#shift de perception

[unetherian]

✿Beaucoup de types de shifts et leur définition✿

Même si certains semblent plus communs que d'autres, il existe vraiment BEAUCOUP de types de shifts dans nos communautés alterhumaines, nonhumaines, otherhumaines, ect. Je vais citer tout ceux que je connais, mais n'hésitez pas à en rajouter à ma liste !

Bonne lecture !𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼

le shift mental

est un des shifts les plus connus dans nos communauté. Pendant un shift mental, la mentalité de l'individu devient plus ou moins comme celle de son type.

Si le type de l'individu est un animal, par exemple, il se mettra peut être à penser d'une manière plus animale, en se fiant encore plus à ses instincts.

le shift fantôme

fait également partie des shifts les plus connus. Pendant ce shift, l'individu ressens une ou plusieurs parties du corps de son type, en plus de ou en superposition de son corps. Ces membres peuvent être queues, vibrisses, museau, nageoires, plumes, bec, coussinets, carapaces, pattes supplémentaires ou différentes, ect. Cette sensation peux varier selon l'individu.

Certains la décrirai comme avoir la sensation que le membre est réellement là, et certains ressentiront ça comme une énergie, comme si leur âme "dépassait" de leur corps.

Cette partie du corps n'est pas visible.

Certains ressentent de la "douleur fantome", en se coinçant ses ailes fantômes dans une porte, par exemple.

le shift de perception

change la perception de l'individu pour la rapprocher de celle de son type. Ça peut influencer la manière dont il se voit soit même, ou la manière dont il voit le monde autour de lui.(À ne pas confondre avec le shift mental !)

le shift sensoriel

modifie la perception d'un ou de plusieurs sens (ouïe, odorat, vue, toucher, ou/et même goût), pour se rapprocher de ceux de son type. Cela ne donne pas vraiment de super pouvoirs, mais concentre plutôt le shifteur sur certains de ses sens, en le distrayant de certains autres.

Il existe plusieurs sous catégorie du shift sensoriel, comme le shift auditif, olfactif, ect.

le cameo shift prononcer "caméo"

peux être assez étrange, surtout pour ceux qui ne sont pas habitués à celui ci. Un cameo shift, c'est quand on shift en quelque chose, quelqu'un, une créature, ect mais que l'on ne s'identifie pas comme celui ci/ceci. Un cameo shift peux apparaître en n'importe quelle forme de shift. Exemple: un otherkith licorne expérimente un shift fantome de licorne, ce shift est un cameo shift fantome, car cet individu ne s'identifie pas comme une licorne. Un humain lambda peut expérimenter ce type de shift.

le koita shift

est souvent considéré comme une sous catégorie du cameo shift (le peu de fois qu'on en parle). Un koita shift est un shift déclanché en regardant un animal/créature/ect auquel on ne s'identifie pas.

Ce shift peut être provoqué en regardant un média visuel (une image, une vidéo), ou en regardant directement celui-ci. Comme le cameo shift, il peut apparaître sous toutes les formes de shift possible.

le shift émotionnel

est un shift provoqué par une émotion (souvent intense).

le space shift

est un shift assez connu des concepkins, voidkins, elementkins, ou même musickins. Pendant un space shift, l'individu à la sensation de remplir un espace, au même titre que son type.

Exemple : un elementkin eau nage dans l'océan, il a l'impression de s'étendre à perte de vue comme l'eau autour de lui.

le shift d'aura

L'aura d'un individu change pour se rapprocher de celle de son type. Ce shift est souvent spirituel, mais peut également être expliqué/expérimenté de manière psychologique.

le shift de bilocation

L'individu à l'impression de se trouver à deux endroits à la fois. Il verra la vision de son type en même temps que celle de son corps, et/ou ressentira l'environnement de ses deux emplacements en même temps.

le shift astral

est le plus souvent volontaire, et difficile à déclencher. C'est un shift souvent considéré comme spirituel, mais peut être expliqué de manière psychologique. Pendant ce shift, l'âme de l'individu sort de son corps physique, puis se transforme en ou est son type. C'est un genre de voyage astral.

le shift onirique/dream shift

est un shift vécu dans un rêve, un rêve où l'on est son type ou un rêve où on se transforme en son type. Ce shift peut être un souvenir d'une vie antérieure.

le shift feral

C'est un shift expérimenté la plupart du temps par les alter/nonhumains physiques (holotheres, zooantropes cliniques) où ils perdent involontairement le contrôle de leur corps, où leur partie animale prend le dessus. Ces shifts peuvent être dangereux car l'individu peut être effrayé par le monde humain qui l'entoure et agir en se mettant en danger, ou peut tenter de faire des choses que son corps humain ne peut pas faire. Certains ne se souviennent plus de ce qu'il c'est passé pendant ce shift après l'avoir expérimenté.

le shift basercal

est la même chose que le shift feral, mais volontaire.

le shadow shift

est un shift causé le plus souvent par une illusion d'optique ou une petite hallucination. C'est quand l'ombre d'un individu change pour devenir plus ou moins comme celle de son type.

le miror shift

est un shift similaire au shadow shift, mais avec un miroir. C'est quand le reflet d'un individu change pour devenir plus ou moins comme celui de son type.

le shift physique

est un shift causé par des délire et hallucinations. C'est quand un individu pense être ou pense pouvoir se transformer en son type. La transformation peux être compléte ou partielle, et peux être douloureuse.

[emmarousil]

Ma transidentité

Je me suis toujours beaucoup questionné sur mon genre. C'est pas facile de poser un mot là-dessus, n'est-ce pas ?

Déjà, je pense que le concept de genre ne devrait pas exister. Ce serait bien plus simple XD

Mais je trouve ça sérieusement logique. Le genre à la base, c'est juste un ensemble de stéréotypes : les filles ça aime le rose et c'est délicat, les gars ça aime le foot et c'est brusque etc... Pourtant, il paraît évident aujourd'hui que c'est pas à cause de ce qu'on a entre les jambes qu'on préfère telle couleur ou jouet. Le genre n'a pas de rapport avec le sexe biologique, et c'est bien pour ça qu'il y a la fameuse citation "on ne naît pas femme, on le devient" : quand on naît la société ne nous a pas encore influencé, mais quand on grandit on finit par correspondre aux attentes sociales et c'est cela être une femme ou un homme.

Pourtant ce concept subsiste, alors que les personnes s'affranchissent de plus en plus de ces stéréotypes. De plus chaque individu est unique, les personnalités de tout le monde ne peuvent pas rentrer dans ces deux cases. alors les différents genres se multiplient... deviennent compliqués et innombrables, suffit de regarder le wiki lgbt pour le voir (alors que je me considère comme quelqu'un de renseigné sur le sujet). Ce n'est pas quelque chose de mal, c'est pour pouvoir désigner tout le monde, mais c'est juste impossible. Même moi qui souhaite être respectueux envers tout le monde, je finis par m'emmêler les pinceaux.

Chacun a une expérience identitaire unique. Il y a les traits de caractères pour définir ça, le genre c'est juste des stéréotypes. Arrêtez de vous embêter avec ça, à définir les gens par leur genre.

Je pense qu'on devrait juste voir des êtres humains, et que le sexe est une caractéristique comme les autres. Ça ne définit pas une personne.

Malgré cela, j'ai un genre. Je trouve que je correspond à ce genre, même si j'aurais préféré que le genre en général n'existe pas. Mais si on me le demande, je suis bien de genre masculin. Ma dysphorie de genre est en partie liée à cela, que je suis masculin et que je suis né fille. Mes pronoms sont il/lui, et j'aimerais que l'on me traite comme un homme tant que le concept de genre existe.

Je m'en fiche très littéralement de la façon dont les personnes me voient et me parlent, et ça ne me fait ni chaud ni froid d'être mégenré, excepté par mes proches. Cependant je n'apprécie pas quand des personnes me mégenre "volontairement", ou à répétition en étant totalement au courant que je suis transgenre, car j'ai l'impression qu'on se fout de ma gueule, ce qui est malheureusement rarement juste une impression.

Cependant en dehors du genre, je ressent un profond mal-être physique, pas à cause du fait que je sois beau ou non, ou même trop maigre (même si j'ai longtemps trouvé que c'était le cas) mais à cause de ma poitrine. Ce n'est pas que je veux ressembler à un homme (même si cette idée me plaît) mais que juste grandir avec des caractéristiques physiques féminins m'insupporte au point d'avoir envie de vomir. Je veux faire des opérations dans ma transition principalement parce que mon corps, en dehors du contexte de mon genre, m'est insupportable. J'en suis presque à me demander si mon genre masculin est issu de ce mal-être physique plutôt que l'inverse.

Pour le reste, les cheveux longs sont désagréables pas au point d'être insupportables, et mon sexe ne me dérange pas spécialement même si je préférerais être né garçon.

Je sens mon corps entièrement masculin, comme quand je sens les membres fantômes de loup lorsque je shift car je suis wolf-hearted. Par contre dans le cas du shift, avoir un corps de loup n'est pas quelque chose que je souhaite voir réalisé sauf temporairement ou en rêve, alors qu'avoir un corps masculin est quelque chose que j'aurais aimé voir se réaliser réellement de façon définitive.

Pendant longtemps, je ne comprenais pas pourquoi j'ai ce mal-être par rapport à mon corps. Se sentir appartenir au genre masculin par rapport à son vécu et caractère ça je comprend. Mais le fait que je sois transgenre vient principalement de ce mal-être physique je ne le comprend absolument pas, et j'ai d'ailleurs longtemps rejeté ce mal-être.

Je trouvais en effet que ce mal-être physique et souhait d'avoir un corps masculin ne soit pas logique par rapport à mes croyances (j'ai pas de religion je vais m'expliquer), même si je dois bien me rendre à l'évidence que c'est ce que je ressent, je ne peux pas changer ça. En fait j'aime l'hypothèse des vies antérieures, même si je pense ne pas détenir la vérité et que personne ne puisse dire si les vies antérieures existent ou non. Cependant en partant du principe des vies antérieures à laquelle j'adhère, on peut s'incarner en toute forme de vie tant qu'elle est dans le cycle de notre planète (je vulgarise un peu car je n'ai pas les termes et je ne suis pas expert). Donc en animal que ce soit de sexe mâle ou femelle (en n'oubliant pas que l'humain est un animal, très con, mais c'est tout de même un animal). Donc le mal-être physique que j'ai n'a pas de sens, car on peur s'incarner en homme ou femme… Notre âme n'a pas de sexe ou de genre.

Ça m'embêtais mais je suis du parti qu'il faut écouter ce qu'on ressent, même si on trouve que ça n'a pas vraiment de sens. On est pas obligé de tout savoir et expliquer, et je pense que c'est tant mieux dans la plupart des cas, même si dans ce cas c'est quand même très embêtant.

Il y a peu de temps j'ai posé la question à ma mère (subtilement car elle n'est pas au courant que je suis trans) car elle a beaucoup de connaissances à ce sujet. Elle m'a expliqué que de ce qu'elle a compris, avant chaque incarnations son âme se "prépare". En quelque sorte on lui annonce sa prochaine forme, famille etc. Cependant si l'âme s'incarne dans le sexe opposé à celui annonce, il y a un décalage avec ce à quoi il s'est préparé et donc... dysphorie. Encore une fois il n'y a rien de prouvé là-dedans, mais j'adhère au concept de vies antérieures. Ça me donne une explication à ma transidentité, mais aussi à d'autres choses même en dehors de mon cas comme pour les thérians (qui s'explique généralement par les vies antérieures plutôt que par une incarnation "ratée") etc.

Juste ce pavé pour poser ça à l'écrit, et mettre ça en ordre dans ma tête aussi. Mais plus j'ai écrit ce texte, plus je me suis senti sûr de ce que je suis. Et ça, ça fait du bien.

[tulipatheticee]

Hi! I had an idea of Eloise x fem reader, reader being Queen Charlotte’s daughter. They get caught together, and readers mother suggests marriage. With that Eloise and reader start the acceptance of the same sex love/marriage.

love story e.b

eloise bridgerton x queen charlottes daughter! reader

synopsis; In the heart of Regency London, Princess Y/N, daughter of Queen Charlotte, and Eloise Bridgerton find themselves entangled in a clandestine romance amidst the glittering balls and gossip of high society. Their love defies conventions and faces scrutiny, ultimately prompting Queen Charlotte to propose a marriage that could change society's perception of same-sex love forever.

word count; 5.3k

master list

a/n; i went a little ham on this one, i was not joking when i said wlw unlocks something inside of me

as always, kinda proof read, kinda not :p

So I sneak out to the garden to see you

We keep quiet, 'cause we're dead if they knew

So close your eyes

Escape this town for a little while, oh oh

In the bustling midst of London’s social season, Queen Charlotte's daughter, Princess y/n, found herself at the centre of attention. Raised amidst the pomp and protocol of high society, she was no stranger to the expectations placed upon her. Attending debutante events was simply another facet of her role as the queen's daughter—a duty performed with grace and an impeccably polished facade.

It was at one such event, a gathering of debutantes adorned in their finest, where y/n first noticed her. Eloise Bridgerton, amidst the sea of hopefuls vying for attention, stood out not just for her striking beauty but for an air of defiance that seemed to hover around her like an invisible shield. Eloise, with her quick wit and sharp tongue, had garnered a reputation as the most outspoken and unconventional of the Bridgerton siblings—a title she wore proudly, much to her mother Violet's simultaneous exasperation and admiration.

From across the room, y/n observed as Eloise engaged in animated conversation with other debutantes. There was a sparkle in her eye and a hint of mischief in her smile that drew y/n's attention irresistibly. Eloise's laughter, free and unbridled, cut through the polite chatter of the event like a breath of fresh air in a stuffy room. For a moment, y/n found herself captivated, her gaze lingering longer than was strictly polite.

Meanwhile, Eloise, amidst the whirl of introductions and compliments, couldn't help but notice the queen's daughter. Elegant and composed, y/n exuded a quiet confidence that commanded attention without demanding it. Unlike the other debutantes who fluttered around Eloise, y/n stood apart, observing with an intensity that hinted at a keen intellect beneath her composed exterior.

Their eyes met briefly across the room—a fleeting moment charged with unspoken curiosity and intrigue. It was a simple exchange, unnoticed by the swirling crowd around them but leaving an indelible impression on both Eloise and y/n. In that brief encounter, something stirred, a silent recognition that hinted at possibilities yet unexplored.

The grand presentation at the Palace was a spectacle to behold. The ballroom was adorned with glittering chandeliers and opulent decorations, filled with the crème de la crème of London society. Eloise stood in line, fidgeting with her gloves as she prepared to be introduced. Her mother gave her a reassuring smile.

“Stand tall, Eloise,” Violet whispered. “This is your moment.”

As Eloise stepped forward, she caught a clearer sight of Princess Y/N, standing beside her mother. Their eyes met once again across the room, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. Y/N’s gaze was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the intimidating grandeur of the palace. Eloise felt an inexplicable pull towards her, something she couldn’t quite understand.

Just as Eloise was about to be presented, the attention of the room shifted abruptly. The queens guards charging through the doors, whispers of “Lady Whistledown '' spread like wildfire, next thing you know, the queen is declaring she's seen enough and everyone is dismissed and Eloise found herself relieved of the spotlight as gossip overtook the ceremony. The mysterious writer had once again stolen the show, and Eloise couldn’t help but feel a sense of gratitude for the diversion.

'Cause you were Romeo, I was a scarlet letter

And my daddy said, "Stay away from Juliet"

But you were everything to me

I was beggin' you, "Please don't go, " and I said

The opulent ballroom of Lady Danbury's estate shimmered with the flicker of candlelight and the murmur of polite conversation. Eloise Bridgerton, dressed in an exquisite gown of deep emerald silk that Lady Danbury had insisted upon, moved gracefully amidst the crowd, her gaze sweeping over the assembly of London's elite.

The event was a dazzling affair, attended by the highest echelons of society, each guest meticulously adorned in their finest attire. Yet amidst the glittering array of guests, Eloise's eyes sought out a familiar figure—Princess y/n, who stood with Queen Charlotte, radiating an air of quiet elegance that set her apart from the throng of debutantes.

Eloise couldn't deny the flutter of anticipation in her chest as she made her way towards y/n, navigating the maze of guests with practiced ease. Her heart raced with a mixture of nerves and excitement, unsure of how their conversation at Queen Charlotte's debutante event would influence their interaction tonight.

Meanwhile, y/n observed the revelry with a regal composure, her gaze occasionally drifting towards Eloise amidst the swirl of dancers and the lilting strains of the orchestra. The princess was acutely aware of the scrutiny she faced as Queen Charlotte’s daughter—the expectations of duty and decorum that shadowed her every move. Yet amidst the splendour of the ballroom, y/n found herself drawn to Eloise’s spirited presence and unguarded authenticity. 

Violet Bridgerton, determined to secure another diamond among her brood, guided Eloise through the throng of guests towards the queen and y/n. Eloise, begrudgingly adorned in an elegant gown befitting her station, maintained a facade of polite disinterest as Violet introduced her to the queen and her daughter.

"Your Majestys, may I present my daughter, Eloise Bridgerton," Violet announced with practised grace.

Y/n, acknowledging the introduction with a nod, offered a polite smile that barely concealed her curiosity. "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Bridgerton," she greeted eloquently, her voice carrying a warmth that belied her royal stature.

Eloise, though outwardly composed, felt a rush of nerves mingled with an unexpected flutter of excitement. She had anticipated the formality of the introduction, yet y/n's presence seemed to alter the air around her, making her acutely aware of every gesture and fleeting expression.

"Likewise, Your Highness," Eloise replied with a hint of her trademark wit, a small smirk playing at the corner of her lips. "Though I must admit, I am more accustomed to lively debates than royal audiences."

Y/n's smile widened subtly, a glint of amusement in her eyes. "I look forward to those debates, Miss Bridgerton," she replied in kind, a gentle challenge underlying her words.

The exchange, though brief, left an impression on both women. For Eloise, accustomed to the constraints of societal expectations, y/n represented a refreshing departure—an enigma wrapped in regal poise and quiet strength. And for y/n, intrigued by Eloise's spirited demeanor and quick intellect, the encounter ignited a curiosity that lingered long after the ball had ended.

Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone

I'll be waiting, all there's left to do is run

You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess

It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes"

As the evening progressed, Eloise and y/n’s paths collided again near the elaborate dessert table adorned with crystal bowls of sugared fruits and delicate pastries. Eloise, emboldened by Lady Danbury’s encouraging nod from across the room, approached y/n with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, nerves tingling beneath her skin.

“Your Highness,” Eloise greeted warmly, her voice betraying a hint of nervousness despite her best efforts to appear composed.

y/n turned towards Eloise with a gracious smile, her eyes alight with genuine interest. “Miss Bridgerton,” y/n replied with a nod of acknowledgment, noting the subtle tension in Eloise’s stance.

Their conversation flowed with the ease of familiarity yet tinged with the underlying currents of unspoken desire and mutual intrigue. They exchanged pleasantries about the music, the decorations, and the latest society gossip, each word carrying a weight of unspoken meaning that hung between them like an invisible thread.

Eloise, ever the conversationalist, couldn’t resist steering the discussion towards a topic that had intrigued her since their first meeting. “Your Highness, I must admit, I found your observations on the latest literary sensation quite captivating,” she remarked, her tone light yet tinged with curiosity.

y/n chuckled softly, appreciating Eloise’s intellect and the genuine interest she showed in their previous conversation. “Ah, but Miss Bridgerton, I fear my views on literature may not always align with conventional wisdom,” y/n replied with a playful glint in her eyes.

Eloise leaned in slightly, her gaze locking with y/n’s in a moment of shared understanding. “Isn’t that the beauty of literature, Your Highness? It allows us to explore different perspectives and challenge our own beliefs,” she countered, her voice laced with a mixture of admiration and genuine curiosity.

Their banter continued late into the night, punctuated by shared laughter and stolen glances that hinted at a connection deeper than mere friendship. For Eloise, y/n represented a kindred spirit—a beacon of hope amidst the rigid expectations of London society. She found herself drawn to y/n’s quiet strength and unwavering authenticity, traits that resonated deeply with Eloise’s own aspirations and struggles.

In those stolen moments between dances, y/n found herself captivated by Eloise’s infectious enthusiasm and fierce determination. She admired Eloise’s courage to challenge societal norms and speak her mind, qualities that set her apart from the polished facades of London’s debutantes.

As the evening drew to a close, Eloise reluctantly bid y/n farewell with a promise to meet again soon. Their parting left y/n with a lingering warmth in her heart—a feeling that defied the constraints of duty and hinted at the possibility of something more.

Romeo, save me, they're tryna tell me how to feel

This love is difficult, but it's real

Don't be afraid, we'll make it out of this mess

It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes"

Eloise and y/n found themselves entangled in a web of conflicting emotions and societal expectations. Despite the undeniable chemistry that sparked between them at Lady Danbury's grand ball, both struggled to come to terms with their growing attraction.

In the days that followed the ball, Eloise couldn't shake the memory of y/n's enchanting smile and the way her eyes lit up with intelligence and charm. She found herself stealing glances at y/n across crowded ballrooms, each stolen glance fueling a mix of excitement and apprehension.

Meanwhile, y/n wrestled with her own tumultuous emotions. As Queen Charlotte's daughter, she was keenly aware of the scrutiny her actions faced. The prospect of scandal and disgrace haunted her thoughts, casting a shadow over her budding friendship with Eloise.

Their paths crossed again at another glittering social event, where Violet Bridgerton, ever the matchmaker, introduced Eloise to y/n in hopes of sparking a connection. Eloise's heart raced as she exchanged pleasantries with y/n, their conversation laced with a subtle undercurrent of tension and curiosity.

Later that evening, as they found themselves alone in a quiet corner of the ballroom, y/n couldn't help but voice her uncertainties. "Miss Bridgerton, do you ever feel... conflicted?" she asked tentatively, her voice betraying a hint of vulnerability.

Eloise hesitated, her mind racing with unspoken thoughts. "I... I suppose I do," she admitted softly, her gaze searching y/n's face for any sign of understanding. "This world we live in—it's so... unforgiving."

y/n nodded in silent agreement, her fingers nervously toying with the fabric of her gown. "Sometimes I wonder if... if we're meant to feel this way," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Eloise reached out, her touch gentle yet reassuring. "I don't have all the answers, Princess," she admitted, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "But I know that when I'm with you, everything feels... different."

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Lady Danbury, who swept y/n away to greet other guests. Eloise watched as Lady Danbury whisked y/n away, her heart sinking with each step that carried them farther apart. Alone in the bustling ballroom, she found herself drawn to a quiet alcove, seeking refuge from the swirl of conversations and glittering chandeliers.

Leaning against a draped curtain, Eloise closed her eyes and let out a quiet sigh. Thoughts of y/n consumed her mind, their unfinished conversation lingering like an unspoken promise in the air.

She traced the intricate pattern of her gown absentmindedly, her thoughts drifting back to y/n's earnest question. Do you ever feel... conflicted? And back to her own comment before the conversation ended, when I'm with you, everything feels... different. How would y/n have responded to that? Did she feel the same way, or was Eloise's heart leading her down a path fraught with uncertainty?

The memory of y/n's smile flickered in her mind—the way it lit up the room, reaching out to Eloise like a beacon in the darkness of societal expectations. They had danced around the edges of something profound, something that could alter the course of their lives forever.

Lost in her reverie, Eloise was startled by the sound of approaching footsteps. She turned to find Benedict Bridgerton, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity. "Sister, are you all right?" he asked gently, his voice breaking through her thoughts.

Eloise managed a faint smile, though her heart still raced with unanswered questions. "I'm fine, Benedict," she replied, her voice tinged with a hint of melancholy. "Just... lost in thought."

Benedict studied her for a moment, his gaze searching. "Is it about the Princess?" he ventured cautiously, knowing his sister well enough to sense when something weighed heavily on her mind.

Eloise nodded slowly, unable to suppress a sigh. "Yes," she admitted quietly. "We were... talking. About feelings, I suppose."

Benedict arched an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Feelings?" he echoed, prompting Eloise to elaborate.

"I told her... how I feel when I'm with her," Eloise confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "But then Lady Danbury interrupted us, and I never got to find out how she feels."

Understanding dawned in Benedict's eyes as he took in Eloise's words. He reached out, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Eloise, you know what they say about the young Princess," he said gently. "She's smart, perceptive. She'll understand."

Eloise managed a weak smile, grateful for her brother's reassurance. "I hope so," she murmured, her thoughts still lingering on y/n's last words to her.

As the ballroom bustled around them, Benedict offered his arm to Eloise. "Shall we join the others?" he suggested, his tone lightening with an attempt to lift her spirits.

Eloise nodded, drawing a deep breath to steady herself. "Yes, let's," she agreed, linking her arm with Benedict's. Together, they returned to the lively gathering, though Eloise's thoughts remained with y/n—wondering, hoping, and silently yearning for their next conversation.

I got tired of waiting

Wondering' if you were ever comin' around

My faith in you was fading

When I met you on the outskirts of town, and I said

Days passed after the interrupted conversation at Lady Danbury's ball, each one stretching with anticipation and uncertainty for Eloise. She found herself eagerly attending every social event in hopes of catching another glimpse of y/n, her heart skipping a beat whenever their paths crossed across the crowded rooms.

It was at a smaller, more intimate gathering hosted by the Featheringtons that Eloise finally saw y/n again. The evening was alive with music and laughter, the air fragrant with the scent of gardenias and the promise of summer.

Eloise stood near the refreshment table, feigning interest in the punch bowl as she discreetly watched y/n across the room. y/n was engaged in conversation with Dowager Violet Bridgerton, their laughter mingling with the tinkling of crystal glasses.

Summoning her courage, Eloise took a deep breath and approached them. "Excuse me, Mama,  may I steal the Princess away for a moment?" she asked politely, her voice betraying none of the nervousness fluttering in her chest.

Violets eyes flickered mischievously as she glanced knowingly between Eloise and y/n. "Of course, Eloise," she replied with a knowing smile. "Take her—though I warn you, Her Royal Highness has been entertaining us all evening with her wit."

Eloise felt a rush of relief and gratitude towards her mother as y/n turned towards her, her expression lighting up with surprise and delight. "Miss Bridgerton," y/n greeted warmly, setting down her glass to face her fully. "I didn't expect to see you here tonight."

Eloise swallowed nervously, suddenly feeling the weight of her confession at Lady Danbury's ball. But still she continued to escort the Princess through the crowd until they were outside in the garden, under the nights sky, completely alone.

 "I wanted to apologise for our conversation being cut short," she began earnestly, meeting y/n's gaze with sincerity. "I... I meant what I said. About how I feel when I'm with you."

y/n's smile softened, her eyes holding a hint of something that made Eloise's heart skip a beat. "Miss Bridgerton,,," y/n replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper amidst the lively chatter around them. "I've been thinking about that conversation too."

Relief flooded through Eloise as she took a step closer to y/n, their proximity sparking a warmth that spread through her veins. "Really?" she asked, unable to contain the hope in her voice.

y/n nodded, her expression gentle yet filled with a quiet intensity that mirrored Eloise's own feelings. "Yes, really," she confirmed, her hand reaching out to gently touch Eloise's arm. "I didn't get to answer then, but... I feel something too."

Eloise's heart soared at y/n's words, her fears and uncertainties momentarily forgotten in the rush of emotions. "I'm glad," she murmured softly, her gaze locked with y/n's. "I wasn't sure how you'd feel, or... if we could even..."

Before she could finish, y/n leaned in closer, her lips brushing against Eloise's cheek in a tender gesture that sent a shiver down Eloise's spine. "I want to find out," y/n whispered, her breath warm against Eloise's ear. "If we could be something more."

Eloise's breath caught in her throat as she gazed into y/n's eyes, seeing her own hopes reflected back at her. Without hesitation, she reached up to cup y/n's cheek, her thumb caressing the soft skin beneath her touch. "I want that too, Your Highness" Eloise admitted softly, her voice filled with newfound courage and longing.

Y/N smilied, her eyes lighting up. “Please, call me Y/N. Titles are so tiresome, don’t you think?”

Eloise laughed softly. “Very much so. I find this entire season tiresome.”

In that stolen moment amidst the music and the soft glow of candlelight, Eloise and y/n leaned closer together, their lips meeting in a gentle kiss that spoke volumes of unspoken promises and the beginning of a love that dared to defy convention.

As they pulled away, breathless and smiling, Eloise felt a weight lift from her shoulders. Here, in the embrace of y/n's presence, she found not only acceptance but also the beginning of a journey she never dared to imagine—a journey of love, bravery, and the courage to be true to oneself.

They walked together in the garden, the conversation flowing easily. Eloise was captivated by Y/N’s intelligence and wit, and Y/N found Eloise’s rebellious spirit refreshing. As days turned into weeks, their friendship deepened, but so did the confusion. Can this go on forever?

Romeo, save me, I've been feeling so alone

I keep waiting for you, but you never come

Is this in my head? I don't know what to think

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over the gardens of Bridgerton House. Eloise and y/n sat side by side on the swings, their feet lightly touching the ground, pushing back and forth in a gentle rhythm. The air was filled with the scent of blooming roses and the distant hum of London’s bustle, now just a distant murmur.

"I never imagined finding such peace in the heart of London," y/n remarked softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she swayed back and forth. Her eyes wandered over the garden, where vibrant blooms danced in the gentle breeze, their colours vivid against the backdrop of the setting sun.

Eloise, her legs stretched out in front of her, kicked lightly against the earth to keep the swing moving. "It's my favourite place to escape," she said, a small smile playing on her lips as she glanced at y/n. "Thank you for visiting me here."

Y/n turned to Eloise, her gaze filled with an unspoken tenderness. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else," she replied, her voice filled with sincerity. She reached out, her hand finding Eloise’s, their fingers intertwining effortlessly. The simple touch sent a jolt of warmth through them, grounding them in their shared moment.

A comfortable silence settled over them, the only sounds the creak of the swings and the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze. Eloise closed her eyes for a moment, savouring the serenity of the garden and the presence of y/n beside her.

"Do you ever wonder what the future holds for us?" y/n asked softly, her voice filled with curiosity as she turned to Eloise, who was still lost in the quiet of the moment.

Eloise opened her eyes, her gaze drifting towards the horizon where the sun was painting the sky in hues of pink and gold. "I used to worry about it," she admitted, her fingers absently tracing patterns on y/n’s palm. "But now... I like to think that as long as we're together, we can face anything."

Y/n's smile was gentle, her eyes reflecting the twilight’s colours as she leaned her head against Eloise’s shoulder. "I believe that too," she murmured, her voice steady with a quiet confidence. "We'll navigate this world together, Eloise."

In the tranquil embrace of Bridgerton House's garden, surrounded by the beauty of nature and the blossoming love between them, Eloise and y/n found solace in each other’s company. The swings moved back and forth, a gentle testament to their growing bond, anchoring them in a love that defied expectations and embraced the courage to live authentically.

He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring

And said, "Marry me, Juliet

You'll never have to be alone

One afternoon in the opulent drawing room of the palace, y/n sat with Eloise, their conversation light and filled with quiet laughter. The warmth of the fire crackled in the background, casting flickering shadows on the richly adorned walls. Y/n leaned close to Eloise, sharing a private moment, both girls peppering kisses over each other's faces, enjoying the feeling of being in each other's embraces. 

Unbeknownst to them, Queen Charlotte had returned earlier than expected, her steps muffled by the thick carpet. She paused in the doorway, her sharp eyes catching the intimate exchange between y/n and Eloise. For a moment, she simply observed, her mind racing with the implications.

"Miss Bridgerton!" Queen Charlotte's voice cut through the air, startling both young women. Eloise turned pale, her heart sinking as she realised they had been caught. Y/n sat frozen, her eyes wide with apprehension.

"Mother," y/n stammered, attempting to gather her thoughts. "I can explain—"

Queen Charlotte held up a hand, her expression unreadable. "There is no need for explanations, my dear. It seems the situation has clarified itself." She stepped further into the room, her gaze shifting between y/n and Eloise.

Eloise stood, her nerves taut with uncertainty. "Your Majesty, please understand—"

"I understand more than you might realise," Queen Charlotte interrupted gently, her tone softening slightly. She approached Eloise, studying her with a discerning eye. "Miss Bridgerton, do you care for my daughter?"

Eloise swallowed hard, meeting Queen Charlotte's gaze squarely. "Yes, Your Majesty," she admitted, her voice steady despite her nerves.

"And you, y/n?" Queen Charlotte turned to her daughter, her expression softening. "How do you feel about Miss Bridgerton?"

Eloise hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath. "Mother, I... I care for Eloise deeply. More than I ever thought possible."

Queen Charlotte nodded, her features reflecting a mix of concern and contemplation. "Love comes in many forms," she said finally, her voice carrying wisdom earned through years of navigating societal expectations. "It is clear to me that your feelings are genuine."

Eloise blinked back tears, overwhelmed by her mother's unexpected understanding. Y/n reached out, gently squeezing Eloise's hand in silent support.

“But regardless, you both are participating in acts only those who are married should be. I will not accept a scandal.”

"Mama, what should we do? We can’t imagine life apart!" y/n asked, her voice tinged with hope and apprehension.

Queen Charlotte smiled softly, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. "Perhaps it is time we consider a different kind of arrangement," she mused, her mind already formulating a plan. "One that will allow you both to live authentically, without the confines of societal scandals, the only right choice in these conditions." She paused (dramatic effect no?)

“Marriage.”

And so, in that serene drawing room of the palace, a new chapter began for y/n and Eloise—a chapter marked by acceptance, love, and the courage to challenge tradition.

I love you and that's all I really know

I talked to your dad, go pick out a white dress

It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes"

In the warm, inviting drawing room of Bridgerton House, Eloise nervously clasped y/n's hand. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls, adding an air of solemnity to the moment. Around them, the Bridgertons—Anthony, Benedict, Colin, Daphne, and the younger siblings—gathered, curiosity etched on their faces.

Eloise took a deep breath, her heart racing with a mix of excitement and apprehension. "I... We have something to share," she began, her voice steady despite the butterflies in her stomach.

Anthony, ever the observant eldest brother, arched an eyebrow. "Go on, Eloise. What is it?"

Eloise glanced at y/n, drawing strength from their presence. "y/n and I... We've decided to take a step forward together. We're engaged."

There was a collective gasp of surprise from her family. Daphne's eyes widened, her hand instinctively reaching for Benedict's. Benedict leaned back in his chair, a grin spreading across his face. Colin adjusted himself, trying to process the unexpected news.

With the initial shock beginning to subside, the Bridgertons exchanged bewildered glances, each processing the news in their own way.

"Wait, you two are... engaged?" Colin asked, his voice filled with surprise.

Daphne, recovering from her initial shock, spoke gently. "But... how? I mean, are you even allowed to... marry?"

Eloise smiled, a touch of defiance in her eyes. "Yes, Daphne. Queen Charlotte herself has given us her blessing."

Colin, adjusting to the news, nodded thoughtfully. "I see. It's certainly unconventional, but if Her Majesty approves..."

Anthony, ever the pragmatist, chimed in. "Well, then. It seems we are in uncharted territory, but as long as you're both certain..."

Eloise and y/n exchanged a glance, their bond palpable. "We are," y/n affirmed softly.

"Eloise, are you certain about this?" Francesca asked, her voice tinged with concern.

Eloise nodded, her gaze unwavering. "Yes, Francesca. I've never been more certain about anything in my life."

Benedict, always the voice of reason, spoke up next. "Well, this is quite unexpected, but if it's what makes you both happy..."

Hyacinth interjected, unable to contain her excitement. "Eloise, this is incredible news! I didn't think you'd ever settle down."

Anthony, who had been silently observing, finally spoke. "Eloise, Princess Y/N, if this is your decision, then you have my support. Always."

Eloise squeezed y/n's hand tighter, feeling a wave of relief wash over her. "Thank you, Anthony."

As the evening wore on, the atmosphere shifted from confusion to acceptance. The Bridgertons, while initially taken aback, found themselves embracing Eloise and y/n's decision. It was a moment that marked not only a new chapter in Eloise's life but also a testament to the changing times—a time when love was beginning to transcend boundaries and expectations.

Outside, the bustling city of London continued its rhythmic pulse, unaware of the quiet revolution unfolding within the walls of Bridgerton House—a revolution led by two hearts brave enough to defy convention and choose love, in all its unexpected forms.

'Cause we were both young when I first saw you

Eloise stood by the window of their home, gazing out at the bustling streets of London. It had been nearly a year since their marriage, and the city seemed to hum with a different energy. Change was in the air, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in what she and y/n had accomplished together.

The early morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. Beside her, y/n stirred in their sleep, their features softened in the gentle dawn. Eloise smiled fondly, reaching out to brush a lock of hair from y/n's face. They had been through so much together—the secret glances, the stolen kisses, the fear of discovery—and yet, here they were, stronger than ever.

Their marriage had sparked conversations across London society. Some viewed it with curiosity, others with disdain, but Eloise and y/n had found unexpected allies among their peers. Lady Danbury, always a force to be reckoned with, had become a staunch supporter, using her influence to deflect any lingering whispers of scandal.

As Eloise reflected on their journey, she couldn't help but marvel at how far they had come. They had faced challenges and uncertainties, but through it all, their love had remained steadfast. They had created a sanctuary within their home, where they could be themselves without fear of judgement or reprisal.

Outside, the city continued to wake up to a new day. Carriages rumbled past, merchants called out their wares, and London life carried on its bustling rhythm. Eloise turned back to y/n, watching as they stirred awake, their eyes fluttering open to meet hers.

"Good morning," y/n murmured, their voice still laced with sleep.

"Good morning," Eloise replied, leaning in to press a soft kiss to y/n's lips. They shared a quiet moment together, the warmth of their embrace speaking volumes where words fell short.

"I never imagined we'd be here," y/n whispered, their fingers tracing patterns on Eloise's cheek.

"Neither did I," Eloise admitted, her heart swelling with emotion. "But I wouldn't change a thing."

They lay entwined in each other's arms, basking in the simple joy of being together. Outside, the city continued its daily hustle, but in their sanctuary, time seemed to stand still.

In the weeks and months that followed, Eloise and y/n continued to navigate their newfound roles as partners in life and advocates for change. They attended social events hand in hand, their presence a quiet yet powerful statement of love and acceptance. Through their actions, they hoped to pave the way for others who dared to love outside of society's conventions.

Occasionally, they would steal moments alone, away from the prying eyes of society, to remind themselves of the bond they shared. Whether it was a quiet evening at home or a stolen kiss in a secluded corner of a ballroom, every moment together reaffirmed their commitment to each other.

Their love story became a beacon of hope for those who yearned for acceptance and understanding. Slowly but surely, attitudes began to shift. Families whispered their support in drawing rooms, friends offered quiet encouragement over tea, and London society found itself grappling with the idea that love knew no boundaries.

As the years passed, Eloise and y/n's love story continued to unfold, weaving itself into the fabric of London's history. They faced challenges and triumphs together, building a life filled with laughter, companionship, and unwavering devotion.

Eloise often found herself marvelling at the resilience of y/n, their strength and determination a constant source of inspiration. Together, they navigated the complexities of societal expectations and personal desires, forging a path that defied tradition and embraced love in its purest form.

And so, in the quiet moments before dawn, as the city stirred awake outside their window, Eloise held y/n close, knowing that their love had not only changed their lives but had also left an indelible mark on the world around them.

I did not plan the lyrics around an epilogue and ran out HAHA oopsie

a/npt2; AHHH how did you guys feel about this, i tried to mot make it rushed i really wanted to start from the beginging and build their realtionship in a way a oneshot can, ive been considering writing a story once im done with these requests so we can get some better romance building then!!

[leclerckiss]

I've just read 'milk & honey' and it is actually one of my favs rn i'm obsessed with ur style, please write something about the 'orange peel theory' with either charles or oscar when you can !! 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

clementine ౨ৎ

notes: charles leclerc x reader, established relationship, fluff.

a/n: i love the orange peel theory, honestly. simple.

the orange peel theory: inherited from the psychological ideology surrounding one's willingness to commit acts of service for a loved one because they care ie. peeling an orange to make it more easily enjoyable.

A slow afternoon in late August – the sweet serenity of virgo season – where the skies are a mosaic of white clouds against the pale heavens, white lilies flourishing in a water glass upon the oak coffee table, a lingering aroma of a strawberry cake baked and left to set a few hours before.

After a morning of almond croissants and cappuccino at the Café de Flore, sunbathing for several hours, talking in the intimacy of lovers and walking around the familiar streets, you and your boyfriend are most content to spend the remaining hours in the peaceful ambience of home.

He is stood by the marble-polished kitchenette counter absently perusing through mail, handsome as ever: soft, brunet hair slightly tousled where he has not trimmed it recently in a manner you love; sun-kissed with the hints of subtle freckles against the bridge of his nose; white, linen shirt half-unbuttoned.

"Hm," Half lost in your own daydreams and musings, distracted from where you had previously been crocheting a gift for your mother from your comfortable seat about the plush sofa, re-watching Breakfast at Tiffany's, you wander quietly into the room.

Initially, your gaze falls to where Charles is stood, some desire to approach and bury yourself in his embrace most alluring, until eyes flicker towards the nearby porcelain bowl where recently-bought clementines sit, thoughts drifting elsewhere about the remembered conversation with your friends the week before.

When you let own settle in your grasp lightly – the Monégasque momentarily showing no sign of acknowledgement minus the ghost of a palm that comes to your lower back whilst his gaze remains on the intricate writing of a letter – there is a near-minute of lulling quietude as you merely gaze at it before sighing in supposed, audible defeat.

"Troubles, bébé?"

His voice is calm, almost a little teasing but genuinely intrigued. The endearment is enough for you to feel a slight warmth in the depth of your stomach like dancing butterflies, his eyes dancing over you momentarily, though you merely offer a gentle, vague shrug of your shoulders to begin with whilst shifting the citrus in your touch between manicured nails, "I kind of want one, but..."

Charles arches a handsome eyebrow in wordless inquiry, the paper held against the light callouses of his palm forgotten when he silently offers an opened hand that – with hitched breath and subtle uncertainty – you place the clementine upon.

He does not seem to question your demeanour or reluctance, merely working on deftly removing the thin rind before the sweet, alluring scent is all the more prominent harmony of its citrus fragrance to its nakedness before he's offering you a single segment with the beginning of a dimpled smirk, "Voila."

Flushing a little and hoping the rosiness of a blush is not perceptible along your neck or the apples of your cheeks, you merely meet his gaze through your lashes as you indulge in the sweetness of it slowly, swallowing.

Through your clothes and within your ribs, you can feel how your heart flutters a touch quicker like a sweet dove trying to flee its gilt cage.

"Thank you." Punctuated by the meeting of mouths in a slow, sensual kiss that begins chastely until he cannot quite convince himself to drawn away, the peeled clementine forgotten to the side on the marble whilst fingertips trace the curve of your waist through soft cashmere.

"Avec plaisir."

You will certainly have to notify your friends about your own experiences surrounding the recently-tried theory and its heartfelt success of a result.

[taintandviolent]

Le coup de foudre ; Gambit x Reader

summary: THIS IS PART 3 OF THE TACO TUESDAY SERIES! PART ONE HERE / PART TWO HERE! Reader is suffering, big time. She wants Remy, but he hasn't called. Post-Void, everyone got out alive and everything is fine.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 3.1K | some angst to start things off, smut with some plot (we've got an established relationship, huzzah), French and typing out accents/dialects, pet names (chere, mon ami, mon coeur, etc.), shower sex, dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, no use of y/n, and some fluff at the end, because I went and broke y'all's hearts in the last chapter.

a/n: praying that the gambit fandom hasn't completely died out.... i'm so sorry this took me so long. banner by @/strangergraphics!

↓ full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

The first day is the hardest. 

The first day is the hardest because by 1:30 PM, you realize that you’re in love with Remy Lebeau. You cry on the couch he kissed you on. Why are you crying? Because you can’t remember the last time you’ve been in love with someone, and you know what comes with love. None of it is good. 

The second day sucks too because you go to work, and come home to an apartment that, for the first time since you’ve lived there, really felt empty. There’s nowhere you can sit that he hasn’t touched. His memory lingers everywhere and try as you might, you can’t escape it. You aren’t sure you want to, either, which is troubling in and of itself. 

By the third day, your heart is aching, but it’s a dull ache. Something like anger has started to roil in your system, and you’re wondering why he hasn’t called, or stopped by. You can justify it by saying that you don’t know what mutant superheroes go through or what their daily life looks like, but you’re still sour that there’s been nothing but radio silence on his end. 

Day four comes and goes, and nothing changes. You’re still sad. You’re still angry. But most of all, you’re still lonely. 

Day five… however. Day five comes, you’ve cycled through all the stages of grief and landed somewhere on the spectrum of desperation. 

So, after work, you march across the hall to Wade’s, and knock three times in a little melody. After a few moments, the door flies open, revealing a very casual looking Wade. He’s wearing a Hawaiian shirt and grey sweats. You avert your eyes from his groin, out of respect. 

“Wade,” you stammer, scratching a non-existent itch on your arm. ��Hey.”

“Pookie! How nice of you to stop by. Blind Al and I were just about to partake in some Colombian party powder, care to join us?” 

Your pupils dilate. Was he being serious? You couldn’t tell. “Uh… no. No, I’m good.” 

You shift uneasily. You aren’t sure how to start this, so you just blurt whatever comes out. 

“Wade… um. Look, I’m sorry to ask this of you. I just…. I can’t take it anymore. He doesn’t seem like the type to ghost someone, and I just… I really want to talk to him.” 

“You want Gambit’s number?”

You perk up, relieved that you didn’t have to ask the question yourself. Wade was more perceptive than you thought. 

“Y-yeah, if you have it.” 

“I don’t. Womp-womp. But I gave him yours.” 

“Oh…” A beat. “...wait. How did you get my number?” 

“Remember that package that was misdelivered?” 

“No….” 

“Yikes. Well, I do. It had your name and phone number on it. I figured it’d be useful to have so…” He taps the side of his head.

“Why did you… did he ask for it?” 

“Boy, did he.” 

You frown, feeling an overwhelming flurry of emotions. On one hand, he’s had your number and hasn’t called. On the other hand, he wanted your number. But he hadn’t done a damn thing with it. Your shoulders sink, unconsciously. 

“Oh, sweet cheeks. Someone play some Cigarettes After Sex, this is getting emotional.” Wade mock frowns, looking off to the left for a moment before his eyes dart back to you. “He’s probably saving lives or something heroic. Undisclosed mutant drama.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, choosing to ignore his weird commentary. “I appreciate it.” 

“What’re you gonna’ do now? Cue the depressed drinking montage.” 

“That’s a great idea, actually…” 

“No, no… let’s not.” 

You interject with a finger in his face. “Yeah, let’s.” 

“If you’re going to do that, let’s do it inside. C’mon.”  Wade doesn’t give you a moment to reject him, and plants both of his hands on your shoulders, yanking you forward. 

Turns out, Wade does have alcohol. He makes you a drink, something that tastes like whiskey. Maybe it's your whiskey, left over. You bring the glass to your lips, sucking the liquid down. It’s strong, but you aren’t complaining. 

“Oooohohoh, you’ve got it bad, huh? Heart eyes and all that mushy-gushy shit?”

You throw a glare his way, and take another sip. The liquor burns better than any remark you could’ve come up with.

“It’s okay,” he says, nodding. “I can’t say I blame you. It’s that Southern charm he’s got. Handsome, slick, and he can do magic tricks.” His eyes widen, excitedly. “How could you not fall in love with him?”

“Wade, you’re not helping.” 

“Sure I am,” he retorts. 

You take a seat on Wade’s couch, looking distraught. You’re thankful that Blind Al is in fact… blind because she can’t see the way that the tears are welling up in your eyes. You look at the chairs that you two sat on, flirting with each other.

“Oh,” Wade says, looking somewhat surprised. “Oh no.”

“She cryin’?” Blind Al asks. Great, she’s perceptive. You swallow back a sob, and bring the glass to your lips again. 

“Almost… almost… c’mon, give us a cinematic, single tear.” 

You shake your head and suck it up as best you can. You don’t want acknowledgement, that’ll only make it worse, possibly sending you into a fit of sobs. You don’t even know why you’re so upset – it’s not like he told you he never wanted to see you again. He just hadn’t… well, done anything and that was somehow worse.

“Je-sus…!” Wade says suddenly, leaning over to angrily look through the peephole. He stays there for a moment, before leaning back, a sly smile on his face. 

And that’s when you hear the dull thudding that has Wade’s attention. It sounds like a knock – a heavy handed one. 

You straighten your spine, curious. 

“Oh, this is too perfect.” He says under his breath, before taking one step towards you. “Save the waterworks, your Cajun Prince has returned.” 

You set the glass on the floor and scramble off the couch, practically on all fours as you run towards the door, pushing Wade out of the way. Standing on your tiptoes to look through the peephole for only a split second, you get a visual. Hurriedly, you twist the knob and throw the door open, wanting to rip it off its hinges. It bumps into the wall behind it, and your breath rushes out.  

Remy stands there, facing your door, his fist raised to knock again. He has a duffel bag on his shoulder, which slides off the second he hears your voice. 

“Remy?” you call, your voice quivering slightly. He turns abruptly, his coat flaring out behind him. He’s wearing armor now, and looks like he’s just come back from something serious.

“Chere? What’re you –” 

You don’t need to answer again, instead, just run across the hall, rushing into his arms. Your body hits him so hard that you let out a little vocalization, a delicate oomph, as you compress yourself to him. He immediately responds by wrapping one arm around your waist, and the other around the back of your head, hand petting your hair gently. 

He smells like blood, sweat and ash, but you nuzzle your cheek into the rigid plate of his purple chestplate anyway, wrapping your arms tightly around his torso in a desperate hug. 

After a moment, you pull away, just enough to look up at him. He looks down at you, his eyes burning with such an adoration that you can’t help but clench your stomach. He looks like he missed you as much as you missed him. 

“Is this your superhero outfit?” Your fingers stroke the ridges in his cowl, admiring it. Slowly, they trail down the length of it, and begin to make their way over his smooth chestplate. 

He laughs, looking down at you. “ ‘Spose so.”

“I like it.” 

Two smiles later, he pulls you in for a bruising kiss, lifting you up off the ground slightly. You’re on your tiptoes again, smashing your lips against his and tasting him as hungrily as you did the first time – if not hungrier. There’s something extremely erotic about kissing a costumed hero, something to do with uniforms and all that, you assume, but the butterflies in your stomach go wild at the feeling of his armor against you. This time, you don’t try to suppress anything and give into the feeling of it all. 

Someone sighs dreamily behind you and Remy breaks the kiss to look knowingly over the top of your head. Wade is leaning against his door frame, hands clasped in front of his chest. Short of having hearts bursting over his head, he’s silently gushing, his brows pulled together in a sappy expression, with a dorky smile curling around his lips.

“Oh, c’mon! Just a peek? Where’s your sense of fan service?!” 

“No, Wade.” Remy croons, opening your door and pulling you in with him. He shuts the door with one hand.

“Now before we get to the good stuff, I wanna’ wash this day offa’ me.” 

You nod your head, understanding, and reach for his hand. The bathroom is adjacent to your bedroom, so you lead him down the hall.

You flick on the light; it’s all dark tile and cool tones. You head to the sizable shower, and open the glass door, leaning in just enough to turn the knob. The water splashes to life, and steam fills the bathroom quickly. 

Watching Remy undress himself is like a strip tease that has you biting your lip. He’s determinate and meticulous, like he knows you’re watching. The jacket and armor pieces come off first, and get set on the edge of the bathroom counter. Then comes the shirt, revealing that delicious torso again, the one that you’ve been longing to run your hands over for almost a week. He quickly unzips his pants and drags them down his legs before setting them atop the rest of the items. The briefs are last – the perfect ending to reveal his heavy, flaccid cock before he turns, and walks into the shower. He’s got a perfect ass, too; muscular and round. You’re pretty sure you could bounce a quarter off of it. The water splashes against the roundness of his freckled shoulders, spattering against the muscle and onto the tile. 

“Chere, c’mere…” He reaches for your hand, pulling it inside the shower. 

“Wait, wait,” you laugh, and retract your hand. “I’m not coming in there fully dressed.” 

“Then get naked, mon amour. We know we done been waitin’ long enough to feel each other again.” 

You pull your shirt over your head, and reach around back to undo your bra. Your jean shorts are next, joining the pile on the floor.

The water is warm, but Remy’s naked body is even warmer. 

There’s a beautiful, tender familiarity in the way you touch each other, coupled with a hunger that can only be fueled by absence. He hasn’t had you in days, you haven’t had him; the desire has reached a boiling point, and needs to be expelled. He presses you against the tile of the shower, watching as the water pitter-patters against your skin, over your decollete, over your breasts and down the gentle curve of your stomach. He leans down and kisses the hollow of your throat, his hands cupping your hips forcefully.

“I missed you,” he murmurs against your skin. 

“I missed you too… maybe more.” 

“Ooh, doubt that.” 

As his fingers trail along your body with an air of ownership, Remy kisses your wet shoulders, nipping at the warm, slick flesh. Despite the heat, you shiver. He has a real knack for making your body shudder. Your knees feel like jell-o, so you wrap your hands around his strong neck, interlacing your fingers behind it for some support. 

His fingers dip down between your legs and teasingly splay out over your folds. His middle finger slips between them, glossing over your center, and slides all the way down, teasing your entrance with the pad of his finger. Everything is wet, but he can feel the slickness that meets his finger. His cock twitches against your thigh. 

“‘Dat’s my girl,” he says, low. “Y’know, I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout ‘dis way too much.” His hand cups your cunt, as if to punctuate his sentence and you bite your lip, looking into his eyes. You shift, forcing more friction against his wet palm, the warm water pooling between your legs. “The thought of you been distractin’ me. You a dangerous woman, cher…” 

“I’m dangerous? Says the guy who has fucked me in every room, on almost every surface in my apartment…” 

Remy chuckles and the sound fills your heart. There it is again – that unyielding feeling of adoration. You’re horny as all get out, but somehow, you still have the capacity to swoon over tiny things like his laugh. This isn’t you, this isn’t what you’re used to. Frustrated, you bump your head against the tile, letting out a small groan. 

He notices this, and brings his other hand – still leaving one situated between your legs – up behind your head. 

“What’re you doin’? What’s wrong, chere?”

“Nothing...” you huff, looking over at the shower head. It doesn’t sound very convincing, but you aren’t ready to spill your guts to him yet… you’d rather have him rearrange your guts and not think about the feelings. 

He smirks, devilishly, like he already knows. If he does, he’s not letting you off the hook. 

“Guess I just gon’ have to fuck it outta’ you, huh?” 

You avert your gaze back to him, pupils dilating. You know him well enough now that he means what says.  

With that, he places a kiss on your forehead, and turns his body towards the stream of water. He begins washing himself, and you watch as the suds slowly trail down the ample curve of his back. You reach forward, spreading them over the indentation of his spine, washing him gently. 

“Hoo, the way you touch me…” he murmurs just loud enough for you to hear it. 

The shower is intimate and everything is mutual, cue the montage. For the… what? Tenth time that week? You realize that you're in way too deep with Remy. Way too deep, and there’s nothing you can do to change it. 

Drying his feet off on the mat and allowing you space to do the same, Gambit then pulls a towel from the rack, and wraps it around your naked body. The droplets absorb into the fibers, and you’re a little less drippy. Well, your body is. The hungry, whining void between your legs isn’t. 

When Gambit turns, you catch a glimpse of his half-hard cock and blush. Even though you’ve fucked it, sucked it and everything else, the sight of is still enough to send butterflies erupting in your stomach. 

He can’t get you to the bedroom fast enough. His hands are on your hips, directing you towards the bed and you let out a little vocalization, much to his delight. 

“C’mere, mon ami… get up on ‘dat bed.” 

You obey. Why wouldn’t you? You’ve been waiting for this for almost a week now. 

Before he has a chance to stop you, you’re reaching forward to take his cock in your hand. It’s heavy and hot and the feeling of it against your palm makes you clench painfully, twinging with heat. You take your time in stroking him to full hardness, swiping your thumb over the leaking tip and smearing the pre-cum down his veiny length. 

Once he’s there, he’s like a freight train. Unstoppable and panting hard. He fucks you hard over the edge of the bed, hard enough to make your breasts bounce back and forth with each bullying thrust, withdrawing it to the tip and bottoming out each time. Your bedroom is filled with the sounds of bodies slapping together, flesh against flesh. 

“Tell me,” he grunts. “Ain’t no place for secrets up in here.”

“It’s not important – uuhhh!” Another thrust, deep as he can go. 

“Cher,” he growls and thrusts again. “I ain’t gonna’ let you cum ‘till you tell me.” 

“No,” you moan, bringing your hands to your tits as they move. “Please, I’m so close, we can — uhhh god!”

He’s relentless. 

“Fuck, fuck-fuck, oh my god…!” 

With a slick pop, he pulls his cock all the way out. You lift your head up, gazing distraught between your legs; he’s centimeters away from you. The tip is red, glistening and angry as it twitches up, pre-cum leaking from the slit.

“Tell me, cher, or you ain’t gonna’ get ‘dis cock again.” He bucks his hips forward, dragging the fat, wet tip against your swollen cunt. You cry out at the sensation, your clit buzzing with electricity. Despite all that, he doesn’t penetrate you again, and you whimper at the empty sensation. Every time you try to move your hips to get his cock to slip in again, he pulls back just enough to put distance between you two. You whine through gritted teeth. 

“Okay!” 

He presses the head of his cock against your clit. Waiting. Patiently. So patiently. For a moment, you marvel at the control he has considering that his cock looks red and angry, aching to empty itself inside of you. 

“Fine. I think…” You pause to catch your breath. “I think I love you.” 

Remy closes his eyes for a second, reveling in the sound of you saying it. He’d wanted to say it to you at breakfast, and he’d wanted to say it before he left. 

“Mm.” 

“Mm?”

“Mmm-mm. ‘Dat’s what I wanted to hear, chere. An’ it sounds so good comin’ outta’ ‘dat mouth of yours.”

He lines the cockhead up, and bottoms out with another word. He’s said enough, apparently. When he takes hold of your hips, lifting them up slightly to give himself a deeper angle, you wrap your hands around your sheets until the fibers squeak. Your nails dig into the fabric, nearly puncturing holes in them. It’s only a few more earth-shattering thrusts before you cum, and before he fills you with white hot heat, the two of you calling and moaning each other’s names in ecstasy. 

After softening inside of you, which is somehow extremely sweet, he withdraws himself from your cunt, and uses the sheet to clean up the mess that leaks out. He carefully lifts you up onto the bed fully, and then crawls next to you, nestling into the same space he did last night. 

It’s like he never left. 

“I really do, you know. I love you. I know we just met and fucked and that’s all, but I love you.”

“You keep sayin’ ‘dat’s all’ as if what we have is somethin’ casual, cher. You’re gonna’ hurt Remy’s feelings if you keep ‘dat up. So, knock it off, ah?” 

“It’s… it’s not casual?” 

He shakes his head. “I love you too, mon coeur. I have since I first saw you…” 

You hum happily, and nuzzle yourself against his bare chest. “I finally understand that French phrase I learned… C’etait le coup de foudre?” (It was love at first sight.)

“Oui… oui.” 

[iichfilwypj]

percy's new obsession | percy jackson

ღ percy jackson x argentine! reader ღ warnings: percy lifts reader on his shoulder, sex implications? (i am freaky lately!) ღ wc: 596 a pedido de mi nueva bestie <3

“I had breakfast at the new café today! I wanted to try the chocolate cake,” they were both on the sofa, and even though he had been paying attention to her at first, he had tuned out when an action movie came on TV. “but they said there wasn’t any, so I had the… em...” 

He tilted his head a little when the sound of her voice stopped, a smile forming as he watched her squeezed her eyes shut, trying to think of the word she needed. 

And then, she spoke to herself. “Ay, ¿cómo se llama?”

So, here's the thing; Percy heard her speak Spanish before, but only a handful of times and with simple words like si, no and hola. 

But he had never, ever heard a complete sentence. It might sound dramatic, but when the words left the girl’s mouth, something inside Percy shifted. The simple fact of listening to her speak literally another language made something in his perception of her change, like suddenly she was a fucking goddes or a divine creature.

And what struck him the most was her accent. Her voice had somehow shifted, turning a bit lower and richer. He had never heard that accent before, and within seconds, it was already his favorite.

He had no idea what she had said, but his cheeks flushed as if she had said the sexiest and most lustful thing in the world. 

“Almond cake, eso! Sí, it was very good!” He just nodded, still a bit dazed. “Oh, and the filling! It was dulce de leche and-”

“Oh my god, stop” Percy put a hand on her cheeks and turned her head towards him, causing her to stop mid-sentence and look at him confused. She found Percy staring at her almost with lust, his eyes wide and his jaw slightly dropped. “You’re gonna be the death of me.” 

“Eh?” She looked honestly confused, and he stared at her with obvious intent. 

“Your accent! How come you never speak Spanish?” 

“Cause you don’t understand it?” I mean, she has a point. 

But who even cared? He would learn Spanish if it meant listening to her accent every day. 

Oh God, just imagining it excited him. 

"Never speak English again, English is banned in this house." His voice was frantic, almost as if he were pleading for his life. He seemed ready to drop to his knees in front of her and beg. "Please, speak Spanish from now on."

“Oh my God, I-” she looked taken aback, but she gathered herself and, with a playful smile, she told him. “Dale, si vos querés, yo hablo así. No hay drama.”

He left out a small scream, and if he hadn’t rushed toward her to bury his face in her stomach and clutch her legs tightly, she would have seen his eyes roll back and hear him groan.

He was torn between wanting to keep listening to her voice and knowing he shouldn’t tempt himself any more.

Meanwhile, she could barely contain her laughter, gently tugging at her boyfriend’s hair (I swear she was trying to kill him!) and thinking about how this would benefit her.

“¿Querés ver algo en la tele?”

“Sure.” She looked at Percy in surprise, thinking that he had understood what she meant. 

Clearly, he hadn’t, because before she could blink, he sprang to his feet and tossed her onto his shoulder. The sudden movement made her gasp, and she couldn’t stop herself from giggling when he kissed her thigh, which was right beside his face.

“¡Bajame, boludo!” 

While walking toward the bedroom with the girl on his shoulder, Percy found himself wondering what he was going to do now.

Dam, the hottest person alive was completely his.

hello hello! hoy me siento más patriota que nunca!! i want to apologize cause lately evertything i write feels kind of sexual HAHAHAHAHA me sale así porque es fin de semana no me juzgen!

[meanbossart]

re: Vellioth as the stepfather its interesting bc stepfathers n media (and irl but limiting myself to tropes here) hav the practical role and obligations we tend to ascribe to fathers ie providing money and protection and being the head of the household, but do not share a blood tie to the child in question. and it is seen as magnanimous for a man to "take on the duty" of providing ofr the children of the woman he's with, rather than duty. This shifts also means that implicitly the stepchild should be grateful for this new patriarch in their life, which is complicated because most often this stepfather occupies a place of control. In cazador's caze i feel like bc there was no father to speak of, his resentment of vellioth as The Stepfather had more to do with intruding and vying for attention from the woman they both love, rather than usurping the OG father. Come to think of it, having no experience with a father figure before vellioth probably made the shift to a patriarch that more jarring. And considering that he positions himself s the Father of his spawns, he probably modelled a lot on Vellioth (or in antithesis of).

ultimately velloith did what stepchildren often fear secretly most: intruding, appropriating, and evnetually the destruction of the family unit as it was

I might not have expressed myself super well in that reply- I was comparing Vellioth to a step father in the same way people loosely compare Cazador to a patriarch/abusive partner. I certainly didn't mean it to be literal - neither in the comic I referenced or in my personal headcanon (which are functionally identical) does Vellioth ever actually inhabit the role of a surrogate dad in Cazador's life. Rather, that is the perception that he's vaguely trying to sell to others to maintain the ruse.

I clear this up because I am (personally) not of the belief that Vellioth and Cazador ever had a relationship outside of the dynamics of master and slave, which might be a little more simple than you were hoping for, based on this ask (unless I'm misreading, in that case ignore me LOL)

But if we're speaking strictly in allegory - yes. Vellioth makes for a specially juicy satire of a step-father who intrudes, disrupts, and yet overvalues themselves for doing the least on the basis of being there by choice rather than obligation (keeping Cazador alive as a spawn when he could have just killed him off) but I don't think any part of him is doing that under the false pretense of charity - he only wants to keep Cazador around to hurt him, because that would hurt his mother.

(Something I also neglected to say is that in De Rerum Natura ((not spelled out in the comic explicitly, but stated so as a headcanon of the very smart and handsome author)) Cazador was never meant to become a vampire. That was a fate his mother very much did not want for him.)

And, perhaps, every vampire lord harbors a little self-destructive desire. If you don't invest a non-negligible amount of time and energy into making ONE particular guy super mad at you, who is ever going to finally put you out of your misery after all!

EITHER WAY this image you sent me is still very good and thank you for sending it LOL (art by @barbatusart)

[viiioca]

[ roevember day 4 - ship ]

From the journal of Estelle de Laussienne, 24th of the 4th Umbral Moon, 5 7A.E.

Is it not funny what tricks our eyes can get up to? Medical literature on the visual system has been coming out of Sharlayan at an efficient clip, but it's hardly the brand new frontier of study the Studium's psychology department is touting. We have known about its oddities since the first spearfisher discovered that water lies about a fish's location. Such progress in that time! Humanity has embraced this imperfection of ours with great relish. Traditional Ul'dahn religious art, for example, relies heavily on ambiguous images, with both Nald and Thal coexisting within the same figure at the same time, the dominant shape shifting with the viewer's perception; Thavnairian folk art, too, often employs similar tricks to depict the harmonization of Manusya and Mrga, blending man and animal two ways in a single piece when observed right-to-left or left-to-right. Even the cities we build delight in the simple joy of fooling the eye. The limited space of Ishgard combined with the nobility's hunger for grandeur has made forced perspective a popular architectural flourish; it is not uncommon to enter some immense gallery with a distant statue of Halone on the far wall, only for the illusion to break some four or five yalms into the room with the realization that the statue is all of two fulms high. Ala Mhigan muqarnas create phantom scales of depth, emerging or receding by the angle of the light and the inclination of the viewer. Sharlayan itself has tucked optical refinements inside its colonnades and entablature: the impression of sharp geometric perfection -- straight lines and right angles -- is a fiction told by its many hidden curves.

What a marvelous little engine we have in our heads. I've been thinking about this in the weeks since Raha has returned to us.

Physically, nothing has changed. He is a twenty-four year old man in fine health. The stasis was absolute: no growth to speak of in the nails and hair, no atrophy of the muscles, no softening of calluses or fading of scars that might indicate cycles of skin regeneration. It's as if he has simply slipped between calendar years like a city native knows an alley shortcut. And yet he is different. Like blinking away an afterimage, there is the lingering negative of something that no longer exists.

When the Coerthan cold gusts northerly into Mor Dhona, Raha will disappear into his thoughts, hunched over his mug of coffee, ambling about the Rising Stones' common room as if afflicted by a ghostly rheumatism, and I will think, There is the Exarch. How strange, then, to see him without the burden of his crystal; without the grey in his hair where all that lively red has bled out. There is a compartment of my mind that struggles terribly with this. Could it not be a glamour? A bit of Allagan showmanship? Then, hours later, I will watch him jaunt up the battlements of the Toll, flirting gamely with gravity as if it were a pretty classmate, where he will settle into a crenel to watch the Gloom roll in from Silvertear, and I will think, There is the G'raha Tia I knew. Unmoored from the moment, I will think -- Has Rammbroes banished him from camp again? Has he come to find me for that archery lesson? And then he will spot me from his perch, and I find myself startled back to the present by the royal red of his left eye. Is that the same boy? Surely not. That eye ought to be as blue as the waters off of Corvos. The future can't have happened yet.

Binocular rivalry. Two distinct images in competition. It's hardly fair to the man he's become, but I wonder, too, if this is how he saw me that day in Lakeland -- if his own mind fought to reconcile my reality with the composite of me in his mind's eye, patched together through secondary sources, blurred by decades and distance. Perhaps we never truly see each other. Perhaps it is time to find the same joy in it as our artists and architects do.

There is only one thing for it. I must correct my vergence. No sooner than it is announced that we make for Azys Lla, Raha leaps for the prow of Tataru's airship, and I do not see that young man of years past ready to bolt for the horizon; and he reaches back for me, to ensure that we are not separated, and I do not see the reserved elder who carefully accounts for each soul around him, made cautious by loss. With my eyes shifted just-so, with no expectations for the image I am meant to see, the man in front of me -- bright-eyed, wide-grinned, laughter clear and steady -- resolves into something new.

[chiffxna]

A Love Too Dark (02)

The Marquis Vincent de Gramont x Reader

Chapter 02: Chaos and Risks

WARNING: THIS IS A DARK FIC.

This story will contain 18+ mature themes, dark romance, toxic behaviour, blood, violence, stalking, manipulation, a lot of smut, dubious consent, non-consensual content, yandere Marquis de Gramont, power play, and power imbalance, obsession, dark Marquis de Gramont, and abuse of power. The list will be added more as the story progresses. Minors, don't read.

Story Masterlist

PREV : Chapter 01

NEXT : Chapter 03

Several hours later, Yn finished her shift and she immediately changed her clothes, ending up with a long trench coat and a casual white T-shirt and jeans underneath. Just as she was about to leave the staff's changing room, she chanced upon Emily and the latter was quick to pull her back into the room to hear some tea. The two of them finally got the chance to talk since they were so preoccupied with their job in the casino.

"Yn! You better tell me exactly what happened with the Marquis!" exclaimed Emily with her eyes wide, glimmering with great curiosity to know more.

Yn chuckled, finding it humorous to see her close friend being this excited about some drama. Instead of answering, she asked, "Have you seen Mr. Malone?"

"Oh, he was looking over the result of the renovation. You know, the big renovation that made this casino shut down for a few hours yesterday," replied Emily. Then she hit Yn lightly on the arm and reprimanded her playfully, "Don't ignore my question! Tell me what happened!"

Yn sighed, knowing that the latter would not let her escape so easily. So she relented and apprised her of what had transpired in the VIP room.

"No way!" vociferated Emily, "That fuckwad is our boss now?!"

"He is our boss now," confirmed Yn.

Emily crossed her arms, looking displeased, "Damn, I don't like that. He sounds like a major asshole for what he said about Amy."

Yn nodded in agreement, "I know. But we can't do anything about it now that the deal is done."

"Yeah but it's a hard pill to swallow," Emily let out a sigh before she gave a burning stare at Yn and asked solemnly, "But... Did he say anything to you?"

Yn stayed quiet and Emily noticed it in an instant. The former did not tell her a single thing about her interaction with the Marquis. She felt embarrassed about what had occurred. She didn't want anyone to know about it. She wanted nothing more than to erase the memory of such a conversation and pretend like it never happened.

Emily could sense that there was something off with Yn's demeanor. She nudged her friend with her elbow and asked softly, "Come on, Yn. You can tell me. What did he do?"

Yn hesitated for a moment before murmuring, "He just…"

Emily was sitting next to Yn, her eyes focused and kind, as she waited for her friend to find the courage to share. The staff's changing room was empty, illuminated only by very few ceiling lamps, casting faint shadows on the walls. There was an air of calm in the quiet space, the only sound being their steady breathing.

After a quick consideration, Yn believed that it would be better not to tell anyone about the eerie interaction she had with the Marquis. She put on a fake smile and shook her head as if pretending that there was nothing to worry about. She then said, "It was nothing, really. All he asked was about the art I gave to Mr. Malone. That's all."

Emily's suspicion didn't wane as she looked at Yn intently. She knew her friend was hiding something but she decided not to push it any further. Instead, she stood up and patted Yn on the back reassuringly.

"Well, I hope that's all it was. Just be careful around him, okay?" Emily said with concern etched on her face.

Yn nodded, feeling grateful for her friend's concern and also for not pushing the subject more. She knew Emily long enough to know that she had a keen perception. But fortunately, she didn't persist and Yn was thankful for that.

"You just finished your shift, right?" asked Emily.

"Yeah, I have to go right now," answered Yn, "I'm worried about my sister at home."

"Oh yeah, you should go on ahead," said Emily, "Say hi to Sydney for me."

"Sure! See you next time, Em!"

As Yn stepped out of the staff's changing room, she felt a sense of relief for not having to disclose to someone about her odd interaction with the Frenchman. Plus, she didn't want to think about her interaction with the Marquis anymore. She just wanted to go home, take a hot shower, and forget about the day's events.

Yn managed to catch the last bus to her apartment, her mind still preoccupied with the events of the day. As she stepped off the bus, she saw her apartment building standing tall and proud in front of her. The building was old and had seen better days, but it was home, and it was where she felt the safest.

She walked up to her apartment and unlocked the door, stepping inside to be greeted by her cat who immediately leaped off of the couch and rushed towards her.

"Rosie!" Yn called for her in a sweet, high-pitched tone, "Where's Sydney?"

The cat reached her and brushed her own body against Yn's leg. She then gazed up at her owner and meowed at her for so long as if reprimanding her for being late.

Without warning, someone appeared in the corridor and walked toward Yn. It was Barbara, a middle-aged woman who was a cousin to Yn and often watched over Sydney when Yn wasn't available.

"Hey, how's your night?" queried Barbara with a grin.

"It was just okay," answered Yn, suddenly remembering the Marquis again when she was asked that. She shook her head, trying to dispel the image in her head, as she spoke, "By the way, thanks for taking care of Sydney for me again."

Barbara shrugged and waved it off, "No problem, Yn. You know I love her. She is easy to handle. Anyway, she's asleep in her bedroom now."

Yn smiled at Barbara and then she fetched her purse and took out several dollars. Yn was about to hand it to her cousin when the latter put up a hand and said, "Yn, don't. How many times have I told you that I did it for free?"

"I'm serious this time, Bar. Take it," said Yn as she pushed the dollars against her cousin's chest.

"No, take it back, sis," persisted Barbara as she grabbed the dollars and pushed them against Yn's hands.

"Please take it, sis," Yn pushed back, "I finished my shift later than usual after all."

"No, no, no," answered Barbara who countered, "I don't mind that at all."

That's when Yn firmly clasped Barbara's hand and smacked the cash into her palm with a loud clap, and insisted, "Just take it!"

As politely as she could, Yn kicked Barbara out of her apartment since the latter seemed like she was seconds away from throwing the cash back at her. Once all had calmed down, Yn chuckled, finding it amusing how the situation played out.

After ensuring that Rosie was well-fed, Yn quietly crept up to Sydney's bedroom. When she peeked inside, her stepsister was fast asleep, her blanket tucked tightly around her and her doll clasped close to her chest. A soft smile curved Yn's mouth, evidently warmed to see her looking well, before she closed the door and walked off.

The next morning, despite not having enough sleep due to Yn finishing her shift at the casino at two in the morning, woke up early and began to prepare breakfast for both her and Sydney.

"Yn! Morning!" greeted Sydney who had just woken up and entered the kitchen to see Yn preparing sandwiches.

"Good morning, Syd. Did you sleep well?" Yn asked, turning to face her stepsister with a smile.

Sydney nodded, "Yes! I dreamt that Peter Pan flew me out to Neverland! I flew in the sky, Yn!"

"Aww, that's amazing!" Yn replied as she finished preparing the sandwiches, "There. Now come, let's take a shower. We better hurry up for your school!"

Sydney jumped up and down with excitement and followed Yn to the bathroom, chattering on and on about her dream.

After they showered, got dressed, and had breakfast, Yn walked Sydney to school, holding her hand tightly the whole way. It took them ten minutes to arrive at her preschool.

Upon entering the school gate, Yn crouched down in front of Sydney and adjusted her clothing before saying with the same eye level as the young girl, "Alright, Syd. Be careful, okay? Don't be a mess and don't be naughty. Don't run around."

"Okay, Yn," replied Sydney, "Will you be back home early?"

Yn went quiet, staring at the little girl before her and perceiving the longing in her eyes. Yn did not tell anyone about her job as a bunny-girl in the casino. No one in her family knew, including Barbara. Such a job would stagger them all, especially her sick mom who would undoubtedly feel guilty for causing her daughter to work like that.

The pay as the bunny-girl in the casino was surprisingly tremendous and she got tips from the customers daily, despite having worn the mask the whole time. It helped her a lot in saving up enough money for her mother's treatment in the hospital. But the downside was that she had to return home past midnight. She couldn't spend much time with Sydney and the little girl evidently began to feel lonely despite being accompanied by Barbara.

Yn wished she could rest and be with Sydney, but the job at the casino provided her with an essential financial grounding. She needed it to survive, yet it left her feeling guilty for not spending enough time with her stepsister.

But with the way things were going, Yn knew it would take a while before she could finish paying the overall bill for her mother's medication. It pained her to think of deceiving Sydney, but she couldn't bear the thought of not being able to provide for her family. She felt emotionally torn and in the end, she knew her decision remained the same.

"I'll try to be back as soon as I can, okay?" Yn finally answered, brushing Sydney's hair away from her face, "But if I'm not, Barbara will be there."

Sydney pouted her lips in dejection and nodded, her eyes still pleading for Yn to come back early. But Yn merely frowned ruefully, knowing she had to go to the casino again tonight, just like every night, to earn the money she needed for her mother's treatments.

As Sydney walked into the school building, Yn stood outside, watching her step-sister disappear out of sight. She couldn't help but feel another pang of guilt for having to disappoint her stepsister like that. But she had to stay strong for her family. Everything was riding on her shoulder.

As she turned and waited for a bus, Yn couldn't help but feel a sense of dread. She was tired of deceiving her family, tired of returning home late past midnight, and tired of carrying the burden all by herself. But she reminded herself that she was doing it all for her mother. That thought alone gave her the strength to keep going.

In only a fraction of an hour, she had alighted from the bus and walked toward the cafe. Here, she was working a morning shift, since taking two jobs in one day was required for her to make enough money to stay afloat and pay her mother's medical expenses.

Yn made her way inside the building, her eyes scanning the familiar surroundings. There were only a few customers present at the moment, and she could see her co-workers bustling around in the kitchen and behind the counter.

After greeting her fellow coworkers, she made her way to the back of the cafe where the employees kept their belongings. She stripped off her coat and hung it up and wore the cafe company's apron over her casual clothing.

As Yn made her way to her assigned station, she couldn't help but feel a sense of numbness wash over her. She had been working non-stop for weeks and the exhaustion was starting to take its toll.

The day started busy as the morning rush began. She busied herself with serving the customers as a waitress, wiping down tables, and filling up condiment containers. She had been working as a waitress for a while now and she could say she was good at it. She was familiar with all the regular customers and knew exactly how they liked their coffee.

Eventually, the morning rush ended and the flow of customers coming in and out of the cafe since then had been slow. Yn's mind started to wander, thinking about her mother's treatments and the mounting bills that needed to be paid, feeling the weight of the responsibility on her shoulders.

As she was lost in thought, Yn felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around to see Edric, one of her coworkers standing behind her. Edric had always had a crush on her and despite her polite rejections, he continued to care for her at work. She was grateful for his worry, but she didn't want to give him false hope.

"Hey, Yn. You okay?" Edric asked with a concerned look on his face.

Yn forced a smile, "Yeah, I'm okay. Just a little tired, that's all."

Edric nodded, "Why don't you take a break? I'll cover for you."

Yn was hesitant. She was about to deny the offer when she remembered that she had another shift that night. She didn't get enough sleep too. So this offer was an opportunity for her to rest and have some shut-eye. She finally nodded to him, "Thanks, Edric. Tell me when the boss comes back, okay?"

Edric chuckled, "Trust me. Big boss won't come back anytime today. He is with his mistress in Thailand."

She walked to the back of the cafe and sat down on a chair. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves.

But as she sat there in silence, finally resting up her mind, body, and spirit, she took the time to encourage herself. She knew it wouldn't be easy, but she was willing to do whatever it takes to provide for her family. Plus, she was close to collecting the overall payment of her mother's treatment bills. She was so close. All she had to do was endure for one or two months.

As she sat there, she couldn't help but let her thoughts drift to the possibility of a better life. What if she didn't have to work herself to the bone every day? What if she had someone to lean on? Someone to share the burden with? Someone who could provide for her and her family?

That's when the face of a certain Frenchman entered her mind.

She laughed at herself for considering such an idea, as she must have been quite tired. Plus, the Marquis de Gramont appeared to be arrogant and unapproachable. It would have been a disaster to pair with someone like him. Yn was thankful that it was only a fleeting thought.

Once she had enough rest, she went outside to clock in for the day and complete her job until her shift was over. With a friendly farewell to her coworkers, she then left the cafe and hopped on a bus bound for Sydney's preschool to pick her up.

As she stepped off the bus, Yn spotted Sydney playing with the other kids in the playground. The little girl's face lit up as soon as she saw her big sister walking towards her and she immediately rushed off. With a big smile, Yn held her hand and asked, "Hey, Syd. Do you want to visit mom in the hospital?"

"Yes, I want!" enthused Sydney.

Yn smiled, happy to see her sister excited. She knew that visiting their mother would lift their spirits and give them the strength they needed to keep going.

Together, they made their way to the hospital. Yn held Sydney's hand tightly, guiding her through the busy corridors until they reached their mother's room. Their mother looked weak and frail, but her eyes lit up when she saw her daughters. Yn took a seat beside her mother while Sydney sat down on the bed next to her mother's thigh.

"Mom!" crowed Sydney, "Are you okay, mom?"

Their mother beamed radiantly and nodded, "I'm as okay as I can be."

"How are you feeling, Mom?" Yn asked, concern etched on her face.

"I'm okay, dear. Just a little bored of staying in bed for so long," her mother replied, "I bet I couldn't feel my legs if I ever get out of this bed."

"Why can't you get out of bed, mom?" asked Sydney.

Their mom leaned forward to gently comb the little girl's hair with her fingers, "Because I need to rest, my dearie. Anyway, how's school?"

Sydney's face lit up at the mention of school, "It's great, mom! We learned about space today. Did you know that there are billions of stars in the universe?"

Their mother smiled, happy to see her daughter's enthusiasm for learning, "That's amazing, sweetie. How many planets are there?"

Yn smiled at the exchange between her mother and sister, grateful for the moment of joy amidst the hardships. Sydney chattered away about her day as her mother listened with a smile. Yn watched them both with a sense of bittersweet longing, knowing that their time together in the hospital was limited. But she pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the present moment, enjoying the simple joy of being together with her family.

"Oh, but Yn," her mom suddenly addressed her, "Why do you look so tired? You got them bags under your eyes."

A fake smile etched Yn's lips as she replied, "It's nothing, mom."

Her mom's face was filled with worry and concern as a small frown creased her forehead. She could tell that her daughter was exhausted. It was obvious. She could even feel the exhaustion radiating from Yn. The latter did apprise her about having two jobs daily. She knew her job as a waitress in a cafe, but she was clueless about her night shift. It was a mystery to her - one that Yn refused to tell her till now.

"Yn, there's something you're not telling me. Please, tell me what's going on," her mother urged with a gentle tone.

Sydney's mood fell as she observed the two grown women conversing. Yn averted her gaze from her mother and said with a fake facade, "I'm just tired, mom. But I'm so close to collecting the full payment of your medical bills, mom. I just have to endure this for one or two months."

"That's great and all but please don't do anything degrading because of me," said the mother, "It would kill me."

"Then you have nothing to worry about," smiled Yn and this time it was genuine, "I found a job with a night shift that doesn't make me do bad stuff. All I have to do is just be a waitress for the night. It'll be okay, mom."

Her mother sighed, "Okay then. You can skip a day or two to get enough rest too. Don't overwork yourself."

Yn's smile nearly reached her eyes, and her nodding was subtle but sure. Her mother watched her quietly for a moment, perceiving the stubborn look on Yn's face that showed she would not rest until she had collected enough money to pay off the hospital bills.

Then her mother suddenly spoke, "If only there is a rich man who loves you and could provide for you. You wouldn't have to work two jobs and tire yourself out like this."

Yn was taken aback to hear her mother bring up a subject like this. Immediately, the tall frame and face of the Marquis de Gramont resounded in her mind. She bashfully glanced away and chuckled to herself in incredulity as it was quite a coincidence that she had met one of the wealthiest men in France just the night before and now her mother was talking about finding someone like that.

Yn chuckled, "Mom, I can take care of myself and you two just fine. And love doesn't just come from money."

"I know that, dear," her mother replied with a smile, "I just want you to be happy and not have to work so hard."

Yn nodded, appreciating her mother's concern. She knew that her mother only wanted the best for her, but finding a rich man to take care of her wasn't exactly a priority. Her focus was on taking care of her family and making sure they were okay.

"I'll be okay, Mom. Don't worry," Yn reassured her mother with a small smile.

As the visit came to an end, Yn and Sydney hugged their mother tightly and promised to visit again soon. The both of them then made their way out of the hospital, hand in hand, and boarded a bus together to their apartment.

Once inside the apartment, Rosie greeted them with a pur. Yn checked the wall clock and realized she had two hours left to prepare before her night shift at the casino at eight o'clock in the evening. She had to call up Barbara again to take care of Sydney who was eating the donuts Yn brought from the cafe she worked the morning shift at.

She headed to her bedroom and shut the door, not wanting the little girl to overhear her. She then made the call and informed Barbara about the situation and needed her help once more. Barbara agreed to babysit Sydney again and would come by in a matter of minutes. With their conversation done, Yn went to her room to change and get ready for her night shift.

Yn was finally dressed and ready to leave in her long trench coat, but she decided to stay for a little while longer and watched a movie with Sydney. When Barbara showed up, Yn kissed Sydney on the forehead as a farewell and left, trying to ignore the guilt that bubbled up inside her upon seeing Sydney's despondent face at being babysat again.

As she entered the casino, Yn felt a sense of familiarity wash over her. She had been working there for months now, and it was her only source of income, apart from the café job. The casino was bustling with activity and she could hear the sound of slot machines in the background.

She went straight for the staff's changing room and met with her fellow bunny-girls. All of them seemed chaotic. More murmurs and chatters filled the room than usual. Just as Yn reached her makeup table, Emily rushed towards her and said, "Oh my God, Yn! Everyone knows now!"

"Know what?" quizzed Yn with wide eyes in curiosity and puzzlement.

"About the Marquis being our owner," Emily took a deep breath as if she had run a marathon to get to her makeup table, "Mr. Malone told some of us to be fast and gather at the lobby so we have to get ready early. He hasn't told us but the staff have already heard about the rumors."

Yn was probably the first person to know about that so she wasn't all that surprised. Though, she hadn't known about another assembly soon so she hurriedly started her skincare routine and makeup. Emily once again helped her by hanging her bunny costume next to her table.

Once their makeup and hair were done, Yn and the other bunny-girls headed out to the lobby to meet with Mr. Malone and the other staff members such as the bouncers, the kitchen staffs, and the cleaning service staffs. The lobby was already packed with customers since the casino had never closed since Yn finished her shift. As she advanced towards Mr. Malone, who was already standing there awaiting them, the woman couldn't help but feel a bit apprehensive.

"Alright," Mr. Malone began, "Good evening, everyone."

"Good evening," chorused the rest of the staffs.

"I have very exciting news for all of you," he stated with a beam, "Some of you may have heard it. Well, let me say this. It's all true. From now on, the Marquis de Gramont from France will be our owner and I will remain as the managing director. He will bring our casino to a whole new level with his resources and influence."

Some of the staffs glanced at one another, each one having their own opinion about having a new boss or having a question such as what kind of person he was. Mr. Malone continued, surveying the reaction of the employees, "I know some of you may have reservations or questions, but I assure you that he is a great man who cares for those under him. He has even given me a huge amount of money to be distributed to each and every one of you as a bonus."

There were gasps and cheers from the staff as they heard about the bonus. An applause resounded throughout the casino as they all were evidently jubilant upon hearing it. Yn also felt relieved about the bonus she's getting as she would need it so much for her mother's hospital bills.

"Also," added Mr. Malone, "One more thing. The VIP room will no longer be open to anyone. The Marquis wants to turn it into his office. Well, because..."

"Because I like the room."

A male voice, thick with a French accent, suddenly enacted from behind all of the staffs. All eyes were thrown in that direction and those who knew him were astounded to see it was the Marquis de Gramont in the flesh, striding towards them from the entrance door with his hands in his pants pocket. His bodyguard was following behind him. He was donning a three-piece suit again; this time the suit jacket was sparkly black, the waistcoat was black with glinting checkered texture, and his tie and shirt were both gray.

He was obviously the tallest person among them all as he reached them and stood behind the employees. He continued speaking, "And... the abstract painting inside it is what I want to see every day."

Yn couldn't help but be mesmerized by his striking appearance, admiring how the suit hugged his body in all the right places. Apparently, the others were feeling the same way too as they were nonplussed to see him among them. He stood out the most, even among the rich patrons of the casino.

"Sir!" Mr. Malone was startled as well upon seeing him, "I didn't know you were here already. You told me you would be late tonight."

The Marquis started advancing forward and the employees began to part a path for him like the Red Sea for Moses. With his hands in his pockets, he proceeded to the front, moving towards Mr. Malone when suddenly, his gaze shifted to the side and looked straight at Yn. He did not even scan through the staffs and look for her. It's as if he knew where exactly she was. It's like he had already looked for her beforehand.

Yn's heart skipped a beat as the Marquis's eyes met hers. She suddenly felt self-conscious in her revealing bunny costume. The Marquis' gaze was intense, almost as if he could see right through her. His eyes were an icy green, framed by dark lashes that made them appear even more piercing than usual. His expression was unreadable yet powerful. She felt as though he could see right through her as if he knew every thought that ran through her mind.

The Marquis' gaze lingered on her for a moment before he cast his eyes away and addressed Mr. Malone while striding at a slow pace towards him, "I did. But I finished it up as soon as possible to attend your assembly."

Mr. Malone coughed nervously, "Glad to hear it, sir. I was just telling the staff about you. It's great that you could make it here."

The Marquis stood next to Mr. Malone, facing the staffs around them, and said, "Of course. I would hate to miss this. Good evening."

"Good evening," all of the staffs answered back simultaneously.

"A pleasure to meet all of you," the Marquis said, his voice was spoken slowly yet with great charisma and smoothness that attracted everyone's attention. His French accent was thick as he added, "I am excited to work alongside all of you. I have a vision for this establishment, and I believe that together we can accomplish great things."

Yn couldn't help but feel a shiver run down her spine as the Marquis's gaze swept over her once more. There was something about him that made her feel nervous and intimidated.

"Great!" Mr. Malone spoke up, "Now, allow me to introduce each of the staff to you, sir."

As the Marquis and Mr. Malone walked around and got to know the workers, Yn observed how the bunny-girls behaved towards them as they were being introduced to the Frenchman.

"This is Sabrina, one of our most popular bunny-girls here," said Mr. Malone, gesturing to the busty lady in a bunny costume as he and the Marquis moved along the staffs' line.

Sabrina smiled flirtatiously and extended one hand out towards the Marquis, "I'm Sabrina. It's a pleasure to meet you, monsieur beau."

The Marquis raised an eyebrow, even glancing at her hand for a second or two, before taking her hand. His other hand was placed inside his pants pocket. The two of them exchanged handshakes and he replied with a smile, "Likewise."

The Marquis and Mr. Malone then moved to the next bunny-girl and the managing director spoke up, "This is Rachel. She is a very quiet girl."

Just like how he did with the other staffs, the Marquis shook hands again with Rachel who refused to make eye contact with him. His free left hand was still hidden in his pocket. The same thing happened to the other employees until both of them finally reached Yn.

Once the two of them stood before Yn, Mr. Malone began, "And this is-"

"Yn Ln," the Marquis uttered her full name out of the blue, cutting off Mr. Malone. The Marquis took a step closer to Yn and said with a cunning smile as he looked down at her, "It is a pleasure to see you again."

"It's nice to meet you too, sir," replied the anxious Yn as she grasped his hand which was reaching out to her. She then shook hands with the Frenchman, ignoring the way his hand felt huge against hers.

Suddenly, his free left hand was brought out of his pocket and he placed it atop Yn's hand which was still shaking with his right one. Both of his hands were covering hers and it filled her skin with warmth which she was uncertain if she liked it or not. His action caught her off guard and baffled her as he didn't do this to anyone before her. It seemed extra and unnecessary.

She felt every burning eye on them, watching their interaction. That made her feel all the more insecure. She didn't want to attract any attention, but the Marquis made it impossible. For a second she thought about running away to hide but she knew that would make her seem all the more embarrassing.

The Marquis' smirk widened as he kept a watchful stare on her. His fingers, which were on top of the back of her hand, then gave a few pats to her skin and he nodded at her while saying, "Let's work together."

Yn nodded her head with uncertainty, "Yeah..."

The Marquis' smile widened in satisfaction before he let her hand go. With a last piercing stare at her, the Marquis walked to the next bunny-girl and Mr. Malone introduced Emily to him. This time, the Frenchman shook hands with her normally, with his other hand hidden in his pocket.

As the Marquis continued to get to know the casino workers personally, Yn observed him quietly. She couldn't shake off the strange feeling that he gave her. There was something about him, something dark and mysterious that she couldn't quite put her finger on. She watched him move through the crowd with ease, his confidence and charisma drawing everyone towards him.

"Where's Amelia?" asked Sophia to the bunny-girls nearby.

"She texted me," answered Emma, "She said she's going to take a break today."

Emily spoke up, "Does she know about the Marquis being our owner now?"

"Yes, and she was so shocked she burnt herself while cooking," clarified Emma, "We were calling when I told her about it."

The Marquis and Mr. Malone then stood on the previous spot after having the former get to know the employees personally. The Marquis put on a friendly smile and said, "Thank you, everyone, for the warm welcome. I can tell that this is going to be a successful collaboration between us."

The staff members all smiled and nodded, some more enthusiastic than others. Yn couldn't help but feel a wave of anxiety wash over her as she realized that the Marquis would be her new boss - and she didn't know anything about him.

"Is there anything else you would like to do, sir?" asked Mr. Malone, "Before I dismiss them?"

"No, that would be all," replied the Marquis.

"Very well," Mr. Malone then turned to the employees and announced, "You heard him, everyone. You are dismissed. Now, chop chop! Give them two hundred percent! And don't forget your mask, ladies."

The staff members of the casino dispersed in an instant, each one headed straight for their station or their next task. Yn immediately walked off to grab a mask for herself. She had just put on a mask when Emily grabbed her arm and inquired her with wide eyes full of curiosity, "Hey, what was that about?"

Yn knew what she was implying but she still asked, "What was what?"

"You and the Marquis," pointed out Emily. Her black eyes looked deep into Yn's eyes as the former said, "The way he talked with you was so different."

"Em," Yn answered, "It was nothing. He was just being friendly."

Emily retaliated, "Being friendly is not like that! You know that trend on Tiktalk with the words, 'Stop looking at me with those eyes'? That's how he looked at you!"

"That's absurd," responded Yn as she walked towards the roulette table to tend to it, seeing the customers were already flocking around it.

"No, I saw it!" pressed Emily, "He was practically undressing you with his eyes!"

Yn couldn't deny the shiver that ran down her spine at the thought, but she brushed it off and focused on her job. She had to put the Marquis out of her mind as it was time for work.

She greeted the customers politely, even smiling although her mouth was concealed by the black mask she was donning, and announced she would be the dealer of the roulette table. Once the customers had placed their bets and chips, she began spinning the roulette wheel, calling out the numbers as they landed.

At one point, she had to wait for a customer to count his remaining chips and she looked around the casino, noting the busy yet fun atmosphere around them as the patrons gambled their savings away. That was when her eyes landed on the door of the VIP room.

The Marquis de Gramont stood tall and imposing with an air of authority and power as he commanded several foreign workers renovating the room as his office. She could see the paintings being brought in, framed in ornate gold frames, ready to be hung on the wall. He stood there silently, observing the workers around him as they went about their work. Then he chanced a glance in her direction and stared directly at her.

His gaze was intense, almost as if she was a painting and he was studying her from afar. She quickly tore her eyes away and resumed dealing with the game, trying to ignore the burning sensation in her cheeks. She could feel the Marquis' gaze on her, watching her every move. She tried to ignore it, but it was impossible.

As the night progressed, more customers came in, and Yn found herself getting busier by the minute. She barely had time to take a break, and when she did, it was only for a few minutes to catch her breath and drink some water.

After a few hours of work, Yn's shift ended. She was exhausted and eager to go home. Still in her revealing bunny costume and donning a black mask over her nose and mouth, she headed towards the staff's changing room when she realized there was a certain, noticeable change in her pathway.

A massive abstract painting hung on the wall of the open hallway leading to the changing room, easily visible from the main hall of the casino. Some of the patrons stood and chatted in front of it. The people around the painting whispered in awe and admiration, their hushed tones muffled by the sound of slot machines and other games in the casino.

Yn slowed down to a stop in front of the abstract art. With a pair of wide eyes of surprise, she stared up at the painting. Her entire body was facing it as she quietly admired it, mesmerized by the colors and shapes that seemed to dance before her eyes. As she stood there, she felt a presence behind her and turned to see the Marquis de Gramont standing tall, his eyes locked on her.

"Caught your eye?" he said, his voice low and smooth.

"Yeah..." she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

That's when the Marquis moved from behind Yn, slowly circling her and scanning her up close with his eyes. His eyes were unblinking as he slowly walked around her in a slow, counter-clockwise circle. He moved gracefully and with purpose, like a predator sizing up its prey. His gaze seemed to be studying her from all angles as if she was a prized possession.

Yn felt on edge as his eyes scanned her upside down and could almost feel the intensity of his gaze as if she was an art piece admired by him. His presence felt oppressive and overwhelming, and it was at that moment she truly felt what Emily had told her.

"He was practically undressing you with his eyes!"

"I bought it hours ago from a very talented artist," the Marquis said as he was still circling around her. His heavy French accent added a touch of sophistication to his words.

At some point, he tore his gaze away from Yn. His eyes became dark and cold as he glanced at the men nearby. His stare was ominous and serious, radiating an aura of power that commanded respect and screamed murder as if he was wordlessly telling them to scram. His presence was intimidating and oppressive and it made Yn feel smothered despite how huge the space was.

With his dark eyes locked on the people surrounding them, he continued speaking to the lady he ensnared and circled around on, "It represents the chaos and unpredictability of life. I find it quite fitting for a casino."

As Yn absorbed the Marquis's words, she couldn't help but feel a chill creep up her spine. The juxtaposition of his suave demeanor and the underlying sense of danger in his presence left her feeling trapped, like prey caught in a predator's snare.

Yn's voice trembled slightly as she responded with uncertainty, "It does look... nice..."

The Marquis's lips curled into a subtle, knowing smile as he glanced back at Yn, still circling around her leisurely and invading her personal space.

His voice, still low and smooth, resonated in her ears like a whisper laced with hidden intentions, "Yes, chaos has a certain charm, wouldn't you say? It pulls people in and seduces them with its tempting nature. And in this building of gamblers and dreamers, chaos reigns supreme."

Yn felt a surge of unease ripple through her as the Marquis' words echoed in her mind. There was something unnerving about what he said. It's as if he was hinting at something to her. Something so obvious to him yet so obscure to her. If she pondered about it so simply, only one thing crossed her mind. And it's downright sinful and filthy. There’s no way he was implying that, she thought.

As Yn stood there, enveloped in the Marquis' aura, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was far more to him than met the eye. The art, the chaos, the intensity of his gaze - all seemed to be pieces of a larger puzzle, one she wasn't sure she was ready to unravel.

While circling her and arriving behind her, the Marquis leaned in even closer to Yn, his hot breath tickling the back of her neck. She could feel his body heat radiating off of him, and her heart raced as his lips brushed against her ear.

"Tell me, ma lapine," he whispered as he looked from her seductive bunny costume to her eyes, "Do you like to take risks?"

Yn's heart pounded in her chest. She did not understand what 'ma lapine' meant. Her voice was barely audible as she responded, "I don’t..."

Her response hung in the air, her voice filled with trepidation. The Marquis pulled back slightly, his intense gaze still fixed on her.

"Don't what?" he asked, his tone laced with curiosity and a hint of amusement.

Yn hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. She felt trapped in the Marquis' web of intrigue, unsure of his intentions and the risks that lay ahead. Taking a deep breath, she mustered her courage and decided to respond honestly.

"I don't know if I like to take risks," Yn admitted, her voice wavering. "I've always been cautious."

The Marquis, just arriving in front of her while circling, regarded her for a moment, his expression inscrutable. Then, a small smile played at the corners of his lips.

"I can see you like to play it safe. But it can be tiresome," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of mischief. "Sometimes, the most exhilarating moments in life come when we dare to step out of our comfort zones."

Yn stayed quiet, knowing that he was somewhat right, but she could not find it in herself to take any risk. Not when the consequence of her failure may result in her mother’s fall to her illness. No. She had to remain cautious, even if she was so close to earning enough money for the full payment for her mother’s medical treatment.

Yn responded, her voice clearly laced with wariness, "But it's also important to consider the consequences.”

The Marquis chuckled softly, his gaze never leaving hers.

"Ah, consequences," he mused, his voice carrying a note of intrigue. "They are indeed part of the equation. But sometimes, the rewards outweigh the risks. It all depends on how far you're willing to go."

He stopped his circle around Yn and stood beside her. He inched closer to her and whispered, “Don’t worry. I will help you know the pleasure of taking a risk.”

That was when she felt warm skin touch her back. She did not have to look to know it was the Marquis’ hand. He slowly moved the aforementioned limb to her waist and grasped it, sensing that his hand fit there perfectly. The Marquis chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that sent shivers down Yn's spine.

"Tonight is the perfect night to find out," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

Yn's eyes gradually widened in terror as she registered his words. She took a step away from him, feeling a surge of fear coursing through her veins, and his hand was released from her waist. At that moment, she felt a deep sense of unease and danger. She was now certain that the Marquis de Gramont's intentions were far from innocent, and she realized she had unknowingly stumbled into a precarious situation.

Fear gripped Yn as she realized she was alone with this mysterious man in a secluded open hallway of the casino. The art viewers surrounding them moments ago had disappeared without her notice. She glanced around, hoping to find an escape route or someone who could help her, but the casino seemed to be engulfed in its own world of oblivious gamblers.

Knowing that she had to do something to save herself, Yn mustered her strength and replied, her voice shaky but determined, "I... I'm sorry, but I have to go."

The Marquis smirked as if he found her denial funny, his eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and something far more lustful and sinister. His voice was laced with a subtle threat as he said, "Oh, but the night is young."

Yn's instincts screamed at her to leave, to escape from this unsettling encounter. She glanced around, searching for an exit, but the Marquis positioned himself between her and the nearest door. Panic began to take hold as she realized the gravity of her situation.

"Please, I need to go," she said, her voice a tad stronger now, though it trembled slightly.

Not waiting for any response, Yn swiftly sidestepped the Marquis and briskly walked away, her heart pounding in her chest. She couldn't shake off the feeling of his eyes burning into her back as she hurried towards the staff's changing room.

Just as she opened the door, the Marquis' voice, thick with his French accent, spoke up, "Cherish this moment, ma lapine. It may be the last time you can escape."

Yn's hand froze on the doorknob, and she slowly turned her head to look back at the Marquis. He was standing with his whole body facing her, his hands on his hips, exuding an aura of ominous confidence as if he knew everything would go his way eventually. His gaze pierced through her, and a chill ran down her spine. She could sense a dark and malevolent undertone in his words as if he was hinting at something far more sinister than she could comprehend.

Without uttering another word, Yn quickly entered the changing room and closed the door behind her. Once safely inside, she locked the door behind her and leaned against it, her breathing heavy and rapid. She was relieved that the room was devoid of anyone. The encounter had left her shaken and wary, but she knew she needed to act fast.

Yn quickly changed out of her bunny costume, discarding it and the black mask. She retrieved her belongings and decided it was best to leave the casino immediately. As she stepped out onto the bustling streets, she couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched, as if the Marquis's intense gaze was still fixed upon her.

Determined to put the encounter behind her, Yn hastened her steps to make it back home. She hopped onto the bus that she normally took and plopped down on one of its seats. Despite her efforts, thoughts of her earlier encounter with the Marquis de Gramont filled her mind: his piercing gaze and sinister words refused to go away. To take her mind off things, Yn shifted her gaze out the window where the city lights streaked past in a colorful blur.

The bus ride felt longer than usual, and Yn's unease only grew with each passing moment. She couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, as if the Marquis was somehow still present, his presence lingering in the shadows. Soon enough, in minutes, the bus finally arrived at her stop and Yn hastily got off.

Walking briskly through the dimly lit streets, Yn couldn't help but glance over her shoulder every now and then, her senses on high alert. The night seemed eerily quiet, and she couldn't shake off the feeling of being followed. Her footsteps quickened as she made her way toward her apartment building, her heart pounding in her chest.

Finally reaching the safety of her building, Yn loosened up a bit as she stepped into the well-lit lobby. She greeted the security guard with a tense smile, trying to appear calm and composed despite the fear gnawing at her insides. She hurriedly made her way to the elevator, pressing the button repeatedly, urging it to arrive faster.

As the elevator doors closed and she ascended to her floor, Yn's mind was still consumed by thoughts of the Marquis. She wondered what he had meant by his parting words and what kind of situation she had unwittingly walked into. The encounter had left her shaken and wary of everything that moved, and she couldn't help but question her own safety.

Finally reaching her apartment, Yn quickly unlocked the door and stepped inside, immediately feeling a sense of relief as she closed and locked it behind her. She leaned against the door, taking a moment to catch her breath and calm her racing thoughts. It was in the safety of her own space that she could begin to process the events of the night.

Suddenly, a meow was heard in the silence of the apartment and Yn jumped in complete fright, yelping quietly, before she glanced down and realized it was her cat, Rosie. She was innocently moving closer to the spooked owner and brushed her body against Yn's legs.

"Yn?"

Yn brought her eyes up from the floor and looked to see it was Barbara. The latter stared at her in bewilderment and curiosity and quizzed her, "What's wrong? You look like you saw a ghost."

Yn took a deep breath, trying to steady herself and regain composure. She realized that she must have appeared quite shaken to Barbara, and she didn't want to alarm her cousin unnecessarily.

"It's... it's nothing," Yn replied, forcing a smile onto her face. "I just had a strange encounter at work."

Barbara's eyebrows furrowed with concern. "What happened?"

Yn faked a smile and shook her head as if wordlessly indicating to not ask any questions. She said, "Nothing. Where is Sydney?"

Barbara gestured to the little girl's bedroom and replied, "Asleep in her bedroom..."

Yn let out a sigh and told, "Okay. Thanks, Barbara."

The cousin stared at her quietly, clearly getting the message that Yn did not want to talk about whatever it was that bothered her.

"Alright," Barbara grabbed her belongings and went to the door. She turned to Yn and said with a stretched smile, "Just call me if you ever need help or a friend. Take care of yourself, okay?"

Yn smiled gratefully at Barbara's offer of support, "Okay. Thank you again, Bar."

Barbara nodded and exited the apartment, leaving Yn alone with her thoughts. After ensuring that Sydney was sound asleep, Yn decided to pour herself a glass of water in the kitchen. As she stood by the sink, she took a few deep breaths, trying to calm her racing thoughts.

As she sipped her water, Yn pondered for a long while in the safety of her humble abode. She knew that no matter what, she had to return to the casino the following evening. Much as she disliked it, she needed the job more than she wanted to admit, even though the Marquis was her boss.

After a long contemplation, she arrived to a conclusion. Her plan was simple: stay away from him. Avoid being in close proximity with him and avoid any chance of having to talk to with him at all. Make sure she never found herself alone inside the casino walls. She would do whatever it took to keep her distance from him, no matter the cost.

Once she got enough money for the payment of her mother's medical bills, she would quit and leave the casino without looking back.

PREV : Chapter 01

NEXT : Chapter 03

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[arthenaa]

histoire de toi et moi— sebastian sallow x fem! reader

summary: you recall the times in your life that you slowly fell in love with sebastian sallow.

dedication to @alreagwaine from @localravenclaw ♡

content warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, minors are highly discouraged from reading. p in v sex, riding, foreplay, seb being in love w u for most of his life, disgusting cringe fluff, you are d epitome of elegance in this omf, sebastian sallow if he was written by louisa may alcott and a sprinkle of jane austen (i may have channeled laurie from little women on this), projecting as imelda, angst if you squint, kiss kiss mwa mwa i love this man

note: enjoy the ride!! 14k word childhood friends to lovers got me feeling all types of ways,,, anys here hehe mwa mwa enjoy

You have known Sebastian most of your life.

It all started when you were merely 7 years old.

It was your parents’ fault really. The Sallows often frequented your home as a result of your parents’ close relationship. You often found comfort in the quiet halls of your manor; loving its tranquility and ambiance. The head maid, in charge of your care, often joked that if you had stayed inside longer you might have become one of those scary creatures your father liked to scare your brother about. It was also the reason why your mother often chastised you. You were closed off as a child and often clung to your mother’s skirts at the prospect of finding friendship in the little humans around you.

Your father would laugh it off, claiming it was just a little phase and that your mother should have nothing to worry about. Your mother didn’t quite like that at all and got even more motivated in letting you (more like forcing, honestly) come with her to social gatherings for mothers. But alas, despite multiple tries and different approaches, you had found yourself once again in the comforts of your home.

You thought that it would end. That your mother would finally get tired of finding you a friend. That horrendous act of her trying to convince you to play with Lady Weasley’s child who had just erupted into tears at your cold glare, was going to be the last of her attempts.

You were wrong, clearly.

“Oh, Astoria, Sean! Do come in!” You hear your mother’s delighted gasp of surprise at the visitors by the door. You peer into the baluster of the staircase, eyes staring in curiosity at the entrance of unfamiliar figures. You watch as they admire the interior of your manor. You almost feel proud of their faces of admiration. After all, your great grandfather was responsible for the beautification of your ancestral home. You allow yourself to focus on the task at hand as you hear your mother’s voice once more. “I trust the journey wasn’t a bit too rough?”

Astoria, the one you deduced was the woman, smiled as she faced your mother. “Oh, no worries! It was a breeze, darling. Travel will be easy here once Sebastian and Anne enroll in Hogwarts.”

“Ah yes, Y/N will surely be delighted to meet them.” You let out a little groan at your mother’s words. Your father, ever the perceptive person that he is, glanced behind him and up at where you were seated on the staircase. He smiles at you to which you respond with a finger against your lips in an attempt to not alert your scheming mother. The man winks, nose scrunching as he plays by your rules.

At least your father was tolerable. He often spoiled you with affection– an annoying habit of his that you always tried to correct. You were a big girl and your little brother needed the coddling more than you. As your eyes leave your father’s figure, your attention shifts to the two small physiques sticking close to the unfamiliar visitors.

You tilt your head in curiosity. While most children you’ve met were either too shy or too rowdy, these kids looked decently behaved as they stood beside their parents with shy smiles. Their body language didn’t give off too many closed vibes but it didn’t speak volumes of confidence as well. Just the right amount.

Unaware of your staring, you immediately lock eyes with the boy standing beside his mother. His brown eyes seemed to lock dead on with yours causing you to flinch and hide behind the newel post of the staircase. That seemed to be the signal for your mother as she looked behind her and caught the lingering fabric of your dress, rendering your attempts to hide a failure.

She sends the boy a sweet smile before calling out for you. “Y/N? Come down here please, darling. We have visitors!”

Silence lapses the foyer as they await for your response to your mother’s call. You bite your lip, hoping that your lack of answer would drive your mother’s need for your presence. You try to curl in on yourself as you hide behind the post of the staircase.

You hear your father’s chuckles accompanied by your mother’s chastising before she asks him to fetch you. It was absolutely comical for him apparently. Seeing you try to hide yourself when it just looks like a pup hiding with its tail sticking out. You see your father’s warm figure ascend the stairs with an arm reached out. Your shoulders drop in disappointment as you look up at your father for help. He only tilts his head in sympathy before you let out a sigh, grabbing onto his hand and letting him lead you down the set of stairs.

You lock eyes with your mother who sends you a pointed look. You glance away, not having the energy to deal with her. You cling to your father’s hand as he walks back to his spot beside your mother. The visitors greet you with sweet smiles and warm deportment. You could almost scoff at the ludicrosity of it all before you lock eyes with the boy once more.

He has a bold gaze in his eyes. Brown sparkling and vibrant as it meets yours. You could almost hear yourself gulp as you take a step back, hiding behind your father. The boy only smiles at your shy demeanor.

“Well, it would be rude of us if we didn’t introduce ourselves to the little lady of the house, right?” Astoria crouches down to your height, pulling the boy into her side as she looks at you like how your mother would. It almost pulls you out of your shell– the definite warmth of a mother lulling you into a safe space.

“We’re the Sallows.” She starts off. “I’m Astoria and that big man beside me is Sean. Don’t worry, he's harmless.”

Your lips turn up slightly as the man squints at his wife’s jesting. Your father gently pats your head to further reassure you.

The woman continues, nudging her head to the little girl bouncing on the balls of her feet beside Sean. “This is Anne, I think you’ll get along quite well–”

“Hi!” She interrupts her mother causing you to flinch. You curl back onto yourself, not used to the sudden burst of energy. Noticing your discomfort, she smiles sheepishly and apologizes for her loud behavior. The grown ups laugh at her adorableness before Astoria moves on to the boy who seemingly cannot take his eyes off of you. Whether she notices it or not, she doesn’t mention it.

You watch as the same brown eyes light up at the chance of being introduced to you. It’s like a dog waiting for its owner to allow it to run on its own.

You could almost feel a sweat drop at the excited energy he’s emitting from his position as he awaits his mother’s introduction of him. Astoria chuckles as she ruffles his curls. “And this is Sebastian. A bit mischievous but behaved nonetheless. Takes after me so you won’t find it hard to ease in around him.”

Another jest towards him, Sean can’t help but sigh and playfully roll his eyes. He seems to mouth something towards your father who jokingly nods in understanding. Whatever, that doesn’t seem to be of importance right now. Said boy walks towards you in two long strides causing you to step back in surprise.

“I’m Sebastian.” He repeats his name, arm reaching out towards you. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

“I know. Lady Sallow introduced you.” You retort in a calm manner. The boy chuckles at your cold facade.

“I just wanted to make sure,” His nose scrunches in playfulness. You huff in apprehension at his forward personality. “And you are?”

Your hand reaches out to grab his, further solidifying a prospect of a new found friendship. You purse your lips as you introduce yourself. “Y/N Y/L/N. No nicknames by the way, just Y/N.”

He hums before sounding out your name. You should’ve noticed back then that the boy in front of you already had your heart in his grasp the moment you locked eyes with him but you suppose a child’s mind shouldn’t have any precise knowledge of what love is.

Carefree and subservient to the influences of the world around her– You were only a mere child introduced to the possibility of a new friend. You definitely couldn’t come to a realization that early.

You hear your parents gushing about your openness to the twins but it doesn’t linger in your mind as you allow yourself to focus on the boy in front of you. He smiles so widely as he discusses his interests and hobbies so intently with you. You could only listen with wholeheartedness.

You first met Sebastian Sallow when you were 7 years old. A seed planted on untouched soil. You didn’t know what this boy could entail for your future nevertheless, you allow him to be part of your life.

You were 10 years old when you realized that Sebastian was here to stay.

In the comforts of your manor’s library, you, Sebastian and Anne were dawdling around (well more of Anne, honestly) as you allowed the grown ups to do whatever it is that they do in one of the receiving rooms. You’re too engrossed with your book as the three of you sat on one of the corners of the numerous shelves of the library.

Anne grumbles beside you. “This is boring.”

“Then go outside, Anne.” You calmly reply as you turn another page. You were faintly aware of Sebastian’s missing figure beside you. He had mumbled a while ago on finding another book to busy himself with.

You had found yourself more in tune with the Sallow boy. Probably because of your shared interests in reading and learning. Your mother couldn’t be more proud at the sight of you finally conversing with people your age. She was worried that your peers would only be limited to your parents and the staff of the manor– Not that she would mind, the employees adore you as their little lady. She was more worried that you would grow older mind-wise with the amount of grown ups you're acquainted with.

“But I want to be with you, Y/N!” She whines like the child that she is, clutching your arm in her embrace as she rests her head on your shoulder. You had grown desensitized to Anne’s need for physical affection. The first few months were a nightmare. Mrs. Sallow would often compare you to a cat as she watches you escape Anne’s grasp. She joked about expecting to see scratches on Anne after comparing you to a feline. You only stared at her with your usual deadpan look.

You sigh as you close your book, making sure to tuck your bookmark between the pages before settling your eyes down at the younger Sallow. “Whatever shall I do to quench your ennui, dearest Anne?”

She could hear the sarcastic tone in your voice as she raised her head to look at you. It doesn’t weaken her resolve however. “Don’t you and Sebastian ever get tired of being surrounded by books? The boring scent of ink and paper has me lightheaded and weak.”

She makes a point to dramatically lean her weight to yours, the back of her hand on her forehead to add exaggeration. You roll your eyes at her as you nudge her body away from yours. Before you could even answer, the boy who had been missing mere moments ago suddenly chimes in from your other side.

“Oh, stop pestering her, Anne! She’d scratch you for real this time.” Sebastian quips from your side as he sits down on the makeshift lounge area that the three of you constructed with pillows and a blanket. You snap your head towards him as he looks at you with a boyish grin.

“You better stop that joke. It’s overused.” You glare at him as he opens a new book he got from wherever he went. After his mother made that little gag, he had taken the opportunity to further harass you with it. He had even developed a little nickname for you inspired by it.

“If you win against me in gobstones, perhaps I’ll let it go, Kit.” He smirks as he pinches your cheek to which you smack the boy’s hand away. He told you he had derived it from the word ‘kitten.’ It was a bad nickname and a word that meant anything other than the word kitten. You had told him about its absurdness and lack of creativity and that people would probably mistake it for a fox or a rabbit or worse, a weasel. He only shrugged in response and told you that it's fine as you probably looked like a kit of any animal with how adorable you were.

You had almost smacked him for his ill-mannered words.

“Are you guys excited about getting your letters?” Anne randomly interrupts as she leans back on her hands behind her back, eyes staring up at the ceiling littered with changing constellations. Your mother was an avid fan of astrology and had installed a ceiling that copied the state of the stars no matter what day it was. It was quite amazing to look at and even gave off the real feel of the night sky.

Your hands situate themselves on your lap as your eyes glance towards the window, watching as drops of rain hit the glass pane.

“Of course. It’s all Mom and Dad ever wanted.” Sebastian answers beside you, eyes still not leaving the piece of literature within his hands. Anne and Sebastian’s parents were professors themselves in Hogwarts. You imagine how hard the academic pressure must be for them.

Anne nods in understanding. “Hm. I know we’ll get in. I have no doubts about that.”

She then turns to you, expecting an answer. “What about you, Y/N?”

Sebastian turns to you as well, interested in your answer. The twins had come to know you as an aloof and closed off person. You had only shown the surface of your personality to everyone that you’ve met and both had made it their goal to dig deeper in that cold shell of yours. Your eyes continue to watch the pitter patter of rain from the window.

“I mean, it’s expected of me as a witch, no?” You reply as if it was an automatic response in your brain. You turn towards the twins with a subtle smile. “It’s either Hogwarts or nothing. Of course I’d be delighted to receive an acceptance letter.”

The two fall silent at your reply, eyes glancing at each other before turning back to you. You feel yourself tense up, thinking that maybe you had said the wrong thing before both twins erupt into laughter. They had even shoved each other as they laughed boisterously. You flush at their reaction.

Your parents had commented that you were too serious for your age and often wondered if you were your father’s mother reincarnated. You retorted that it was disrespectful to joke about your grandmother like that and they had only laughed in response. At that time, you thought that they were only joking around but now that you face the same exact situation except with people outside of your family, you begin to feel shy and embarrassed for being too serious about things.

You cover the lower half of your face with the back of your hand as an attempt to hide your flushed face but Anne dives in your arms and settles on your lap, hugging your waist. Sebastian smiles at the sight before moving close to pinch your nose.

“H-hey! Don’t you think it’s enough teasing for today?” Your voice stutters as you glare at him. If it was your usual menacing face, Sebastian would’ve stopped then and there but with the way your face contorted into a look of shyness and embarrassment, he was basically long gone in attempting to stop himself from further digging his own grave.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. I won’t tell our schoolmates you act like a 70-year old grandma most of the time,” He whispers jokingly which earned a harsh slap on his arm. He yelped at the sudden act of violence which prompted a series of giggles from the girl on your lap.

“Stop teasing her, Seb! She’ll look like a tomato by the time you’re done with her.” Anne comes to your defense albeit in a teasing manner. You fall your fist gently on the top of her head but with enough force to reprimand the giggling gal on your lap. You let out a sigh as you watch the two chuckling in their own bubble.

You listen in on their quips about you as they chortle with lighthearted words and hearty laughter. Normally, you would berate them for their words and their audacity to even joke about you. You would even send them to their parents with tails tucked between their legs and tears running down their face but as you watch their face filled with joy, you could only smile at the warm atmosphere of it all.

Ah. Have I been too lax on these two?

It seems that you’ve failed to hide your fond look when Anne points it out with her loud voice. “Did you just smile?!”

The corners of your lips drop down in surprise before you open your book once more as an attempt to hide yourself. Anne scrambles up from your lap as she pulls the annoying object from your hands to stare at your face.

“Sebastian, she just smiled!” Anne squeals as she wraps her arms around your neck, pulling you in a bone crushing hug. You try to remove yourself from the tight grip around you but a force pushes you down on the pile of pillows and blankets.

Sebastian had taken it upon himself to add to your little hug-fest as he encases both of you in his arms. There was a moment of silence before the three of you erupt into laughter. It was as if the sound of your laughter had warmed their hearts as the twins pulled you closer in their arms.

You suppose getting used to this wasn’t so bad after all.

You were only 12 when Sebastian and Anne’s parents passed away.

You were in your second year when it happened. It was before the start of the semester and your manor was immediately sent an owl of the news. Thankful for the fast travel of floo flames, you immediately made your way to the Sallow home. 

You had been there a few times at the invitation of the Sallow family and loved the general warm atmosphere of the cozy home but now that you were here for a different reason, entering the house that was once filled with warmth and laughter suddenly was so different from what it once was.

Your eyes immediately see the twins sitting on the corner of the living area. Their uncle, Solomon Sallow had been the one to arrange the funeral. Apparently, a lamp in their cellar broke and an unidentified toxin was what caused their deaths. The moment your mother found out, she had already grabbed your coats and prepared you with an emotionless look on her face.

You barely listen to their exchange of condolences as you watch Sebastian’s blank stare and Anne’s shaking shoulders. You feel the urge to go to them but your eyes glance over to your parents who seem to be shifting their focus from their uncle to the twins. You allow them to greet Anne and Sebastian first.

You watch as your mother embraces the two in their arms, whispering words of comfort as she lets Anne bury her face in your mother’s shawl. Your father pats Sebastian’s head as he gives him a smile of sympathy.

Then your eyes meet. Brown meets E/C. At that moment, you felt a lump in your throat at the dullness of the swirls of brown that once held light and warmth in them. In a moment of weakness, you take two long strides, pulling the Sallow boy in your arms. It was as if that was all he ever needed as he burst out into tears at your sudden comfort. You hug him tightly, hands rubbing his back in a soothing manner as he clings to you like a babe missing the warmth of its mother.

You feel no tears escape your eyes but a heavy feeling settles deep within your stomach at the passing of two great educators. You remember their excitement when you got sorted into your house. Their little cheers and waves for you from their seats at the podium.

They were like second parents to you. Astoria often sneaked you in and the twins in her office on your free time when you were only first years. A little boy had also joined you, Ominis was his name. He had immediately clinged onto Sebastian the moment they had met. The four of you would hang out in her office, preying on her treats as she graded schoolwork from her desk.

She would pretend not to notice but you knew she did. You caught her, obviously and she only responded with a cheeky wink. She had always said you were too smart for your age and often asked you to keep an eye on her two little 'munchkins.' You hated the nickname but you were just glad it wasn't directed at you.

"How are you feeling?" You mumble quietly as you hold hands with Sebastian. You had led him to one of the sofas, his presence never leaving yours as he clung to your coat. He rests his head on your shoulder as you gently pat his hands in a comforting rhythm with your free hand while the other encases it in a gentle grip.

"I don't know." He replies— almost whispers even. You glance at your father who had lifted Anne in his arms, gently swaying her to sleep as she clung onto him tightly. Anne had a small stature for her age and was often mistaken to be younger. This often led to your parents to baby her as if she was younger than the both of you despite being the same age. 

You turn your attention back to Sebastian who now had his eyes closed. You rest your free hand on top of your intertwined hands as you lean your head on top of his. "I'm here. I'll always be here."

You didn't know what came over you to say that but you feel Sebastian relax as he curled more into you. He responds with a relieved tone.

"I know."

You were 13 when you saw him in a different light.

This time it was Imelda's fault. If only that girl didn't open her mouth and began feeding you ideas, you wouldn't have suffered as a result.

"Does Sebastian know that he coddles you?" Imelda asked bluntly as she took a bite of her food. You had almost choked at the sudden question. The Slytherin gal only tilts her in amusement as you cough into your fist.

You were currently seated in the Great Hall, having your breakfast. There was still an hour left before your first class so you took your time in eating. You had met up with Imelda on your way to the hall as you got too tired on waiting for the twins and Ominis to show up. 

There were only a few people who had shown up this early so you basically had some sort of privacy with how far apart the others were seated from you. You were glad you didn't have to force her to shut the fuck up for saying such an absurd thing that could be a root for rumors.

"He does not coddle me, Imelda," You correct her, fork moving the peas across your plate. "He's just…. Sebastian. He does that with Anne."

"Oh really?" She smiles mockingly as she takes a bite of her cornbread. "Sebastian has always been protective of Anne. It's the fact that he's protective with someone other than Anne that's suspicious. That someone is also coincidentally, you."

"We grew up together." You reason with her.

"And so do the rest of our batchmates! We were all together in our first year. That counts as growing up together. Do you see him doing that to Samantha Dale?" She counters. You purse your lips in annoyance. "Plus, it isn't even the one he does with Anne. It's more like a guard dog protecting its owner."

"....A guard dog?" You swear this girl had the strangest imagination when it comes to insulting Sallow.

"Yes," She leans forward to further emphasize her point. "You should see his face whenever Leander tries to talk with you. He looks like he'll infect rabies the second Prewett reaches within 5 inches of your space."

Imelda giggles, mouth still full of food before taking another bite. You would've chastised her for being uncouth but she glanced at the entrance of the hall after she took big gulps of the pumpkin juice. "Speak of the devil, there he is."

You turn your head towards where Imelda's looking at and find yourself staring at familiar pools of brown. Sebastian smiles as he jogs over to you, leaving a sleepy Anne and an exasperated Ominis to make their way over to your table.

"I didn't see you by the statue." Sebastian sighs as ruffles your hair, ruining your hairstyle for the day. You sigh, not even bothered by it anymore. He sits beside you before pulling out your favorite sweets from Honeydukes. Your eyes light up at the treat. "Bought you some from my trip with Anne yesterday."

You send him a smile as you take the sweet from his hands. "Thanks."

Ominis and Anne arrive with tired looks on their faces. Imelda glances at them with a raised eyebrow.

"The fuck happened to you two?" Imelda asks. You could feel the irritation emit from the blonde and you wonder what exactly did Sebastian do to have the young Gaunt in fumes this early in the morning?

"Sebastian has a habit of waking us earlier than necessary. Anne and I have the same schedule today. For the rest of the semester, mind you. Our classes start in the afternoon, so there's no reason for us to wake up this early." Ominis grumbles in annoyance as he sits down on your other side. You glance at him, gently patting his arm in sympathy. He takes a moment to greet you with a smile before turning to Imelda. "Also, language?"

"Yeah, yeah." Imelda rolls her eyes. Anne sits down beside Imelda to rest her head on her shoulder. "I am not your personal pillow, Sallow. Move."

"No one calls me that. I shan't move because of it."  Anne mumbles sleepily as she clings to Imelda, trying to catch up on her sleep. She then mutters one more thing as if to get on your nerves. "Sebastian only woke us up because Y/N's awake. Otherwise, I'd be sleeping through Neverland right now."

Imelda glances at you with a knowing look to which you widen your eyes at her as if to shut her up. Sebastian is unbothered by Anne's words as he finishes his food before turning his undivided attention to you. He begins to stare.

Normally, you would pass it off as Sebastian just being Sebastian but for some reason, after Imelda's words, you find yourself becoming tense under his gaze. Did her words truly affect you that much?

Out of nowhere, he leans his head on your shoulder causing you to tense. To add to your misery, he grabs one of your hands to intertwine your hands together. Was this boy trying to kill you purposefully?

Imelda smirks at the view in front of her before nudging Anne's head off her shoulder as she rises up from her seat. The younger Sallow groans before moving to rest her head on her arms on the table. To further infuriate you, Imelda coughs pathetically in her fist as she blurts out the words, trying to hide it in her poor attempt of coughing. "Guard dog."

You send her a heated glare as she scurries off to her other friends who were also leaving the Great Hall. Sebastian raises his head at the sound of Imelda leaving, watching the Slytherin girl for a moment then turning to you.

You turn towards him, an attempt to prove yourself wrong but you only find yourself heating up at his boyish gaze.

"What's wrong?" He asks. You turn away in a blink of an eye 

"Nothing." 

Merlin, you didn't expect seeing him differently because of Imelda's meddling but here you are now. Stuttering over something as simple as Sebastian staring at you.

You were going to kill Reyes.

You were 15 when you first became jealous.

It came on three different occasions. Each worse than the last.

The first incident was only a fleeting thought.

A new fifth year was announced to be joining the school and with all the commotion you heard around this enigma of a person, you expected her to be in the main spotlight of school rumors for a while. You watched with bated breath as she stepped on the podium to get herself sorted. You were once nervous and timid like her as she allowed the sorting hat to analyze the depths of her mind.

In the midst of watching her get sorted, you feel a movement beside you causing your head to turn towards it. Your eyes meet pools of brown as the boy had sneaked in to sit beside you.

“Where were you?” You whispered in obvious concern as the Sallow boy fixed his cloak with a firm tug. You began to notice over the past few months that your best friend had begun to act more secretive and often wandered in far places. Your eyes glance towards the back as you notice Ominis take a seat beside Imelda. He had also tried to drag the young Gaunt with him to whatever escapade he went to.

You suppose it's because of Anne’s illness that he’s like this. The other Sallow twin had fallen ill after a grim encounter with a dark wizard. This caused her to be put on a health break and to be monitored by their uncle, Solomon, at their home in Feldcroft. Sebastian was quiet and unreadable for those few months. Ominis and you visited them in their little cottage in Feldcroft after hearing what happened and you were almost scared with how weak Anne was. You grew protective of the girl who you saw as a younger sister despite your similar ages. 

Sebastian had also confided in you. You think it was an effect you had on him after that moment of comfort when you were merely 12 years old. You thought it had passed but apparently his need for comfort from you stayed behind. The two of you would talk outside and glance up at the stars as his knee softly nudges against yours.

You had come to terms that you had grown feelings for Sebastian Sallow. It wasn’t hard to fall for him, you suppose. He always had that charm both physically and personality wise. It didn’t help that he had begun to be more noticeable to your peers as well. There had been a ranking amongst the girls of your year about who they deem the most attractive out of all their male yearmates. Sebastian was ranked first.

Of course he did. You just didn’t know if you’d feel proud or threatened that a lot of your yearmates found your best friend attractive but no one had made a move on him so you think you’re safe.

Sebastian leans forward to rest his arms on the table as he watches the new fifth year get sorted. “Ominis and I practiced some spells in the undercroft. That place got dusty, I should find a house elf to look after it during term breaks.”

You shoot him a pointed look. “Practice? Spells? The academic year hasn’t even started, Seb.”

Sebastian smirks at you. Your lips almost waver at his attractiveness. “Chill, Kit. Nothing, a little confringo won’t hurt nobody.”

Your jaw drops before you glance around to see if anybody is listening to you. You lean your body towards him to whisper your words just between you two. “I told you to stop with those spells! It’ll be a matter of time before we learn it anyway. Last time you did that, you almost singed your eyebrows off. Don’t worry Anne.”

Sebastian scoffs as he takes a sip of his pumpkin juice. He puts it down before glancing at you, eyes flickering all over your face before sending you a cheeky grin. “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

You roll your eyes at him as you lean back to your original position. You see Sebastian stare at the new fifth year from the corner of your eye. It seems as if he’s not yet finished with talking as he leans close to start another conversation.

“I already heard things about the new fifth year. Got caught up in a dragon attack. Isn’t that cool?” He whispers in mild amusement as you feel his shoulders bump against yours. You turn to him with a deadpan stare.

“You mean almost dying and getting chewed up? That’s cool for you?” You reply in a monotonous voice. Sebastian giggles at your sarcastic tone, nudging you  slightly as he laughs with his whole body. 

“Not that. I mean just surviving and being able to hold against a dragon. That’s pretty admirable.” He sighs dreamily as he watches the sorting hat continue to spat out questions to the gal. “Nora Finley. Quite a memorable name, no?”

You stared at him with an unreadable look as a heavy feeling settled on your stomach. You know you should think nothing about it but hearing him praise someone else caused a stir in your poor heart. It was too petty of you and so you just let it be.

He catches your eye, head tilting like a dog confused. You shake your head and sigh before you hear the sorting hat shout, another reason for dread to knock on your bones.

“Slytherin!”

You hear Sebastian cheer beside you as applause erupts at another addition to the Slytherin house. You couldn’t help but feel anxiety crawling up your throat.

The second was your realization.

“Where’s Sebastian?” You ask as you sit beside Ominis Gaunt who was doing school work alongside Natsai Onai. You take a moment to smile at the Gryffindor who returns your greeting enthusiastically. “I thought he was going to be reviewing with us for our potions test?”

Ominis is silent for a moment as his hand brushes across the page of the book engraved in braille. You turn to Natty with furrowed eyebrows in confusion. The Uagadou transferee shrugged her shoulders as she gave you a sympathetic look. Before you could further give the poor girl more confused stares, Ominis finally answers.

“He’s out with the new fifth year. Didn’t even give me a notice he’d be gone. I was sitting like an idiot outside the courtyard waiting for him.” He huffs in indifference as he turns a page. Your heart drops at the mention of the fifth year.

You had met her a few times. Once during DADA after she had been asked by Professor Hecat to take Sebastian Sallow on a duel. You weren’t worried about Sebastian at all; He had won every duel in both crossed wands and the comforts of the DADA classroom so rest assured, you believed in his capabilities as a duelist. It was more of what would happen after that worried you. You were quite surprised to see that Nora had defeated Sebastian and was even praised by your professor. You thought it was only luck as you watched her converse with Sebastian for a few moments before the Sallow boy had called you over as he took your bag in his arm to walk you to your next class. 

You were clearly proven wrong after hearing the results of her crossed wand duels and that she had appeared to be the champion of the tournament.

You asked him once on the way to your next class about what he thought of Nora after his duel with her and you couldn’t believe the same brown eyes which lost their dullness the moment his parents died had begun to light up once more at the mention of Nora Finley’s name.

“She’s nice, Y/N. Think it’d be okay if we invite her to our little group?”

You began having nightmares ever since. 

Returning to present time, you shift uncomfortably in your seat as you open your notes to start your review. Ominis, reminding you of your father for his perceptiveness, turns his head towards you.

“If it matters, it was Professor Weasley who asked him to accompany her to Hogsmeade.” Ominis pats your back as if to comfort your worries before turning back to his review. You sigh in response at his try of easing your complicated mind. It was inevitable for Ominis to find out about it. Anne knew it with just a glance considering that you three had grown up together. Ominis though was calculating and observing. He had never explicitly told you that he knew but he spoke as if he did whenever you worried over Sebastian.

At this point, you knew he knew but just didn’t want to voice it out loud for your sake.

You were too late to dismiss his words as you met eyes with Natsai Onai who looked at you with giddy curiosity.

She bites her lip before voicing what Ominis couldn’t. “You like Sebastian?”

“Natty–”

“Oh my! I should’ve noticed. It was obvious– But wait, I thought you were already dating?” She shoots out multiple words that you were sure you wouldn’t catch if you didn’t have your focus on her. You give her an incredulous stare.

“They’re not. Which is absurd by the way.” Ominis chimes nonchalantly. You turn towards your best friend with a glare. Whether he feels the heaviness of your stare or not, he only smiles in response.

Natsai leans forward to grab your wrist with a giddy smile on her face. “Do not worry, Rafiki. I am on your side.”

You furrow your eyebrows as she claps enthusiastically before sending you two thumbs up. You turn to Ominis for an explanation. “What is she talking about?”

The young Gaunt snorts. “You don’t wanna know.”

The third was your conclusion.

“You invited her here?!”

You almost feel your blood pressure overflow at the sight in front of you. Anne had invited you over after receiving a letter from her brother that he would be visiting Feldcroft with a present for her. The two of you had grown distant over the past couple of weeks with him being busy with Nora and all. The two always seemed like they were up and ready for whatever escapade they’re planning for the day. You even hear news of the two defeating a troll in Hogsmeade.

It seems that Sebastian had already found someone else to pour his attention to. Your father would probably laugh at you for looking like a kicked puppy but Sebastian had always pampered you with his attention ever since the two of you were only seven. It became a bit more severe as he grew older and along with that sudden change came the questions between the two of you. It was understandable considering he acted as if he was actually courting you. Walking you to class, carrying your bag, hugging you freely, playing with your hair, leaning against you and all that shebang.

You enjoyed it all. You just wished he did it with intention.

But you couldn’t possibly let him know that. After all, you were only friends.

Back to the present, Sebastian stood with his hands tucked in the pocket of his coat as Nora conversed with Anne in the foyer of their little cottage. Sebastian glares at you for your sudden opposement to Nora’s arrival.

“I don’t understand why you’re so adamant on this. Anne knows her already.” Sebastian keeps his voice calm as he steps to block you from the two’s line of sight. It was a small gesture of allowing the two of you privacy, you heart wavered slightly. You look up at him with furrowed eyebrows. To further emphasize his point, he motions a hand to the two who were chatting freely with each other. “Look! Anne’s already warmed up. I don’t see the point of this argument.”

You let out an annoyed huff. “It's the fact that you disappear on me for a week and suddenly you’re inviting the new fifth year over.”

Sebastian runs his palm over his face. You feel the irritation emitting from his body language. “I invited Ominis and you here. What’s the difference?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him the subliminal messages behind his actions. Was it so hard to understand that spending a week with a lady then bringing her home to your family meant something else? Did this boy really not have social cues at all?

You only hope continuously in your head as the nail of your index finger scratches the side of your thumb, a habit you developed because of anxiety, that he was just merely dumb and just wanted to introduce his friend and that this wasn’t what you think it is.

To further agitate you, he mentions your apprehension to Nora as well. “I’ve noticed your hesitance around her these past few months. She’s done nothing but be nice to us. What is really going on with you, Y/N?”

You let a moment of vulnerability pass through you as you feel small under Sebastian’s calculating gaze. You turn your gaze away, unable to keep eye contact. Your head was running on and on and on with Sebastian and that new fifth year. You felt threatened and so you avoided them like a coward. You couldn’t bring yourself to march into their shared presence, afraid that you might interrupt something. It didn’t help that Ominis had also warmed up to her after their little encounter by the entrance of the undercroft after you and Ominis had caught her exiting the secret hideout.

You suddenly felt ashamed of yourself.

It seems as if it apparently had shown on your face as Sebastian steps close to cup your cheeks within his rough but gentle hands. You look back up at him in surprise– cheeks heating at his concerned gaze. He tilts his head gently, eyes locked on yours. Your heart beats fast, breath quickening at the proximity of your faces. 

If you moved an inch, you could–

“Y/N.” He mumbles, eyebrows furrowed. “Little kit. What’s wrong, love?”

You purse your lips at the nickname, becoming emotional from hearing it once again. Tears brim your eyes as your hands grab the fabric of his coat. Your grip is tight and desperate. You couldn’t tell if he knew and you hope your face is able to convey such emotions.

“Are you still with me?” You ask, vague but the intention is there. Sebastian’s eyes dart back and forth across your face. Somehow he understands as he sees you glance to your side where the two ladies are still busy with their chatting.

He understands as he places a kiss on your forehead before pulling you in his arms. He understands as he allows you to bury your face on his shoulder as he gently rubs your back in soothing circles. Like what you did for him.

“I am. I always am.”

Originally, you promised Anne to give her a painting as a gift and so you went to Feldcroft with your materials and all. Anne had given you creative freedom with an exception. You expected to draw a portrait of her but somehow, a different figure had formed on your canvas. You glance towards your subject who had taken off his coat and pulled his sleeves up to his arms as he helped his sister and the new fifth year prepare dinner.

You were situated on the corner, easel propped up, canvas set and paintbrush within your grasp, hanging a few inches from the medium. Your eyes had found themselves entranced at his glowing aura. The sun had hit him so nicely as he laughed at whatever joke Anne had concocted.

You were about to redo the sketch but then you once again meet pools of brown, the sunlight hitting his side so nicely that his right eye had even turned into a honey gold color. You feel your breath hitch as he sends you a smile before turning back to the two.

With pursed lips, you look down at the canvas. Your cheeks heat up as Anne’s words echo in your mind.  Your paintbrush begins to do its magic.

You were 17 when you received the news.

To my dearest daughter, Y/N.

Hello darling, I hope all is well. I hear you and Sebastian are still getting along quite well. I do hope Anne gets better soon. I visited her last week and she seems to have gotten better albeit still pale but not as worse as before. Anyways, I don’t mean to intrude on your wonderful time there but your years in Hogwarts are coming to an end. I do hope you understand that ensuring the continuity of our bloodline has always been an important part of our family as wizards and witches. Although I won’t mind if you have anyone reserved in your heart (which I doubt you’ll do something about it), I was contacted by Mrs. Weasley in regards to your hand in marriage. She wants you to get to know Garreth. Just a little bit. I know this won’t change your mind but can you at least try for me, love? 

At least until you do something about that lack of courage of yours. I didn’t raise a quitter!

Love,

Mom.

Your jaw drops as you reread the letter again and again. Your mother had done something stupid once more. You hadn’t expected her to do something as absurd as this but you suppose, this had also been partly your fault.

Despite your parents being open and understanding of you, they were still quite traditional in certain things such as continuing your bloodline. Your brother was still a third year and was still far off from graduating or pursuing a family, so the role rests on your hands. You didn’t mind getting married but you hoped that at least it would be with someone you enjoyed being in the presence of. 

Someone who had great capabilities and eventually someone you’ll grow to love.

….. Or already love.

Like him.

Your cheeks blush at the thought as you close the letter in your grasp. You were currently outside the castle and in the front garden. Your owl had immediately dropped it in your care as it spotted you during its flight. You wished it could’ve just delivered it in your room but what’s done is done. 

Before you could continue to wallow in misery, you hear someone calling out to you. Turning to the direction of the voice, you see Garreth jogging up to your direction before lightly panting as he stops in front of you. 

You smile awkwardly, just having read that disaster of a letter and now the subject of the message was right in front of you. “Garreth.”

“Y/N,” Garreth smiles before standing upright as he finally calms himself down. “Before you say anything, I know you’ve received the letter. I know because I received mine as well.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise. The Weasley boy smiles sheepishly before continuing.

“Look, you’re really beautiful. Like actually. I think people would get mad at me for being engaged to you and I know this might sound rude and I don’t want it to mean like that! It’s just–” He pauses for a moment before resuming his rambling. You let out an amused smile. “I just don’t think we’re a good fit. A Y/L/N and a Weasley? I think my mother was nuts when she tried pairing us up. No offense though.”

“None taken.” You giggle softly as he flushes an embarrassed red. You were glad that you were on the same page. At least you didn’t have to pretend to get to know him. “I apologize for this mess, Garreth. If only my mother wasn’t so insistent in finding me future prospects.”

“Ah, please! No no.” He shakes his hands towards you in disagreement. “It’s purely my side. Mother is still quite smitten with you ever since you came over when we were little. Despite making me cry, she found you to be quite elegant and charming and wanted you to be her daughter-in-law. Just didn’t expect that it’d be me she’d use.”

You chuckle at his disappointed tone. “Well, who’d you expect she’d pair me up with?”

“I don’t know? My older brother? He’s more of a Weasley than me.” He smiles lopsidedly. You tilt your head in sheer amusement at his suggestion.

“Garreth, your brother is at least 10 years older than I am.” You laugh. Garreth blushes once more, sounding a sheepish ‘right’ at his previous response. Despite not being that close, being with Garreth was surprisingly not that awkward. He was a lively Gryffindor who always managed to keep the conversation afloat despite him being embarrassed and shy about his situation.

You would’ve agreed to marry him if it weren’t for a certain someone who had already made his place in your heart. 

Speaking of that certain someone. He was surprisingly late on your agreed time to meet up at the entrance of the castle. You turn to Garreth with an abashed look plastered on your face.

“It’s really nice to meet up with you, Garreth but I do have to meet someone.” You clutch your satchel within your grasp as the redhead smiles at your excuse to leave.

“Sebastian, I assume?”

You pause for a moment, jaw wavering at the direct guess. “... Uh yeah, how’d you know?”

Garreth smirks, a boyish look gracing his face. “How does anyone not know?”

With a cryptic response, he gives you one last smile and a nod before making his way towards the group of students flying kites a few meters from you. You blink in confusion before heat travels to your cheeks at the idea of everybody knowing that there’s something going on between you two. Sebastian hadn’t exactly denied anything and neither did you (simply because you enjoyed being paired up together) so the rumors didn’t go away. 

That was a topic for another time. Right now, you need to find the Sallow boy. 

You first march your way to the Defense against the Dark Arts tower, opting to check out the undercroft first as him and Ominis often frequented the hideout as of late. You had also befriended Nora recently. The poor gal was slightly afraid of you because of your hesitance in befriending her. You reassured her that it was more of a personal problem and had nothing to do with her. 

And then it was like another Anne had joined your group. She had immediately engulfed you in a hug and rambled about how she had always idolized you. You had a reputation in Hogwarts to be elegant in the things that you did. It was a product of self discipline at an early age really. A pat on the back that your younger self definitely deserved whenever she acted like a 70-year old grandmother (Sebastian’s words, not yours). It was also because of this that you had a lot of admirers but only a few dared to approach you. Some were too intimidated and some only loved the idea of you from afar. The others were mostly scared off by Sebastian. 

You had finally agreed with Imelda after seeing him scare a fourth year after the young boy tried confessing to you. You tried to calm Sebastian down but he had only scoffed at the young boy who had run away, crying. After that though, Sebastian had become touchy and affectionate.

Holding your waist, intertwining your hands under the table and even placing a kiss on your forehead in public grounds. You had to pinch his side to stop him from getting so overprotective (possessive is the right term but we can’t say that yet) over you.

Already missing his presence, you had daydreamed as you leaned against one of the pillars, awaiting for his appearance. Unaware of your surroundings, you are suddenly grabbed by the waist and pulled against a lean chest. You let out a squeal as the culprit had encased you in a back-hug and you could only deduce who would have the gall to grab you like this.

“Sebastian! Put me down!” You shriek as you hit his unmovable arms on your waist. You spot Nora walking to the front, sending you a knowing look as she watches with amusement. You tried to ask for help but she had only shrugged and moved towards Ominis who had only come out of class. She immediately dived in his arms as the poor boy scrambled to catch her.

Who would expect those two huh? Then again, you shouldn’t complain as your attention was mostly on this idiot behind you.

“I missed you, Kit.” Sebastian whined like a child as he let you down but still didn’t let you go as his arms pulled you tighter against his chest. You huff in annoyance as he burrows his face on your neck, unashamedly hugging you in the corridors. You try to hit his arms once more, but he had only chuckled (rather deeply at that) at your attempts to break free.

“You see me everyday– Now let me go! I don’t want to get reprimanded because of your idiocy.” You berated him as you still struggle in his grasp. The brunette shook his head, placing a kiss on your cheek which caused you to flush almost instantly. “S-Sebastian!”

“Alright, fine.” He rolls his eyes as he lets you go begrudgingly. You turn around with a glare to which he giggles at and pinches your cheek. “Cute.”

“I’ll kill you myself someday.” You mutter under your breath as you step to the side, allowing your hand to be intertwined with his as he leads you to the other two. Nora glances down at your intertwined hands before smiling wide at you. You had squinted your eyes at her, her innocent facade appearing too suspicious.

“Done with your theatrics, Sebastian?” Ominis sighs as he intertwines his hand with Nora. The brunette whistles a tune as he tucks your hands inside the pockets of his cloak. Your cheeks warm at the gesture. 

“Sure, Ominis. Sure.” The Sallow boy sarcastically replies before turning his head to focus on the students leaving the DADA classroom. Ominis then addresses you with an unexpected topic of conversation.

“Right. Y/N. I expect you’ve received a letter from your mother? I just received one from mine as well.” Ominis sounds exasperated at the mention of his family. “The social circles are pairing us up now. I had already declined but I hear you were paired with someone? Have you read it?”

Now the attention was on you. Your eyes glance at the two pairs of eyes staring directly at you, gaze unwavering and solid. Your jaw flutters in nervousness as you feel Sebastian’s hand grip yours tightly within the pocket of his cloak.

You let out a sigh of defeat. “... I was paired up with… Garreth.”

“Weasley?!” Both Nora and Sebastian exclaimed to which you and Ominis smacked their shoulders to shut them up. You were glad that some students had only glanced at you for a moment before moving on with their day. You weren’t sure if you could handle another gossip roaming the halls.

“Can you two keep it down?” Ominis chastises before continuing. “But why Garreth? I thought it would be…”

He trailed off but you knew who he was referring to. Sebastian has grown quiet but his grip on your hand is still tight. You glance at the object of your desires before responding. “It’s alright, it was a mutual decline. Garreth didn’t think we would work and I think so too.”

Nora lets out an audible sigh of relief to which you smile, amused. Ominis only nods in understanding but you could see his relaxed shoulders. It seems everyone had expected who you’d end up with which made you kind of giddy to be honest. Then you hear Sebastian scoff. You turn to him at the sound of his voice.

“He’s an idiot for not seeing your worth,” Sebastian replies, eyes dark and unreadable. He then looks at you and for a moment you’re unable to look away from it. “But I’m glad he was.”

You flush at his subtle confession and from the corner of your eye, you could see Nora’s jaw drop and Ominis scoff at Sebastian’s attempt to woo you. 

You weren’t able to reply as the brunette had already dragged you off to your next class.

You were 21 when it happened.

A few years had passed after your graduation from Hogwarts and well everyone had expected that the two of you somehow at one point, had already kissed and made out and done all that crazy stuff.

No. Nothing happened.

Aside from the usual lingering hugs and fond looks the two of you give each other, nothing had happened much. You had declined marriage offers much to your mother's chagrin but you had reassured her you'd try and solve this issue of yours to make her happy.

She wanted Sebastian to be part of the family, of course. But it was taking too long and if you didn't have a possible suitor by the time you were 25, your mother would go ballistics on you. You try your best to prevent that from happening as you worry for another unexpected situation like that one time she and Garreth's mother tried to pair you two up together.

Now working as part of the ministry, you were placed in the Department of Magical Cooperation. It was a tough spot to get in but luckily with your outstanding performance and reputation, you were accepted to be part of the team. 

Nora had opted to work in the magizoology field alongside Ominis while you and Sebastian landed your jobs at the ministry. It was expected after all. Sebastian was a talented wizard and he was immediately recruited after graduating.

Your relationship however, had also changed. Gone were the days where Sebastian was practically attached to you by the hip. You had expected that you were going to see each other since working in the same field but you had barely seen the man as he was required in almost every case the Auror division had been working on.

You saw him amongst important figures while you stood on the sidelines. Not once had he glanced your way and you fear that this might be the last time you’ll ever get to be with him and after that, someone might take him away from you.

Someone nicer.

More interesting.

Prettier.

Not the stone faced girl who he had only tolerated just because his parents were friends with hers.

Your head drops as thoughts of self doubt fill your mind. It has been a few months since you’ve properly spoken to Sebastian. He had sent a few letters here and there but that was about it. Your mother would probably be disappointed. 

You sighed for the nth time before an owl flew inside through the open window of your home. You gasp at its feathers flapping as it lands gracefully on the window sill. You notice a letter tied on its claw before carefully untying it. You feed the gentle bird a sugar cube, watching as it flies away. You open the letter with bated breath. There were only a few people who would send you an owl these past few days and your mother had already sent hers last week while your brother was yesterday. Who else would be sending?

You let out a sigh as you recognize the handwriting.

Hey bitch,

We’re in town. We’re dropping by.

Love,

Your favorite Slytherin

P.S I’m with your lover boy and the annoying couple. Save me!

Your eyebrows furrow as you reread the letter over and over. You had deduced from the rather crude and short letter that the sender was Imelda. After years of tolerating her crass language, you were sure no one other than her would start the letter with a curse word. You had also deduced that she would not be alone, judging from the added note on the bottom. By annoying couple, that meant Nora and Ominis. They had probably met up together somewhere.

Your eyes scan the words lover boy once more. You knew who this was of course. Imelda also had Sebastian with her and they were going to crash in your flat.

You let out a groan as you assess the state of your home. It wasn’t exactly messy but there were a few things out of place and that needed cleaning. You let out a sigh, placing the letter on your desk before making your way to clean up.

You planned to have a general cleaning last week but work was too hectic. Might as well take this chance to clean up.

You are certainly not dressed up.

Okay. Maybe you were, judging from your slightly different hairstyle and the flowy dress you had gotten as a gift from a co-worker who claimed that your wardrobe was too depressing with the amount of blacks and whites you wear to work. It was a flowy beige dress that reached a few inches below your knees. You opted just wearing your slippers as it was probably just a house hang-out.

You sat on your couch, eyeing the alcohol arrangement on your coffee table before reaching out to slightly tilt the wine bottle to another 10 degrees. You probably look like an idiot. Trying to look good for someone who had probably forgotten you over the span of a few months. You let out a sigh as you place your hands on your lap.

Before you could further criticize your interior decor and all, you hear the sound of your door knocker hitting the wooden surface of your door quite loudly. You sprang up in surprise at the sound before making your way over to the door. In an attempt to fix yourself at the last minute, you take a look at the mirror near to your main door, fixing any stray hairs that might’ve escaped your hairdo. You let out a breath as you send looks of encouragement to yourself through the reflection of the mirror.

You hear the chatter outside– mostly it’s Imelda chastising whoever it was that fell under her judgemental gaze. You remove the locks before opening the door to find four figures standing outside. It was Nora who greeted you first.

“Y/N! It’s been so long!” The red head grabbed you in an embrace to which you returned with the same enthusiasm. She releases you with a fond look on her face before you motion her inside.

“Did you get my letter?” Imelda smirks like the menace that she is. Now a professional Quidditch player, you seldom saw the former Slytherin gal after you had graduated. You were definitely glad to see her now. You pull her in a tight hug.

“Of course I did. I would’ve been asleep by now if I didn’t.” You quipped with a wide grin as she ruffled your hair at your jesting. You push her inside before turning to Ominis who was already smiling at the feel of your presence. You immediately pull him in a hug as he holds you closely.

“Hello, Y/N.” He mumbles as he places a peck on the side of your head, gently rocking you side to side. You giggle at his brotherly behavior before pulling away to cup his cheek. He pats the hand against his face before Nora fetches him behind you.

You allow yourself to linger your gaze towards the three who had immediately made themselves at home before turning to the final guest of the night. There stands in all his glory, Sebastian Sallow. Dressed in his usual black coat, black suit and black tie, he tucks his hands inside his pockets as he sends you a dazzling smile.

“Hey, Kit.” He mumbles lowly and you almost feel yourself weakened at the mention of the nickname you haven’t heard in months. You don’t allow yourself to waver as you stare him down with your cold gaze. He heaves out a sigh. “I guess I owe some explaining to do.”

“Yeah, beat his fucking ass, Y/N!” Imelda yells from her spot in the kitchen. You hear Nora telling her to not drink so early while Ominis just laughs at the two. You chuckle at your friends’ usual selves before turning your attention back to Sebastian who had not moved his eyes from you.

He takes a step inside, hand reaching out to grab yours. Your eyes look down to watch as he holds your smaller hand within his grasp, thumb rubbing the back of your hand gently. You look up at him as he stares at you with an apologetic gaze. You knew you should be mad at him but with the way he’s staring at you like you’re the whole world to him, you just knew you couldn’t.

You’d always be weak for Sebastian Sallow.

A smile bleeds out of your facade and the brunette takes it as a chance to pull you in his arms. This hug was intimate and desperate. Your bodies pressed so close together, you’d feel his body warmth against yours. Your arms wrap around his neck as he holds you close by the waist. You hear him inhale your scent as he buries his face on your neck. At some point, he had moved you inside and pressed you against the wall, rendering you trapped between him and the hard surface.

You didn’t really have any complaints.

You pull him closer as he lets out a breath against your neck. You bite your lip, trying to keep the sounds in at the feel of his breath tickling your skin. You were a grown woman and the man hugging you right now was the love of your life. Who wouldn’t be flustered at the smallest of things?

After a few more minutes, you run your fingers through Sebastian’s hair, twirling the curls as you gently whisper the words to him. “We should go with them.”

He had remained stationary on your neck, inhaling your scent and all. He heaves out a groan before slightly moving back, placing a kiss on your cheek and finally facing you.

There was certainly tension. The kind that you could cut with a knife. You were scared to acknowledge it as both of you stare at each other as if you have things to say and confess but no one makes a move. He only pulls away and grabs your hand in his before pulling you towards the lounge area where the three had already opened the wine and champagne.

“Did you finally just kiss it out?” Imelda asks rather bluntly, which earned a slap on her arm from Nora. The two of you ignore her quip as you sit beside Sebastian on the loveseat, heartbeat stuttering as his thigh presses against yours while his arm finds its way behind you. 

Sebastian gives you a glass of champagne as he gets his own before smiling as he clinks glasses with you.

As you take your first sip, you allow yourself to let loose and bask in the presence of the people who you had come to know as part of your family.

“Can we take one of the rooms, Y/N?” Nora asks with her nose scrunched, obviously affected by the amount of alcohol she had downed. Ominis stands beside her, arm slung over her shoulder with his head dropped on her shoulder. You hear Ominis mumbling but the pair stood far enough for you not to hear.

“Yeah sure. First door on your right.” You smile as you nod towards the hall on their left. Nora sends you a thankful smile before making her way to the room by your direction. Imelda is face flat on one of the couches, blacked out after downing half of the wine bottle. You can take your alcohol quite well but you were sure you were tipsy as well.

Sebastian had gone up to use the loo, leaving you alone in the comforts of your living room. Having the need to occupy your hands with something, you stand up to place the empty wine glasses in the kitchen. You apparently also underestimated your level of tipsiness as you felt yourself stumble at the sudden change of positions. 

An arm on your waist immediately stables you to stand as you grip on it in support.

“Woah there, darling.” Sebastian chuckles as you lean against him for support. “Careful.”

You furrow your eyebrows at the sudden dizziness before slowly regaining composure. You place a hand on his shoulder as you stand on your two feet before giggling. “Sorry. I’m a bit tipsy, my mistake for standing so fast.”

Sebastian smiles at your carefree nature, influenced by the alcohol. You look up at him, corners of your lip still turned up in a smile. You watch as Sebastian's eyes crinkle as he looks down at you fondly. God, this man was going to be the end of you.

“Ready to go to bed?” He asks as he offers a hand to help you. You certainly didn’t want this moment alone with him to end so shortly. You shake your head as you walk towards one of the doors in the hallway on the left. Sebastian makes cautious steps as he follows you to ensure you wouldn’t fall and trip on your own. You stop at the 2nd to the last door on the left, smiling as you look back at Sebastian.

You certainly didn’t have this confidence if you were sober. Sebastian stares at you with an amused smile.

“So, while you were gone,” You jest as you turn your back against the wooden surface of the door. Sebastian smirks at your playful insult as he stands in front of you. “I got back into painting. Which was like… Eons ago.”

Sebastian chuckles. “Yeah, I remember you painting back then. You almost did everything if I recall correctly. The esteemed little lady of House Y/L/N, right?”

You pout at the mention of the title, gently slamming your fist against his chest. You didn’t expect it to be so hard though and he had even barely moved. Not affected by 40% of your strength. That was …. Unnecessarily hot. You push those thoughts away as you continue your main task at present.

“Stop. Sh.” You place your index finger against your lips, shushing his further attempts in teasing you. The brunette bites his lip, trying to contain his smile as he waits for you to continue. “Anyways, I was supposed to give this to Anne like years ago but I never did because I was too embarrassed by it.”

Sebastian furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “But your works are magnificent though?”

“You flatter me, Sallow.” You giggle as you rest the back of your head against the door. “Guess again.”

Sebastian crosses his arms over his chest as his gaze dances across your face. “Was it incomplete?”

“Wrong.”

“Ugly?”

“No.”

“Dull colors.”

“Nope.”

Sebastian lets out a sigh, eyebrows furrowing as he finds himself in a stump. You smile at his hesitance, pinching his nose in the process. “You’re an Auror and you can’t even deduce something as simple as this?”

“You give me more credit than I’m owed.” Sebastian chuckles as he grabs your wrist from his face. He takes a step closer. He licks his lips, a gesture that you unashamedly follow with your eyes. The man notices it and chuckles. 

A thought finally comes to his mind. “Was it because it wasn’t what she requested?”

You hum. “Getting close, Mr. Auror. She gave me creative freedom.”

Sebastian lets out a ‘tsk’ as he leans down to your face. You knew you were treading dangerous waters as you allowed him to press you against the door. Friends weren’t like this.

Fuck it. You were way past friends the moment he had been too physical with you during your Hogwarts years. This was just an inevitable result of it all.

“Was it because…” He trailed off, grabbing a lock of your hair as he locked eyes with you. He gently rubs the soft strands of hair between his fingers before placing a soft kiss on it, not breaking eye contact with you. “You expected to draw her but you drew someone else?”

You bite your lip at his alluring stare. “Bingo.”

He leans close, brushing his nose against yours and before he could have the opportunity to finally do the thing you both needed the most, you opened the door behind you causing him to stumble forward as you step inside. You giggle at his flabbergasted expression before watching as it turned to a look of mischievousness.

About to march towards you to take his revenge, you nudge your head towards the canvas mounted on the easel in the center of the room. He turns to look with nonchalance at first but then takes a double look in awe.

You had drawn him.

A realization flashes across his face. That day you brought your painting materials for Anne. You had drawn him.

“Y/N, this is—” He turns to you, waiting for an explanation.

“Before you get all emotional with me.” You joke as you place your hands behind your back. “That day, I was supposed to give Anne a gift. She told me to paint. At first I expected a portrait but she had only told me to paint whatever I loved in your home.”

His breath hitches at the insinuation.

You let out a shaky breath, letting liquid courage do its work. “I really wanted to draw her but my eyes found you. I painted you before I could even process what I even created.”

Sebastian takes a step closer, eyes not leaving yours. At every step of him towards you, you take a step back. You then found yourself trapped against the wall and the looming figure of Sebastian in front of you.

You lick your lips as your eyes brim with tears. You repeat the same words once again, hoping he would understand. “I painted you, Sebastian.”

“Yes you did.” The brunette whispers as he stops a few inches in front of you. “Magnificently, just as I told you.”

“Flattery won’t get you nowhere.” You chuckle sadly as you could feel the tears threatening to pour down. Sebastian only smiles at you with a fond look on his face.

“But it did, with you.” He winks, letting one last tease flow through his lips  as he leans close. “You have to say it, Y/N.”

“I can’t.” You whine as tears now pour down your face. He cups your cheeks within his rough but warm hands.

This was it. The moment you were waiting for but somehow you found it difficult to say it out loud. You knew when and where you experienced first things with Sebastian but those were only collections and points made in your mind. You had never tried outright to acknowledge your feelings for him in any way.

But the painting.

And so you give him the option to say it for you.

“I love you.” Sebastian says it firmly with his eyes locked with yours. It rings in your ears like a golden snitch wavering in the air. “I always have and our time spent together and apart never changed that.”

You let out a sob as he finally closes the space between you two, forehead against yours.

“I loved you the moment I met eyes with you at your manor, the moment you smiled in the comforts of your library, the moment you asked me If I was still with you– your every touch, breath, gaze and very existence– all of it. I love all of you.” Sebastian lets out a shaky breath as he rubs his thumbs against your cheeks. “The light of my life. My everything. I need to know now, that painting, what does it mean?”

Silence lapses between the two of you as tears stream down your face. The words slip from your lips, every sound comes with the feelings you’ve kept for years.

“That I love you too.”

Sebastian wastes no time in pressing his lips against yours. You whine as you arch your back, arms wrapping around his neck as he kisses you to oblivion. You feel his hands wander your curves as he presses you against the cold surface of the wall. Somehow, the cold temperature is undetectable with the heat shared between your moment of passion.

“Oh fuck, I fucking love you.” Sebastian growls against your lips. Your hands find themselves in his locks, tugging and pulling as he slips his tongue between your lips. Years of unsaid feelings and pining for one another– all crumbling down at the sight of a portrait.

“S-Sebastian.” You moaned as he grabbed your thighs to wrap against his waist. You feel his hardness press against the side of your thigh as he leans down to busy himself with your exposed neck. 

“Can’t take my eyes off of you.” He snarls against the skin of your collarbone, leaving hickies in its wake. “Can’t take my hands off of you. Can’t get enough of you. My advances should’ve been obvious from the start, kitten.”

You let out a moan as he ground his hips against yours. He pulls back to admire his work on your neck, smiling as he admires your fucked out face. “Fucking perfect.”

“Please, please take me.” You whined as you clawed on his arm like a cat needing its owner. He coos at your expressions, placing gentle kisses all over your face.

“Patience.” He mutters before pulling your dress up, hands roaming underneath the fabric as he grabs at whatever fat he could grab. His palm then boldly cupped your cunt causing you to squeal at the sudden pressure.

“Please.” You beg as you let out a sob. Sebastian chuckles as you drop your head on his shoulder, moaning as he rubs your folds over the fabric of your underwear.

“Feel that? You’re so wet, baby.” He speaks to you in a low voice as he slides the fabric to the side before running his pointer and middle from your opening to your clit. You let out a high pitched whine at the sensation before he pulls his fingers from your pussy and shoves them in his mouth, humming at the taste as his dark eyes lock on yours. You feel entranced with how darkened his eyes are with lust and desire for you.

“Tastes better than I imagined.” He mutters before he dives his hand back in between your legs and pulls your underwear off. He adjusts his grip on you, arm securely around your waist as the other plays with your pussy.

“Oh fuck, Seb.” You moan as you feel him circle the pads of his fingers on your clit. The mane expertly maneuvered his fingers around your folds before sliding them in with slight resistance. “Oh!”

“So fucking tight.” He growls as he curls his finger in, preparing you for his cock. It had been a while since you had sex so you were glad that he had at least prepped you for what was about to come. He moved his fingers within you in a come hither motion as his thumb pressed against your clit.

The ministrations kept you on edge as you felt a knot on your stomach. “I-I’m– Shit! Feels so fucking good, Ah.”

“Mhm.” Sebastian hums as he speeds up his movements. “Cum one for me. Can you do that, pretty?”

You nod obediently as he begins to hit the sweet spot within you. Your breath quickens as you feel your orgasm coming and then it hits you like a freight train. You claw at Sebastian’s arms as you bite into his shoulder, preventing yourself from screaming and notifying the other members of the house. 

“Good girl.” The brunette praises as he slows down his motions, letting you ride your orgasm. Noticing your small couch on the side of the art studio, he carries you over with no efforts, sitting down with you in his lap. “You okay?”

You whine like an obedient little thing in his lap, hips moving against his leg. Sebastian bites his lip as moves your dress up to watch your bare ass move against him. Having enough of the fabric hiding your physique from him. He swiftly takes it off, leaving you bare and naked for him to admire and touch. 

“Fucking gorgeous.” He chuckles as he leans forward to bury his face within your breasts, taking one nipple in his mouth as his hands grab your ass. He lands a harsh slap on your soft ass cheeks, feeling it ripple under the sudden force of pressure. You shriek at the pain. 

He moves back from sucking your tits, eyes assessing your flushed face. “You ready?”

At this point, you were fully sober. You nod at his words, smiling as he pecks your lips before he unbuckles his belt and pushes it down to reveal his hardened cock. You gasp quietly at its size, it was average in height but on the thicker side. He smiles at your dazed look. 

“It’s okay baby. You can take it.” He reassures you, almost mockingly. You allow yourself to be adjusted  by him on his lap before allowing you free reign. “Go ahead, sit on it.”

You gulp at his orders as he leans back to admire you on his lap. The way you stared at him, all innocent and doe eyed while ass naked and tits out somehow pulls out a violent urge inside him.

The urge to keep you all to himself. He clenches his fist as he watches you take his cock by the shaft, angling it to your entrance before you push down with a high pitched whine. He feels his breath quicken at your tightness and the urge hammers against his chest.

Fuck. I have to marry her.

Unable to control himself, he grabs your waist and fucks up into you, immediately bottoming out. You choke at the sudden push, leaning forward as you steady yourself with a hand beside Sebastian’s head, fingers gripping the couch while the other claws at his arm. He grinds up into you as his jaw clenches. You press your forehead against his.

“Feel that? All the way up there.” He mumbles, breathless as you feel his tip almost brush against your cervix. You choke out moans as he continues to grind in that spot, stimulating you. “Feels good right?”

“M-Mhm.”

“Such a good girl for me.” He hums in a deep voice before his grinds turn into thrusts. You clutch the fabric of his dress shirt as he grips your hips, bouncing you on his cock. He maintains a steady rhythm, hitting your sweet spot nicely and deliciously.

“Ah! Ah!” You exclaim every time it hits it directly. Sebastian hugs you close by the waist as he fucks you deeper and faster. “Ooh, fuck! Seb– I can’t–”

“Take it baby,” He pants into your ear as he slams his hips against yours. You feel a knot form once again at the bottom of your gut. You let out a sob, tears begin streaming down your face. “Yeah. Fucking take it.

“You’re mine.” He growls as he presses his forehead against yours. Pools of brown now dark and muddled with lust. You could only babble and sob as you felt the pleasure spike up with every thrust against your pussy.

“S-Sebastian– Ngh, I– Fuck! I'm close.” You moan as the man beneath you begins to stutter in his thrusts. Sebastian nods as he speeds up his movement, moving you closer to the finish line.

“Cum. Cum for me like the good little lady that you are.” He growls against your ear. It was the final blow for you as he hit your sweet spot dead on and your thighs shake at the unraveling of another climax. You were unable to keep yourself quiet as you loudly shrieked as you came. Sebastian immediately covers your mouth with his palm, humming sweet nothings into your ear as he continues his harsh thrusts to lengthen your orgasm.

Soon after, Sebastian climaxes as well, moaning as he releases into you before pulling you into his arms as the two of you lay exhausted on the comfortable sofa. There’s a moment of silence before you both giggle at your current situation. You pull away slightly from his embrace, facing him with an afterglow.

“15 years huh?” Sebastian smiles as he tucks the stray hair away from your face. You lean into his touch as he cups your face.

“15 years.” You repeat before placing a kiss on his lips. He returns it with enthusiasm, smiling into the kiss. You’re the first to pull away.

“I hope you know I’ll be keeping you forever.” You playfully threaten as you trace his features with your pointer finger. He chuckles at your insinuation for marriage.

The two of you meet eyes. E/C meet brown and suddenly everything makes sense. You feel the burden of unsaid feelings and lingering glances float away as you have unraveled your all to him as he did to you. Now all that was left was you and him. Y/N and Sebastian and the history of you and him.

The history of you and I.

The corners of your lips quirk up at his response as he cheekily grins at you.

“I don’t mind that at all.”

A/N: wahh this was so fun to write ueueu i lowkey think i could've improved more on the nsfw part but here it is!!! hope yall enjoyed it and tysm for arianna who commissioned me hehe mwa. for those wondering what the painting of sebastian looks like, check it out here. (yes its the banner haha and its my own art!!)

[crimsonbastard]

Alright, might as well adress the elephant in the room:

- The absolute desecration of Alicent's Character is infuriating. Her straight up surrendering to Rhaneyra and throwing her sons to the wolves?? And betraying her own Father? Alicent HAS her issues with her family but there's no way that she's going to stoop as low as straight up giving them up. And oh, her saying that she was "fond" of Viserys?? Like what?? You mean the man who groomed you?? Put his rot in you and neglected you and your children??? What the actual fuck??? Was this the same woman who attacked Rhaenyra when her son got mutilated?? All of that for what?? Nothing! And what of your Grandson Alicent?? The little boy who was butchered?? Does his death mean nothing??

- Helaena's complete 180. Seriously?? Her guiding Daemon? The man who orchestrated her son's death? I understand Helaena not wanting to fight, and as Queen she has every right to deny Aemond, but her guiding Daemon towards his path?? Seriously?? And since when did her Visions get Lucid enough to pinpoint Aemond's grave?? Atleast Condom and Hiss had the courtesy of Helaena feel something towards her husband when she confronts Aemond about what he did.

- Oh Aemond, literally the only Green who (besides Cole & Daeron) who's fighting for his family. Him trying to force Helaena felt out of character, as, besides his mother it's her he cherishes the most. We see him lash out, that cold calculated mask finally dropping as he starts getting desperate when he lashes out on Sharp Point and it's innocent citizens as well as his sister. He still is that angry boy who lost his eye.

- We've got Rhaenyra openly admitting what Team Black had been denying all along. That for her to ascend, Aegon must be put to the sword.

- Cole finally being vulnerable and showing what's going through that head of his. How he thinks that this war is for nothing, and that whatever ideals he held onto before, have been let go of and that the only thing that keeps him going is Alicent. He knows that chances of him making out of this war are slim but he goes along with it, for her. Him admitting his hypocrisy, and that he has no shame was the cherry on top. A Jaime Parallel.

- Ah yes the Weirwood vision that conveniently removes any daemyra angst later on. Daemon realising how serious the upcoming horrors from beyond the north are, and that Daeneryes cameo is nothing but a cheap attempt by Condom and Hiss, just to:

a) Shoehorn Daenerys to appease Dany Stans

b) Remind the audience of the "divine right" of the Targaryens to rule westeros as only they can "unite" the realm.

c) Completely absolve all the future atrocities comitted by Rhaenyra and Daemon, as it is for the "Greater Good"

d) By doing so, they gave Daemon a convenient excuse to go on his "murder suicide" battle with Aemond other than abandoning his wife for one last girl he groomed, her being Nettles who is cut from the show, so as to not anger the Daemyra stans.

e) It doesn't even matter in the end, as it's Arya who kills the Night King.

- Alyn verbally decimating Corlys for abandoning him and his brother until his legitimate heirs were gone was satisfying to see.

- Aegon wanting to fashion himself as "The Realms Delight" Is interesting. Considering he will go down into the history books as the Rightful King whereas Rhaenyra goes from being "The Realm's Delight" to "Maegor with Teats". Aegon being negatively viewed by the smallfolk this season despite wanting to do good by them (to get their love and approval) whereas Rhaenyra leading innocent people to their deaths (by dragonfire) and watching from atop, and also sending a few "gifts" to the starving smallfolk, she herself being the cause of their starvation, via the blockade. If the writer's don't further fuck up, we might hopefully see the smallfolk shift their perception towards both rulers, with Rhaenyra being finally called "Maegor with Teats" and Aegon being somwhat looked at positively.

- Sunfyre cannot be dead. He's too important. I hope they made Larys mention that just to subvert our expectations.

- We finally get to see Tessarion, and she looks like a recolored Arrax. Hopefully with a bigger budget they'll give her a more fitting look.

[hw4-l1z]

☆Release☆

Student!changbin x teacher!m!reader

Warnings: teacher x student (changbin is of age in this) //Changbin calls reader sir alot // unprotected sex //

A/N: This has got to be the longest fic I've ever wrote to enjoy :))

NOT PROOF READ

°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°

You walk into the room as you see changbin grabbing one of his classmates, ripped peices of paper were also sprawled out on the floor. You walk up to him and yell at him for picking on someone. He gets a little angry as he shoots you a glare.

"go sit down changbin, leave the poor boy alone" you say looking down at him. Changbin's face turns red with anger and embarrassment, not used to being told what to do. He storms over to you, his fist clenched tightly at his side "You think you can just come in here and boss me around?"

"Yeah, I'm older than you and I'm your teacher, sit down" you say in a demanding tone. Changbin's eyes narrow into slits, his jaw clenching tightly as he struggles to control his anger. "Fine." He reluctantly sits down on his seat, still glaring up at you defiantly. "Anymore of that and I'll send you to the head teacher office" you shoot him a glare before turning to the student he was bullying to check up on him.

Changbin bites his lip, looking away from you as he huffs out a breath in frustration. "Fine. Whatever." He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, glancing over at the boy you were helping before quickly averting his gaze. The bell rings signalling home time, all the students packing their stuff and leaving. "Changbin you're staying behind, I want a talk with you". He gulps, feeling a wave of anxiety wash over him as he pauses halfway out the door. "Yes?".

"Sit here" you say as you pull up a chair behind your desk next to you. Reluctantly, Changbin takes a seat across from you. His eyes dart around nervously as he fiddles with his hands, not used to being put on the spot. "Do you think your behaviour towards that boy was acceptable?" You start, Changbin looks away, his cheeks flushing slightly. He bites his lip before mumbling in response, "No, I guess it wasn't. But he provoked me..."

"he did? what did he do to provoke you", Changbin hesitates, unsure how much to reveal. He takes a deep breath and decides to be honest. "He... he called me names. Said I was a sissy and that I should dress more like a boy. It hurt my feelings", "alright, that's fair then...but do you think grabbing him and ripping his book up was really the way to react ?", Changbin hangs his head in shame, knowing he crossed the line. He takes a deep breath and shakes his head, "No, it wasn't. I shouldn't have done that. I just...I got angry."

"I know and you had every right to be angry but next time...don't get physical just...insult him back or come to me and tell me and I'll sort it okay?". He nods hesitantly, still unsure about how to handle such situations effectively. "Okay, I'll try to remember that. But...I just want people to leave me alone sometimes. It's hard when everyone's always trying to pick on me or get under my skin."

"I understand, it's not your fault, clearly you just have alot of built up anger you need to take out am I correct?", Changbin's eyes widen slightly at your perceptiveness. He hadn't realized how much anger he was carrying around until you pointed it out. He nods slowly, his voice barely above a whisper, "Yeah, I guess so...". "Well you know there's a gym in the school, you could work out to de-stress or even use the punching bag if you'd like just something to push out the anger...it's what I find to help". Changbin blushes slightly at your suggestion. He hadn't really thought about using the gym to de-stress before, but it does sound like a good idea. Plus, the thought of getting close to someone else in a physical way doesn't seem appealing right now, "Maybe..."

"Would you like access to the gym? you could go after school, nobody really uses it except during gym class so? you can go now if you'd like", he bites his lips, considering your offer. The thought of being alone in the gym doesn't particularly appeal to him either, but going after school might be a good way to clear his head and release some tension. "Yeah, I think that's a good idea. Thank you, sir". "Of course, do you want to be alone or would you like me to help you with some equipment?",  Changbin hesitates for a moment, his cheeks flushing slightly. He hadn't really thought about having someone else there with him, but the idea of not being alone does have its appeal. "I-I don't mind if you stay. It might be nice to have some company"

"Alright, let's go then follow me" you stand up and head out the room and towards the back door, stepping outside to the gym room outside in a big hut. Changbin follows you, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement about being in the gym with someone else. As he steps into the room, he takes a deep breath and looks around, trying to figure out where to start. "do you have gym clothes in your bag? wouldn't be easy working out in your school clothes".

Changbin blushes deeply, his heart racing at the thought of changing clothes in front of you. He nods slowly, reaching into his bag and pulling out a pair of gym shorts and a t-shirt. "Y-yes, sir. I have some gym clothes", "alright change into them, I'll put in some workout music" walking past him to the speaker, you hook up your phone to it and find some of your favourite workout songs. Changbin nods and quickly changes into the gym clothes, feeling self-conscious about the process. Once he's dressed, he walks over to where you are and tries to ignore the way his heart is hammering against his chest. "I find leg workouts the best for de-stressing, stand here and I'll pass you a weight" you set on giving him a weight that's not too heavy but not light weight "tell me if you want it heavier or lighter. "Thank you, sir. I'll start with this weight.", "Great, spread you legs wider and just squat down when your ready". Changbin nods and does as you say, gripping the weights tightly. He tries to focus on the exercise rather than the way your muscles bulge under your shirt. "Sir, how long should I hold this position for?", "not long just go down for like 2 seconds then back up again until you feel like you can't do anymore".

Gritting his teeth, Changbin begins to move up and down. Sweat drips down his face as he tries to maintain his form, but he doesn't want to stop until you tell him to. "Sir, can I take a break?", "of course, don't over work yourself". Changbin breathes heavily, his muscles burning from the exercise. He's not used to pushing himself this hard in the gym, but he wants to impress you.

After a few moments of rest, he nods and continues his squats with renewed energy. Changbin grunts with each rep, his legs shaking slightly from the effort. He doesn't want to stop until you tell him to, even though his muscles are screaming at him. "Sir, can I ask for some help?" Asking shyly, Changbin points to his legs, which are quaking under him. "My legs are starting to shake... Would it be okay if you held me up?", "yeah of course, don't want you hurting yourself" you stand behind him, hands hovering over his waist to help him lower himself down into a squat. Blushing brightly, Changbin leans back against your chest, feeling both embarrassed and incredibly turned on by your touch. He closes his eyes, taking deep breaths to steady himself as you help him with the squats. "You're doing great", he moans softly, his legs starting to tremble more noticeably. He tries to concentrate on lifting the weight with each press, but the sensation of your body against his back is driving him wild.

"okay good job, put the weights back and sit on the leg press". Nodding, Changbin carefully places the weights back on their rack and moves to sit on the leg presser. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart as he looks up at you. "put your feet up on this" you say as you adjust the weight to make his already weak shaky legs push the machine with ease, "start pushing back and forth with your legs now, remember not to extend completely straight" His heart is racing as he obeys your instructions, feeling vulnerable yet oddly aroused by the situation. He starts pushing the machine back and forth with his trembling legs, trying to maintain his form. "your doing good, your thigh muscles are already great wow" you say giving them a feather light touch. He moans softly, his legs shaking more noticeably under your touch. His face flushes even deeper with embarrassment, but he can't deny the growing desire between them. You smirk at how cute he look with his legs vigorously shaking, "so cute" you mutter quietly but just enough for him to hear. A soft whimper escapes Changbin's lips as he continues to push the machine, his legs shaking more violently under your touch. His mind is filled with images of what might happen next, and he can't deny the arousal building within him.

"you can stop now" you lock the machine once his legs extend, falling immediately to the ground once the machine locks in exhaustion, "you good?". Panting heavily, Changbin tries to catch his breath as the machine finally locks in place. His legs are trembling uncontrollably, and he can feel a warmth spreading between them. You look down seeing his dick almost bursting through his shorts, deciding on teasing him more by ignoring it and continuing on, "take my hand I'll help you over to the bench".

Nodding eagerly, Changbin takes your hand and allows you to help him off the leg presser. His legs are still shaking as he sits down on the bench, feeling exposed and vulnerable in front of you. You pass him a weight telling him to hold each side of the weight "straighten your back, and lift it up and down" you place my hands under his elbows to help him lift up the weight. He groans in pleasure as he feels your hands on his body, his dick throbbing in anticipation. He follows your instructions, lifting the weight up and down slowly, his heart pounding in his chest. Deciding to tease him even more you utter out a little praise "good boy~". Blushing profusely at your praise, Changbin bites his lip and continues lifting the weight up and down, his eyes locked on yours. His breaths are coming faster now, and he can feel the weight of his load building up inside him.

"you're doing good binnie, keep going" you smirk, holding eye contact with him until he shy's away. He moans in frustration as he reaches his limit, dropping the weight with a loud thud. He pants heavily, eyes closed and head tilted back, trying to regain his composure. "Careful you could've dropped it on your feet, now lay down on the bench under the big weight" I say as you take off some of the weights so it's alot lighter. Shaking from the intense workout, Changbin obediently lies down on the bench underneath the now lighter weight. He nervously glances up at you as you move around him, his heart racing with anticipation. You walk to where his head is to help support him whilst he lifts the weight, your hard cock almost in his face "ready,? go".

Feeling your presence so close, Changbin's body reacts instinctively. His hips buck up slightly, seeking contact with your hardness as he lifts the weight. The friction sends a jolt of pleasure through him, making it harder for him to focus on the exercise. "hey binnie...focus on something else other than my dick yeah?" You tease at him letting out a laugh.

Panting heavily, Changbin tries to push your cock out of his mind as he focuses on lifting the weight. His face burns with shame at his own desire, but he can't seem to resist it, "oh come on binnie you can do better than that". Gritting his teeth, Changbin pushes the weight up with renewed effort, trying to ignore the throbbing between his legs. His hands tremble slightly as he holds onto the sides of the weight, feeling your eyes on him adding an extra layer of humiliation. "Alright thats enough", you help him put the weight back, telling him to stay laying down as you circle round him, hooking your leg around the bench over his body you lean down into his ear, "you did so well~ do you want a reward?". Feeling your body press against him, Changbin's heart rate quickens. His cock twitches beneath his gym shorts as he nods eagerly into the crook of your neck. You shift your positions so he's laying lower on the bench, legs wrapped around your waist as you pull him up into your lap.

Changbin gasps as he's lifted up into your lap, his legs instinctively wrapping around your waist. His eyes widen in surprise and pleasure as he feels the hard length of your cock pressing against him through your pants. "You look so cute, pink and sweaty" you grin, moving your hands down his back and onto his ass. He moans softly as you grip his ass cheeks, arching his back slightly to get closer to your touch. He feels a rush of adrenaline and excitement coursing through his veins, mixed with the lingering shame of his desires. "Please... I need it...", "need what hmm? use your words". He whimpers and squirms in your lap, trying to find a more comfortable position as his desire grows more intense. "I need you... to fuck me...", "you want me to fuck you hmm? take off your shorts and underwear for me then darling".

With trembling hands, Changbin quickly undoes the drawstrings of his gym shorts, revealing his already hard cock beneath. He blushes deeply as he pushes them aside, exposing himself to you. "How about one more leg workout?" You smirk laying on the bench once you’ve pulled out your cock and pulling changbin onto your lap, "ride my cock, use your feet on the floor for help". He moans loudly as you position him on your cock, feeling it stretching him open. He leans forward, bracing himself against the bench with his hands as he begins to ride you slowly, using his feet for support, "hmmm that's it baby, pick up the pace you can do it, I want to see how shaky your legs get".

He groans and picks up the pace, his legs shaking with each thrust. The feeling of being filled by you is overwhelming, and he can't help but lose himself in the pleasure. "Fuck... yes... harder... please...".

"You're doing so well for me" you push him all the way down on your cock as you help him grind his hips back and forward onto your cock. He moans and gasps, his entire being focused entirely on the feeling of your cock stretching him and filling him up. Each thrust sends delicious waves of pleasure coursing through his body, intensifying the ache between his legs. "Come on bounce on my cock more, get those legs working".

With a sudden burst of energy, Changbin begins to bounce up and down on your cock, his movements becoming faster and more frantic. His legs tremble with exhaustion, but he can't help but continue, driven by the overwhelming sensations coursing through his body. You grip his waist to help him bounce on your cock, thrusting up each time he comes back down to hit the good spots in side him harder. His moans turn into high-pitched squeals as he feels himself getting closer and closer to the edge. The tight heat of his hole clenches around your cock, milking it with every thrust. "I'm... gonna... cum...", "cum for be baby, that's it, fuck".

With a final, desperate cry, Changbin reaches his climax, his body shaking as waves of pleasure wash over him. He clenches tightly around your cock, his release coating your stomach as he rides out the intense orgasm. Gripping his waist and fucking into him fast, overstimulating him whilst chasing your own high, you finally cum with a low moan.

Changbin collapses onto your chest, panting and trembling as the aftershocks of his orgasm ripple through him. His eyes are half-closed, a mix of satisfaction and exhaustion on his face. "You did so well for me today binnie, such a good boy" you stroke his back gently. Still breathing heavily, Changbin nestles closer to you, his face buried in the crook of your neck. He murmurs softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you... for this... I've never felt this before...", "of course and you got to release your frustration whilst doing so".

Sighing contentedly, Changbin nuzzles deeper into your embrace, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your chest. His eyes flicker up to meet yours, a soft smile gracing his lips. "You're right..", you give the side of his sweaty head a little kiss, letting him regain his breathe again. A shiver runs down Changbin's spine at your tender gesture. He leans in to press a light kiss against your lips before pulling back with a small blush. "... I think I like it when you're rough with me sometimes...", "yeah? Well I'll be rough with you more then".

Changbin's heart skips a beat at your words. He nods eagerly, his eyes filled with anticipation. "Yes, please... I want you to be rough with me". You pull him in for a long soft kiss, your breathes finally regaining and your bodies beginning to cool down. As the kiss breaks off, Changbin lets out a soft moan, his body trembling slightly from the aftermath of their passionate encounter. He presses closer to you, feeling your hard body against his soft one. "I think we should get out clothes back on, you need to be heading home, dinner will be soon don't want your parents worrying too much".

As they both began to dress again, Changbin couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment at the thought of parting ways. He bit his lip nervously, wondering if maybe he could convince you to do this again. "Uhm... Hyung...", "yeah?", a slight pause before he speaks up, "I... I really enjoyed today, more than anything. I was wondering, if maybe... we could do this again sometime? I know we're not supposed to, but... well, I'm kind of hooked on your rough side now.", "of course, maybe I can pick you up on Saturday and bring you round to mine for the night if your free?". His heart skips a beat as he hears your proposal. A small, genuine smile forms on his lips. "Really? You'd do that for me? Thank you, Hyung. I'd like that a lot." You give him your number so you can text him later on once your both back home. "I'll see you Saturday then, need a lift home? don't expect you to walk back with shaky legs" you chuckle.

Grinning ear to ear, Changbin quickly scribbles down your number on a piece of paper before slipping it into his pocket. "Yes, please. I'd appreciate a ride home. My legs are definitely not up for the challenge right now.", "alright let's get going then". Changbin nods eagerly, following behind you as he tries to keep up with your long strides. His mind is racing with excitement for the weekend ahead, and he can't help but feel a warm tingle between his legs.

°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°

[wtf-a-psychoanalysis]

ULTRASONA REVEALED

Ultraman Stage, the ultraman on the other side of the ring of fire.

He's in Ultraman Rising Universe to justify some timer mechanics

Age: early 20s (younger than Ken by some years)

Height: 50 meters (Actually 45 meters just "hovers" all the time, abuses his flight privileges all the time.)

Named after signature move that moves both combatants 5-8 meters above ground level using a light/spacium barrier for 3 minutes leading to disorientation of the enemy and reduced ground damage. He's an ultra(?) hybrid who now defends the West Coast some time after Ken leaves for Japan. Turns out SoCal has perfect conditions to grow Kaiju. Discovered this power trying to fight a Gesura whilst walking home from karaoke.

He doesn't talk, relying on pantomiming, body language and dramatics to convey meaning. He doesn't like his voice bc he feels that it doesn't fit him. And it ensures everyone can understand since not every one speaks English or Spanish. Outside of fights he's quite reserved and stares. The only time he speaks is to activate Stage and signal Curtain Call

The noises he does makes are usually grunts, and mimicking his monster opponents.

He's very defensive and evasive when fighting mainly because he hates making a mess so he puts up barriers for minimal collateral damage. The "stage" is a last minute resort when he thinks someone is about to be squished. He also fights very meticulously inorder to avoid damaging surrounding buildings. This is also because he's not properly strong yet, poor diet and lack of training is a contributing factor to his lack of physical strength

If he's not feeling it he just shoos off a developing problem until it bites him in the ass.

Blue and silver body with gold accents invokes a night time vibe especially during the stage phase since looking from below the stage it looks like night.

Other than the basic spacium beams, razor and shielding techniques he has the following moveset.

Platform: Default hovering while walking and sitting down is called Platforming, it's not as intense as the Stage phase so it doesn't result in the countdown. It's an ongoing conscious process but does it all the time bc he's just really scared of messing shit up. Likes to walk the beach using this technique.

Curtains: flexible shields that he puts up on surrounding buildings and himself, has the properties of fabric so instead of breaking it tangles and tears. Can be used to contain Kaiju and drape over buildings.

Curtain call- Not to be confused with Curtains, ALL shields, curtains and stages are shattered and his power is depleted lasting 3 minutes. He must de transform before the 3 minutes are up. Often uses this time to clean up

Color Timer is like the moon phases counting down in yellow during the Stage phase. It just flashes red during Curtain Call

In practice he can last transformed longer than 6 minutes as long as Stage isn't invoked. Literally sat thru a baseball game and a concert as Ultraman bc he could. Using Platforming to chill as much as he can.

There's this rivalry between Ultraman Kenji and Ultraman Stage mostly because of a sort of feeling of "what if?" On Ken's part.

They met when Ken was visiting the states again and Ken sees that Stage manages to kill a Kaiju,

When they do meet, Stage is immediately threatened by the "original" (since he didn’t have the resources *money and ultra parent* like Kenji)

He relies on the fact people don't know what the fuck he is, in desperate measures cries when upset so he uses that to shift public perception.

*gets punched by Ken and starts to cry*

Ken: Are you crying?!

Jeers from LA

*Stage gets his shit rocked by Emi with the metal bat*

Ken: EMI NO!

Eventually Kenji does give his blessing to stage to keep the area safe and some fighting tips

Ken: We never really got over that language barrier

Stage: its not your fault

Ken: TF You speak English?

[ricardian-werewolf]

Take Me to War.

Chapter 1: If not to heaven, then Hand in Hand to hell.

Gwayne Hightower X Original Female Character. (slow burn, Medieval perceptions of marriage and womanhood)

Sunne in Splendour x House of the Dragon.

Word count: 3.48k words.

AN| This is the first time the author has written for Gwayne Hightower, so please be kind! The author also only has a surface level knowledge of House of the Dragon/Game of Thrones, so please be courteous when making comments or suggestions. The Author is a history student with a special interest in the Wars of the Roses and Ricardian sources, so knowledge of that period will be largely correct.

Summary:

Reeling from the battle of Bosworth Field, fifteen year old Cecily-Anne is a princess without her throne, family, or hope. Forced to play her hand with both hands tied; a seemingly mystical intercession forces her into a world that is shockingly similar to the England she knows, yet also drastically different. It is there as a mere lady in waiting, that she is forced to pick a side in a war that has been played over in her England for decades. It remains to see as to whom will come out from this "Dance of Dragons," unscathed and whole.

Tws: Brutal violence, implied sexual violence, sexism of the medieval period, religious mention, brutality.

Taglist: @lordbettany, @rmelster, @portiaadams, @mihrsuri

If you liked it, please reblog and comment! Every kind word keeps more of them coming!

Blood flecked Cecily-Anne’s face, her skirts and hands. She stared down at her palms, running them together as if she wished to clear the mess. Raising her head, she could only stare in wide-eyed horror as Henry Tudor’s sword drove its tip into her father’s chest. The crunch caused her to flinch visibly. No one had bothered to remove her from the camp, to put her into sanctuary. All of the chaos of the battle had left her here. She was supposed to have only observed the preliminary actions and then been swiftly retired to the nearby Grayfriars priory in Leicester. 

But now she stood at the hands of the most likely man next to kill her.

Or wed her. He could wait, for certes. She was only ten-and-five years, not even yet showing signs of womanhood. But to a country teetering blindly towards anarchy, this was the only movement forward to solve so many problems. However, as she shifted uneasily from foot to foot. With her skirts turning soiled with the still-warm blood of her father, Cecily remembered Elizabeth Woodeville’s many daughters. Maybe he would choose one of them, and leave her well enough alone. Maybe clemency would work with this…. Bastard of a prince?

She would refuse to bend her knees and acknowledge him as the god-chosen king. No. The rite of the crown would go to Teddy. Or passing him, Meg. She would need to make arrangements, seek out Johnny and Kathryn. They would need to know of Richard’s death.

Suddenly, a hand clenched around her upper arm and she shrieked, blindly lashing out. 

“My lady, please!” A voice hissed. Female, french sounding. Véronique de Crécy. Cecily looked up into the lady-servant’s face and caught the tears forming on her lashes. “Do not cry out. You have been granted the right of sanctuary with the nearby nunnery. They are doing this out of the mercy of your womanhood, Chérie.”

“Mercy?” Cecily hissed as Véronique dragged her from the battlefield. She could only watch silently with doe-wide eyes as her father’s corpse was stripped to the flesh. Then, it was dumped over the back of a steed. “No-” She began to scream, thrashing in her mother’s servant's arms. Another hand clamped over her lips, silencing her.

“Do not make a sound, Princess. Keep very, very quiet.” Francis Lovell hissed. “It is horrific, yes, but this is what Tudor dictates, and we must bend the knee or be slaughtered.” He effortlessly dragged her through the leagues of white-tented campsites to a waiting horse and litter. Mistress Burgh, who had tended to her since infancy, examined her skirts silently. 

“By the holy mother-” She began, then looked into Cecily-Anne’s whitened face. “Come, lovely. We must be getting you home.” 

“My F-father-” Cecily jerked her head up as she watched the white rose being put to the torch. Suddenly, the fight drained from her and she fell to her knees, the veil of her hennin swimming about her face like gossamer wings. “No, please, No!” She sobbed, wrenching off her hennin and veil with a firm tug. Her hair fell from its pins, spilling about her face.

“What is the meaning of this?” A voice sneered. “I find it most…” Cecily looked up into the face of a man who she would forever remember. Standing over her, clad in plate armour of pure silver with work of ferns and ivy was Thomas Builder, retitled Thomas Melbourne. A minor lord, he had backed her father until the end, and then revealed his hand when Tudor had taken the advantage. His eyes gleamed like emeralds in the watery sunlight shimmering overhead, and he bent down to lift her chin. 

“Unfaithful to your late Father, Princess.” His voice was velvety, meant to be soothing. But it merely made Cecily more vicious, more angered. She whacked his hand aside and bared her teeth. She raised her hand, and formed a fist. Her father’s knights who had served him now formed a Testudo around her. 

“Ah, princess.” Melbourne sneered again. “These men are traitors. They ought not rush to thy defence.”

“They shall.” Cecily rose on unsteadily feet, but squared her shoulders. The moment of grief within her was pushed down deep inside her, and she shut it away. She would not allow herself to show how much she hurt. He would not see how much she longed to lie down in the blood-splattered grass where her father had fallen, and implore God and his saints to take her too.

Please, Holy Mother, protect me from this man’s aims and evils. She prayed silently, her fingers sliding to the crucifix around her neck. Suddenly, she gasped as Melbourne parted the Testudo around her, ignoring the pike-axes grazing his cheeks. His hand snaked up and grasped hers. His eyes blazed with pure hate, and he grabbed the crucifix in hand. It did not burn him, which Cecily hoped it would. She could only sob as Melbourne yanked the chain forward, dragging Cecily along with it. She was pulled from the safety of her knights and thrown roughly to the ground. 

Around her, a cheering and jeering group of Tudors’s soldiers had gathered. At their head was Margaret Beaufort, clad in mourner’s black. Briefly, Cecily was reminded of her mother’s poisoned words against the mother of Tudor. She flashed her teeth again, snatching out a hand to grab something. But her hand was pinned under the black-metal foot of Count Adhemar’s boot.

“There she is.” He crowed as Tudor pushed through his men and raised his visor to regard her. “What a wonderful wife she would make for you, Your grace.”

“You deem him your king?!” Cecily snarled, crying out as Melbourne grabbed her hair and pulled her head back with a sickening crack. Looking up at him from below, Cecily was able to see his lengthened canines, and she shuddered in horror. It seemed as though not only was Tudor ungodly in his mortal affairs, he consorted with demons to win him victories.

She crossed herself, murmuring the lord’s prayer under her breath.

“She should be killed, Henry.” Margaret cried. “If she is not, she is a threat to your legitimacy. Any son she bears and the blood of the Yorks remains stronger than ever.” 

“There is still the matter of those two boys. Tell me-” Tudor turned now to Cecily, and stepped over her so that his legs were on either side of her hips. She looked up at him even though she couldn’t look him in the eye. Her breaths came in heavy, rapid gasps as Tudor grabbed her by the chin and lifted her head.

“Did your father kill the princes, girl?”

“No!” Cecily cried instantly.

The smack of his ringed hand to her face made Cecily cry out again. Around her, even some of Tudor’s knights were making murmurs of discontent. No one struck a princess, or made a movement against her. Yet, Cecily knew easily how vulnerable she was. With no strong woman such as her grandmother to speak in her defence, she was powerless. Véronique’s words were as good as naught.

“Then where did he put them?”

“I have no knowledge of where-” Cecily sobbed again as Tudor rained down another blow. She was saved a third as Margaret’s hand reached out and pulled Henry’s fist back. “Please, no. Do not taint your victory with such sin. God will find it distasteful.” 

Please, Holy Mother, protect me from this man’s aims and evils. 

Tudor glared at his mother and then Cecily. His thumb stroked her thrumming pulse point, and then he spat in her face. “Be glad that my lady mother raised me to be merciful. If I was not, I ought to put you in your place as you deserve, wench.”

Cecily shuddered. 

She watched with widened, fear-filled eyes as Tudor’s men departed with their king at the head. Atop Tudor’s head was the crown of King Edward, the very crown that had been affixed to her father’s helmet. A sob burned through her lungs and she pressed her knuckles to her streaming eyes. Wrapped in the spanish silks she had been gifted as part of her engagement to Joanna of Portugal’s younger cousin, Cecily-Anne Isabel Plantagenet knew that without a doubt that she was a marked woman.

As she was helped into the litter by Véronique, Cecily watched as Tudor’s men took down the White Rose of York. Her breath hitched as the Whyte Boar of Gloucester was unpinned from her father’s command tent. His squires who’d survived the battle were lined up in order of age. She watched with wide eyes devoid of all emotion as a barber surgeon and priest went about taking confession. Then, they were beheaded in front of the spot where her father had taken mass just that morn.

The battle of Redmore Plain had lasted a scant few hours, but the impact would fester for weeks. As the wheels of the litter began to turn and Cecily’s few knights fell into step beside the litter, the princess pressed a hand to her mouth and wept without shame. She clung weakly to her mother’s crucifix and the ring on her finger that had been the coronation ring of her father’s. Tudor would forge another ring, another crown; another state.

All of the work her father had done would be ashes and cinders. The North would not go quietly, which brought her some level of comfort. But their refusal to bend the knee would bite them soon enough. Sin had come over England with the miasma of plague, and it would stay thus until either the Tudors were ousted, murdered or ran out of heirs.

Pressing her hand over her eyes again, Cecily sighed deeply. 

“Write to Manuel and please inform him that the wedding is…” She waved a hand in front of her face. “Annulled. Ensure the Church knows also. I am certain they will be flooded with requests of dispensations for Tudor and whomever he chooses as his lady wife.” She looked to Véronique, who gave a quiet nod of acknowledgement.

“And you, cherie?”

“I believe I shall take a night in that nunnery you inquired for me. In the morn, we shall see where I am going. Whether it be the Tower Greene or the wilds of Bruges, I shall be excited to know.” swirling the cup of wine handed to her, Cecily drank deeply. Grief and shock had made her caustic. She would not wish to be anything other than that. As she drank more, she turned to debating in her mind how she would subvert Tudor’s wills for her execution. 

She should be killed, Henry.

She is a threat to the crown!

Was that same thing not spoken of about her Aunt Elizabeth? The very woman who had seduced her uncle to the bedchamber and made him a father to several children of health and vigour? Had that not been said of her own mother, whose wealth of lands in the north along with Aunt Isabelle set up a bloodless war between her father and mad uncle George? Had the women not birthed two sickly children for both sets of parents? Had fate not delivered her brother to God’s embrace far sooner than expected? Then a scant half-year later her own mother? 

Cecily smacked her hand against the wooden screen, and screamed low in her throat. She was well and truly alone, left to shoulder the burdens of a crown cracking more with each passing hour. The lords of London would throw the gates wide to the invaders, burn Crosby Place and Baynard’s to the ground. She would be bereft of a husband to-be, left to rot in a Court that would not place her in a position of honour. She would have to bend the knee to play favour, but her actions a few hours earlier would drive that thought from Tudor’s mind with the swiftness of a spring breeze.

Compline found Cecily-Anne kneeling before the altar of the Blessed Virgin Mary, her mother’s crucifix chain in her fingers. She had always found solace in prayer, not for the religious aspects, but the simple acts of running her fingers through the beads. The easy recitation of her prayers and catechisms soothed her. She always had a list in her mind of who to implore on behalf of the Father for His favour - the poor, sickly, needy. Her family members who suffered more than most came second. As part of her selfless devotion that some saw as frenetic, while others viewed it as a sign of true humility, Cecily wore a long veil and forgoed a prayer kneeler. Her heavy skirts of velvet and stiffened brocade did well enough. The order of Augustinian Canonesses had taken kindly to the young princess and put her at once into sanctuary. As an order of 1337 nuns confined to the limits of the priory’s property, they were over-delighted to have a guest. After supping in her rooms, Cecily had gone with the younger initiates to pray Compline before retiring. 

As she turned her face upwards to Mary’s figure with her arms spread out in a gesture of welcome and warmth, Cecily prayed to one woman only.

Her lady mother.

“Maman, I implore you. Please, let me know that I am not in vain to ask for you. Let me know that my pain is not all I shall feel. T-there is no way forward for me that I see. You always spoke to anyone who asked that I could solve my way out of any problem the Lord put before me, and now I find myself without.” Tears dripped down her face and she angrily shook her head, slamming her fist into the floor. The nuns who prayed quietly behind her stilled in their prayers at the sound of her fist. 

Cecily shot them a look and made the sign of the cross without breaking eye contact. Her devotion would be unshakable. The chapel at Middleham bore marks of her nails in the soft stone as she had poured out her grief in the days after Ned’s death. Now, she drew her nails once more down the expanse of stone. One scratch for her mother, one for her father, and another for Ned. 

“Please, Maman. I beg of you, do something. I cannot live in an England that is without the security of your light, of Father’s judgement. I can only implore the Lord for why he chooses to test me.” She bowed her head again. “I beg that Father is at peace, for some knowledge that he is safe, that he is happy to be reunited with you and Ned again. Please, do not worry for me. I am as well as I can be.” She wiped a tear from her eyes. Yet, they seemed to not stop, even as she forced herself desperately to not cry in the Lord’s house.

“Child…” The Mother Superior murmured. Cecily jerked her head away. She hated to be touched, to be perceived. She brought her hand up, to quieten the woman. The blood froze in her veins suddenly as the Mother Superior grabbed her hand, and then she heard a harsh voice that was her mother’s hiss; Open your eyes!

Cecily’s eyes flew open, and she recoiled. For where the statue of Mary had stood was now a cut. A cut in the space of the room, that through it showed… another space - a field with trees in the distance. It was unheard of. No miracle such as this had ever been written of in a canonical history or court romance. Cecily’s head jerked up and she looked at the Mother Superior. 

“D-do you see that?”

“Yes.” The Mother breathed, her hands clammy around Cecily’s. Her skin itched painfully and longed to tug her hand free. Yet Cecily stayed in that woman’s grasp as the Mother pulled herself up from a kneeling position. Cecily’s fingers instinctively closed tight around the crucifix chain and she ran it over her lips. 

“Speak to me again, Maman.” She whispered, her lips barely moving.

Go forward. The cut will not hurt you, child.

Cecily shuffled forward, her skirts swishing as she moved. Her skirts, the ones still caked with her father’s blood. The deep blue was stained a runny wine-dark purple and caked in a scent so foul that the other nearby nuns had their noses pinched. In the flickering candlelight, they looked like demons sent from the very brimstone and fires of Hell she feared. Somewhere deep in the back of her mind, Cecily was half conscious of the fact that her mother never called her “Child.” Yet, the grief of so much loss…. Made her feel the exhaustion within her more sharply.

Crossing the nave before the altar, she stared up at the cut with widened eyes, and reached a hand out to touch it. Instead of the pain of burning or the cold of snow on a winter’s night, she felt merely warmth. Through the ugly gash, she could see waving grasses in a stiff breeze, and squinting, making out the forms of men waiting amongst the trees. Some of them were on horses, and she wondered if they could see her. What a shock they’d get! 

The cut will not hurt you, child. She remembered her mother’s words spoken just moments before, and looked back at the nuns. They had gathered together in a small grouping at the back of the chapel, and amongst them she saw Véronique gripping Francis Lovell’s hand tight in hers. What stilled her suddenly was the expression on Véronique’s face - pure, unadulterated fear. 

Go! Go, and do not look back, child!

Cecily’s head turned to look back at the cut and she stared once more through it, her hand still stretched out in front of her. The crucifix dangling from her hand caught the sunlight filtering through the trees, and she smelled the scent of freshly hay. Distantly, she felt as though she was back at Middleham, playing with Ned and Kathyrn and Johnny. Tears filled her eyes again and she closed them as her mind wandered. 

Yes, child. Step through. You are almost home. Just another step-

Cecily could feel the sunlight on her hands; her face, and she turned her palms upwards towards the light and warmth. Yet, suddenly, the sounds of screams filled the air. Looking down, Cecily’s face turned to horror as she stepped not on freshly cut grass but blood-stained earth. An earth-shattering roar split the air as she looked up to the sight of a dragon armed with a rider opening its maw wide. A column of liquid fire flowed from its gaping jaws and set the forest before it ablaze. The men under it, clad in deep green tunics with a silver tower were swiftly enveloped in the flames and a horrific screaming sound met her ears. Throwing her hands over her ears, Cecily turned back to look for the cut.

She found it gone. 

“MAMAN!” She screamed. “What is the meaning of this?!”

A test, child. You implored for my judgement.

“A TEST?!” Cecily shrieked. 

I am the holy mother, all who worship me are tested in some way or another at some point. This is yours. Take with it what you will.

The warmth she’d felt turned shockingly cold, and Cecily cringed back, fear filling her veins with cold sand. Around her, men screamed, crossed swords and brutally massacred one another. Stumbling blindly, she turned whatever way was quietest, and began to stumble across the battlefield that would later be called Raven’s Rock. As she reached what she hoped was a line of tents consisting of faces who would be willing to listen to her tale, something sharp and long embedded itself in her leg.

The ground tilted dangerously under her, and Cecily’s face smashed into a jagged rock. Atop the rock’s surface she felt soft lichen caress her cheek, and barely had time to fist the crucifix more tightly into her fingers. The next moment, the darkness of injury and exhaustion washed over her with the strength of a tide, and she was dragged into its swell.

Over her head, two soldiers bearing the same uniforms she’d seen earlier discussed what to do with this princess in a tongue she didn’t know. After a few moments more, a knight with ginger hair and emerald green eyes came to survey her chaining up. He took his helmet from a squire and left at once to take up arms against a foe who was merely his sister’s closest friend and the supposed former heir of the Iron Throne. The false Queen Rhaenyra had made war against Alicent Hightower’s chosen son and it was unto this war that Princess Cecily-Anne was dragged unwillingly into. A war that was set to shape a generation and dynasty had merely changed time and space, but the rules were the same - a woman’s place was not upon the battlefield. 

End of Chapter 1.

[nalyra-dreaming]

why did louis accept/embrace his vampirism at the end of the finale? what exactly changed his mind?

That is a good question:)

I don’t think we have the final answer to that yet, outside the fact in and by itself.

Louis accepts himself in the books after the events of Merrick and after a stay with Armand at Trinity Gate in NYC.

As such I actually doubt the show will have that Trinity Gate equivalent (I think they mixed that into Dubai), and we know they used the major plot points of Merrick - namely Claudia’s diary pages and her hate for both her guardians and Louis‘ suicide attempt already.

I said before that I have my problems with how they did it but it is what it is now, and this event serves as a catalyst for Louis to come into his own, complete the “rite of passage“ if you so will, something that seems to be indicated by him letting go of “de Pointe“ in his name, as this part refers to his plantage owning family history I believe.

I also think there was at least a two year time jump between NOLA and the ending, so Louis likely had some time to come to terms with some things, find out other facts through Daniel, too.

He aligned himself (and his memories), you could say.

In combination with him admitting that he wore vampirism like a curse but now knows it is a (dark) gift… that is a huge shift in perception. And him reconciling with Lestat, if pnly in his mind is also a huge step.

All these things together likely brought him a lot of self-acceptance. Not pain-free, no, but acceptance.

And… me not quite liking what they did with Merrick or not^^ - I cannot wait to meet this fully self-aware and accepting Louis.

I bet he is a fucking force to be reckoned with 🙌😈

[dwellordream]

“Medieval scholars inherited the idea from ancient times that there were seven primary colours: white, yellow, red, green, blue, purple, and black. Green occupied a central position, symbolically balanced between the extremes of white and black. It was also regarded as a soothing colour. Scribes often kept emeralds and other green objects nearby to rest their eyes. The poet Baudri de Bourgueil even suggested writing on green tablets instead of white or black ones for this reason.

Michel Pastoureau writes that “the true medieval opposite for white was not so much black as red.” This can be seen in the way Europeans adapted chess. When the game was adopted in Europe, the pieces and chessboard were painted in white and red, contrasting with the black and red sets common in India and the Middle East.

It was only towards the end of the Middle Ages that the white versus black dichotomy became more favoured. A key factor in this shift was the advent of printing, where black ink was used on white paper, reinforcing the perception of these colours as natural opposites.

Arthurian romances, one of the most popular forms of literature in the High Middle Ages, frequently employed colour symbolism, particularly in the depiction of knights. Pastoureau notes that these narratives used colours to convey deeper meanings and character traits. He writes:

The color code was recurrent and meaningful. A black knight was almost a character of primary importance (Tristan, Lancelot, Gawain) who wanted to hide his identity; he was generally motivated by good intentions and prepared to demonstrate his valor, especially by jousting or tournament. A red knight, on the other hand, was often hostile to the hero; this was a perfidious or evil knight, sometimes the devil’s envoy or a mysterious being from the Other World. Less prominent, a white knight was generally viewed as good; this was an older figure, a friend of protector or the hero, to who he gave wise council. Conversely, a green knight was a young knight, recently dubbed, whose audacious or insolent behavior was going to cause great disorder; he could be good or bad. Finally, yellow or gold knights were rare and blue knights nonexistent.

During the Early Middle Ages, monastic rules stipulated that monks should not concern themselves with the colour of their clothing. However, over the centuries, their attire became increasingly darker. The Cluniacs, one of the most influential monastic communities, believed that black was the appropriate colour for one’s habit. This perspective faced backlash in the twelfth century when the Cistercians adopted a white habit.

The debate over monastic colours was intense among the leaders of these orders. Peter the Venerable, abbot of Cluny, argued that black represented humility and renunciation, while white symbolized pride and was suitable for holidays and resurrection. In contrast, Bernard of Clairvaux, abbot of Clairvaux, claimed that white stood for purity, innocence, and virtue, whereas black symbolized death and sin, even likening it to the devil’s appearance.

Green is widely associated with Islam, but this association only developed in the twelfth century. The Quran mentions green eight times, always positively, as a colour representing vegetation, spring, and paradise. The Prophet Muhammad favoured green garments, including a green turban. While green was linked to Muhammad’s descendants, different colours were associated with the ruling Islamic dynasties: white for the Umayyads, black for the Abbasids, and red for the Almohads.

Pastoureau believes that green became a unifying colour for Muslims in the 1100s. He writes, “Its symbolism is associated with that of paradise, happiness, riches, water, the sky, and hope. Green became the sacred colour.” Consequently, many medieval copies of the Quran had green bindings or covers, a tradition that continues today. Religious dignitaries often wear green, whereas green gradually disappeared from carpets to avoid trampling on such a venerable colour.

Michel Pastoureau’s book on blue begins by highlighting the neglect this colour faced among the ancient Greeks and Romans, who rarely wrote about it or used it. He even explores the intriguing question of whether ancient peoples could perceive blue at all! This neglect persisted through the early Middle Ages until the twelfth century. “Then suddenly,” writes Pastoureau, “in just a few decades, everything changes – blue is ‘discovered’ and attains a prominent place in painting, heraldry, and clothing.”

The first significant shift in the ‘blue revolution’ was the use of blue to represent the clothing of the Virgin Mary. The scene of Mary mourning Jesus’ crucifixion was popular in the Middle Ages, and once artists began depicting her cloak in vibrant blue, it quickly became the standard. Additionally, artists, especially those working in stained glass, overcame technical limitations in creating blues, allowing the colour to be used in various mediums and clothing. Pastoureau notes that by the thirteenth century, monarchs such as France’s Louis IX and England’s Henry III began wearing blue, leading it to become the colour of medieval royalty.

Yellow initially benefited from its resemblance to gold, which bolstered its reputation. Many medieval heraldic symbols incorporated yellow, and possessing blonde hair was considered highly fashionable. However, in the Later Middle Ages, yellow began to acquire negative associations, including envy and heresy. Judas, the apostle who betrayed Jesus, was increasingly depicted wearing yellow clothing. Consequently, it was unsurprising that when the Catholic Church convicted the Czech reformer Jan Hus of heresy in 1415, they dressed him in a yellow robe for his execution.

Yellow also became associated with Jews, and as European Christians enforced clothing regulations on Jewish communities, yellow was often (though not always) included. By the early modern period, yellow fell out of favour, perceived as gaudy and unpopular.”

- Michel Pastoureau, “Colour in the Middle Ages”