beyond hard at this point, you can feel him against your thigh every time you move. Herlock's gasping, biting down on his lip when you give him the right amount of friction, but he makes no move to pleasure himself, nor does he ask you to. He'd probably slap your hand away if you tried.

Finally, you feel that familiar sensation spreading from where his fingers are buried inside you and your toes curl, legs shaking wildly as you reach your peak. He holds you close, fingers gently drawing out your pleasure until you grab his wrist to stop him. He smiles so lovingly at you then. "My dear, that was utterly magnificent." Before you can respond, he brings his hand to his mouth and licks and sucks his fingers clean with the most obscene pop! you've ever heard.

Once you've finally caught your breath, you pull down your gown and stand up, legs still a bit shaky. There's a tiny wet spot on his trousers when you look down. "Right then, shall we go to bed?" Herlock chuckles, and the look he gives you is more than a bit apologetic.

"In a minute, dear. First, I must discover what is keeping this blasted machine from working properly."

You sigh as you make your way to your bedroom. He should be done by tomorrow noon, at this pace.

[gryffindors-weasley]

Thoughtful Affection

Colin Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Summary: Colin always finds himself kissing you without second thought behind it, but sometimes there are kisses shared more thoughtfully than that.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: just fluff, kissing

A/N: A sweet little idea inspired by my lovely Mille @iliveiloveiwrite <3

Colin Bridgerton was undoubtedly the sweetest man you have ever known, and certainly romantic without question. Not a day would go by where he hadn’t made it abundantly clear that he was utterly in love with you, the mere thought of that happening having been one that was preposterous. He loved you so wholly, even, that he found himself doing so as if it were second nature.

One

You stretched for the first time in hours as you awoke that morning, muscles stiff and tired from having laid tangled in one spot for far too long with the love of your life. The day had been utterly melancholy from the very moment you cast your eyes upon the window, trickles of raindrops having trailed down the chilled window panes lining the walls of your room. Not to mention, the heavy patter that had consistently pelted against your home was far too obvious to ignore.

Days like those had been rather perfect, however, providing ample enough reason to stay within the warmth of ruffled blankets and sheets in the arms of your love for that much longer. Besides, who wants to work on a day like this very one anyway?

Your attention is soon brought from the window to the very grip that had squeezed tighter around your waist, a chaste kiss pressed just below your jaw. The action brought the softest of smiles to your face, a laugh falling from your lips at the tickle against your skin. Ruffled curls of brown hair had brush over your cheek as he lifted his head, his eyes barely open and you were quite sure he had barely even been awake. Regardless, the sight was entirely sweet either way.

His cheek was rosy from having been pressed against his pillow, his hair dipping over his eyes. The very tips of your fingers combed through his hair gingerly, trailing down to trace lightly over his cheek, to smooth over his chin. You hadn’t missed the way he leaned into your touch, nor did you miss the smile tugging ever so sleepily at the corners of his mouth. He fought desperately against his fatigue to open his eyes, his smile widening within the first moment of seeing you.

His lips were quick to press on yours, languid and gentle and the first of many that day. It was an act without thought behind it, routine one might say. Each and every morning without fail, a kiss is shared in the first fleeting moments of the day. One is always inevitably turned to two, two to four, four until you’ve managed to pull yourselves from the comfort of your bed to start the day ahead. It always proved to be a hefty task, but one you never minded in the slightest.

“I thought you were trying to take your leave from my arms, love,” he mumbles, a soft laugh to follow as his nose nudges against yours.

“As if you’d let me,” you murmur, smiling blissfully at the feel of his lips pressing along your cheek.

“Can you blame me?” He asks, words muffled against your skin as a shiver runs through you. It was one he very much notices, tugging the blanket up further though the warmth of his arms would always undoubtedly suffice.

You simply sigh in amusement, your sigh turning to a laugh as his fingers dance across your hip. The simple sound had made his heart flutter, though he will admit it wouldn’t take very much for you to do just that.

“Surely we must—” he starts, interrupted by a yawn, “we must not have plans if the weather is so awful, right?”

“That would simply be ridiculous,” you mumble, sleep having had its hold on you once more.

A kiss is pressed blindly to the corner of his mouth, a hum leaving your lips as you tuck yourself against him comfortably. No further words needed to be spoken to know that the morning would be spent in that very bed, the way you’d rested your head in the crook of his neck was telling enough.

“I love you,” he whispers softly, tenderly.

“I love you.”

Two

The day had been rather busy compared to most others, Colin’s study having looked as though a tornado had swept through the room without a moment’s notice. Papers and maps had lay sprawled nearly anywhere the eye could see, some crumpled and some lay neatly stacked on the mahogany desk. Some are hanging to signify their absolute importance and some remain scattered on the floor without care to pick them up in the current moment.

Several books from the towns library sit stacked on an area of free space, though there was minimal real estate left on the large desk to begin with. You had to step in before he tipped over a half empty bottle of ink onto a map he’d been so keen to use.

“Colin, you don’t have to be quite so stressed, love. I’m sure taking a moment to breathe will be just fine,” you sigh, a smile playing on your lips when he stops shuffling through papers and spares you the fondest of glances.

“I want this trip to be perfect, darling. I shall relax once I am in better standing with this planning,” he huffs, running his hand through his hair for what was surely the hundredth time.

You sigh softly and purse your lips, watching him lick the tip of his finger to scan through a book at the top of the pile. Black ink smudged and stained the cuff of his shirt, and you knew that simply wouldn’t come out at this point, his jacket strewn over the back of the chair. He was ever so hard on himself when it came to the planning of your travels; he felt everything must be perfect though it really didn’t need to be. It could be a trip as spontaneous as the journey to the bakery in town and you’d still cherish it for days and weeks to come. But Colin had been stubborn, insisting it should be wondrous.

You watched as he sorted through the pile of books he’d accumulated, watching his cheeks stain pink and his chest heave with a soft huff. It was a sight entirely too precious.

“You are terribly cute when you’re flustered, do you know that?” You ask, brushing the hair out of his eyes. It was then that he paused his actions if only for just a brief moment, his hand coming up to rest warmly over top of your own. His smile was something most enamoring, dimpled and sweet as he dropped his quill to the desk.

“And darling, you are terribly cute all the time,” he says, the pad of his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. His shoulders slumped as he kissed your palm, parting from you to grab his jacket. “I must return to the library, there’s just one more book that I know I will need, I promise.”

You sigh softly and tilt your head, a smile gracing your lips nonetheless. “It is almost closing time, you know.”

He slips on his jacket and grumbles at the sight of the ink stains on his shirt. “And that is just why I must make haste.”

He smiles tenderly as he kisses you goodbye, catching the corner of your mouth in his hurried state but he is ever so quick to dip down and kiss you fully, his hand lingering in your own for a few moments longer. He doesn’t want to leave, he never does, but he knows he just won’t relax until he retrieves the very book weighing heavy on his mind.

“Hurry back?” You call after him.

“Assuredly, my love!”

Three

The Bridgerton family home was quiet for perhaps the first time that day, it’s bustling and energetic family members having since gone to bed for the night. Everyone had come together for a visit back home, only Hyacinth and Gregory having yet to leave the nest. It was nice to be in everyone’s presence once more, having brought you back to the times you’ve spent with the family ever since you’d been a child. Yet, even years later, having married the love of your life and moved to your very own estate, it felt as though nothing had changed.

The two of you found yourselves tucked away on the terrace that’d overlooked the garden, the stars above you beaming bright as they speckled across the sky. It was tremendously beautiful, and you’d argue it was the best place to gaze above you in all of London—the second being the gardens of your own home.

You could see the tops of every flower, their beauteous scent wafting your way each and every time the breeze blows. Said breeze brings with it the sound of the leaves in nearby trees, wind chimes singing in response to the weather. Not a single cloud hung in the sky as you focused your attention upwards, the cool spring wind washing over your skin as your hand lay enveloped with Colin’s. Your head rested on his shoulder, his rested on your own as he was content to just merely sit with you. This was all he ever truly needed. Not fancy soirées or expensive dinners, not elaborate outings and ballroom dances. This is all he wanted.

Simple moments were most cherished, ones where few words needed to be spoken. Just your presence alone was something that makes him forever content, no matter what it is you’re doing. You hadn’t needed to even be paying attention to him, really, just having you there was leaps and bounds better than not. That fact had always remained true for all the time that he’s known you, he knows that for certain.

Your free hand had been busy fumbling with the button on his shirt cuff, an action entirely absentminded yet one that had brought the softest of smiles to his face nonetheless. He didn’t even mind the way your hair blew and tickled just under his nose; the minor inconvenience was worth it so long as you were comfortable. Even the cement of the balcony you sat on wasn’t enough for him to be displeased.

“Have you ever wondered just how many stars there are in the sky?” You ask softly, curiously, a laugh leaving his lips.

“I suppose it has crossed my mind a few times,” he murmurs, amusement in his voice as he gives your hand a squeeze. Your own smile is instant at the feeling, at the very sound of his laugh for that matter. “Do you wish to know something?”

You hum in response, shifting your head to look at him better. His smile was tender as he thought of the words residing on the very tip of his tongue, his fingertips dancing overtop the back of your hand. You hadn’t missed the breathy laugh he exhaled, though you weren’t privy to the look of utter fondness on his expression.

“I love you a thousand times for each star that sits in the sky,” he murmurs, his declaration certain and true. “And a thousand times more.”

Your heart flutters at his words, his foot nudging yours to accompany his statement.

“Do you wish to know something?” You ask, lifting your head to look at him fully.

“Enlighten me,” he says, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

You grin adoringly at him, at the way his eyes sparkled in the glowing moonlight and the way he looked at you as if you were the center of the very universe. “I love you a million times for each star that sits in the sky. And a million times more.”

It was far too dark out to see the way a soft crimson stained his cheeks the very same way yours had been. But not enough to miss the way his gaze upon you became impossibly more loving as he blinked at you slowly, tiredly. It was rather late after all, the day having been busy with a family that’d been a handful, a wonderful handful at that.

“You really are something, do you know that?” He beams, his expression amused.

“I do indeed.”

He laughs then, quiet and sleepy as his nose bumps against your own and his breath fans warmly over your skin in contrast to the chill of the air. “Should we go to bed now?”

You sigh softly, contently, hand squeezing his. “I’ll meet you there in a moment.”

He simply nods, taking in a few more seconds with you until you part briefly. Then, a kiss is pressed to your lips, chaste and fleeting and one given without second thought. A good night kiss is one always shared without fail, no matter the circumstance.

“Good night, darling,” he murmurs.

“Good night.”

One

The ballroom once filled with boisterous and jovial guests had since been quieted upon the end of the event, concluding the need to be ever so proper and talkative with each and everyone who’d commented on your estate. Scuff marks had remained on the floors from the hours of dancing and socializing, empty cups of lemonade remaining on once lavishly decorated tables. Flowers had been plucked from their arrangements from suitors and gifted to debutants, a few of their petals remaining scattered across the hardwood floors in a snow of soft pinks and creams.

It had been an event most successful, better than you could have imagined for only having hosted twice prior to that evening. Though you will admit, you did have the help from the lovely Mrs. Bridgerton. You owe every compliment to her if you were being honest, for she had a certain style that had been unable to be recreated, unable to be outdone. All of London would be in agreement with such a statement. As beautiful and seamless as everything had been, you would be lying if you said it hadn’t been a relief it had all come to a close for the night.

The room seemed to triple in size now that it’d been just the two of you, Colin having shooed away any and all who’d tried to clean up. It was far too late for even the two of you to be awake, and he felt as though no one should have to clean up such a grand mess at that late of an hour. It would simply be cruel.

“We did it,” you sigh, twirling to face him with a tired smile. “I think perhaps this just might have been our best ball.”

He smiles adoringly, dimples absolutely adorable as they make their appearance. “You did it.”

A blush burns your cheeks as he takes your hands, pulling you close for the first time in what felt like ages that night having been tied up in socializing. His blue velvet jacket had since been discarded, draped over the back of a miscellaneous chair. The top few buttons of his shirt had been undone, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

You were tired as you wrapped your arms around his neck loosely, your smile soft yet fond all the same. “You flatter me, my love.”

“You must know, I am simply telling the truth,” he murmurs, dipping down to press a kiss to your cheek, one to your jaw, and one just under your ear. You laugh out softly and push at his shoulders, biting the inside of your cheek in a pitiful effort to hide your smile.

His arms tighten their hold around you, twirling you once and leaving your squeal to echo in the room. Your laughter mingled between the two of you, breath dancing warmly on flushed skin in the closeness of your proximity. There was not a moment that went by with him that had been dull, you were sure of it, and you knew there never would be.

“Well, I am simply telling you that I love you,” you say, your grin beaming. “Tremendously.”

His smile is pressed to your lips as he kisses you, tender and true as he lips meld with your own. Your laughter dissolves into the moment of affection, the feeling letting loose a thousand butterflies to flutter within his stomach. It was gentle and languid, the utmost of love poured into one single kiss. When he parted he decided he wasn’t quite finished yet, pressing one, two, three more kisses upon your lips.

“I love you,” he whispers, “tremendously,” kiss, “assuredly,” and another, “entirely.”

Your grin turns soft as your eyes flutter closed, the moment having been all too dizzying and full of bliss to do just anything else. There you stood, in your very own home with the love of your life. It was wonderful, it was enchanting, it was a life so beautifully yours.

—

Tags: @dreaming-about-fanfictions @heloisedaphnebrightmore @writeroutoftime @awritingtree

[diavolosthots]

Could you make a fic about Diavolo being in love with mc and confessing. Lot of fluff and love

After everything, here’s some much needed love

My Feelings (Diavolo x GN!reader ft. Barbatos)

“Barbatoooss…!” The butler turned around, knowing what was about to be asked of him for the 35th time today, “yes, My Lord?” The pout that Diavolo tried to pull off on him has long lost its effect, about 3000 years ago or so, but he had to at least pretend to fall for it, unless he wanted a super upset Demon Prince; Barbatos knew better. “How could I possibly go about telling them my feelings?” For someone who’s so old and has met all kinds of people and or creatures, Diavolo was really not the best when it comes to feelings, considering he always makes sure to eat up his own. It’s just, that in this particular case, Barbatos felt like he was also the one confessing which he doesn’t understand; how did the Prince manage to lure him in so deeply? “My Lord, I would just tell them. Maybe take them out on a walk and go for it. It’s really not that hard.” It really wasn’t that hard; not to him. Make it nice, make them feel wanted, and then just go for it. 

To Diavolo, however, that seemed utterly impossible. He fell for you, hard. He never saw it coming until he was already stumbling down the cliff. It felt hopeless, considering you were just their exchange student. For once, he felt like he had no power, no control over something, as if he was just another regular person. That was the problem! Well, not really… you made him feel like just another person. He felt safe and oddly comfortable around you and he was scared of losing that feeling, or more so this thing you two shared. “What if---!” “My Lord, with all due respect, if you ask me one more ‘what if’ question, I will turn around and leave, and deal with the consequences later.” 

Barbatos can’t remember the last time he talked back to his master. It doesn’t happen very often but he was getting tired and he still had things to get done; the last thing he needed was a man child on his back. “Barbatos…” His voice was low, almost threatening, before it turned into a sigh, making Barbatos let out a breath of relief he didn’t realize he was holding. “I know you’re right. I’m worrying about nothing. I’m a perfect match; I have everything they could ever want, including a, what I consider to be, deep connection with them, which is important. Thank you, and I’m sorry for bothering you. I shall get them over here as soon as possible.” The butler smiled, half because he has to and half because he was actually proud of his master for once. Instead of continuing like he usually would, he actually listened to someone. He nodded, watching Diavolo leave with a small wave. “That doesn’t mean you’re off the hook for talking to me like that.” And his smile turned upward painfully as he bit the inside of his cheeks, “of course not, My Lord….”

He did it. He had texted you to come over as soon as you could, “Can you come to the castle? It’s urgent.” Of course, it was nowhere near a life or death situation, but he loved the idea of seeing you hustle and get back here as quickly as you could. Meanwhile, he had Barbatos prepare some wine and turn the lights on in the garden for a nice stroll. Diavolo walked past the mirror for the hundredth time this hour, waiting for your arrival almost too impatiently. He had thought of elaborate things to do, trying to impress you, but Barbatos’ words came flooding back and he knew his butler was right. Why beat around the bush?

“My Lord, (Y/N) has arrived. I sent them to the garden to wait for you. The wine glasses are on the terrace.” A smile crept across his face and he quickly brushed past Barbatos, speed walking to the terrace to greet you, almost like a child. “(Y/N)! Glad you could make it.” He engulfed you in a hug, quite selfishly so, as he didn’t care in the moment how you felt about it, but you actually hugged him back tightly, “Are you okay? Your message seemed so urgent.” He chuckled softly, pulling back, although reluctantly so. “I’m fine, dear, don’t worry.” He turns to his side, picking up the two wine glasses and putting one in your hand, “There’s simply something I’d like to discuss. Care to take a walk with me?” He turned to his side, holding out his arm for you with a soft smile playing on his lips. You gripped the glass tightly, suddenly feeling a little nervous as you reached out for his arm, holding onto him. “Of course. I’m just glad you’re okay and nothing serious happened.”

Words cannot describe how warm he felt in that moment. You were worried about him. You cared for him. You took his arm. These are all good signs, no? “Nothing happened. I’m glad to see you’re so worried about my well being, though. It shows your big heart, which is something I love about you.” Your eyes flickered up at him, a smile spreading across your lips, “Of course I care for you, silly. You made my life here so easy… well you and the brothers, but mainly you. You always look out for me, and I can come to you for anything. Honestly, sometimes I forget you’re the King-to-be, and I have to catch myself to make sure I’m not too informal.” You laughed softly, taking a sip of the wine as you looked around the garden. 

“I… like that.” He cleared his throat, avoiding to look at you right now as he stared out ahead, “I like that you see me as more than the future king. It’s quite refreshing to have someone by my side that just sees me as their equal. After all, we’re just two people trying to find our place in this world, no?” You listened, trying to match his step and smiling when you ended up in sync, nodding back up at him, “yeah… I don’t believe we’re that much different. You might have everything you could ever want, but you’re really light hearted and easy going… I like that about you. A lot, actually.” Heat caressed your cheeks, your eyes averting his, but he stopped walking to turn your head toward his again, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be pushy. Barbatos told me to… be a little more straight forward and less cryptic. What I mean is… we’re both trying to find our place in this world. Mine has somewhat been decided, and I’m jealous of the freedom you carry, but I’d like to ask… would you like to share a place beside me? I mean…” He’s chewing the inside of his cheeks now, trying to find the right words. His eyes are looking hopelessly at you, trying to make you understand somehow.

“I mean… I hold you dear… I want you by my side, if you will have me. I don’t want to force you; this is a big decision you’d have to make, and I’m not asking you to answer now bu-- hmpf!” Before he could even finish his sentence, you reached up. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer into a sweet kiss. You were at a loss for words, too, and this seemed like the only way to get him to calm down. He clung to you, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer the minute your lips were on his. He didn’t dare pull away, not yet. His lips lingered on yours for a long time, before you broke it off again. A pout formed on his lips as he tried to follow yours and you giggled softly at his child-like behavior. “Diavolo…. I’d love to stay with you. As a matter of fact, if you wouldn’t have said anything, I would have, because the longing gazes and tension between us has become too much to bear…” You nuzzled against him, putting your head on his chest. His heart was racing, you heard it, no matter how hard he would have tried to hide it, “so yes… I want to stay with you.” 

Words couldn’t begin to describe how much happiness that brought him. All he could do was squeeze you tighter against him, hoping his racing hard and sweet kiss to the top of your head was enough to at least get you to understand. 

[that-one-weeb-but-starwars]

A ball| Tup

Note: they did not need to make him that Pretty

Warnings: no not really, just Tup and Y/n fallin in love and steamy scene at the very end but kinda not really, also this is really long

Reader: female

Part 1 | 2 (in the works)

"Checkmate," Satine spoke.

"Damn it..." Y/n muttered, hand on her chin as Satine had one yet again another game.

Satine smiled at her, as Y/n tried reading the board seeing how it had exactly happened.

"Duchess, excuse me." A guard interrupted their leisurely game outside in the guards of the castle.

"It's no problem, what seems to be the problem?" Satine questioned.

"The preparations for the ball are underway, the royal seamstress says your outfits are done and asks if you both can approve of them."

"Yes of course," Satine spoke, two more guards walking up with boxes.

"Oh. no, I'm quite okay," Y/n responded, resetting the black and clear glass pieces.

"Y/n, you are turning 19, my dear, you'll need to look presentable," Satine spoke.

"Dutchess I believe I look presentable, I'm quite comfortable like this as well," Y/n told.

"I know my sweet child, you've always been comfortable with the bare minimum, but please, let me spoil you for one day," Satine responded.

Y/n was quiet as she set the final piece down, "very well..."

Satine smiled as she stood up to look inside the box and approve the dress, Y/n sat in thought, Satine wasn't her mother, no they looked drastically different after all, Y/n had been left in a bush in the palace gardens, Satine finding the child alone and in silence, busying herself with one of the flowers. Satine had gladly kept the child inside the palace walls until a parent came along, but no one ever came and Satine was suddenly a mother.

"Mistress." The guard spoke snapping her out of thought.

"Oh uh, yes." Y/n spoke standing up from her seat, and looking at the creme outfit with barely a glance, "Yes, it's beautiful, tell the Seamstress 100 thanks."

The guard nodded covering the box as they all bowed and left, Satine frowned, "Come walk. Let's talk my daughter."

"General Skywalker, do, do we really have to go as well?" Tup questioned, droids handing them all dark blue suits almost black in color, and matte.

"Yes, Obi-Wan was double security at this event for the Dutchess, and I agree with him," Anakin spoke, "Separatist parties will be there, Duchess Satine has a knack for being able to convince people, and with Padame they're practically an unstoppable team."

"But," Tup spoke, "Sir a, a party?"

"Diplomatic party, you'll be fine Tup."

Anakin then walked away to let his boys get ready and go get himself ready.

"I look good," Fives spoke checking himself out in the mirror.

"It's nice to wear something besides armor." Hardcase commented, "Makes me feel like a civie."

"A civie that just has thousands of replicas." Dogma argued.

"Oh get the stick out your ass," Jesse argued, "We can have fun for the one time in our life on the job,"

"Hey," Kix placed a hand on Tup's shoulder, "You okay?"

"Huh? Yeah," Tup spoke, "Crowds, uh aren't my thing."

"I'll make sure Rex posts you on the patio outside, you won't be around too many people then," Kix told.

"No, It's fine, I'm on the job- I'll, uh...just focus on that," Tup responded.

"Are you sure?"

Tup nodded as Kix returned the nod in understanding, going back to dressing himself, Tup went over to his bunk to dress, he'd admit, even though he was the same as everyone else in that room, he still felt shy, being a bit leaner than the others he started pulling his armor off to dress in the new outfit, simply putting the outfit over his blacks.

"What- No! Hey I want a titty window!" Fives argued.

"No," Echo demand, buttoning up his brother's shirt fixing Fives vest as well.

Tup stayed silent as he buttoned up the shirt, tucking it into the slacks and putting on the matching vest.

"OH Ho HO!" Fives whistled, "Look at Tup!"

"Yeah, thanks," Tup spoke, fixing the collar of his shirt, and pushing up the sleeves.

"Come on! Let your hair down! We're going somewhere fancy!"

"I'm good." Tup spoke

"He's way to excited for this." Dogma protested causing Tup to chuckle.

"You look nice." Tup commented.

"Uh. Yeah I guess." Dogma spoke.

The two had gotten close due to one another due to being not only regular troopers with no rank, but due to there quietness.

"OH HO HO! LOOK WHO JUST CAME IN! GENERAL TANO!"

The boys turned there head whistling playfully.

"Bad bitch is the house."

She wore a pinstrip pant suit, the lines orange on white fabric and a pair of heels. She laughed.

"We're almost there." She spoke, "Skyguy wants us on the transports now."

Tup followed suit of everyone else. Everyone doing as asked, it was odd, seeing everyone dressed up all fancy and nice.

Y/n sighed.

"Look up madame. They'll be plenty fine gentlemen there." A maid tried to pursuade, "or a woman if you'd prefer."

"Yes. I know." Y/n responded mindlessly, nose stuck in the book about game tactics, her goal to be her mother, "mhm. I've never tried that before."

The maid sighed finishing y/n's hair in the crowned braid.

"Look look beautiful."

"Mhm."

The maid frowned, and there was a knock on the door. It opened as Satine came in, the maid bowing and leaving quickly.

"You're nose still stuck in a book. You remind me much of Obi-wan."

"Is the party over yet?" Y/n questioned flipping the page.

"It hasnt even began my dear." Satine spoke, expecting a comment back Y/n kept silent sitting infront of her simple vanity it black in color and matched the bench she sat on.

Satine walked over, taking the open spot next to Y/n.

"What is wrong me dear?" Satine inquired, "You don't avidly read strategic books unless something is wrong."

Y/n sighed, marking the book with a string and setting it down.

"I. I just don't wish to go." Y/n responded.

"It is much bigger than that isn't it?" Satine refered, catching Y/n in her lie.

"I." Y/n sighed, "I am nervous."

"For what my darling?"

"People." Y/n responded, "I. This. People...it's...I dont have the skills."

"Well of course you do,"

"I've never been out the palace walls, I've never fallen in love, I've never been taken advantage of- I just- Don't know anything about people," y/n defended "I've never even seen another sential species besides the holograms and images in my books that use words. I know every launage out there but have never met there people- I-"

"Calm down, take a deep breathe." Satine soothed, "everything will be fine. I will be at your side. The whole time, and you know me. Don't you?"

Y/n nodded as Satine smiled, "You're turning 19 my dear, becoming a young woman. You can do this, and I will guide you through whatever you ask."

Y/n only nodded once more, "now. Lets put our. Pain killing heels on and make haste shall we? Guest are arriving and I'd like to introduce you to your very first group of friends, but first."

Y/n watched as Satine pulled out a box, "I had something much. Much more elaborate my birthday, but you I know. Like to keep things as simple as possible."

Y/n took the small box in hand. Opening the golden box there was a small golden crown, it reminded her of a laurel wreath, yet without as many leaves, a few littered around the gold band with a stone that was ment to set on her forehead.

"For you're love of nature a green stone." Satine spoke.

"Its beatiful, thank you." Y/n spoke softly pulling it out of its box.

"Allow me." Satine spoke, y/n handing it over and bowing her head, Satine with a smile set the item on her head.

Y/n raised her head back up, "quiet beatiful you have become."

Y/n smiled smallly, "now. Shall we make haste? To make new friends?"

Y/n nodded smally as Satine smiled.

With that they were off, y/n following Satine dressed up nice, and thanked maker for the soleless sandles given to her instead of heels.

Y/n wouldn't lie, when General Kenobi arrived as they walked out onto the royal landing pad she found no interest in him, bowing her head respectfully, she did the same with Anakin. A bit more intrigued with Ashoka, but nothing pictures hadn't depicted. A man stood next to Anakin, who was soon introduced as Captain Rex. Y/n welcomed and thanked him for coming, but besides that, she was silent during the conversation.

"Sir, apologies for interrupting."

"It's fine, Jesse go ahead," Anakin spoke, Y/n watching the man with a large tattoo on his face gave a brief report to his general as the two joined the tight group of talkers.

Y/n was intrigued with the man next to him, hair tied back in a bun as his brother in arms talked. He too seemed the silent type, staying behind Jesse's shoulder rather than next to him, it was a slight difference Y/n realized.

"Lady Y/n, these are two are some of my finest men, Jesse and Tup."

"Lady Y/n" Jesse spoke bowing his head.

"Nice to meet you," Tup spoke nervously, his hand outreached for a handshake, Jesse quickly pulling his brother's hand down who was already a nervous wreck.

"Apologies for my brother! He doesn't know how to act!" Jesse scolded elbowing Tup slightly who was already shaming himself mentally and Y/n could sense it, but Jesse was already dragging him away with an insane amount of apologies as he left. 

Y/n watched as they got far enough away to where Jesse had started to drag Tup by the collar of his shirt.

"Lively bunch aren't they?" Satine questioned Y/n who nodded.

"My apologies Duchess, Lady Y/n. The 501st is not very big on tradition, and neither is there general."  Obi-Wan scolded as Anakin shrugged.

"It's okay." Y/n finally spoke up, causing heads to turn, "I, um, apologizes. Duchess if I may."

"Yes, you can go ahead," Satine spoke worried for the girl as she rushed off quickly. 

"Will she be okay?" Ashoka questioned.

"She has no social skills, and on top that, no friends her age," Satine spoke solemnly, "I wish to help her but she's a closed book." 

"Have I got the perfect trooper for her to make friends with," Anakin responded

"You're not sending Fives or Hardcase over to her, if anyone to watch her it'll be Cody, at least he can stay on task," Obi-wan argued.

"I think me and my master have the same idea," Ashoka smirked.

"I- I'm sorry general- Me?" Tup questioned.

"Yes I need a clone with Lady Y/n at all times, and since she seems to like you after a slip up that could have cost us a whole war," Anakin spoke, "You're watching her,"

"General! I. I can't watch her! I. I. I. I have patrol!" Tup tried to argue.

"Kix is on patrol now, she's supposedly back in her room," Anakin spoke.

"Her- what!?" Tup argued.

"one of the guards will escort you thanks again."

"Wait! General!" Tup argued but he was walking away and waving to Tup happily. 

"Are you the clone trooper known as Tup?" A guard asked walking up to him.

"yes, but wait a minute!-"

"This way." 

Tup had no option but to follow a guard at his back and his front as they escorted him to the room. Anxiety racked his body, his hands clammy and squeezing each other as he gulped, the guards stopping and knocking.

"Mistress your escort is here."

"Oh, yes," Y/n spoke quietly, "He may come in alone."

The guards posted outside her room as Tup pushed one of the doors opened, he walked in silently and closed the door behind him carefully.

Looking straight on the large french doors were opened to a patio. Walking towards the open doors he found Y/n sitting on the floor a stack of books beside her with a chessboard by her side, her knees raised to her chest as her dress was laid out around her.

"I'm uh, your guard for the dance," Tup spoke, his thumb pressing into his palm.

"You can go back, I'm not going," Y/n told him, her mouth and jaw covered by her arms propped on her knees.

"oh, uh..." Tup spoke, not knowing what to do.

Y/n looked beside her, "You can sit, maybe you'll get in less trouble that way?"

He nodded in agreement, taking a seat on one side of the chess board. They sat in silence against the wall. Tup looking down at the pieces of the board set up on their respective sides, his clammy hands couldn't help but move a piece. Y/n looked overhearing the crystal click on the board. Looking down she picked up a piece and moved it, Tup moving his next piece without a word. Y/n looked down at the board, her legs falling from her chest and onto the ground flat as she looked over in thought. Picking up her next piece she took his pawn, setting it down on the side.  As they played they could hear the talk of guests starting to come to the palace. Due to where Y/n's room was it wasn't much to hear, just the occasional burst of loud laughter. 

"Ah yes! Yes!" One laughed spoke loudly, "I love the stars!"

Y/n suddenly came with an outburst the came with the man's hearty laugh, "I have loved the stars to foundly-"

"-to be fearful of the night." Tup finished moving his next piece.

Y/n's moved her gaze up softly then chuckled, "Mythology lover?"

"When I have the time, I mostly learn through tell and hear," Tup responded watching Y/n capture another piece.

It was silent again as Tup captured yet another piece, his eyes drifting over to her stack of books. Eyes glancing over the titles.

"H.P Lovecraft?" Tup questioned Y/n nodding.

"I find his stories interesting, I enjoy the horror genere as a whole." Y/n smiled moving her next peice, "do you like horror?"

Tup nodded, "I do occasionally, again hear and tell mostly."

Y/n nodded, "come with me."

Y/n stood up, walking into her room, Tup watching her.

"Come on." Y/n gestured holding out a hand for him.

He took it gently and was pulled up from his spot on the floor. Y/n led him by the hand into her room and towards a wall pushing on a certain spot a small door opened. Y/n leaned down walking through the door as Tup followed, Y/n closed the door behind them.

"Woah."

Y/n smiled, "the palace library."

"I am the only one who's ever in here." Y/n contuined.

The two walked side by side, out from the side of the room and into the center of the room. Tup turned around to speak, but he watched her pass a dusty window, the sun set passing in through cobwebs and dusty, shining on her think crown, her dress flowly and made up of multiple thin layers of fabric.

He gulped as she turned her head, stopping in her spot.

"What's wrong?"

"I," he started but stopped for a momment, "My name, its. It's Tup. I don't know if you-"

"Remember you?" Y/n questioned, "I do."

She walked up to him a hand extended, "Y/n."

He smiled as they shook hands.

"Tup." He introduced himself once again as they chuckled lightly.

They pulled away, Y/n's hands clasped infront of her.

"Well Tup its very nice to meet you again."

"Its nice to meet you too Lady Y/n."

"Lady Y/n!"

She took a quick step back from her closeness with Tup, clearing her throat.

"Oh thank maker..." the gaurd spoke under his breathe, "the duchess wishes for you to greet your guest."

Y/n nodded softly, "Well. Let's go?"

Tup nodded, the two leaving side by side in silence. They two making there way down to the main set of doors which led to the throne room.

"Lady Y/n." Obi-wan spoke, "The Duchess ask I escort you in while introduced."

"Oh." Y/n spoke looking at Tup he gave her an akwards thumb up, she chuckled and smiled at him with a nod.

Y/n smiled Obi wan extending an arm, Y/n linking arms with the Jedi General. The doors opened as they walked forward.

"Introducing Lady Y/n! Daughter of Dutchess Satine! Next in line for the throne!"

Y/n and Obi-wan walked forward people clearing a straight shot to her mother. Her and Obi-wan walked forward, feeling the stares on her she kept silent. It soon because uncomfortable, feeling the gaze more than just simple admiration or awe. She tensed as they walked making her to the steps to Satines throne. She pulled away from Obi-wan, bowing her head to her mother as she walked up, a smaller throne simplistic like how Y/n liked it and took a simple seat, she watched Tup sneak into the room carefully standing next to a man who had a medical band on his arm with his suit, before everyone started to fill the room again.

Satine stood up, she was making a speech Y/n zoned out, it was a greeting, thanking everyone personally for coming to celebrate Y/n's transition into womenhood.

"That's why I am glad to speak, Y/n's hand is extended for potential marraige candidates!"

Y/n sat up shocked, and Satine thanked everyone once again and took a seat. Everyone going back to chatting.

"Excuse me!? Marraige?" Y/n argued.

"It is a formality you do not have to marry anyone."

"Im not taking anyone into consideration," Y/n defended, crossing her arms and leaning back in her seat.

"Lady Y/n-"

"No." Y/n spoke, she was beyond annoyed.

"Thank you for your time..." he spoke bowing his head and walking away heart broken.

Y/n rejected any man that came up to try and give there hand to her.

Tup watched from afar, Kix and Dogma by his side. Men contuined to go up to her and as more and more did she seemed more and more irratated. He quickly walked away from his brothers would watched him out of confusion.

Watching him walk up to the thrown he started walking up the steps.

"Y/n," Tup spoke, holding a hand out for her, "I'd like to spend time with you, perhaps a dance?"

"Hey! Buddy wait in line!" A man argued but Y/n looked at Tup thanks in her eyes.

The lighting on him seemed perfect, he back lit perfectly, his eyes holding a smile along with his lips. Y/n grabbed his hand lightly as Tup helped her up, the two walking down the stairs hand in hand.

"Thank you." Y/n spoke they now in the crowd of people.

"Seems you needed it," Tup answered as Y/n chuckled.

"To the libary?"

"Actually," Tup spoke quietly, "I'd...like to have a dance with you."

Y/n flushed, "t-that sounds good. Yeah."

It was almost on cue did everyone backed up circling people who wanted to dance, Y/n and Tup in the center of it.

"Um. Tup." Y/n spoke.

"Hm?"

"Do you know how to dance?"

"Oh. Uh." Tup spoke, "no actually, do. Do you?"

Y/n shook her head no. The two laughing together as the music started.

"Suppose we should act like we're doing and maybe we'll fall in?" Y/n laughed.

Tup smiled in return, "I suppose."

The music started as they watched other, a simple waltz. Y/n and Tup luckily able to copy others, hands which once were placed in hand on on him, soon became more intimate, fingers intertwining. Tup's hand moving from her hip to the small of her back, she leaning into his touch just a bit more.

"Not bad." Y/n spoke softly, "we're doing decent."

Tup chuckled softly in return, "I suppose us clones learn quick."

"Clone?" Y/n questioned, "you're a clone?"

Tup looked at her confused, "You. You don't know that?" He questioned confused.

"I." Y/n spoke, "I don't mean to sound, uh, Rude."

Tup frowned, maybe she was an avid clone hater?

"I um. Havent payed much attention, to your face, my apologies." Y/n spoke, a flush coming to her cheeks.

"Am I offensive?" Tup questioned.

"No. No. Not at all." Y/n spoke, "On the contrary actually. I. Find you most appealing, your. Voice and presence is quiet soothing. You're a good man."

It was Tup's turn to flush, spinning her around softly as everyone else did. Her dress picking up just the slightest at the ends. Pulling her back into his grasp, it was sudden for both of them, there chest pressed up against one another, faces close, Tup's hand now across the small of her back grabbing her other hip as he lowered her into a dip, Y/n's arm around his neck as he did.

The claps of everyone was muffled in there ears.

Tup's nose brushing against hers as he tilted his head softly, Y/n stopping him with a hand on hie jaw , and she was raised up again in a flash.

"I. Im sorry" Tup apologized, everyone still clapping as Y/n bowed to him red faced.

"I...must go." Y/n spoke quickly rushing away and into the crowd.

"Wait!" Tup called rushing after her, she rushing out the throne room.

"My lady-"

"Im quiet fine a game of tag is all." Y/n defended rushing off, the urge of wanting Tup so bad fueling her feet as she ran from him.

Tup rushed looking both ways, "Which way did she go?"

"Left sir-"

Tup rushed after her, his shoes clicking against the marble floors of the palace as he ran. Seeing her take a turn up ahead he called her name once more, following her quick steps, she rushed into her ungaurded room and closing the door behind her.

Making it to the doors he panted for a moment, soon calming his breath he knocked on the door.

"Please! Y/n I did not mean to upset you!" He begged, "I. I should have asked asked you! I should have never just jumped into it!"

Y/n quiet as she leaned against the door, her body pressed up against it to keep it closed, he seemed genuinely angered with himself, and worried for her.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." Tup spoke softly, "I...just..."

Y/n stayed silent listening.

"I. Seen you for the first time walking up with my brother to report to General Skywalker..." he informed, "I had no idea someone could look so beautiful until I seen you, then. Well then we started that chess game."

Y/n's cheeks grew red as she listened, her heart starting to drop its quickly put up walls.

"You just spoke and It was beautiful. I. I'm not good with words either. I." He sighed, "I didn't realize someone like me could have so much in common with you... half the time my brothers don't like any same things as me. And we're all copies of each other."

The knot in her stomach grew as she gulped, "I. Tup. Its not that I'm mad at you."

Tup was surprised to hear an answer, "I. I think you're quiet beatiful, I. I just...I've never..."

"Y/n you do not need to explain yourself to me." Tup told her.

"Just. Let me finish." Y/n spoke calmly, "I've, well. Tup. I. I. I've never kissed anyone."

Y/n stopped waiting for a laugh, or even a 'yeah right', but she got a sincere chuckle trying to break the ice, "neither have I."

It was a surpise to Tup when the door opened softly, Y/n's flushed face being seen due to the light of the hall.

"Are you okay?" Tup questioned Y/n nodding her gaze to the floor.

"We're you being..serious?" Y/n questioned softly.

Tup nodded, growing nervous himself.

"Would you..umm. like too?" Y/n questioned, "kiss me?"

"I..um." tup spoke his face full red, "yes.."

Y/n opened up the door a bit more so he could come in, taking the hint he walked in the room dark. His eyes not having to adjust as the French doors which were uncovered let in moonlight.

Y/n closed the door quietly, locking it behind her so they'd be uninterrupted. He turned his head watching her walk towards him.

Oh maker.

They stood infront of each other nervously, refusing to make eye contact. Y/n with a shaking hand reached out her hand, her fingers dancing along his shoulder as he looked down.

"Tup. I." Y/n spoke, her other arm following her first one on the other side of his head his hands slipping onto her hips.

Nerves in a bundle they tensed in one anothers arms, faces leaning in slowly, noses brushed up against one another. A few of Tup's fingers tapped and tilted her face to the side as he tilted his own face the other way.

"Tup...Im nervous." Y/n whispered against his lips, "what happens if...if i like it too much?"

"I'll do anything you ask me..." he mummbled her hot breathe hitting his lips.

It was silent for another momment, Y/n's eyes slolwy closing as Tup's followed. They leaning in the small space as there lips pressrd against each others. The bundle of nerves melting away and falling into ribbions that slowly started to knot.

The kiss was, cute, nothing more than pressing there lips against one another and then pulled away little space between there lips, a new found hunger filled the both of them, Tup pressing forward in a much more passionate kiss, y/n kissed back, lips dancing against one another. Y/n pushed into Tup. Breathe heavy through the armature kisses. Tup mindlessly picked Y/m up, her legs wrapping around his waist as they contuined to kiss. Walking over to her bed he placed her down carefully, climbing over her body.

Kiss only breaking for air, "Do. Do you want this?" Tup questioned, things had moved awfully fast and turned into a one night stand, love filled relationship neither could explain.

Y/n nodded, "Only from you"

"Are you sure? I don't want you unsatisfied." Tup spoke honestly.

"If its you I'll never be unsatisfied." Y/n told him, the two kissing again, Tup holding his like a peice of glass under him.

"I love you." Tup whispered against her lips.

"I love you too Tup." She spoke back. Tup kissing her once more.

[treviso-nights]

I Said... Hold Still // Obey Me // MC x Lucifer

rating: t words: 3.5k summary: takes place during the furry event, MC does the boys’ makeup for the video but takes *special care* with lucifer’s

xxx

“Stop squirming, Levi. You’re going to smear everything and then I’m going to get mad.”

Leviathan blushed, visibly racked with the desire to fidget in the chair. “I can’t help it,” he said, crossing and uncrossing his ankles, which clunked into hers. “You’re so close to my face.”

A scoff audibly sounded off in the background, and the unmistakable tenor of Mammon’s voice filled the dining room. 

“Yeah. A little too close, eh? Back off, Levi!”

Freya sighed. As long as Levi’s face was scrunched with annoyance, it’d be impossible to apply any more makeup to it. She paused, her hand a patient dove hovering in the air, coasting, while Levi replied.

“I’m not doing anything! You back off, stupid scumbag!”

“Hey! Ya gotta stop callin’ me that! Or else!”

“Or else, what? What are you going to do to me?”

The demon-princes were scattered throughout the entirety of the ornate, elaborate dining room, yet the collective sigh uttered by every mouth was a palpable hurricane churning in the air above them. A violent, fiery blush creeped into Levi’s neck, and Freya stilled her hand once more as he ducked his head in embarrassment.

She had to force herself not to sigh herself. “Relax, Levi. I’m not going to attack you.”

“Yes, hun, but that he wishes you would is the point,” said a voice from the opposite corner. A slash of daylight pierced through the window in front of him, illuminating the slender curve of his body. Even in that ridiculous costume. Asmodeus.

“If you know what I mean,” he finished. Freya didn’t have to look to know he was probably winking at them. The sunlight did nothing to illuminate the dripping sin of his voice.

Freya ignored the fresh wave of blood washing over Levi’s face, deepening the red even further. All that was needed was a quick blending of the brow-powder, and he’d be done, though if these idiots kept on rambling she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to get him to hold still.

Even now, he seemed to vibrate in place, although he managed to keep himself in place enough to refrain from fidgeting. Freya worked as fast as possible, working as casually as she could without smudging the lines. If they could keep their mouths shut for once in their goddamn life--

“If what you mean is kissing, then yes. We do get what you mean. Levi, at least attempt to not think about it.”

xxx

read on AO3

xxx

…..

SATAN, you motherFU--

“No one is kissin’ ANYONE, do ya hear me!?”

“Oo-oh, how scandalous!! I want to see someone kiss!”

“Okay, tell me I didn’t wake up from a nap just to hear about Freya kissing someone!”

“Relax, Belphie. No one is kissing.”

“Ya damn straight, no one is kissing. Not ever! If Freya is kissin’ anyone it’s gonna be m--”

“Me! It’d be me! After all, who wouldn’t want to kiss me?”

“Enough.”

As Lucifer silenced the room, Freya shot Satan a glare, who returned the gesture with a grin so warm you’d never know how on purpose that truly was. What an arsonist. Truly. It was practically art.

The dining room was momentarily cast in shadow -- Freya looked beyond a mortified Levi to see a thick wall of cloud oozing across the sky. A frown tugged the corners of her lips down.

“All right, you lot,” said Lucifer. His voice crawled into the spaces around them like congealed molasses. “Clear out. Diavolo wants to start shooting as soon as possible.”

The most awkward of silences left the dining room charged and heavy, and all but Levi and Lucifer started towards the main hall.

Meanwhile, Freya wanted to be conscientious of his personal boundaries -- as he so often said he didn’t like to be touched -- but Freya wasn’t just about to let Levi leave after that. 

“Hey, look up for me one more time before you go.”

She and Lucifer made zero comments about how dark his skin had become in embarrassment -- magenta would be too fitting for comfort. Freya, in her peripherals, saw how Lucifer pretended to preen himself in a corner away from them, adjusting and then readjusting his feline costume so it couldn’t possibly fall any straighter or more crisp on the lines of his body.

Levi complied, absolutely rock-frozen as he titled his eyes to the ceiling. Even the inner workings of his jaw were inert with strain. 

“Did you know,” Freya began, dabbing ice-silver highlighter to his waterline, “That giraffes throw up on a regular basis?”

She was momentarily met with silence as Levi made himself unclench his teeth. “Giraffes?”

“Mhm. An animal in the human realm. Really long neck. Think of a horse with a snake-neck.”

“Whoa. That sounds like a final boss or something. If their neck is so long, how do they not suffocate then?” 

It was working -- his skin was clearing of blush, returning to a lovely cream-shade which she always thought brought out the gold in his eyes so well. Freya, in an effort to dispel some of his shame, didn’t meet his eyes when they gazed at her out of curiosity. She prodded the outside corner of his eye with the same highlighter, tapping the glimmer into place.

“Well… that’s what I wanted to know, so I researched it for awhile. They have a bunch of spaces in their stomach so as they digest food, they puke it up into their mouth and then eat it all over again. Bizarre, right?”

Levi’s subsequent grin made itself onto her face as well, though she was careful to still avoid his direct gaze. And, was that Lucifer’s cheeks lifted in the over corner over there, or was that her own imagination?

“That sounds like Beel,” he said, beaming at her.

“They were my favorite animal for awhile after that, just because I would always laugh when I thought of it. In an environmental class back home we studied this, and as soon as it was brought up, I just couldn’t stop laughing. I got kicked out of class.”

“OMG,” Levi said. “That is hilarious! LOLOL, like, I totally would’ve lost it too.”

“It’s ridiculous. But it does make me smile, even to this day. Maybe it’ll help you too now.”

Levi’s answer was something soft in his eyes, like a window being opened.

Freya snapped the ridiculously expensive highlighter palette closed, absentmindedly making a note to somehow manipulate Asmo into getting her one just like it. 

She tried to refrain from kissing anyone in the academy but that palette… perhaps kissing was not beneath her after all...

“‘Kay. You’re good to go!”

The clogged energy tangibly evaporated as they both righted themselves in the chairs, widening the amount of space between them. Levi didn’t look fully recovered -- his movements were a little too fast, a bit too premature. 

However, as he stood up to join the others, the dread from earlier wasn’t etched onto the crevices of his face, and he smiled before heading out the door.

“Thanks, Freya! Seriously.” He dashed through the entryway, the joyful spring under his feet practically palpable.

The next breath was drawn in through the nose. Freya turned to the impromptu makeup station Asmodeus had set up for her earlier in the morning once more.

“Okay, lurker,” she called out. “Sit your butt down before I decide I don’t want to do this anymore and set fire to the building so Diavolo will send me away.”

The waxed, polished, impeccable hardwood floors clapped his shoes in greeting with every intentional footfall. Even from the side while she retrieved more eyeshadow, she could see the grimace on his mouth. He was staring straight through her.

“Not funny.”

Freya couldn’t help but grin as she swiveled the chair to face him.

“It was funny, but we both know you wouldn’t admit it even if you agreed so let’s get to business, shall we?” Freya held up a pen of liquid eyeliner for him to see.

Lucifer made no further comment, but she could’ve sworn his jaw looked like it wanted to come undone in a smile, just for a second. He nodded, burgundy eyes locked onto her face.

“Scoot closer. This always sucks the most.”

When he complied, their legs were utterly entangled, each thigh resting lightly against the other’s. Freya didn’t stop or make a comment -- she knew the rules of the game with him and wasn’t going to lose because of that.

If anything, the contact excited her. She’d be close enough to catch any reaction he made, scrutinize every inch of his visage for a sign of victory. When one edge of his mouth lazily pulled to the side in the faintest smirk she’d ever seen, an impish gesture, she knew he was on the same wavelength.

Freya leaned in, closing the distance between their faces until the warm billows of his breath collided gently over her cheeks.

“Don’t mind me,” she said, bringing a hand to cup the cheek opposite the eye she was going to start on. “I have to steady myself because I had a lot of coffee this morning and I can feel myself about to have a seizure.”

Lucifer did smile at that, and she mirrored him as her fingers slipped through the hair at the back of his head. Silk. Fresh rain. A bubble of clouds. There didn’t seem to be a description accurate enough to articulate the softness of each strand. Her palm came to rest on his jaw.

The dick part of her wanted to ask what kind of conditioner he used, to purposely destroy the playful tension, if only to mitigate the effect the intimacy had on her. It was certainly a go-to, and she had half a mind to blurt it out when his expression suddenly changed.

“That was kind of you,” Lucifer murmured, and she could practically feel the heat of his red gaze wash through her, “What you did for Levi. Comforting him so as to not embarrass him further.”

An unwanted softness expanded in the pit of her belly and her hand momentarily haltered all movement. She drew back to look at him, and felt her waggish expression melt into something more like his own.

Freya’s gaze tugged down at their legs, spidered out in a flamboyant web of limbs. “I’m all for a good roast, but they should be more mindful with how often they pick on him. He already has super bad self-esteem.”

Lucifer grimaced as pain, sympathetic, cracked across her face. “That he does.”

“Makes me want to punch him,” she mumbled, almost inaudibly. Exhaling, Freya lifted the eyeliner pen to Lucifer once more, tracing a thin cat-eye along the edge of his lashes. 

“If he says that he’s too gross to love one more time, I will use our pact to make him do daily affirmations until he stops. I’m not above that.”

It was a while before Lucifer reacted to that, and a few moments of silence soothed the spaces around them. When he seemed to smile, Freya kept wordless and leaned in further, cleaning up the sharp edge of the wing at his eye. If she leaned in any further, her lips would brush across his cheek. Adrenaline flooded her belly.

“Not the worst way to exploit your authority, I suppose.”

“Hell yeah. Call me the demon-whisperer, improving internal dialogue one Avatar at a time.”

She withdrew her hand just in time -- Lucifer’s cheeks avalanched in the expansion of a smile, twisting his mouth until the ivory-white of his teeth was exposed. Another grin, another victory.

“Sounds like quite the endeavor.”

“Quite right, Watson. Okay, done with that,” Freya said, ignoring his momentary confusion and scooting herself back to the pile of makeup. She exchanged the eyeliner for a pastel palette before picking up a small, fluffy brush.

“All Diavolo wanted was a mutuality between species, and here you are trying to rehabilitate the princes of Hell into developing a more healthy sense of self,” he mused. 

Lucifer’s warm eyes lowered and tracked Freya’s movements as she closed in and began dabbing at his eyelids with a pale lavender color, which accentuated the darkness of his burgundy irises so nicely it was obscene.

Did she look as beautiful to him as he did to her?

“Oh, dear,” he chuckled. “Where did you go?”

It was just then that Freya realized she hadn’t been applying the makeup on him so much as she was staring at it.

“What’s wrong? Did the artistry of your own handiwork distract you?” His full lips twisted into a more mocking version of his earlier grin.

“Or is it simply my natural beauty you find so interesting?”

A low, humming laugh churned in the bottom of his throat as Freya’s nose wrinkled itself at him.

“Actually, I was just thinking that if this film wins first place, the entire Devildom will be witness to you and all of your furry glory.”

All of the mirth fled from Lucifer’s face as she spoke. Dark strands of aura collected around the crown of his head before winking out of existence. 

“It’s an exciting thought, right?”

When his eyelids lowered, Freya leaned back in, blending in a blue pastel with the first. The air around him sizzled with tension that dripped off of his body. “As the film stands, there is almost a statistical impossibility that it will win the competition,” he drawled. So confident. 

“So, basically, it’s a non-issue.”

“You really believe Diavolo -- or Barbatos for that matter -- who are obsessed with this project, couldn’t or wouldn’t pull strings in our favor?” The hand on his jaw exploded with invisible flame as she shifted it for no other reason than she wanted to--

Lucifer froze. Freya pretended to be absorbed in her work and readjusted her fingers -- a mere twitch of the extremity -- slipping several of them in the hollow under his ear while anchoring her thumb so that the pad of the fingertip framed the corner of his mouth.

A triumphant fanfare burst in her head. She got him, caught him off-guard. Enchanted him. The world was correct once more.

“Diavolo is a noble man,” she started, sweeping away the fallout with her knuckles. She caressed the soft skin under his eyes gently, with care. “But men like him -- the ones who proclaim to uphold truth and transparency…”

Lucifer did not move, even as she playfully tapped the tip of his nose with the makeup brush.

“Those are the ones you can’t trust.”

A few short moments passed before Lucifer spoke again.

“I don’t know what demons you’ve been hanging around,” he began, leaning forward an inch. “But some of us are perfect gentlemen.” 

He was playing with her. 

Do not look at his lips, do not look at his lips.

The brush in her hand lowered as Freya also leaned in, matching Lucifer’s bluff, and the crimson glow of his eyes was soon all she could see, rather than the eyes themselves.

“I’ve only met one perfect gentleman in my entire life. He was a golden retriever.”

She saw the curve of his eyes when he smirked.

“You clearly need better friends.”

“How fortunate I was kidnapped and brought here, then.”

“How fortunate, indeed.”

“Hey, are you guys going to kiss?”

The shock of the intrusion jolted both Lucifer and Freya, nearly pressing them together, so… maybe?

Lucifer recovered first, smoothly straightening in his chair like a candle wick burning true.

“What do you want, Asmo?”

Of course it was Asmo.

When Freya settled, returning the makeup brush to the tray, she saw Asmodeus hovering in the dining room’s entrance, the gold of his hair casting ethereal arcs of color across the archway.

His eyes were wide with curiosity. “Well, first, I want to see you kiss, but I also came to tell you Diavolo wants to start filming now.” Asmo’s gaze flickered back and forth between them.

“Tell Diavolo we’re on our way,” Lucifer said, saying nothing of the lewd request. After a tense moment and a hard glare, Asmo drifted off, the whites of his eyes revealed in an impressive arc.

“He realizes he can just kiss people, right?”

She couldn’t help but grin at the blank expression coating over Lucifer’s visage.

“He realizes,” Lucifer said. “It seems as if voyeurism is a big interest of his, however.”

Freya accidentally snorted. “I don’t know what isn’t.”

“Manners, perhaps.”

Someone sighed. Freya wasn’t sure if it was her or Lucifer. Eventually, the two shared a glance and his eyebrows rose in question.

“Is my makeup adequate enough for filming?” The brows remained high on his forehead, now teasing more than anything else.

Freya instinctively raked his features, looking for any asymmetrical flaws or lopsided shadow. There was nothing but a fleeting suspicion that it was only Lucifer’s immaculate complexion which completed the makeup, rather than the other way around. He wore the makeup, rather than the makeup highlighting the beauty already there. How ridiculous.

“One more thing, actually.”

The lazy affect warped into confusion, narrowing his features, and then awe, expanding them back again. Freya had darted in the space between their bodies, one finger somehow already dipped into a cherry-colored lip stain, and she began tapping the pigment onto Lucifer’s bottom lip, ignoring the way his mouth parted with shock.

“To match your eyes.”

He remained silent while he composed himself, drawing back his eyebrows and lips to a close. Freya forced her face to remain stoic -- the relish of eliciting these kinds of reactions was a special sort of drug, but to keep him playing along, she had to forfeit a few her victories to soften the blow to his ego. Demon of Pride and all. She was more than happy to keep up with him. Her giant ego demanded it.

As if he could hear her thoughts, Lucifer probed her gaze with his own, scrutinizing the miniscule movements her every facial feature made, but she gave away nothing. He was content to hold still until she was finished with him, smiling politely, the warmth not touching his eyes.

“And none for yourself?” he chirped.

Freya’s gaze darted to the makeup tray at her side, but a warm hand had gripped her chin and forced her head back to Lucifer. A swarm of butterflies awoke in her diaphragm.

“You dote on all of us so much,” he pronounced slowly, casually, bringing his thumb to his mouth. “But it seems as if you are often left wanting, isn’t that right?”

Heat so hot it was ice overturned her nervous system, bringing it to a halt. “It isn’t that bad. Beel buys me food. Asmo gives me clothes. Luke and Barbatos bake me whatever I want.”

Freya frantically attempted to memorize the feeling of his thumb brushing over her lips. Did he feel this tense when she’d done this, like a worn outlet ready to spark? She waited until he was satisfied to speak.

“I’d say I have it pretty good.”

Lucifer smirked, clearly unconvinced. He reached over her, grabbing a wipe from the table and cleaning his hand. Their faces were momentarily close once again, and the cologne from his neck wafted over her skin. So rich, like sandalwood, but faint at the same time. Noncommittal. It was a perfect scent for him.

When his gaze lowered to her mouth and back up again, she thought her form would explode.

“Hm. I’m not sure all of that’s an equal exchange, though.” He stared at her in bewilderment.

“... What?” Suddenly, she was too conscious of herself. Why did he look at her like that? Was he unsatisfied with the color or something?

She heard the roll of his stool before registering he’d placed his palms on her shoulders. They felt like boulders and feathers and as if they should be there all the time, keeping her from floating away in her wild fantasies of abandoning the human world so she could stay there forever. It was just like giraffes. Ridiculous… right?

“Your hair.”

Eh?

Lucifer’s eyes were sure and steady as they raked over her again and again.

“It should be down for the fight scene. When you faint, it should cover your face, create some symbolism there.”

… Interesting. She didn’t know he thought about details like that. Wasn’t this more of Asmo’s territory? Still, Lucifer had a point. She’d only braided that morning because it was convenient, getting too long and too curly for comfort.

“How dramatic,” she replied, chuckling at his sincerity. “You’re right, though. Obscuring the face makes a much bigger statement to the audience. Creates lots of tension.”

Lucifer’s knees knocked against hers, two entities floating alone in the ocean, and he moved his hands to the hair-ties at the end of her french braids. 

They were dexterous, slipping off the rubber and untangling the curls without tugging on a single one. Goosebumps seeped through her skin, giving her a full-body euphoria. 

If she was being honest, even this simple gesture had her feeling pampered, taken care of. It resembled nothing of the food or retail items she was frequently gifted with, although those were of course, appreciated.

No, this was like... communion. A merging of two. Freya found that she couldn’t muster a smirk or a smart-ass retort as Lucifer slipped his fingers through her hair, arranging it in perfect pieces that cascaded over her jaw. She felt she wanted to sleep instead. Take a nap. Fall asleep to the sensation of him there, soothing her into unconsciousness. 

Ah. Any feeling of victory disappeared in an instant. This was too close to real intimacy to be a game.

Lucifer adjusted the curls one final time before gently extracting himself from her space. There wasn’t any trace of mischief on his face either, or deception, or avarice. 

She caught herself absently grooming herself of invisible lint or stray hair in the moments after. It seems as if their communion was finished, and they were to get on with their mission for the day.

“Well,” Freya said, steadily rising to her feet. She extended a hand in his direction. “Ready to go to war over me?”

Lucifer’s subsequent smile radiated mirth. “Of course.” He curled his fingers around her palm and rose to face her.

“I always defend what is mine. To the death.”

An unexpected giggle erupted from him at the shock rapidly freezing her expression.

“I’m joking, Freya. I’m ready. Let’s do it.”

Lucifer jesting? How novel.

With her hand in his, they began making their way out of the dining room. The sun was out -- its light had finally defeated the storm clouds before it.

“Call me Helen, I guess.”

Their voices ricocheted off the elaborate carvings etched into the doorway.

“... You know the story of Troy, ri--”

“--Yes, Freya, I get the referen--”

“--Okay, cool. That would’ve been weird. I hate explaining jokes.”

[pedros-mustache]

Wait... WAIT okay hold on w a I t. Can you just imagine.... I’m back on this yoga!Din shit (who am I kidding, I never left), so imagine this is sometimes after their first, shall we say, interaction. Imagine—

Another man comes into the class for the first time since Din’s started taking it. Some other guy struts in, and of course— because it’s her job— the yoga instructor puts her hands on him and adjusts him and touches him, and Din knows— rationally— he knows he shouldn’t be jealous; it shouldn’t make him angry, but it fucking does. He’s simmering under his skin as she trails her hand across this other man’s wrist, like how she’s done to him—he can almost feel the ache of it on his own— how she coos pretty nothings into his ear. This asshole even has the audacity to make her laugh. He’s rolling up his mat and is saying something that must be goddamn hilarious and makes her laugh— and fuck, what a sound it is— And AND AND can we just imagine... how he fucks her after. The raw possessiveness of it. Fucking her into the mirrored wall and making her beg for him. I just I’m sorry I gotta go bye- can u please elaborate THANKS THANK YOU

anyway, here we go. this is part of the yoga!din world that erikka has dragged me into kicking and screaming. find the other thoughts under the yoga!din tag on both our blogs! we are straying into plot with these so beware of us both

warnings for: slight degradation, jealous!din out the whazoo, slight dom!din too i guess idek (18+ only get out of my house)

he’s slow to approach after class ends. 

he always bides his time, tries to catch a few minutes with her before her next class bustles in, perfectly coiffed and bedecked in pearls like they aren’t about to spend the next hour with their asses in the air. it’s in those few moments—those precious few moments—that he tries, really fucking tries, to make a good impression. since the first time he fucked her on this floor, he’s wanted her—wanted her pussy, yes, but now it’s more.

now, din just wants her.

he thinks the guy hanging back at the front of the classroom is named ralph. maybe rob. din wasn’t really listening when she introduced the new addition to the five-fifteen beginners yoga class. he was too focused on not going crosseyed with a sick, possessive rage. 

the entire class he watched her. like a fucking hawk intent on its prey, he watched her. which, on its face, is not altogether different from any other night. he watches her so he can transition from pose to pose without falling over; he watches her so he can lift or stretch a limb without throwing out his back. she’s his teacher, first and foremost, and the yoga has helped soothe his irritated muscles and the consistent roiling pit of anger in his stomach. 

but he also watches her because she’s glamorous, cheeky, downright fuckable. she know it, too; he’s sure of that now. she knows how good her ass looks in those tights, and she knows that if she bends forward just so he gets a full glimpse down the front of her tank-top. he knows that she hovers her hand over the dip in his spine for a reason. sometimes—most of the time—she doesn’t even touch him, but it’s just the heat of her palm hanging over his body that makes his face screw up tight and his mind falter in concentration. 

three times he’s had her sprawled out beneath him, that effortlessly smug look on her face replaced by the perfect circle of her mouth when she hits her peak. she may be in control for the sixty minutes of class, but the moment she turns, slick water bottle in hand, cocking her head slightly, eyes gleaming with want, he’s the one in charge. she knows that, too.

tonight, din watches from the back of the room while ralph—rob?—new guy takes his time. his fingers make firm indents in the soft, squishiness of his mat. they’re laughing—probably about something stupid, something din doesn’t understand, like seven dollar smoothies that taste like grass. his jaw hardens when she leans in and touches new guy’s elbow. 

there’s part of din that thinks she could simply be urging new guy to the door. her next class starts in fifteen minutes, and the old biddies like to be early. the other irrational, totally consuming side of din thinks she’s doing this on purpose. always playing a fucking game.

he stands from his crouch and shoves the sweaty mat under his arm. he’s not in the mood, not tonight. his bare feet slap on the polished floor, and he watches his shoulders expand in the reflection of the mirror.

“can i talk to you?” 

new guy’s head snaps to the side at the sound of din’s hard, unyielding voice. he’s shorter than din, not by much, but enough that his eyes have to tilt upwards. 

new guy huffs. he glances at her then back at din. he pushes away from the wall where he’s been leaning the last five minutes, nonchalant, greedy. “we were just—”

she glances at the clock hanging over the door, tilting on one foot nearer din. he can smell the sweat clinging to the back of her neck. “actually, chris, i need to freshen up before my next class.” with all the grace of a royal, she touches new guy’s arm, offers him a dazzling smile that leaves din’s lungs struggling for breath. “you understand? i’ll see you next week.”

chris (nowhere near close to rob) nods and hoists his tote bag over his shoulder. his gaze slides to din. his eyes narrow—slightly, but enough for din to notice. din notices everything.

“see you next week, man.” chris slaps din’s shoulder, his bravado clearly failing in the charged energy bouncing between din and her. he tries, though; that has to count for something, and din is never one to snort at resilience in the face of defeat.

chris leaves. the door shuts with a soft click behind him. din turns to her, but she speaks first.

“i wasn’t lying, din. i gotta freshen up.”

“okay, i’ll come with you.”

she arches a brow, bent at the waist to pick up a hand-towel from the floor. “i wasn’t really inviting you.”

“i wasn’t really looking for your invitation.”

her chest lifts on a hard inhale. the curve of her bra—dark blue—peeks out from beneath her gray tank-top. he blinks, holding her stare.

with a hard swallow, she turns on her heel and opens the studio door. it’s cool in the hallway, so unlike the cloistered air of the studio after ten bodies have huffed and puffed in awkward positions for an hour. the air-conditioning almost chills din’s hot blood, but when she turns, gives a wave to chris, hovering by the front desk, he nearly melts on spot, blood gone to lava. 

he grabs her elbow and squeezes. “get in the bathroom.”

down the hall, past the main office, empty now. past the small kitchenette; the light above the sink flickers. the single bathroom at the end of the dark hall. she turns the knob, slowly, slowly, always a fucking game.

impatient, din smacks his fist against the weak door. it swings open on a whine, and she falls inside when he nudges the small of her back with his opposite hand.

“din, my class—” 

he shuts the door, locks it, flicks on the light. god, this place is a wreck. all the court would pay for, considering. cracked coral tile covers the floor and half the walls. the single light fixture barely illuminates the room. a small basket of toiletries on the back of the commode do little to take away from the twenty years of grime clinging to every surface. 

din doesn’t care. this place—it brought him to her.

still, he’s vibrating with something unnameable. he wants her—badly. his cock is hard already, straining against his basketball shorts. but it’s more than that. he doesn’t want her touching new guy or any guy that’s not him. her touches, her smiles, her laughter—it’s his. he wants it to be his.

but he can’t very well tell her that. not with his past.

“i don’t care about your class.” it’s the honest to god truth. he doesn’t care, not tonight. “come ‘ere.” 

taking her elbow in hand once more, he pulls her back from the center of the room and twists. her back thumps against the door, the door itself loose in the frame, and he looks up. that could prove a problem. he might be a jackass, but he knows her: she’s private about this. the old ladies in the hall don’t need to hear how hard she moans when she creams on his cock.

he meets her eyes, sees the ever-present challenge there, and it snaps his resolve in half. always a fucking game. he’s tired of the game tonight.

with one hand grasping her elbow, pinning her to the door, he slides his palm down the front of her leggings with little preamble. his fingers are long. he finds the apex of her cunt with ease, and he slips one finger through her folds. he glances down.

“shit, you’re wet.” he swirls his middle finger through the juices coating her pussy. so fucking sticky. “did he do this to you?”

she lifts her head from the door, eyes hazy with desire now. the challenge is gone. “what?” her breathy voice, so similar to the tone she uses in class, used now because his finger is knuckle-deep in her cunt makes his cock throb.

“i said: did he do this to you? did he make this fucking wet?” withdrawing his finger, there’s a squelch, and she bites the inside of her cheek, chest flushed in shame. din replaces the single finger with two.

“who? ch-chris?” 

din scissors his fingers. she stifles a moan with her bottom lip and grabs his shoulder. “don’t say his name.”

“i—holy shit...” her head drops forward when his thumb circles her clit, his fingers pumping in and out and in and out at a leisurely pace.  

removing the hand clutching her elbow, din frames her face with his palm, thumb on one side of her jaw, pointer finger on the other. he holds firm. “i asked you a question: who made you this wet? you sound like a fucking whore, feel like one too.”

“it wasn’t...” she shakes her head as her hips begin to grind down, down, down against his fingers. “wasn’t him.”

“then who?”

“you,” she gasps. “oh fuck, right there.” 

din stills, drops his hand from her face, straightens his spine. he slides his hand from her warmth and stares at her, dumb, mute, ears ringing. “what?”

it’s her turn to be pissed. she frowns, squirming against the door. “why did you stop? i was gonna—”

“what did you say?”

maybe it’s something in his tone, or something on his face, but her expression clears, and she stops writhing. she tilts her head in earnest then says, “it was you, din. i’m—fuck, i’m always wet around you.”

he blinks.

“you make me so hot and bothered. it’s completely unprofessional, but, shit, you always—” she shakes her head, and a lock of hair falls in front of her her eyes. he resists the urge to tuck it behind her ear. “i can practically feel you stripping me with your eyes all class, and it should piss me off, but it makes me so fucking wet.”

“i thought you—” he snaps his mouth shut, unsure of where the sentence might lead. 

for a simple moment, a long moment, he stares at her. she stares at him. in the hallway, he can hear her next class shuffling about, making tea in the kitchenette, gossiping and chattering like old crows. 

he grabs a fistful of her tank top and yanks her forward. she doesn’t have time to gasp before he’s swallowing her surprise with his mouth. her hands fumble on his shoulders, his hips, the waistband of his shorts.

“don’t have long,” he huffs.

“it’s enough.” she pushes his shorts down as he wiggles the tight band of her leggings over her ass.

his tongue smoothes over hers, gentle and soft, as he lifts from beneath her ass and pushes her back against the wall. he kisses her as deeply as he can, says everything he can with his lips. he hopes she understands.

when she wraps her manicured fingers around his cock, he almost shatters. he mouths over her jaw, down her neck, sucking on her pulse point.

“be quick,” she whispers, lining the leaking head of him at her entrance. 

tonight, he won’t have a problem with that.

face hidden in the crook of her neck, he slides to the hilt of her in one easy thrust. she threads one hand through his hair, grips the thick strap of his own tank with her other hand. her legs lock around his back.

“so fucking tight,” he mutters. 

“fuck, din.” 

he drags his cock out before slamming it back in her pussy. her back thumps against the wall, her cunt gives another wet squelch, din sees stars. 

it’s a quick tumble. din hardly removes his cock after that initial thrust. short, snappy thrusts, his pubic bone brushing against her sensitive clit. she clenches down hard on his length, her breasts bouncing against his chest as she holds onto his shoulders for support. she’s gasping, whining in his ear. he’s talking, unaware of his own words.

“hate when you play that game, girl. your mine. this pussy is mine.” he grinds his cock upwards, and a sliver of a moan falls from behind her lips. “you know that right? say it. say you know it.”

she nods, and when he squeezes her hips, she breathes out a hurried, “i know it.”

“shit fuck, you are tight.”

“for you, baby. just for you.”

din cums. he would be embarrassed, but the orgasm rips through him like a shockwave, quick and devastating. he bites down on her shoulder to keep from crying out. she removes the hand gripping the curls at the base of his neck and finds her clit, rubbing frantic circles over the swollen bud until she too must bite her tongue to hide any evidence of her pleasure. din’s cock stirs when the warmth of her cum gushes around his length.

she laughs at that, smooths sweaty hair away from his forehead. “no time.”

din wants to kiss her, but he doesn’t. he only kisses her when they find another after class, desperate for a quick fuck. his window has closed, but his lips tingle with desire.

they’re quiet as they return their clothes to rights. she runs a paper towel under the sink, smoothes it over the inside of her thighs and the outer-shell of her pussy. she catches him staring in the reflection of the faded mirror.

“they may be old, but i know they know what cum smells like.”

din huffs.

they walk side-by-side to the door of the studio. the clock hanging at the opposite end of the office reads near seven. she’s late, but only just.

at the door of the studio, she turns. her mouth opens; he leans forward, heart hammering in his chest. someone inside calls her name when she cracks the door open, half-inside, half-protected by his bulk, his warmth.

she looks over her shoulder at the sound, and the look on her face—that vulnerable look, the one he’s never seen before—fades. “see you next week?”

din nods. “yeah...” a lump rises in his throat. “next week.”

[dreamscapestars]

The Ultimate Reylo Fanfic List

* = highly recommend (aka if you’re going to read anything off this list read this)

Canonverse AUs

***All Our Days - E - 221k - "I can listen no longer in silence."The hologram projection of his strangely handsome face is cobalt blue, flickering, and full of static. "I must speak to you, Rey. You… you pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me that I am not too late.” He groans, runs his hands through his dark, silver-streaked hair, then refocuses his gaze on the holorecorder. “I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight and a half years ago. Do not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death."Here the recording of Ben takes a deep breath, and looks down at something outside the holorecorder’s field of view. Perhaps at his hands, Rey manages to think, through the veil of shock and timid, fluttering hope. She wishes she were there with him, so she could take them in her own, and offer him the confidence to carry on.But this is only a hologram, so she must wait. Eventually, when he looks up again, his features have settled. He looks… Fierce. Determined. Self-assured."I have loved none but you," he says. - canonverse jane austen au 

trillions of molecules - T - 11k - Fake papers forged, contract signed and a navy blue jumpsuit with his name printed on the chest supplied to him, the man who called himself Solo was hired by the Felucian Transit Corporation as shuttle operator number B414. - tros fix it au 

There Shall I Be - N/A - 50k -She remembers the first and only time she saw him smile like this before and how it didn’t touch his eyes at the time and how it broke her heart.Now it fills her heart and gives her life.She shoves him back onto their blanket and climbs on top of him. She pulls off her sweater and takes him inside her again and rides him into the night. - canonverse far from the madding crowd au

*landscape with a blur of conquerors - E - 362k - "While I share your contempt for this situation in which we find ourselves, do not mistake it as apathy," he hissed through gritted teeth, dark eyes burning. "I hardly expect your disposition to sweeten, but I will be damned if I allow my future Empress to behave in a manner that reflects poorly on me and on the First Order!""If you allow?" She wrenched her arm out of his viselike grasp, batting his hand away for good measure. "I don't belong to you. I don't belong to anyone.""That might have been the case back when you were a scavenger on that pitiful scrap heap of a planet, but now?" His sardonic gaze flickered over her silk robes and the jewels woven through her elaborate braids. "Now you are the Chume'da, and the Chume'da belongs to her people. Their fate is entirely in your hands. Should you cross the line, it is they who will suffer for it. Am I making myself clear?""I hate you," she said bitterly. He sneered at her. "See? Already you are acclimatizing so well to married life." - arranged marriage au

Modern AUs

*the man, the stallion, and the wind - E - 17k - Weary and alone, Rey barrels west on the Trans-Canada Hwy in her old pickup truck. Weary and in need of a lift, Ben Solo stands by the side of the road with his thumb out, in the hopes of hitching a ride.One hell of a winter storm’s about to roll in, leaving them stranded. What ever shall they do? - hitchhiker au 

The Mechanic - E - 122k - It's a magical midsummer night, just made for following a persuasive, dangerous-looking lawyer to a hotel across the road from the party. But then reality catches up to Rey. - mafia baby au

*Soul Searching - E - 205k - Sixteen-year-old Rey finds out she’s soulmates with her English teacher -- in front of her entire class. Now the school gossips won’t leave her alone, prying for tidbits that Rey wouldn’t give them even if she had any. And she doesn’t. Because Mr. Solo is too horrified at being soulmates with an underage girl to even talk to her. - soulmate au

Mitan, Midi - E - 83k - After a French notary contacts Rey to inform her she's inherited a house in the Drôme (France), she decides from one day to the next to quit her job and move there. The house is pretty secluded, there's no service, no internet, no way to reach other people aside from the landline in the living-room.Ideal conditions, by her standards, as those theoretically should allow her to be perfectly alone. Theoretically. - french country side au

*A Treehouse Covered in Salt - E - 34k -High school senior Rey Johnson has lived next door to Ben Solo her whole life. The two could not be more different and at school, Rey wouldn't be caught dead in his presence. That doesn't stop her from sneaking out to their treehouse every night. Despite her unwillingness to be friends with Ben in the light of day, he has always been there with her in the darkness. - high school au

Initial - M - 45k - A Soulmate AU in which you are born with the initials of your soulmate marked on the nape of your neck. Easy enough, right? Except for two people who don't use their real names. - soulmate au 

Killing Me Softly - M - 32k - Rey clings to the hope that her husband will regain his memories after he survived a car crash that left him with amnesia. During her monthly visits at a medical facility with Ben, who now calls himself Kylo, she struggles to cope as he tries to make her let go of the past, and in turn, him with it. - amnesia au 

only child of the universe - E - 98k - The first time Rey meets Ben, they're carefree strangers getting high at the fair, alight and in love for a night. The second time is different. The second time is in therapy— where the asshole won't even acknowledge her. - high school au 

a place to go - E - 52k - All Rey Johnson wanted was solitude. A place to go where she could escape from the daily stressors and mayhem of her job. A place where she could enjoy some peace and some quiet. Her mentor Luke Skywalker's small cabin up north seemed like the ideal place to do just that. A week of seclusion was just what she needed.And then Ben Solo arrived. - snowed in au 

into the great laughter of mankind - E - 30k - There is something about watching Rey put her mind to task. Ben can't put a name to this something, exactly— all he knows is that it fascinates him like nothing else has in a long, long time."Dr. Solo?" She glances over at him. "What do you think?"I think I'm doomed, he wants to say but doesn't. I think the curse of the pharaohs has nothing on you. I think you are my Egypt. - archaeologist au

(now it’s) Time to Learn - M - 86k - “You’re a teacher?” Ben doesn’t look like a teacher. At least not like any teacher Rey has ever had. - teacher au

For Now - E - 8k - There are plenty of things he could say, but he doesn’t. Buying you muffins makes me excited to get out of bed in the morning. I wish I could go back in time and be the kind of person you could like. I don’t remember my life before you. ---------- When Kylo finds his soulmate, she doesn’t know, and he doesn’t tell her. - soulmate au 

Cupcake Wars - E - 36k - Entirely by accident, Rey ends up fucking someone who works for Snoke's Cupcakery. She's just blowing off steam. It doesn't mean anything at all. It certainly won't come back to bite her in the ass. - bakery au

The Food of Love - E - 60k - Rey picked up her first violin at eleven, finding a mentor in conductor and former-violinist Luke Skywalker. With the First Chair up for grabs, Rey is thrust into the spotlight as the youngest violinist to take First Chair in the NY Pops. But Kylo Ren - former violinist, former NY Pops cellist, formerly Ben Solo child prodigy - may take issue with Rey Nobody sitting in his grandfather's chair. - orchestra au 

Orion - E - 14k - Rey Niima finds herself in the Saharan desert trying to heal wounds from her life, and Ben Solo is there too, fixing himself along the way. - roadtrip au

Embers - E - 34k - All the myriad things he’d been—someone who made her laugh; the warmth on the other side of the bed; her best friend—those things, Rey had buried. Rey left Ben two years, three months, and sixteen days ago. But who's counting? - getting back together au 

Gilded - M - 11k - Everyone had two marks, one for class and another to identify a soulmate. She only had one: green rings on her finger, proof she was part of the laboring class. It made matters lonely, but never unbearable.Until she met him. He had two sets of marks—had a soulmate—and she did not. - soulmate au

flutz - E - 27k - Rey was determined to have no distractions during her first season in Senior Ladies figure skating.She swore that Olympic medalist and figure skating legend Ben Solo was not going to change that, no matter how intent he seemed on proving her wrong. - ice skater au 

oh autumn, oh teakettle, oh grace - E - 30k - "So let me get this straight," he says. "You're a dryad.""Quite so," she cheerfully replies."Like an actual—" His hand rises to make a feeble gesture at the towering elms that surround them— "tree-dwelling, speaks-with-animals, has-magical-powers, frolics-through-the-woods-in-orgiastic-pagan-frenzy dryad?"She wrinkles her delicately freckled nose. "Well, I don't know about orgiastic frenzy, that's really more of a maenad type of deal."He looks her up and down, taking in her pretty face and her slender figure in the skimpy white dress."Too bad," he mumbles. - dryad roadtrip au

A Proposal by Any Other Name - E - 188k - Rey and Finn have been A Thing for a long time now. Since she was eighteen, to be exact. When Finn leaves on a trip to Europe for six months for work, Rey finally chases after him to Dublin to do what he seems to be putting off: propose.She wants a family, after all.The universe has different ideas. Her flights are delayed, storms hit, she loses her tickets and everything seems to be going horribly. To top it off, she ends up stranded around a rather irritating man by the name of Kylo Ren. It goes about as well as you'd expect. - leap year au

endless summer afternoon - E - 63k - “My son's room is always made up,” Han had said, hitting a light switch as Rey clung to a dirty backpack in the dark hallway, “he never comes home. Warm bed might as well get some use.”Rey spared Han some of the dignity of his own longing assessment of the space that clearly hadn’t been looked at in a long time. An empty room in a quiet house. As gruff as he was, handing it off to some runaway nobody just because she was helping him rebuild a car was one of the kindest gestures she’d ever experienced, and had a hidden weight that she knew needed a respectful amount of privacy. Mysteries were often about unresolved sadness, and were usually only solved by the people who didn’t feel it.Rey is offered a place to stay: a spare bedroom once belonging to the mysterious Ben Solo. What does she do when she wakes up with him wanting his bed back? - roommates au 

Dandelion - E - 45k - Rey's an ex con and orphan, just released from jail after killing Plutt. She follows advice from her former guardian, Maz, and finds a job at Luke's coffee shop. Ben's a lawyer who lost his job and moved back to his hometown. He falls for Rey, unaware of her dark past. - coffee shop au

A Few Small Repairs - E - 69k - Ben Solo is a ruthless property developer, and Rey Johnson is the lone holdout on the block. She does not intend to give up what's hers, not for anything. (Not even for a pair of pretty eyes.) - property developer au

Unbroken - E - 7k - He found her sleeping in the stables, curled up in the stall of his newest, unbroken colt...

Lockjaw - M - 106k - Kylo finds Rey unconscious and near death on the side of a road, surrounded by twitching, wretched things looking to her for their next meal. Ever the altruist, he picks them off and takes her with him, saving her life in the process. It's no wonder that when she wakes she feels she owes him, and agrees to become his travel companion as he crosses the United States in search of safety and a new home. - zombie apoclypse au 

Everything to Prove - M - 13k - “The show,” he says. “It’s probably best if they don’t—if we don’t—”And Rey follows his line of thought at once. For all the program is one that doesn’t seem melodramatic—the height of drama in previous seasons came from someone’s cake falling over and that was about it—she does not doubt that the producers and cameramen would leap at the opportunity to make there be something out of nothing in their relationship—especially if there was something out of something.“Yeah,” she agrees. “Yeah, probably. We can pick baking stations that are…” but she doesn’t want to complete the thought. She likes baking next to Ben.“Or we can just be careful?” he suggests, sounding quite as pained by the prospect as Rey feels.“Yeah, careful. I can do careful,” Rey says at once and her lips are on his again and he’s laughing now, and she’s laughing, and she didn’t think laughter would be part of all this. She didn’t think it could be. But here she is, laughing and kissing and holding a man who, at some point, she’s going to want to beat.She does her best not to think of that now.It’s a friendly competition, after all. It’s not life and death. It’s baking. - great british bake off au 

*In Bloom - E - 13k - The flowers that bedeck her skin don’t lie—ballet dancer Rey is in love with her partner, Ben. But the years go by and his skin stays resolutely, devastatingly blank.He doesn’t love her. But when his hands are on her body, she can pretend. - ballet soulmates au

By Blood and Flame - E - 10k - Rey can’t go to her professors with this spell. She needs help, though, needs someone to do the spell with her, and she needs the best because it’s tricky. Dangerous.There’s a boy on campus. Powerful. Mysterious. He’s admired and envied, feared and loathed, depending on who’s talking, but for all everyone knows his story, no one seems to really know him. And Rey… Rey has been curious about him for… well, for longer than she wants to admit.She’s not sure if it’s good or bad luck that he’s the perfect person to help cast her spell. - magic college au

count the rings - E - 63k - “Because you’re sitting there all comfy, not looking at all bridal-” “I’ll just fetch the veil out of my backpack, shall I?” “-when you could be, you know, making a move on that fine-ass tree.” In which camping comes with unexpected consequences. - accidental marriage au

(won’t you let me) walk you home from school - E - 129k - Ben, a counselor in the upper school at the legendary Alliance Academy, keeps finding himself interacting with the lower school art teacher, Rey. He definitely doesn’t like it. - teacher au

follow in your form - E - 23k - Ben Solo wakes up paralyzed and angry about it.A story about dealing with change, holding onto hope, and finding love. - quadriplegic ben au 

*screwdriver - M -101k - Rey is a bright-eyed intern on her first campaign trail, Ben is an irritated data analyst, and how difficult can it be to get a legacy senator elected president? Apparently fucking impossible. - political au

9 pints - E - 83k - She knew next to nothing, and Google was largely unhelpful. All of her searches (“vampire sex rules” and “vampire dos and don’ts” and one very self-indulgent “average vampire cock size big?”) linked her to dated top ten lists written by anyone other than an actual vampire.Twenty minutes of frustrated scrolling eventually led her to a supernatural dating forum. The website was horribly aged, but still active. Questions were tagged, which meant that it was easy to narrow down her search. Vampire, she clicked, and Sex.--In which Rey gets suckered into shooting porn with one of Poe's pickiest vampire actors. - magical porn stars au

fine young cannibals - E - 27k - Kylo raised his head to the sky as he inhaled, his broad chest expanding even wider. His eyes fluttered shut, savoring the scent like a sumptuous meal. He grinned.“Oh,” he murmured, so softly Rey wasn’t even sure it was meant for her ears. His eyes slid to meet hers, scarlet and violent and hungry. “You brought a snack.”And then all hell broke loose.About three things, Rey is absolutely positive:First, she is totally, completely, and madly in love with her vampire boyfriend, Poe.Second, there is another vampire—an older, evil, definitely-not-hot vampire—that thirsts for her blood and wants nothing more than to kill her.And third, she is maybe not absolutely positive about either of these things. - twilight au

Epithumia - E - 46k- ἐπιθυμία, ας, ἡ: epithumia : desire, passionate longing, lust *** “No extra credit.” He made a noise that might have been a laugh. “You ask that every time.” “Well, I have to try.” Rey said, weakly. “Can you make an exception?” A lone eyebrow ascended his lofty forehead into his hairline. “Try harder, Miss Kenobi.” - college teacher/student au

Historical AUs (ranging from medieval to the early 2000s)

light carries on endlessly - M - 6k - “Traitor,” he told Cerberus gruffly not too much later, using both hands to scratch behind the hound’s many ears. What appeared to be a rat tail lay nearby on a blood-stained bit of stone. “What did I tell you about women with pretty eyes?”One wet tongue lapped at his wrist, and he sighed. “Right. Nothing.” - Hades and Persephone au 

The Witch in the Wood - E - 138k - As a knight errant of the kingdom of Alderaan, Kylo Ren has traveled the country, completing quest after perilous quest in search of redemption for the dark deeds of his past. When an evil witch captures the princess of a neighboring kingdom, Kylo reluctantly accepts the burden of rescue with the assumption that it will be a simple task.It is not. For the creature that lives in the woods is not a monster at all.Since her mentor died, Rey has lived in the witch’s tree and uses magic to maintain the balance of the forest. Her life is practical, repetitive, and simple—at least, until a wrathful knight thunders through her door and levels a sword at her throat. Yet something within the knight calls to her, a buzz beneath his skin that she recognizes.Without a doubt, he is not who he appears to be. - medieval witch au

Black Knight, White Queen - E - 53k - Luke Skywalker wrote his sister a letter on his deathbed, revealing that his ward is the orphaned heir of a family long thought extinct - and politically powerful. That letter fell into the wrong hands, and the secret of Rey's heritage is secret no more. The Emperor has managed to unite the Kingdoms, but he is old, and his son is weak. Seeking to ensure his son's claim to his throne, he sends his most trusted captain to bring the girl - willing or not - to be his son's bride. Rey is taken from her far-flung home, and plunged into a world of court intrigue, arranged marriage, political rivals, and would-be assassins - the black knight her constant companion and bodyguard. But even he, her dark shadow and protector, she cannot know whether to trust... - medieval bodyguard au 

Days to Remember - E - 42k - A man heads home after years of estrangement. What do you need from me? A woman leaves her world behind, a bird in a gilded cage. When we get to New York, I need help running away. -- I'll bring you to Boston with me. - titanic au 

*what if the storm ends - E - 61k - As a child, Rey is evacuated from London to the Yorkshire Dales during the Blitz. She spends the war in the care of the Solos on their farm, wandering the moors with their son looking for a legendary family artifact long lost. When the war is over, she returns to a city she no longer recognizes, and she writes a popular series of children's fantasy books based on her childhood in the Dales. After amassing fame and fortune with her stories, tragedy brings her back to the farm to see Ben Solo, once her greatest inspiration and now a widower. - post WWII au 

Take Me - E - 39k - Every night, at 8:30 pm, Rey and Ben get on stage and pretend to be in love with each other. At 9:15, they walk off stage and the actual fireworks begin. - 60s country singers au

I could have been wild, I could have been free (but nature played a trick on me) - M - 61k - “Did you know that I did not even learn your name until yesterday, when I married you?”His face flushed a darker red than it had at breakfast, and he attempted to defend himself with incompetent stammering, “I—I regret that. The situation, of course, would have been,” he wrung his hands together and stared at her feet, “It would have been preferable if we had known one another more. On several occasions, I did attempt to make myself known to you, but you seemed to have other preoccupations.”Rey could feel her face contorting into a sneer to spit out her barbed words, “Perhaps that was your cue not to marry me!” - regency arranged marriage au 

Patch - M - 20k - He is nineteen when he first sees her.She comes to the rink alone, laces her skates alone, strokes warm-up circles alone...He looks at her, really looks her in the eye, and he decides he likes what he sees.She may be young, but she is hungry and angry, and for now? That’s enough for him.It’s not like he has a lot of options. - 80 russian ice skaters au 

*The Great Big No - E - 165k - Kylo Ren is third generation rock royalty, a reigning brat prince starting to feel the burn of the fame he reached for with both hands. Rey is an aspiring singer on the verge of a big break, provided her A&R guy still has a job by the time she reaches LA. Their paths have crossed briefly, disappointingly, before. What happens when they collide? - 90s rock au

***go I know not whither and fetch I know not what - E - 119k - The year is 1994. The Iron Curtain has come down, the oligarchs have begun their rise to power, and Kyril Ren, a powerful member of the infamous crime syndicate Solntsevskaya Bratva, has been given a job: hunt down an estranged uncle who has been snitching to the FBI.Irena, nicknamed Rey by her adoptive father Luke, is a Krav Maga instructor in New York who has finally been able to obtain her original birth certificate from Russia. Turns out she was born in a little village named Vershinino, but if she wants to know more than that… she’s going to have to go there herself. - 90s russian mafia au 

we could plant a house, we could build a tree - E -124k - Ben takes a deep breath. “It’s—it’s a project. Conceptual art. You wouldn’t get it.”Rey presses her lips together to keep from laughing. She plans her next words quickly and carefully, determining what will get her the best reaction. “Really? Looks like you ruined a bedsheet to me.”His reaction does not disappoint. “Get out.” ** Seven-year-old Rey decides it's her duty to annoy the crap out of Ben Solo every single day she's alive. - 90s growing up together artist au

[bookstantrash]

A/N: Who’s in for more Nessian Pride and Prejudice? This is now going to be a multichapter fic so I hope y’all enjoy it as much as I do! This is also almost 4K (3.997 words to be more specific lmao), the most I’ve ever written, so you can tell how obsessed I’m with P&P.

You can check here Pemberley’s Lake , part one of this fic.

Once again, huge shoutout to the gc for always being so encouraging. I love y’all 🥺 and special thanks for @perseusannabeth for brainstorming this fic with me 💜

Hooked on you

“The baskets?”

“Yes, my Lord”

“And the refreshments?”

“Yes, they are cool and ready to be served”

“And the table was set in case the ladies prefer its comfort to sitting in the picnic towel?”

“The fluffiest and silkiest one has been chosen and is in place, along with the table, chairs and parasol”

“And what about—”

“My Lord,” Mrs.Potts firmly said, interrupting Cassian’s nervous rambling “Everything has been double checked and ready since my lord inquired about it during breakfast”

Cassian exhaled, running his hands through his hair. Nesta and her companions were to arrive at any minute now, and he had to make sure everything was perfect. She deserved nothing but perfection, and Cauldron blast him if he ended up offending her and her friends in any way.

“Forgive me Mrs.Potts,” he said with small smile “My nerves are getting the best of me”

“You have nothing to worry about my Lord, the staff and I will not disappoint” the elderly head maid assured him. All of Pemberley’ staff had noticed how much their master’s encounter with Lady Archeron had raised his spirits, and they had made their life purpose to make sure his smile never disappeared.

Cassian had to be one of the kindest masters Mrs.Potts had ever served, and most of the staff agreed with her. He always made sure to make all of them comfortable and inquire about how their family was faring, if they were in need of any assistance. He showed a care towards his personnel that went beyond the common care of a master towards his servants, but rarely appeared to be truly happy, wearing a mask that concealed a deep sadness and loneliness within himself.

They had taken upon themselves to organise the most elaborate picnic in the history of Pemberley, in hopes their lord’ smile wavered no more.

And that a certain lady decided to accept his heart.

“The guests have arrived, sir” Cogsworth, Pemberley’s major-domo and head of the household staff, announced “They are waiting in the parlor”

“Thank you, Cogsworth. I shall be with them in a minute”

The butler gave a small nod and left them, going back to tend to the guests.

“Mrs.Potts,” Cassian said, turning in his head maid’s direction “How do I look?”

“Quite dashing, sir, if I may say so” she replied with a motherly smile.

“You may. And the compliment is most welcome” he replied, a boyish grin on his face.

Cassian had taken the utmost care getting dressed that morning. His hair alone had taken him two hours to achieve its natural messy and ruffled appearance, he wore one of his best fitted clothes, and his shoes were so polished he could see his reflection on them.

He could not allow himself to ruin this second chance fate had given him. Even if Nesta had not accepted his heart, he would do anything and everything to be of assistance to her and make sure she had the most enjoyable time in Pemberley.

Cassian quickly walked to the parlor, possible dialogues with Nesta going over his head, from polite greetings to teasings and inquires about her sisters and trip.

But it all went flying from his head the moment he laid his eyes on her.

Nesta Archeron possessed a beauty that took Cassian’s breath each time he saw her, and her current attire did little to help him breath.

She wore a light blue one piece gown, but what had him mesmerised was its off shoulder design, allowing him a clear view of her clavicule and showing a little bit more of skin than the current fashion allowed. White flower shaped buttons added a nice touch to the design, and her elbow length gloves acted as the perfect element to balance the daring dress.

“My Lady,” Cassian greeted, boldly reaching for her hand to drop a chaste kiss on it, wishing those stupid gloves were not in the way “I hope you did not wait for too long?”

“Not at all, sir” Nesta answered, a slight blush in her cheeks “May I introduce you to Miss Gwyneth Berdara, Miss Emerie Carynthian and Sir Balthazar Oristian?”

Cassian looked at both ladies, greeting them as he had with Nesta.

“It is an honour to finally meet the most sought singer in all England” he said, raising the opera singer’s hand to kiss it too, her pale constitution allowing him to notice how much she blushed.

He had thought it better to greet all ladies in the same manner, for it would be impolite and could arise assumptions of his feelings towards Nesta.

Miss Gwyneth Berdara was a petite woman, but Cassian knew that once she sang one could not help but be drawn to her, who shined the most brightly on the stage. Her copper chestnut hair was free, pinned back from her face by a dark blue ribbon, allowing a perfect view of her teal coloured eyes and freckled face. He could not help but wish that Nesta had followed her friend’s example and let her hair down too, which was fashioned in a coronet braid.

Cassian had not been able to stop thinking of Nesta with her hair unbound, that look of surprise on her face in the back of his mind.

He was always thinking of that look on her face.

Miss Berdara held a dark green parasol — no doubt to protect her fair skin from the sunlight —  and a matching dress in similar fashion to Nesta’s, although hers had long sleeves.

“And you must be the famous business woman who has been driving society mad with your beautiful designs” he eyed the lady in question and tried to hide his surprise as he greeted her.

Because Miss Emerie Carynthian was wearing high waisted black pants and a long sleeved white shirt with ruffled laces, her curly brown hair in a high updo.

She for sure was the one responsible for Gwyn’s and Nesta’s daring attire.

“How flattering, sir. At least one gentleman here knows how to talk to ladies” Emerie said, glancing at their only male companion with a smirk.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, sir” Balthazar ignored Emerie, quite used to his business partner’s teasing “I heard incredible stories about your feats in the War. Shame I was placed in a squadron so far away from your or else I could have seen you in action.”

“You participated in the Battle of Meinir Pass?” Cassian asked, surprised, shaking the other man’s hand in greeting.

“Aye sir, third squadron. After the War I invested some money in business, being fortunate to make a big deal. The unfortunate side being that said deal was with Miss Emerie here”

Cassian laughed. They were a curious group, with only Nesta actually having a place in high society, but still befriending those of different status. It was not something usual, and he felt even more wonder towards her.

“Shall we move on? There are refreshments and we were graced with wonderful weather.” escorting his guests outside, Cassian asked Balthazar about his time in the army, all the while keeping an eye on Nesta, that damn dress threatening to undo his sanity before lunch time.

~•~

Fishing was supposed to be a nice activity. Calming. Relaxing.

Harmless.

Except nothing was truly harmless if Nesta Archeron was involved, because Cassian could not care less about catching fish.

Emerie and Gwyn — she had insisted to be called Gwyn instead of Gwyneth, “We are friends now, you cannot call me Gwyneth, it is too serious” — had gotten bored of fishing after twenty minutes and were now eating strawberries in the blanket laid near the lake. Cassian was really glad they had liked the blanket and ditched the table.

It meant they were comfortable around him.

It meant that he was one more step away from ruining his plan to make today perfect.

Balthazar had promptly prepared his things and in no time had caught three fishes. Emerie had bet he could not catch ten until they left for their inn, so now he was making his goal to catch not ten but fifteen.

Cassian could only wonder how their partnership was if this is how they usually behaved around each other.

Nesta, on the other hand, had been busy reading a book, completely lost in her world.

Until Gwyn and Emerie thought it would be a good idea to splash water at her.

Cassian thought she was going to be angry to have her clothes wet — or to risk getting her book damaged — but he was taken by surprise when Nesta threw her head back and laughed, cheeks flushed and the sun shining in her hair.

It was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard, and he was so mesmerized by it that he almost hooked his finger instead of the fishing bait.

Cassian lost all interest in fishing once they started splashing water at themselves, watching them play with a small smile on his face, no doubt appearing to be a fool in love.

Balthazar, however, was not so happy.

“This must be a plan from Emerie to ruin my fishing” he muttered a little annoyed “I was about to catch a big one but they scared it away”

“They will get tired soon, my friend” Cassian tried to assure him “It is quite hot today to be moving around, even if they are splashing water at each other”

The sun was indeed high in the sky, and Cassian could not help but wonder how the ladies managed to appear so composed and fresh despite the many layers they wore. He and Balthazar had long ditched their coats to stay only in their shirts, Cassian going as far as rolling his sleeves.

He had failed to notice how Nesta had been eyeing him as he rolled his sleeves, her eyes tracing every new piece of tanned skin being exposed.

“It must be the sun” she thought to herself as she felt her mouth getting dry looking at Cassian’s bare forearms “Surely I am not attracted to him. I am just thirsty because of the weather.”

Nesta had been feeling strangely anxious since they had arrived at Pemberley, her heart threatening to burst out of her chest when Cassian kissed her hand. Oh, how she had momentarily wished she was as bold as Emerie and Gwyn to not bother with gloves — Nesta had been offered by Emerie to wear one of her newly designed pants, which she politely declined, stating that the off shoulder gown was as daring as she would allow herself to be — so she could finally know how Cassian’s lips would feel against her bare skin.

She was not proud to have thought such an improper thing, and even more ashamed of the ugly feeling in her heart when Cassian greeted her friends in the same manner.

How delusioned she had been to think he was showing her some preference.

That his feelings had stayed the same since her sister’s ball.

Cassian was a gentleman, and as such was only showing proper courtesy by greeting them all in the most dignified manner.

“Oh, it is so hot” Gwyn complained, their water game interrupted to get some refreshments “Even your light designed gowns cannot keep it away, Emerie”

“If only we could go for a dive” Emerie sighed, eyeing the lake.

“It would not be proper” Nesta mumbled, still distracted as she watched Cassian.

“Proper” Emerie snorted, taking off her shoes and rolling her pants until her ankles “I almost regret wearing those pants, if only they did not look so good on me”

“Emerie what are you doing, for the Mother!” Nesta exclaimed, watching as her friend dipped her feet in the cold water.

“I am refreshing myself dear, what does it look like?” she waved her hand in dismissal. “Balthazar could not care less about seeing some skin, he is too busy trying to win our bet. Whereas Cassian is too polite to stare. Besides, I dare say he would not care either, as he seems to be used to female attention.”

Nesta found herself with nothing to say in face of Emerie’s remarks, except her annoyance that Cassian would have ladies falling left and right at his feet.

That strangely bothered her.

“Pardon me then, I will agree with Emerie on this” Gwyn declared, dipping her own feet in the lake and sighing in delight “Join us Nesta, please. You must be feeling quite hot”

“Oh well, stop rushing me” Nesta replied, faking annoyance. She promptly dumped her feet in the water, even going as far as taking off her gloves and unbuttoning the first two buttons of her dress, letting the fresh air cool her warm skin “There, all relaxed and improper.”

“Bravo!” Emerie exclaimed, and the three of them laughed loudly.

Nesta had to agree that the cold water was indeed very refreshing, soon not even caring about Cassian or Balthazar’s presence. It was good to let off some steam and forget proper etiquette for a moment. She imagined her mother rolling in her grave in ultrage at her eldest daughter's attitude, which filled her with smug satisfaction.

A fish came up to swim around Nesta’s feet, and she giggled at the sensation.

“Do not move” Balthazar said, eyeing the fish “I have my sights on this little fella”

“Balthazar! Let it go! It’s not bothering me” she exclaimed, feeling protective over her new aquatic friend.

“But Nesta, I have caught twelve fish already. If you let me— “

“I do not allow you to dare and hurt it. You have more than enough time to attempt and win yours and Emerie’s bet” Nesta declared, leaving no room for argument.

Balthazar cursed quietly, but he knew better than to try to go against Nesta. Even if it was over a small thing as a fish.

Nesta asked Gywn about her mysterious sponsor, which had made it possible to fulfill her dream of singing in the most renowned opera houses in England. Gwyn informed she had yet to meet her generous patron, but that recently she had been receiving flowers every new performance.

“You think they are from your patron?” Nesta inquired “Or from any of your mass of admirers?”

Gwyn blushed at her friend’s teasing. Her dressing room was usually crowded with gifts after her performances, be it with expensive jewelry, chocolates, dresses and even love letters.

“I do not know. All I have as a clue are the lovely ribbons used to tie the flowers with” she indicated the one currently tying her hair.

They kept talking about who possibly could be her sponsor, lost in their gossip.

If they had paid attention, both ladies would have spotted Cassian — a small blush that could pass as a result from the hot weather adorning his face — gazing at Nesta. 

More specifically, at her ankles.

His hands were tightly gripping the fishing rod, his eyes moving from her ankles to her bare arms to the two open buttons of her dress.

Cauldron, the places Nesta Archeron made his thoughts wander to.

He quickly looked back at the lake, shaking his head to try and think of other things, glad they were too busy to notice his blatantly staring.

Only that Emerie had seen him and the way he looked at one of her dearest friends. She tucked that information for later, both to tease Nesta about it and to think of more scandalous clothing to make her wear.

She knew a look of love when she saw one, and she was sure Cassian held it.

Nesta, on the other hand, would need a little push to realise her feelings.

And to Emerie’s joy, it appeared that until the end of the day she would have plenty of teasing material.

Both Cassian and Balthar took a break from fishing to have lunch with the ladies — although the latter kept eyeing his fishing rod while he ate, no doubt wanting to get back as soon as possible. Mrs.Potts and the rest of the help had really outdone themselves, there was enough food to feed at least twenty people.

“This has to be the best chocolate cake I’ve ever eaten” Nesta declared, already in her second slice “Please deliver my compliments to the cook”

“I am sure Chef Ramsay will be most pleased to hear that” Cassian said, knowing his chef would most probably scream something along the lines of ‘Of course she liked my food, I am the one who cooked it!’ but be secretly happy with the compliment.

“Elain will be sad to hear that” Gwyn teased “To think her cooking talents are viewed in such poor manners in your eyes….”

“Hush now. My sister’s cooking is exceptional, but even her would have to agree with me on this”

“You certainly enjoy it, I have never seen you so unlady like” Emerie said laughing, indicating the chocolate sauce that had gotten on her fingers.

Proving that she could be even more unlady like — by that time her mother would be almost resurrecting to hit Nesta with a whip for her horrid attitude — and shock her friends even more, Nesta licked her fingers instead of using a napkin, promptly cleaning her hand. That action brought fake gasps from her friends, who feigned horror at her action. Even Balthazar got in the play, saying no man would now dare to court her after such behaviour.

Little did he know that Cassian was thinking of proposing to Nesta again. He had tracked each lick, each portion of the chocolate sauce being eaten, his heart beating faster and faster, feeling his body warming and his mind wandering to unspeakable places not for the first time in the day.

“Get a grip Cassian” he thought to himself, drinking some lemonade in hopes of calming down.

Nesta chose the exact moment to glance at him, wanting to see his reaction at her attitude.

Not that she was anxious he would find her repulsive or unworthy of having been invited to this outing.

Rather, what she saw was Cassian drinking lemonade, the sun making his dark hair shine like obsidian, her mouth suddenly dry as she watched him swallow.

“What sorcery is this? Why do I feel that way even with the smallest things he does?” Nesta asked herself. feeling her cheeks getting warmer and looking down at her empty plate.

She made her best to try and avoid looking at him again, jumping at the opportunity to make flower crowns with Gwyn while Emerie sketched some news designs in a small notebook she carried everywhere.

Soon she was lost in the calming motion of twisting and knotting the flowers together, all thoughts of Cassian momentary forgotten.

It was Emerie’s voice saying her name that brought her back to reality.

“I think Nesta may have something”

“What?” she asked, looking up to find both Cassian and her friend looking at her.

“I was wondering if any of you would have anything I could tie my hair with” he brushed his hair back, a few curly locks falling in front of his eyes “I forgot to bring my usual leather strap with me”

“I have a ribbon” Nesta said, fumbling in her purse for the spare she always carried.

Handing him the red ribbon, her heart skipped a beat when their hands touched. She could swear his touch lingered for longer than necessary.

She watched as he gathered his hair in a bun, failing again and again at tying it with the red piece of silk.

“Is the General Commander losing against a mere hair accessory?” Nesta could not help but tease.

“This is quite different from what I am used to” he sighed in defeat “I’m withdrawing from this fight. It seems I will have to bear with the sun for a little longer”

“I could tie it for you” she blurted out before she could hold her tongue back.

Cassian only blinked at her.

“I mean, if Your Grace allows and is not bothered by me touching your hair or—”

“I would be most honoured” he cut her nervous rambling, moving to sit in front of her.

"Pardon me then” Nesta breathless said, taking his hair on her hands.

His hair was much softer than she had imagined and she dared to wonder if had she accepted his proposal, Cassian would have let her brush his hair.

If her making those small braids to make it easier to tie his rebel locks would have been a frequent occurrence.

“Oh, how lovely Nesta!” Gwyn exclaimed and placed one flower crown on Cassian’s head “There! Now he’s perfect!”

“The General Commander of the British Armies wearing a flower crown and with braids on his hair! Ha! No one would believe me if I told them!” Balthazar exclaimed, having grown tired of fishing after his eighteenth catch.

Cassian’s land really was blessed with an abundance of fish.

“What are you laughing for? I also made one for you!” Gwyn said, dumping one crown with pink flowers in Balthazar’s head, making Emerie roar with laughter.

If Cassian appeared to be bothered, he did not let it show, and Nesta could not help but think he looked adorable, nothing like the famous Lord of Bloodshed, who had killed many enemies of the Crown in battle.

“Your friends are rather charming, my Lady” Cassian pointed out, watching Emerie and Balthazar bickering while Gwyn laughed at them.

“I hope we are not causing Your Grace much trouble”

“Not at all” he assured her “This is the most fun I have had in a long time”

Nesta hoped he was saying the truth and not being excessively polite.

The afternoon went on, the group deciding to call it a day and gathering their things. Nesta stayed a little behind the group, too busy trying to button her dress again to keep up with them.

“Those beautiful unpractical buttons” she muttered angrily, failing to put the flower shaped buttons in their place.

“Lady Nesta, is something the matter?”

Nesta almost let out a scream when she saw that Cassian had not left.

“I was just— “ her words died in her throat when Cassian got closer, his hands hovering over her dress.

“May I?” he inquired softly.

Nesta could only nod and pray to the Mother he could not feel her heart beating faster than racing horses. Up close and with his hair tied back neatly —  the small braids suited him more than she would have liked to admit —  she could pinpoint every scar he had, from the one on his left eyebrow to the small cut near his mouth.

Her fingers itched to trace them.

To kiss them.

To kiss him.

“There. All proper now” Cassian said, his voice a little hoarse.

“Thank you, sir” Nesta managed to say despite wanting to scream and melt inside.

They walked silently back to the main state, a comfortable silence between them.

Cassian desperately wanted to hold her hand, using once again the excuse of helping her get on the carriage to do just that.

“Shall you pay Pemberley a visit tomorrow?” he hopefully asked “I could show you the rest of the state”

“I shall be waiting for your call, sir” Nesta replied.

“And please accept this,” she added in a rushed tone, dropping a small object on his hand “ it is not much but I would like to show my gratitude for today.”

“I am most thankful” Cassian said, the carriage leaving before he could say anything else.

Looking at his hand, he realised he held a delicate daisy chain, no wonder made by Nesta while she and Gywn were making the flower crowns.

“I will treasure this forever” he said looking at the carriage turning smaller and smaller as it got away from Pemberley.

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