#so there are some amusing surface similarities

[lilacxquartz]

part 6 of 19 of kinktober: foursome

mahito x reader

plot: mahito surprises you by splitting his body into three copies of himself — themes: group sex, mahito changing his body to have tentacles, tongue throating, smut, anal, m/m/m/f, foursomes, f!reader — a/n: all consensual here, wanted to play around with such an imagine — w.c: ~1.6k

kinktober masterlist • main masterlist • ao3

“Can I help you with something?” you asked Mahito who was otherwise stood right before you; his eyes so dazed yet so focused at the same time, as though wide with fleeting wonder.

“Wanna see something fun?” he asked after a moment of unsettling silence.

Knowing Mahito, you couldn’t help but feel some sort of dread nestle within the depths of your stomach. Albeit reluctantly, you however did nod as to confirm your curiosity.

Noticing your discomfort, the patch faced cursed spirit giggled to himself rather suspiciously but seemed to be restraining himself into a smoother, more casual demeanour.

You then watched with wary eyes as he did something not only strange, but surely impossible.

Even for him.

Like the tethering flame of a dry wick kissing a burning flame, Mahito slowly emerged as a secondary, seemingly separated life form. You stared with a wide, unblinking gaze as his body began to split, plopping out another version of him.

It took a hot moment for you to even process what was going on. A thought that you must have been hallucinating had crossed your mind for a second, but no matter how you tried to shake off what you were seeing; you couldn’t.

You faltered for a second longer before regaining your voice again, quizzing him at an almost bewildered tone, “I beg your finest pardon?”

“Impressed?” the Mahito closest to you had asked. The clone version. His voice was equally smooth and seemingly equally just as playful as his original counterpart.

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes for a moment, trying to ground yourself while taking a long, deep breath. With a still shaky tone, you tried your best to keep it all together, but you couldn’t quite retain your composure completely, “I’m not… too surprised, actually. I’m just floored that this is even possible to begin with.”

The two of them laughed in response, both sounding eerily similar yet somehow vaguely different. It was very clearly that they both found this whole situation deeply amusing, although there was a slight inkling of something else that lingered beneath the surface. It wasn’t quite unlike Mahito to prod at your boundaries and test the limits of what you could and could not handle, but it didn’t seem to be going in such a direction.

Before you had a chance to gather your thoughts and finalise them however, the cursed spirit managed to split off once more and reveal a third addition to his two other copies.

With fluttering eyes, you locked in on the sight before you.

There were three of them.

Three.

Your mouth opened to say something, anything, but no such words came.

Just what the hell was this, exactly?

“What’s the matter?” one of them asked, their voice taunting yet somehow alluring at the same time.

“What’s the matter…?” you repeated in a strained whisper, your mind still racing to process whatever mess he had plunged you into now. Which one of them was even speaking to you right now, anyway? Was this the original? Or was it one of the other… clones?

Another Mahito that hovered near the side of the other two decided to chime in as well, “You’re looking a little overwhelmed, huh?”

Was… was this one the original? You couldn’t even tell anymore. Although, there was one version of him that was surely unsettling. The one that lingered towards the side, watching you from the shadows. That particular version of him had no playfulness leftover in his demeanour, with all accounts of his nonchalant personality replaced with something dread inducing instead.

“Just think,” one of the more laidback versions spoke up, tearing your attention away, “the more of me, the better right?”

The other one seemed to agree with himself, “Yeah, that’s right. Now you get to have three times the fun.”

You hadn’t really quite noticed it right away, but the three of them had managed to close in on you by now, walking you up against the living room wall. The sensation of the cool brick pressing against your spine threw you off a little, prompting you to flinch.

Yet, the three Mahitos were undeterred, still easing as closely possible towards you. It wasn’t that you were put off by this development—it was quite the opposite actually—but you didn’t want to admit it. That in the presence of three of him, you were flustered, maybe even aroused.

And given the hungry looks on each of their faces, it was highly likely that they all had the same idea going on. You paused for a moment, narrowing your eyes at the sight. Of course they were all thinking the same thing, surely. They were still one person—one curse, after all—just sectioned off into three.

Ah, how confusing it all was, but you were slowly losing your ability to otherwise care, blinded by your own arousal.

The middle Mahito pressed his body against your own, trapping you between him and the wall. His hand snaked around your waist, coiling down to your core like organic springs, while the others manoeuvred around however and wherever they could.

Dipping your arm below your hips, the middle Mahito continued onwards with his pursuit by pushing down at your jeans and your underwear in unison, dropping the fabric down to the floor. His fingers then closed and pointed, webbing together and morphing into a tentacle-like appendage that speared into the enveloping pull of your cunt.

The quieter, more unnerving Mahito turned your head off to the side while the middle one continued to drive himself into your body, by pressing his lips against yourself and slipping his tongue inside. Similar to the middle version, the fleshy muscle seemed to only lengthen itself, vining into the back of your throat and quite literally taking your breath away.

Muffled whines and moans slipped out of your throat as you barely processed the progression of events. The writhing pass in between your legs had bloated and swelled, pushing inhuman lengths of reach. It partially hurt, but also felt pleasurable in a way that was unlike anything you have ever felt before. At last however, the tongue retracted from your throat, allowing you to pass a low whimper on its removal.

The one opposite off to the side didn’t give you too much time to think however, turning you over towards him with an impatient gesture and repeating the actions of the quieter one—of who positioned himself right behind you next. While both your pussy and your throat were occupied, he freed his erection from slightly pulling down at his trousers and position himself at your slightly parted cheeks. Spitting onto his tip, he coated the head of cock in saliva before pressing it against the opening of your ass, easing himself into the tight position, though allowing you to take him in slowly.

“Keep up,” the quieter one murmured, the playfulness still somehow absent from his voice unlike with the other two. Something about such a development was both thrilling yet worrying, but you didn’t have neither the time nor the opportunity to think.

You tried your best to keep up, feeling his throbbing length press become swallowed by the encasing muscles, feeling ever so slightly overwhelmed at the prospect of being filled up by three of him. The one tightly packed in your behind, pushing himself back and forth in heated, almost feverish motion. It almost felt like he was tearing you apart, splitting into you with every grunted plunge.

Meanwhile, the one in the front was quickly getting a rise from within you. Morphing veins and ridges over his twisting arm, he elicited raw pleasure from filling you out in every sense of the word. His other hand focused on creating a suction-like addition, that he held clean over your clit, further feeding into the sensation.

Thoroughly stuffed to the brim by all three of them, your body began to quickly writhe and convulse as it succumbed to almost numbing bliss.

“Aw, are you going to cum already?” the one in front of you teased, although his tone of voice seemed to be almost endearing.

All you could do was give a slight nod of your occupied head, still being throated by his other self pushing his elongated tongue back and forth down your throat while the other continued to pound away ruthlessly into your ass.

Still keeping the sensation going, he removed his other hand from your clit, easing down to his knees instead while keeping his arm still thrusting into you. Propping open his mouth, he speared his tongue over towards your clit in a similar fashion to how the other two used their tongues, driving a focus on the sensitive bud. The wet muscle flicked and lapped over the nub, bringing you closer and closer towards your finish.

It was swift due to the overwhelming amount of both pleasure and pressure alike, but your lower stomach soon had found its limit. In a tight squeeze, your thighs quivered and clenched tight against his arm, while your hips stuttered from an intensely milked out orgasm.

Melting against the wall in much sought after recovery, the other two withdrew from you and seemed to fuse back together with the original, who seemed to be the one in the middle. You blinked at the sight, but didn’t question it anymore, needing to rest more than to process the madness he just demonstrated.

“Now imagine if i could make even more of me,” Mahito laughed to himself, settling right beside you to join you in your rest.

You gulped, unable to quite imagine the prospect of even more of him, feeling your cheeks redden from the very thought in near anticipation.

With a weary light hearted scoff, you leaned your head over his shoulder and felt your eyes droop shut. “Yeah, imagine…”

(Although a part of you couldn’t wait for all this to happen again. And again. …And again.)

[neckromantics]

Astarion loves to take baths with you.

It's one of his favorite ways to spend his downtime in general, honestly. Not only is the bath such a soothing place to be (you know once this man has the option, he's going to splurge on a vast collection of luxury soaps, oils, hair masks, and body scrubs- the list goes on.), but there's just something about it that makes him feel so normal? Mortal, almost.

If he lets himself soak just long enough, the heat from the water begins to nullify the vampiric chill that he's grown ever so used to. It's a pleasant warmth that works its way past pale skin- past tired muscles and aching sinew- and settles down deep into his very bones. For a few precious moments, he can convince himself that the eternal discomfort of undeath has made off for good this time.

And his hair always looks spectacular after wash day. It's a win-win scenario for him. So for his favorite person to be involved as well? Well, that just makes it all the more better.

-

This time, you're lounging on the floor nearby as he soaks- having stuck around after washing his hair for him as he oh-so-kindly requested of you. He's still a bit new at asking for small acts of kindness, so of course, you jumped at the chance to put your hands to good use. You were so careful not to catch your fingers on any snags as you worked a sweet-smelling soap through his wet curls, nails scrubbing away at his scalp even after it's all rinsed away just to hear him purr for you.

You're leaning against the bath, cheek cushioned against your forearm as it rests along the edge. The other swirls idly in the water- kept heated by clever use of prestidigitation (you'd recently picked up this cantrip for purposes such as this) and softened by the finest oils stolen gold could purchase. The curtains in your room are carefully drawn, and although your source of light comes from the multitude of candles scattered about, it's still enough to see the nice flush the heat brings to his skin. It's a little odd to see him so pinkened, and obviously, you can't help but stare no matter how hard you try not to.

It's the blood- your blood- that's pooling beneath the surface of his skin and giving him this radiance that many a man would covet.

Rose blooms a pretty bouquet on the smooth skin of his chest, up the length of his bared throat as he rests his head, and even reaches the tips of the pointy ears you so adore. Gods, even his knuckles are pinker when he reaches a hand out of the water to push his hair away from his forehead, and your gaze immediately follows the trail of soapy water as it glides down his wrist- drip-drops from his elbow and back into the bath.

Astarion looks so... peaceful like this.

Pale lashes rest upon warm cheeks as he reclines, face fallen soft, similar to how it does when he's deep in trance. A part of you wonders if this is how he might have looked back some two hundred years ago, before the affliction that was bestowed upon him by his old (now deceased, you celebrate mentally) master.

Eyes of ruby open just a crack, and you know that smug smile is coming before his lips so much as twitch.

"You know, my dear, most people consider staring to be rather rude." He purrs.

You're proud to say you don't miss a beat.

"Good thing you're nothing like most people then, hm?" Quick wit- a developing side effect from the many days spent traveling with the cheekiest rogue in all of Faerûn.

Quick as you may be– he is quicker. 

"Ah, right you are. Most people aren't nearly as beautiful as I am– one can hardly blame you for all of your slack-jawed gawping."

A half-huffed laugh is pulled out of you. Astarion loves to pretend he isn't just as delighted by your glossy-eyed admiring as he is amused.

And here you are again, suddenly distracted by the slightest bounce of silver curls when he tilts his head to watch your smile hit your eyes. His hair looks a bit longer when it's weighed down by bathwater and conditioning oils, almost to the point where some bits just barely brush his shoulders. You're so mesmerized that you have to touch him. The hand that's been playing in the water comes up to brush a few nearly translucent hairs away from where they've stuck to the curve of his neck, lingering afterward to carefully trace a finger down to his collarbone as you continue your oggle-fest.

Only just a moment longer, you tell yourself, and then you'll leave him be.

Yet, he doesn't let you pull away too far when you've finished. A deft hand comes up from the depths to capture yours the second you think about leaving him to his privacy, and you nearly jump at the unfamiliar temperature of its grasp.

He's warm.

Almost warmer than you, and it's honestly kind of jarring.

Astarion's still sporting that smile, although a bit kinder than before. If you weren't watching so closely, you'd miss how his eyes flash, uncharacteristically shy for just a moment before that heavy-lidded stare is set back in place. He brings your joined hands up to his mouth, petal-soft lips resting against the damp heel of your palm in a not-so-kiss.

They press for a long moment, and you can feel the appreciative hum he gives more than you can hear it. It occurs to you that he's probably just as dazed at your matching temperatures as you are.

"Get in here, darling." The command comes out as more of a question, really. You know in your heart that you have every right to refuse him if you really want to and that he wouldn't even consider holding it against you if you did.

But why in the hells would you ever do a thing as silly as that?

[felibrary]

╭──╯ TWO TRUTHS, ONE LIE

PAIRING: aventurine x reader

SYNOPSIS: in which you invite aventurine to play a drinking game with you: "two truths and one lie." it's an amusing game, what could possibly go wrong? that is until one can't distinguish between the truth and a lie.

wordcount: 1.8k | content & warnings: unestablished relationship, drunk - not really drunk rather intoxicated confession? or drunk idk, alcohol, barely any metaphors - like little to none but more dialogue (i’ve improved..ig!!), the title basically says everything

AUTHORS NOTE: i needed to write something and its two almost three am, im dying. istg i pulled this out of my asscrack. So who am i to proofread?? also this is kinda similar, kinda (really) similar to my other fic. what if i cried. when writers block gets so bad you start copying yourself dawg

“it’ll be fun!” 

you blissfully cheer as you take out two shot glasses out of your cupboard before fetching a bottle of vodka and setting it down onto the big and fancy dining table that stands in the middle of your living room, a moving gift for your new apartment which you received from none other than aventurine. 

(he insisted that it’s a fitting gift for your new home - well it certainly didn’t fit well through your front door, only after a few tries from aventurines employees they managed to transport it inside your new apartment.) 

with quick movements, the blond grabs the transparent alcohol and pours the two of you a glass. “how gentlemanlike of you.” you comment, a pinch of teasing in your words as you let out a huff, smiling as you shake your head before sitting down, right in front of him. 

a faint laugh escapes aventurine's lips and he can only hum in delight as he slides over your glass from across the table. “so if i understood it right, you for an example, tell me one lie and two truths and if i were to guess them correctly, i as the victor get to see you, the loser drinking a shot?” he props his elbow onto the dining table before leaning his cheek into the palm of his left hand, curiously awaiting your answer.

your eyes gleam in excitement “bingo!” and he can’t help the smile that finds its way onto his face. “though we’re not gonna do it one go, we’ll have turns. for example, i start off by telling a lie and you guess if i was telling the truth or not, then it’s my turn to guess, then it’s yours again and so on.” 

you grab the glass from above and lazily twirl around the vodka. “how does that sound?” you tap your fingers around glass before slowly tracing the edges of your glass with your index finger in a languid motion. “is this a wager you’re willing to indulge in, mr. aventurine?” you smile. what a tease you are.

“sure, sure. i see no reason to decline your generous offer.” he returns your smile with one of his own, similar to the one he gives to his clients, polite and charming. “well then, it’s only natural for you as the guest to start, right?” you set your glass down and it makes a light “thump” sound. 

“how kind of you.” he looks down at the dining table, scanning the items with his eyes. a white tablecloth which is stained with some light brown-yellowish spots, probably from the times when you spilled coffee onto your table and weren’t able to properly wash them out. 

he hums as he taps his fingers against the hard surface of the table, deep in thought as if pondering what to say. “let’s start off with an easy one, the critters were a gift from the trailblazer.” a lie.

you’re quick to respond “that’s a lie. although you and the trailblazer get along well, they’ve never gifted you something like a pet. the person whom you received them from is veritas.” upon that aventurine can only give you a content smile before gulping his glass down in one go. 

“very well.” he praises you before opening the alcohol bottle and pouring him another glass, not once breaking eye contact as he shoots you a knowing look that says “your turn.”

unlike aventurine you don’t need a long time to think about what you’re going to say. “i used to like you a lot.” a partial lie - you still like him. 

“that’s a lie.” aventurine immediately points out, not even bothering to meet your gaze. can this be considered a rejection? technically you didn’t confess but you admitted your “former” feelings which he immediately denied as if he doesn’t want to have anything to do with them. in response you can only quickly down your glass, hoping that the alcohol would somehow help you. (does making you feel worse count as help?) 

he continues without any effort, simply just brushing off your admission from just now. “i get along well with topaz and veritas.” the truth.

your eyes that were on his once also glance down at the table as you bury your nails into the tablecloth. “that’s the truth.” you manage to choke out, there’s no way you’re going to start getting all emotional now and start sobbing and weeping, instead you take a deep breath before continuing. 

“although it sometimes gives the impression that you don't get along with either of them and the three of you are just acquainted with one another through work, they trust you a lot and also somewhat get along with you. for an example when topaz entrusted you with her cornerstone during your mission on penacony or as mentioned before when veritas gifted you the critters. he thought you’d take a liking to them. perhaps you’re not friends but at least reliable colleagues that trust each other.” you answer as you continue to dig your nails deeper into the piece of fabric.

“i should’ve known that this was too easy for you.” aventurine chuckles as he drinks the vodka out of the glass, not leaving a single drop behind. “okay, it’s your turn again.”

you can only hum in agreement before speaking up. “i have a high alcohol tolerance.” a lie, a big one at that.

a honeyed laugh meets your ears, the sound of sweet laughter makes you glance up again. aventurine’s laughing. how sweet, bittersweet even.

there were nights when you were curled up in your sheets, wishing that there was someone beside you and not just a cold and empty mattress; wishing that there was aventurine who was laying by your side as he whispers sweet nothings into your ears as one of his arms is draped around your torso, tracing shapes onto your soft skin and tickling you. you’d push him away and laugh at which he could also only laugh. 

laugh like this; laugh like right now.

the delicate and tender moments you yearn for more than anything else are like birds, as soon as you get close to them, they get scared, they flutter their wings and quickly fly away. before you’d ever have a chance with aventurine he’d always be out of your grasp - out of your reach. 

he’s free on his own, not bound to anything and anyone. not having someone to rely on and someone whom he always needs to worry about. someone who’d keep him caged like a bird with little and restricted or rather no freedom.

“why are you laughing?” you shoot him an offended glare as you part your lips at him, a small pout decorating your face. “why are you sulking?” he responds in a teasing tone, it’s supposed to be light hearted but there’s care that glimmers in his eyes. great, does he care about you now?

“i  am not sulking!” you huff as you try to hide your expression from him, putting your arms down the dining table and burying your head in between them. 

“oh you so are!” he laughs lightly.

“shut up ‘rine!” you groan from where you’re laying.

“fine, fine.” if you were to look up at him now, you’d see him admiring you and fondly smiling while looking at the back of your head.

“my answer is that that's a lie. a blatant massive lie! you have a low alcohol tolerance and are basically a lightweight. i mean just look at your face, your cheeks are flushed and so are your ears, they’re literally beet red.” he chuckles. 

you get up from your lying position and greet him with an annoyed look. quickly you grab your glass and gulp everything down to the last bit, eventually you wipe away the remnants that cling onto your skin with your arm before pouring yourself another drink and laying back down, so now you’re back to your previous position. 

“well, it’s my turn again. because i started off with an easy one, i’ll also end it with a simple and really easy one. i have a shopping addiction.” a lie.

“lie! you yell from your place. “what kind of lie is that even?” you complain to him. 

“i told you i’d end it with an easy one. but can you also tell me why it’s a lie?” he asks curiously.

“you’re not too fond of spending credits on materialistic stuff, you use them to help out people who are in need. despite your job.”  the last part was muffled and intended for yourself only but you should’ve known that aventurine would hear it. “what was that?” despite my job?” he asks in amusement. “just forget it!” you groan.

“anyway you do that or buy cute toys for your critters. You prefer to keep your friends close with words, gestures and actions, not money.” you whisper.

“jackpot.” aventurine chuckles before proceeding to drink the vodka in his shot glass. now what will you surprise him with next?

“i still love you.” the truth.

in the past minute you gathered together several questions, statements, personal experiences in your head only to splurt out with this? the boldness came from the vodka, at least that’s what you try to tell yourself nevertheless you’re sure of one thing: alcohol definitely wasn’t a good idea.

“bold as always.” aventurine chuckles amusedly. “the truth.” he hums before standing up from where he was currently sitting, moving towards your side of the table and standing in front of you. you’re dizzy - lightheaded, but you try to look up to where he’s standing, with much effort you move your head into his direction, still lying on the table though. although you feel dizzy you’re able to make out a faint smile on his rosy lips. 

he opens his arms before wrapping them around your body, just like how you always longed. it’s unfair. even though vodka reeks, he doesn’t smell like it at all, rather it’s still his signature scent, a somewhat fresh note mixed with something sweet, the scent that you like so much. “sorry for being an ass before.” he hums as he looks down at your temple and carefully brushes the hair which covers your face, away.

i love you too. he wants to say, but he can’t. aventurine still can’t come to terms with himself and his love towards you. he doesn’t know how to voice it out loud or show it through actions. three simple words that he can’t say together, fearing that they’d be too intimate and wouldn’t seem sincere, especially in this scenario. 

but in all honesty, you’ve probably already caught on. you’re smiling like a lovesick idiot when you stare at him, but who wouldn’t, when aventurine is looking at you with an expression that says more than “i love you” ever could. 

you knew instantly, he too, was guilty. guilty of loving you.

hey girly hold still!!!! this is uhm yeah dedicated to @azullumi i'm not writing you a sappy not until i get mine!! THAT DOESNT CONSISIT OF ONLY BLANING ME FOR MY TYPSOS also childe does no wrong. ajax, you the boy who fell into the abyss, later on known as the 11th harbinger tartaglia whom we met in liyue and called himself childe and then turned out to be apart of the fatui and we also later on meet in other nations, azul loves you a lot!!

© VYNICITY 2024. stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms or feeding them to ai is not permitted.

[daemonsversion]

Hightower Girl | Daemon x Reader

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Female (Hightower) Reader

Summary: Sometimes it seems like Daemon has made it his life's mission to annoy you as much as possible. However, when he learns that your father has practically arranged a marriage for you, a long hidden desire comes raging to the surface.

Content etc: profanity, slight masturbation but not really, smut (fingering, loss of virginity) I never know what to put here tbh. Sorry for any mistakes, I only read back through it once or so.

Word count: 6,935 (my first fic on this page was NOT meant to be this long help)

The air held a chill as you turned your gaze up to the sky. You were standing at one of the large windows, looking out over the courtyard as the morning light continued to grow. It was beautiful to look at, yet the chill felt similar to the one that ran through your heart.

With a sigh, you turned away and retreated down the corridor. Last night your father, Otto Hightower, had told you of his plans to marry you off to one of the lords on the small council. You would, quite frankly, rather eat your own head but when you tried to protest all he'd done was get upset with you and tell you it was long overdue that you wed.

So you had been in a downward spiral ever since, trying to decide what - if anything - you could do to get out of it. It was a feeling of powerlessness that had you in its grip as you lamented that there might actually be nothing that you could do about it. Unfortunately, in many ways, you were seen as your father's property. To effectively sell off as he saw fit.

You didn't see him at first. Your eyes were fixed firmly ahead as you walked but they were not really working as they should. You had tunnel vision, moving mainly on autopilot. It wasn't until you'd walked right into Prince Daemon and trodden on his foot that you realised he was anywhere in the vicinity.

"Ah-careful!" He hissed, though not out of real anger, just a bit of surprise and pain because you'd really stomped down on his toes without meaning to. His hands had shot up to your shoulders, pushing you away from him, holding you at arms length.

Your gazes met at the same time and he blinked, abruptly letting go of you and stepping back, his eyes looking you up and down. "Oh." Hightower girl.

You frowned at his reaction but you were not in the mood today to get into an argument with the prince of the city, though some days you almost lived for it. "Forgive me, I was not looking where I-"

"No. I daresay you were not." Daemon smoothly interrupted, causing a flash of irritation to go through you. As much as you tried to conceal it, it did not go unnoticed and his lip curled into an amused smirk.

He leaned in slightly, his eyes now full of mischief as he saw the reaction he'd drawn out of you. Very similar to the ones you often drew from him, merely by the circumstance of your birth. He had not the stomach for Hightower cunts, after all, but he had absolutely found some use for you - getting to make you scowl and want to stomp your pretty little foot was the highlight of his day sometimes.

"You know, if you wanted to be close to me, all you had to do was ask." He purred, a hand coming up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face.

Your own hand immediately came up to slap his away before he could even touch you. Daemon chuckled, straightening up and letting his eyes roam down your form once more, from head to toe. This time it felt like there was something more than just derision there... and a sort of heat started to creep through you. Once his eyes met yours again, he gave you another one of his irritating smirks and then turned on his heel and vanished as quickly as he had appeared.

With a glare, you watched him leave, ignoring the deep ache that started to gnaw at you somewhere within and then you turned away and continued about your business.

Idiot.

Hours later, your frustrated footsteps took you through the keep, away from your father's office, out into the fresh air. The expression on your face was anything but happy, the argument you had just had with Otto fresh in your mind. You had, of course, gone to him intending to have a very levelheaded conversation about all of this but as usual it had descended into madness.

'It is high time you wed and start a family of your own, I have coddled you too long. Grow up. You will marry him.'

The words were spinning in your mind as you exited and stormed out to the Godswood. Not for any reason other than the fact that you knew it would be empty of people and your main desire was to be alone.

You didn't even want to talk it out with your little sister right now because you knew Alicent would only try and defend him. Ever the little appeaser, she would probably say that Otto was only doing what he thought was best. If he wanted to do what was best for you, why not let you marry someone you wanted, when you wanted?

A large pair of hands suddenly gripping you by the waist from behind and pulling you backwards, flush up against a hard body, startled you from your web of thoughts.

"You know the Gods aren't actually listening, don't you?" Daemon's lips grazed your hair and his breath was hot in your ear.

With a squeal, you scrunched in on yourself, squirming out of his grasp, twisting around to shove him away by the chest. "Daemon!" Your tone was scolding.

He only chuckled, leaning against the nearest tree as he looked back at you. "What?" He asked innocently.

You could only frown. Usually you had no problem giving back what you got but you simply don't have the heart for any of it today.

"Oh, what?" Daemon practically sneered, his lip curling as he stared at you. "Cat got your tongue, Hightower girl?" He knew your name but he never bothered to use it, simply out of a desire to further annoy you. You only ever called him by his name and he never called you by yours.

You rolled your eyes and gave him a look but there was not as much fire in it as usual and he found that this disappointed him a little.

"I saw you leaving your father's office." Daemon continued, watching the way your jaw tightened just slightly. He smirked. "Is it your cunt of a father that has upset you, hm?"

Where he expected to see a scowl at his insult against Otto, perhaps even a little fight, you instead huffed a humourless laugh and threw your hands up in a defeated manner. Upset was an understatement, you felt so far beyond just upset.

Daemon frowned, his expression becoming more serious. Well, teasing you was no fun if you did not react in the way he had become accustomed to. It seemed that he might have hit the nail on the head here without even really meaning it - he thought your mournful look was due to his presence, though now that he thought about it you had stormed out here in something of a temper. He had followed you all the way from inside, after all, so he'd seen the swiftness of your steps.

"What has he done now?" He asked then, studying your face with a look you rarely saw on him.

"Nothing." You mumbled, looking down at the ground. The last thing you wanted to do was pour your heart out to Daemon fucking Targaryen.

"It does not look like nothing." Was all the prince said in response.

Just that, not a hint of mockery in his tone, and you lifted your head to frown at him again. He did not look his usual level of cruel amusement. He looked almost like he... actually just wanted to know. That couldn't be right.

However, something about that made you just blurt the words out. Your father had basically sold you off to one of those stupid, stuffy lords on the small council. You had no choice and you felt like you were suffocating!

After you finished venting, Daemon's expression changed again. It was subtle, barely noticeable, but you caught the slight narrowing of his eyes as he stared at you in silence. The smugness seemed to have been wiped completely from his face. You couldn't remember the last time you'd seen him without it.

"What?" You asked, confused now as well as frustrated. Why was he not making fun of you about this? Why was he not taunting you with your looming fate?

Daemon gave the slightest shake of his head, his gaze dropping away from your face slightly. He opened his mouth as if to speak and then he closed it again as if he'd changed his mind. His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip and then he turned his face, looking away over the trees.

Your gaze had dropped to his mouth but you ignored the feeling in the pit of your stomach that the glimpse of his tongue gave you and tried to focus.

"What?" You asked again, a little more firmly this time. Daemon's silence was setting you on edge.

"What do you mean, what?" Daemon practically hissed as he turned his face back towards you.

Your glare returned at his tone. That was more like it. More familiar. "What do you think I mean? What is your problem?"

"You are my problem!" Was his furious reply as he took a step towards you.

"I have never done anything to you!" You exclaimed back. It was always him! Starting an argument or saying something snide in passing. He'd started this whole thing! If you were such a problem, why did he keep seeking you out just to bother you?

"Oh, do not act as though you are blind!" Daemon said, exasperated.

"What are you talking about?" You could not understand how a discussion about your predicament had spun so out of control. Why was he so angry? He was the one who'd asked! You were the one who was being given to some random man! "This is typical Daemon Targaryen. Everything is always about y-"

"You know very well that I have desired you, do not try and deny it!" Daemon snapped.

The silence that followed was absolutely deafening. You stared at him, your expression now one of shock. He stared back, his one of anger and also regret for speaking the words aloud.

"You..." Was all you could get out before you fell silent once more. This did not make sense.

In one of the most surprising moves he had ever pulled on you, Daemon closed the remaining distance in an instant. Taking your face in between his hands, he held you in place for a moment as his dark gaze burned across your features, and then his mouth descended upon yours and you were thrown so far into shock you were not sure you would ever come back from it.

His kiss was hot and passionate and his tongue was in your mouth before you knew what was happening as you... kissed him back, the desire that had been fighting for attention inside you for years now taking control.

His hands moved from your face and took hold of your waist as his mouth continued to explore yours, guiding you backwards towards the tree and pressing you gently up against it. You would have expected him to be rough and quick but he was not. His touch was gentle and soft and your heart was practically flying in your chest.

His body pressed up against yours as he deepened the kiss and you couldn't stop a soft sound of desire leaving you. It spurred Daemon on as a hand moved up from your waist, sliding up over your dress. He groaned into your mouth at the shape of you and you felt like you were on fire.

Only when Daemon's fingers began to fiddle with the lacing at the front of your bodice did you come back to your senses, turning your face to break the kiss and the hands that had moved to grasp his shirt began to push him away. "Stop... stop..."

The kiss stopped but Daemon did not immediately move away, his nose grazing your hair and his breath now hot against your ear as he fought to get his lust under control.

Eventually, he pulled away, his hands leaving you, stepping back to put distance between you both.

You were in an absolute whirlwind. Had that actually just happened? You had kissed Daemon. Daemon had kissed you. He'd been desiring you? For how long? Why? He hated you, did he not? You had so many questions and a moment later you turned your face back so you could see him.

Daemon stood where he was for another few moments, breathing heavily as he stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then he suddenly turned on his heel and started walking off.

"Daemon!" You called, stepping after him in surprise. What? He was just going to leave? This was not finished!

The prince said not another word, nor did he turn around, simply picked up his pace and disappeared.

The night was quiet.

The hour of the wolf had come and you had still not managed to fall asleep. It was not just your marriage predicament playing on your mind this night, it was also the moment with Daemon in the Godswood.

His hands on your waist. His tongue in your mouth.

You would be lying if you tried to convince yourself that you had never imagined it before. Despite the way he often spoke to you, and the remarks or looks you sometimes even gave him back, you had always had that funny feeling around Daemon. Try as you might (because he was a complete bastard, there was no denying it) you just hadn't been able to shake it. That desire.

Desire. He'd said he had desired you. How long had he felt that way? Why had he never said or done anything? To be fair, you knew why, and it probably had everything to do with your father.

Otto Hightower was the snake in Daemon's boot.

You thought about the way he'd looked at you when you'd told him about Otto's plan to marry you off. The speechlessness you had never witnessed before. The way his anger had risen quite quickly, causing him to just blurt out these apparently hidden feelings he'd been harbouring.

Your thoughts began to wander, wondering what would have happened if you had just let him continue what he'd been doing. If you'd let him pull at the laces of your dress and go further. He'd already had you up against the tree, what would it have been like if you'd just... let him take you?

As you imagined it, an ache began to grow steadily down between your thighs. Sighing, you squirmed. It was too late for this! You needed to sleep... yet it would not go away and your thoughts would not quiet.

With a frustrated noise, you shifted and your hand slid beneath the sheets. You couldn't believe that you were about to do this. Touch yourself to the thought of Daemon fucking Targaryen. That rude, arrogant, self-centred...

Your eyes drifted closed as you pulled the hem of your nightdress up and moved your fingers where you wanted - no, needed - them.

The lightest of touches was all you were afforded before you heard the sound of soft knocking at the door. You flinched, eyes flying open again as you sat up on your elbows and stared at the door with a frown.

The hour was so late. Who could that possibly be?

"Who is it?" You eventually called out, in case it was Alicent or maybe a guard informing people of a problem - though you had not heard any activity in the halls.

Instead of receiving a reply, your heart leapt into your throat as the door was simply pushed open upon hearing you were awake and a figure slipped into the room. It took you a moment to realise it was not any old intruder.

"Daemon!" Your heart rate slowed again, though not by much. The fact he was here at all was very improper.

He did not speak but stayed standing by the now closed door, staring at you through the darkness.

His silent, lingering presence in your dark chamber unnerved you slightly. "What are you doing?" You hissed.

Daemon blinked, seeming to snap out of whatever reverie he'd found himself in. He had been staring at you in the bed, not having been prepared for the sight even though he'd known logically you would be in it. "I thought that we should speak." He said, taking a step away from the door.

You sat up even further in the bed. "At this hour? In my chambers? You should not be here."

"I could not sleep." He said simply. Even through the darkness you could see the way his gaze flickered very quickly over your sheet-covered form.

"What has that got to do with me?" You asked even though you were pretty sure you already knew the answer. Had he been thinking about it too? Had it kept him awake as it had kept you?

Daemon's slight smirk returned as he took another step towards the bed and slowly moved to sit down on the edge of it. He wanted to touch you but he refrained. You were right, it was late and inappropriate but he just hadn't been able to rest. He had been pacing a hole in the floor of his own room for the past few hours.

You shifted in the silence that followed, refusing to be the first to break it. Your eyes were glued to him.

"I would say sorry about earlier," his voice came again. "But I would not mean it."

"Why are you here, Daemon?" You asked, ignoring what he'd just said completely.

He smiled a little wryly and his gaze dropped briefly to the low neckline of your nightdress and back up to your face. The moonlight streaming in through your window was the only thing illuminating the room.

"I think you know why I am here." He murmured, lifting a hand as if to reach for you face.

As earlier in the day, you lifted your own hand and lightly smacked his away before he could touch you. "I am not one of your whores!" You snapped, offended.

"Give yourself to me and I will never take another whore again, I swear it." Daemon said simply, his voice low as he leaned in slightly, his eyes never leaving your face.

"What?" You leaned backwards but the pillows didn't let you move too far from him. You could feel that ache again... the closer he got, the more he spoke.

"I mean it, I am being serious." He stated, lifting his hand again to graze the backs of his fingers down your cheek. This time you let him. "You do not wish for your father to marry you off to that stuffy idiot." He whispered, shifting closer. "Well, neither do I." His tone had darkened a little on that, taking on an almost possessive quality that made your heart somersault. "I presume you are a maiden." It tended to be something of a good bargaining chip for arranging unions between houses, after all.

Daemon's touch travelled slowly down your cheek towards your jaw and he eventually curled his long fingers under your chin, his thumb brushing your lower lip. "Give yourself to me," he repeated. "And I will deflower you and make it known... the marriage will be over before it is even begun." He knew this particular lord well and he knew he would not want a wife who had been sullied.

You stared at him in stunned silence for a long moment, trying to ignore the tightening in your belly and the racing of your heart at his proximity and his words. "To what end?" You asked in a helpless little whisper. "I would not have to marry this lord, no, but then what? I will surely be...-" Unwanted by most, seen as ruined perhaps, used. And gods the fury of your father when he found out...

As much as you desired him you did not want to be just one of Daemon's conquests, especially when it would leave you ostracised with no options while he continued to swan around doing whatever he wanted with no consequences. Oh, to be a man, you thought bitterly.

However, you did not get to finish your thought as Daemon interrupted, with a frustrated little frown on his face as if he'd expected you to piece that together on your own. "You would marry me."

A silence followed in which the two of you simply stared at each other. You were stunned. Did he mean that or was he being annoying? Despite the frustration on his face, which was also kind of born from his lust, you got the feeling he wasn't making fun of you. Not this time.

"What?"

"I said you would marry me, Hightower girl, are you deaf?"

A small scowl appeared on your face at his response and you pulled your face from his grasp. No, you were not deaf, but it was a bit of a bloody shocking thing for him to say, wasn't it?

"I have a name you know, you arrogant-!" You cut yourself off before you could say something too terrible but the irritation remained on your face. He had never in all the years you'd known him told you off for not using a title with him, yet he had also never called you by your own name from what you could recall. No doubt he had probably long forgotten it!

Daemon smirked at the sudden rise of fire in you. You had been off for most of the day due to wallowing in your misery and fighting with you had not felt quite as satisfactory as it usually did.

"There she is." He muttered, reaching for your face again. This time he took it with both hands like he had in the Godswood and he stared directly into your eyes, amusement shining on his face as he said your name.

Something about it falling from his lips, the way his mouth moved as he spoke it, coupled with the slowly growing desire in his eyes made you cave. Something flickered in your eyes. Daemon saw it and he immediately took it as a yes and leaned in. You did not object, tilting your head slightly once his mouth came down on yours, kissing him deeply.

A moment later his hands left your face and he was tugging at you to get you to lie back down. You shifted, still reeling slightly, and lay down again in the bed. Your heart was racing. You should not be doing this.

Any further thought was momentarily ceased as Daemon slid over top of you, hovering for a few seconds as his eyes seemed to take in as much as they could of you through the dark. "You are beautiful." He mumbled, so quiet that you thought he'd probably said it accidentally. His mouth immediately descending upon your own to prevent any response strengthened this thought.

You kissed him back right away, not in the state of mind to fully think on it anyway. Your desire was rising and the ache that had kept you awake was growing once more.

You made a small sound into his mouth which made Daemon press his body down against yours a little. The contact just made you feel hotter.

His hand slowly moved up to the neckline of your nightgown and this time you did not try to stop him. You let his fingers tug at the little ties, feeling it loosen with each one he pulled free. Your heart was now hammering so hard in your chest that you wondered how you had not passed out.

This is wrong, your mind was screaming.

But if it was wrong... then why did it feel so right?

Your thoughts ceased again when Daemon's fingers touched the bare skin of your right breast, having gotten the laces at the bust undone while you were kissing. You made a sound into his mouth and then he broke the kiss, pulling back so he could look down at you, wanting to see you properly.

The light in the room was dim but his eyes were keen enough and he groaned at the sight of you, gently pulling the rest of the fabric aside.

Again, Daemon continued to surprise you. Earlier, in the Godswood you remembered expecting his kiss or his movements to be rough and demanding yet it had been soft and gentle. In bed, you had imagined (yes, shamefully, you had imagined) Daemon ripping clothes off impatiently and taking what he wanted, yet he was taking his time undressing you and he was looking at you like you were something special, not just a body he wanted to use.

There was a funny, fluttery feeling in your stomach that you ignored as Daemon's eyes met yours again. He just held your gaze for a few seconds and then his lips were on yours once more. While his tongue explored your mouth, his fingers roamed your breasts - pinching, rubbing, tweaking, caressing - until you were squirming and whining.

You felt the beginnings of one of his trademark smirks and he broke the kiss with a chuckle, pulling back and looking down at you with amused eyes. Before you could complain about his teasing, a hand reached down and began to pull the skirt of your nightdress higher up your legs.

Briefly, you tensed. You tried to hide it but Daemon, who had been watching you very closely, immediately stopped his hand.

"Tell me to stop..." He said quietly. "And I will."

You could have. You could have told him to stop. You could have pushed him off. You could have told him to get out of your room. You could have stopped this whole insane plan right there and then.

But you didn't.

Because you wanted him.

You shook your head and Daemon raised an eyebrow, still not moving. He needed more than that.

You wriggled in frustration. "Please." You muttered, a little embarrassed to seem like you were begging for it, but Daemon did not mock you. His gaze seemed to darken with desire and his fingers clawed at the fabric once more, pulling it all the way up your thighs, wanting access to you. He might not seem it but he was growing impatient. He could feel the proof of it straining against his breeches, practically screaming to be let out.

But he would not be selfish and greedy. Not tonight. Not with you.

His fingers reached your most forbidden area and your mind immediately went blank once more, a gasp catching in your throat as he began to touch you there. His eyes did not leave your face once, wanting to see every little expression of pleasure that passed across it.

Daemon let out a groan when his fingers slid up and down your centre, feeling how wet you already were for him. He could scarcely believe his luck, it took everything not to just hold you down and finally make you his.

It was all he had been thinking about for months, probably even longer. Every whore he'd fucked to try and banish the thought of you from his mind had only succeeded in lodging you deeper into his heart.

He circled your clit a few times, drinking in the way you writhed at the sensation and then he slipped a finger inside of you. Your breath caught in your throat and he felt you tense slightly once more, an involuntary reaction. He'd felt such a reaction many times before. This was not his first deflowering.

"Shh.." He soothed, leaning in to press soft kisses to your cheek and jaw. "Shh... relax."

Daemon began to move his finger slowly, to allow you to become accustomed to the feeling. He felt you relaxing in response to his kisses and his gentle movements and soon it felt nice and you were making those sweet little sounds once more. He swiped his thumb over your clit again and then inserted a second finger, moving them both in and out with a gentle rhythm.

His lips came back to yours and he stayed like this for a little while, tongue exploring your mouth while his fingers worked you, slowly increasing speed. Your body felt hot, you were shaking and moaning... and Daemon was growing more and more turned on.

When he finally drove you to climax, he could take no more and he grunted, pulling his mouth from yours and leaning back to watch you come undone on his fingers. You were almost dizzy from the stars he'd just made you see but your eyes reopened as you felt him move away, whimpering slightly as his fingers left your heat.

You heard the sound of his belt being unbuckled and your heart started to race.

His fingers were starting to becoming impatient as he freed himself of his bothersome clothing and then moved himself back on top of you. When he kissed you this time, you felt something pressing up against you that was certainly not his hand. You shuddered and moaned into his mouth.

Daemon's lips left yours and began to trail down your jaw to your neck. He let them linger there, kissing and licking your skin as his hand moved back down your body, caressing your breasts and familiarising himself with the shape of you. He gently nudged your legs apart with his knee, trying not to rush too much because the last thing he wanted to do was go too fast and ruin the experience for you, but he wanted you to badly by this point it was almost painful.

Your body was on fire and your mind was focused on nothing but him, him, him. If there had been any lingering doubts anywhere inside of you, there wasn't any longer. You wanted this. You craved it. You had craved it for a long time, though you had not fully let yourself think it.

Daemon's hand took hold of his length and he gave himself a lazy stroke as his teeth gently grazed against your neck. The scent of you and the way you were responding to him was driving him absolutely mad. He wanted nothing more than to be inside of you. For you to finally be his.

He guided himself to your cunt and began to slide himself through your wetness, not quite pressing in yet, teasing you over and over as he got you used to the feeling of him.

You whimpered desperately.

Daemon groaned, his breath hot against your neck. "Gods, I want you." He muttered. He was frustrated, almost guilty, that he had not the patience to spend more time on your body. He wanted to taste you, but he told himself next time.

"Please..." You whispered, once more practically begging him. The feeling of his cock gliding through your slick was too much, you needed more, you needed to feel him. "Please." You said again, in a whine that caused Daemon to groan again in response.

He pulled his head back and looked down at you. "Say you want me."

"I want you." The words fell from your lips easily. They were true. They had always been true.

"I want you too." He whispered, leaning back in to kiss you one more time before he pulled away again and then shifted slightly. He kept eye contact with you the whole time as he began to press himself into you, your arousal making it so easy for him to slide himself into your heat.

Gods, the slick between your thighs made you feel like such a wanton little thing. He almost growled.

Another few seconds and he was buried inside you. He gave a deep moan as he pressed his face back into your neck, dizzy on the feeling. He wasn't so far gone that he didn't feel the tension rise in you once more though and he leaned back up, his lips pressing gentle kisses to your face and jaw again.

"Shh..." He soothed once more as he heard your breath catch in your throat when he shifted his body. He had gotten you ready for him and been as gentle as he could but he knew you were hiding the fact it still hurt a little.

"Look at me." He murmured, pressing a kiss to your lips and then looking down at your face. "Good girl." He purred when your eyes met his, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. The praise awoke something inside you and you made a soft sound. He smirked slightly, having felt the fluttering of your walls around him. "Mhm. You liked that." Daemon teased.

If your face was not scarlet before, it was when he said that. Still, all panic had left your body as you were now just focused on the pleasure of the moment. When Daemon tested the waters by shifting his hips a little bit, a soft moan left you and he could tell it was feeling better for you. So he moved again. Then again. And again.

Soon, he had built up a steady pace, thrusting in and out of you. The room filled with lewd sounds and you could do nothing but revel in it. The burn had faded and now each thrust of his hips gave you a jolt of pleasure. Daemon was good at this. You supposed it was to be expected with all the experience it sounded like he had.

He wanted to last. He really did. But he had wanted you for so long and he felt like he was about to burst with each little sound that left you, each little wriggle you made underneath him, each time your nails gently bit into his arms as you clung to him.

His movements began to get quicker and you whined as he rubbed repeatedly against a certain spot inside of you. He grunted hard as he realised the reaction you were having. Daemon, however, was slightly unhappy with something. You were not reaching release quick enough and he was worried, with the way things were going, that he would before you did. He would be damned if he left you unsatisfied.

He moved his hand back down between your bodies and found your clit again, circling the little bud with skillful fingers. It was not long after that you were trembling and then shattering as he pushed you over the edge once more.

The sounds that your release pulled from you were so hot that he pretty much fell apart there and then. He groaned helplessly and buried his face back into your neck, breathing heavily as he moved his hips a few more times, his movements becoming a little less controlled as he felt himself nearing completion. With a harsh moan, Daemon then spilled himself inside of you and collapsed on top of you.

For a few minutes, the room was filled with nothing but heavy breathing as the two of you lay there like that, tangled together, all hot and sticky. You felt utterly boneless. Your eyes were shut and your breathing was ragged, your heart racing, your body limp beneath his weight.

It was perfect.

He was perfect.

"I will speak... to my brother to... tomorrow." Daemon muttered against your neck, slowly coming back to himself. Even if Otto held any reservations after what happened, Viserys would no doubt smooth them over somehow and convince him that you marrying Daemon was the best (and only) option to come out of this.

You could only hum in response, delighting in the kisses he began once more pressing against your skin. You felt warm and content and when he eventually moved and rolled off you, you couldn't hold in a sound of disappointment. Immediately you felt embarrassed but Daemon's arms coming around you and pulling you to him distracted you from it.

Opening your eyes, you blinked at him. "You can't stay."

"We are to be married." He said simply, a small smirk on his face. "I have taken you. Everyone will find out anyway." He reminded you. That was the plan after all.

"Yes, but..." Your cheeks felt hot but hopefully he would think you were just still coming down from the high because you partly were. The idea of being caught with a man (Daemon Targaryen of all people) in your bed was too scandalous. A step outside your comfort zone. "...you..."

"I will go, do not worry." Daemon purred in your ear, flicking his tongue out lightly over the outer edge, smirking as he felt you shiver. "I only want to hold you until you fall asleep. Does that not sound nice? Hm?" He did not say that he simply could not stomach the thought of just rolling out of bed and leaving you lying here all by yourself after your very first time. He did not want to leave you alone in the dark.

You sighed, acting bothered, but it did sound very nice and you were already so comfortable. He was very warm... so you were quick to relent. "Fine. But as soon as I am asleep..." Your voice held as much warning as you could muster.

Daemon chuckled softly, nodding as he adjusted slightly, getting more comfortable in the bed and pulling you up tighter against his body. "Yes, my lady." He said it as if you had given a command and he liked the way his teasing tone made you giggle.

It did not take you long to fall asleep. Indeed, you were so exhausted, you were out in a few minutes.

Unfortunately, Daemon was also so exhausted that he fell asleep mere moments after you did.

When Alicent entered your chambers the next morning, she got quite a shock... and quite an eyeful, as Daemon had kicked himself out of the covers at some point during the night, giving the poor girl an unfortunate glimpse of his backside that did not leave her memory for the rest of her days.

Her shriek was what caused your father to come running into the room. You were not sure you had ever seen Otto quite so angry in your whole life. After the initial shock wore off, you thought he might actually be so angry he would lay hands upon the prince but he managed to somehow hold himself back.

The look of disappointment was clear as your father turned his gaze on you but Daemon, now standing, shifted in front of you the second he saw it and blocked Otto's view.

If anyone would take Otto Hightower's anger, it would be him.

"What's say you and I go and have a talk with my brother, hm?" Daemon muttered, his eyes narrowed.

Otto stared at him with barely concealed rage. The last thing he wanted was his child linked to a man like Daemon Targaryen. He had been a thorn in his side for years. And now he had... defiled one of his daughters! He tried to look at you again but Daemon cleared his throat.

Otto glared at the prince. "You may wish to put on some clothes first." Was all he said before turning and sweeping from the room, dragging Alicent out by her elbow, letting the door slam behind them.

You would have burst into tears if you were not so shocked. You watched Daemon turn to pull his clothes back on. When he looked up at you, he was smirking.

"It's not funny!" You exclaimed.

"Oh, come on." He teased, sitting down on the bed and leaning closer. "It is a little bit funny."

You turned your head so he couldn't kiss you, frowning. You had never felt so embarrassed and ashamed in your whole life. Though it would have come out anyway when Daemon told his brother and you confirmed but to have been walked in on by your father and sister was another thing entirely!

Daemon sighed, lifting a hand to your chin and gently turning your face back towards him. "I'm sorry."

"You said you would leave!"

Daemon blinked, feeling a little bit guilty because he could see this actually had been difficult for you. "I did not do it on purpose, I fell asleep!"

You scoffed. "Right."

"Hey. I mean it." He said and he looked and sounded so serious that you did believe him.

There was a brief silence and then Daemon smirked again.

"What?" You asked, half snapping at him.

Your tone did nothing to rid him of his smile, the smirk turning into a bit of a grin. "When I return," he said as he leaned in again. "You and I will be betrothed."

You could not stop your face from breaking into a smile of your own. "You seem very confident in that fact." After what he'd just walked in on, you were pretty sure your father would be vehemently against this, perhaps simply out of spite and anger.

"Don't you know by now, Hightower girl?" Daemon's eyes glinted with mischief as he closed the distance and kissed your lips once more. When you parted, he was smirking again. "I always get what I want."

[wolfstarlibrarian]

As the Wolfstar Librarian I'm kind of shocked I haven't made this a list yet! And I just finished reading this cute book during the holidays so enjoy a late holiday rec!

Bookstore Wolfstar Fics

Collateral by fingerprintbruises The fic where Sirius flees from the paparazzi, Remus runs a bookstore, and Lily has great timing.

You've Got Love by @cruisinwritealong Remus connects with an enigmatic stranger online, runs an amazing bookstore, and has his life flipped upside down when a Potter Brothers Books megastore opens up just a few blocks away. To makes things even worse the owner of the megastore is charming, funny, and hot as hell. Based on the movie You've Got Mail

Wholly Civilised (orphaned account)

When Remus Lupin is mugged in an alley, the last thing he expects is to invite the mugger to his flat and offer him food and a job. But that's exactly what he does. What he learns about Sirius Black after that, turns his entire world upside down.

The Quiet War by CF_Casper "Let's use love like a knife try to cut through the surface Love can break through the ice when you're fighting a different kind of war” (Sirius and Lily are in a gang. James and Remus run a book shop. Everyone falls in love.)

The Certainty of You by uponavenueroad Sirius is a Hollywood actor who has not been entirely forthcoming about his identity to an undeniably charming, befuddled antique book seller from Notting Hill. The truth comes to a head the morning after a steamy one-night stand. A movie-star AU that’s loosely inspired by the classic romcom 'Notting Hill'.

A Likely Story (orphaned account Sirius Black is a famous Youtuber who can't help but keep coming back to the cozy bookstore, "A Likely Story". He quickly finds himself falling for the cute bookworm, Remus Lupin. This story won't be too long and is for all the softies that just need some fluff.

A Novel Idea by @haywirecompass Sirius writes horror, with the occasional help of his two best friends, who are raising a child and therefore worry him sometimes with the ideas they come up with. He loves reading just as much as he loves writing, so the new bookshop down the road seems like to perfect place to go to load his bookshelves to breaking point. Then he meets the owner, who is somehow adorable and hot at the same time, and everything goes a bit pear-shaped.

The Cafe Upstairs by @cottonpadenthusiast Remus Lupin can sum himself up in two words; book nerd. He can also sum up Sirius Black in three; hottest guy ever. Moreover, he can sum up the likelihood of a relationship between them in one; impossible.

Fine Motor Skills by @femme--de--lettres Sirius Black's car needs work—again. Meanwhile, Remus Lupin is amused to see his favorite customer back at his mechanic's shop.

the inconveniences in our favour by @magicbeings This is a story about a graffiti-covered wall, a boy unhealthily obsessed with it, and a man who really only wanted his dream of owning a peaceful bookshop not to be ruined by a stubborn artist. Sometimes, the most frustrating inconveniences turn out to really work in your favour.

A Very Bad, Terrible, No Good Day by @solar3cl1ip5e On the worst day of his life, Remus wakes up with a cold, without power, and no tissues. He also rear-ends the most attractive man he's ever seen.

Cupid Disarmed by Anonymous Remus Lupin has Veela blood, Sirius Black reads trite romance novels, and neither of them are quite sure what the fuck to do with their hands when they get to talking with one another.

You Burn Brighter than the Stars by The_wolf_the_rat_the_dog_and_the_stag Remus meets Sirius at the university bookstore where he works and falls instantly in love.

BOOK REC:

Looking for a book similar to these fics? With characters that are so lovable? Check out this book that features a queer bookstore owner and a romance novelist!

Look Up, Handsome by Jack Strange

[papayadays]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!

🎻 -> 81 and Oscar piastri?

a/n: sorry for taking so long! 😔 been busy with school but hope 1.6k oscar fic makes up for it <33

“holy mac ‘n cheese balls,” you said, gawking as you drove down the bend of road that lead to a modern-looking building. beside the road was a pond, with sunlight glittering over the surface.

“this is actually real,” your friend added, eyes also wide with awe. with shakier hands than you’d have liked to admit, you parked your car in the lot, both of you getting out and taking in the view. no, it wasn’t the louvre or some famous tourist attraction; in fact, it was something much better in your opinion.

the mclaren technology center, home of the mclaren formula 1 team. you and your friend were huge f1 fans, and mclaren was by far your favorite team. so, when you got an email saying that you had won the mtc tour courtesy of your mclaren plus membership, you two were ecstatic. jumping up and down while screaming levels of estatic. deciding to match, your friend wore her lando shirt and you wore your oscar merch.

at the door, an employee dressed in papaya was waiting for you, a smile on his face. “hi, i assume you’re here for the tour?”

you nodded, beaming. “yup! me and my friend.” you two were ushered inside, the sight of historic f1 cars making your eyes widen.

“i’m mateo, and i’m set to be showing you around,” the employee grinned. “but, since the f1 season is on break, we’re also joined by some special guests.” he glanced over your shoulder, and you turned around to see oscar piastri and lando norris walk over towards you two. holy shit, was this real? you were about to meet both mclaren drivers, your favorites, in person.

“hey, how are you?” oscar smiled at you two, sticking out his hand. you shook it, an awestruck expression on your face - you just shook oscar piastri’s hand, you were never going to wash it again - which you quickly masked. they were probably annoyed with how many people mooned over them, and you would too if you were in their position.

“good, how about you?” you responded, your friend squeezing your arm tightly.

oscar chuckled. “we’re doing good, looking forward to showing you around.”

mateo glanced at his phone before looking back at the drivers. “so, are you guys taking over? because i just got an email for a meeting?”

“yeah,” lando nodded. “we’re showing them around, i think.” mateo gave him a thumbs up and headed off, leaving you and your friend with the drivers.

“first off, what are your names?” oscar asked. you and your friend answered, still in shock that formula one drivers were learning your names.

oscar nodded, internalizing that information as lando clapped his hands together. “how long have you guys been mclaren fans?”

“as soon as we started watching f1, which was what- ten years ago?” you responded, your friend having the same experience as you.

oscar’s eyes widened as lando gave you two his signature smile. “perfect, we have loyal fans,” he said, amused. “c’mon, we’ll show you the cars first.”

your eyes immediately landed on the mp4/2 while lando was explaining something about the modern car to your friend. “so, you know your stuff, huh?” oscar remarked, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

“of course i do, it’s one of the most dominant cars in, y’know, the team’s history,” you chuckled. “i take fan duties very seriously.”

“i would expect no less,” the australian driver snorted, both of you turning your attention back to lando.

“…and that’s why the 2026 regs are similar to drs,” he finished, turning and walking down a bit more.

you glanced at the cars, fingers reaching out as if to touch it before pulling it back. you probably couldn’t mess with the cars. “it’s fine, you can touch it,” oscar said, amused. you placed your hand on the sidepod, awe sparking in you; you were touching an engineering masterpiece.

“thanks,” you whispered, though unsure of what you were thanking him for. “it’s beautiful.” oscar’s expression softened, smiling at you. as your attention shifted, you didn’t notice lando elbowing the younger driver with a shit-eating grin.

you stopped by mika haikkinen’s mp4-13, nodding appreciatively. “the first mclaren designed by adrian newey,” oscar commented, standing next to you as you admired the car.

nodding, you took a picture of the car, like you had been with all of the noteworthy cars. wanting to reference something from your uni engineering homework, you took it out of your bag, asking your friend something. you quickly sketched a small feature on your work, laying it flat on a nearby table while your pencil moved across the paper.

you hear oscar call out your name. “c’mon, they’re already moving ahead,” he told you and you followed him.

soon, you reached the more private rooms for debriefings and r&d before heading to the trophy cases. “whoa,” you breathed out, eyes scanning all the trophies.

“yup,” lando chimed proudly. “we’re a successful team. does that trophy ring a bell?” he pointed to the trophy from his maiden win in miami.

“obviously,” you laughed, recalling your glee that day. “that was a good race.” lando gave you a smug grin, clearly still reminiscent of that exciting may day.

you walked a little further, eyes drawn to the shiny silver baku trophy. hearing footsteps behind you, you turned your head slightly, papaya orange in your periphery. “how did it feel?” you asked softly.

oscar blinked for a second, not expecting that question. “it was um, definitely stressful while i was driving,” he responded. “but after, it was incredible. i was so happy.”

“i would think so,” you smiled. “it was a really good race, especially defence against leclerc.”

“thanks,” oscar nodded, brown eyes meeting yours. no, snap out of it, you thought to yourself as you glanced back at the trophy shelf, cheeks pink. oscar was a formula 1 driver. way out of your league, if he’d ever give you the chance in the first place.

“best story to tell our class later,” your friend commented, moving next to you.

“agreed,” you snorted. “i also need to show our profesor my revised drawings for-” you rummaged around in your bag, frowning. “where did my uni work go?”

“did you take it out here?” oscar asked, having clearly eavsdropped. you nodded, searching around the room.

lando looked around before pointing at you and oscar. “check the boulevard, we’ll check here,” he instructed. you listened wordlessly, turning and heading back the way you came, oscar on your heels.

you glanced at all the cars you stopped at, frustration growing as your work was nowhere to be found. “hey, it’s okay, we’ll find it,” oscar reassured you, surprising you slightly. his eyes drifted over your shoulder, brightening as he walked towards a little nook, grabbing the paper on the table. “oh, it was right here.”

your expression changed to one of shock, moving to stand next to oscar who was indeed holding your classwork. however, the australian driver wasn’t handing it back. “oscar?” you tried.

“huh? oh. sorry,” he said sheepishly, handing you the paper. “was just, um, intrigued by it. i used to take math and physics gcses at school.

you glanced up at him, amused, as he added, “it looks like good engineering.”

“thank you,” you chuckled, tucking the paper safely in your purse. “so you’re saying you juggled racing and gces?”

“a levels too,” oscar said, a faint smirk on his face that was not common of him.

“valid,” you laughed, walking side by side with him as you two made your way back to the others. “that must’ve been insane. school and racing?”

“it was…something,” oscar agreed. “though i’m not half as smart as you.” before you could respond, you were reunited with the others and lando was already talking.

“oh, osc, perfect!” lando beamed. “we’re gonna wrap up now and sign some merch for them. you guys both get signed drivers cards and a hat signed by both of us.”

your eyes widened with surprise; it just kept getting better. oscar pulled a sharpie out of thin air, seemingly. “do you want me to sign anything for you?” he asked.

“could you sign my shirt and hat?” you said, letting oscar write his signature. “thanks.”

“no problem,” oscar nodded, not working on signing your driver card. he handed it back to you, but your jaw dropped as you saw his number as well.

“oscar-” you were cut off as he unexpectedly grabbed your arm, pulling you two out of lando and your friend’s earshot.

“i wanted to give you my number and ask if you wanted to have dinner with me sometime,” he explained, slightly bashful. now your jaw was fully on the floor. “i just, i dunno, felt a flicker with you. i think you’re not like many other people i’ve met, and i really enjoy talking to you.”

you willed yourself not to start freaking out, not wanting to seem like a fangirl and scare him. “that’d be great, oscar. but, don’t you think you’re kinda out of my league?” you responded, making oscar blink in surprise.

“out of your league? if anything, i’m out of your league,” he replied. “i don’t care if you’re a fan rather than anyone else, i like talking to you.” and damn it, you didn’t really know what else to say to that.

“then yeah, i’d really like that,” you smiled. oh god, you were down bad already.

“me too,” oscar grinned, brown eyes meeting yours for the second time today.

taglist: @justaf1girl

[devildomwriter]

Here We Are As In Olden Days | Diavolo x Reader

.6K Word Count | GN! Reader | CW: broodmare kink mention, big family

You sat on the cushioned loveseat next to your husband of many years, flipping through a photo album of Christmas days past.

Diavolo smiled as you opened the book and the first page was the picture you’d snuck of him trying on a Christmas sweater because you thought it was cute. You had decorated the page with holiday stickers and wrote about how Diavolo quickly discovered the picture and had it printed for you as a joke gift.

As the pages flipped more memories rose to the surface. The first Christmas you’d spent as an exchange student. Santa had thrown out his back or something similar and you and the brothers scrambled to deliver gifts to the Devildom instead.

The second Christmas you’d spent—when your personalities were drastically affected and you’d become a sadist. Diavolo had been very amused and Lsvitahn had been very turned on which kept distracting you from solving anything.

The third Christmas you spent—the brothers’ bodies had been taken over by strange little demons who you still had never identified. You had many pictures of them acting strangely and Diavolo posing in the background as chaos unfolded.

Your fourth Christmas in the Devildom—when dark Santa had gone afoul and people began blaming Satan due to their names being similar. This was the same year Diavolo, Mephistopheles, and you helped deliver some gifts for Santa when his reindeer appeared in Mephistopheles’s yard.

Diavolo laughed at the memories as you continued to flip the pages. You shared what you remembered of those days long gone, and the sense of nostalgia was overwhelming.

Finally, you arrived at the most special of Christmases; the first one you’d spent together as a couple. Diavolo had made it as extravagant as possible.

The tree nearly hit the ceiling of the ballroom, every inch of the castle was decorated and even the staff had holiday-themed clothes. You’d felt bad for them at the time but it was a nice memory to look back on, seeing how much your future husband planned just so you’d be stress-free for the holidays.

You held Diavolo’s hand tightly in yours and flipped to the next year. In the photo, you sat posed in front of the camera in all your regalia. Diavolo had taken the throne that year and nothing was holding him back from spreading as much Christmas as he wanted to, so he’d called in professionals for a couple’s portrait of you in holiday-themed royal attire.

On the following page you had framed a Christmas postcard, the first family holiday card you’d sent to all your friends and family. You sat on Diavolo’s throne next to him as you both cradled your son, only a few months old.

As years past another child appeared and another and another again.

Diavolo hadn’t insisted on this many kids, you just happened to have a convenient broodmare kink and his DNA was incredibly strong. It just made every photo more interesting as everyone crowded into the photos.

You flipped more and more pages, memories piling up. Your children’s first Christmas. The first cards they’d made you. The postcards they’d sent you of their own families.

How many years had it been now?

The castle was never quiet but the sound of children running no longer echoed through the halls like it once did.

Everyone was grown with lives of their own and you and Diavolo remained as you originally did, side by side in each other’s arms.

You flipped to the last page of the album, the one you were still working on, and asked your husband for ideas.

He grinned and handed you two photos he’d been holding on to.

Unbeknownst to you, Diavolo had it arranged that the photo you took together this year was identical to the one you first took.

Despite all that time, you hadn’t much-aged thanks to your magic and his. It was funny seeing the two pictures side by side.

Despite all the changes over the years, it was evident in these photos that one thing would always remain the same—a merry Christmas with your prince.

[screamingcrows]

Ceteris paribus - Dottore x reader

Note: Shhh this is a reupload of something I made at almost 2am... This is.. yeah, this is something that's for sure. It's my favourite thing I've written. I'll uhh spread Aspergillus niger in your home if you use this for ai or similar. Tags: Dottore x fem!reader, afab reader, nsft, plot with porn, angst, teyvat speculation if you squint (don't), 4.5k Ceteris paribus - 'if everything else remains the same' Minors DNI

Faintly glowing nilotpala lotuses floated like stars in the vast abyss of water, each one utterly insignificant to the lake but beautiful all the same. The sight you made among them had proclamations of divinity weighing on his tongue. Bathed in pale moonlight, your beauty was not something to be examined and explained, as much as the urge remained present, but rather a phenomena to simply enjoy.

Zandik found your form to hold his gaze hostage; not that he would willingly turn his head away even if he could. Glittering droplets gathered and trailed down your skin, mapping out a canvas of stars that he would soon enough pluck from your body and immortalize in the sky. Replacements would be needed after all, and what better substitute than something as beautiful as the natural patterns and grooves of the human body?

The Doctor had no use for dwelling on fear, for what is fear if not failure to understand. But Zandik? Oh, Zandik knew fear as a persistent companion. It resided between his lungs, and when it grew, he could hardly breathe

Standing by the edge of the dark pool of water, the thought of seeing it open up and swallow you whole wasn't too far-fetched. Already, countless leaves had drifted through the air and, upon touching the surface, been pulled under by some unseen force.

Or by curious fish.

Seeing you there alone made him wish for a heart that could flutter, hands already undoing the straps of his outfit despite earlier proclamations of only following to keep watch. What harm could there be in letting himself - letting you both - have one last certain indulgence?

There was a flicker of doubt in his mind. Would it be a more favourable outcome if you were to disappear into the abyss for that singular moment? Though every prediction and every piece of information that had been painstakingly gathered pointed towards the burning itself being harmless, there were always pesky variables and inevitable outliers.

Both part of the thrill and a curse, the world rarely operated precisely within the expectations of theory. True wisdom is doubting knowledge, inevitably linking back to harnessing a fear of the unknown.

Zandik had no doubt that he would survive both the torching and the resulting onslaught, but you? A mourning flower, watered by adversity and flourishing despite it, resilient to a fault and yet just as delicate and fleeting as all purely organic life.

There were many things he was happy to put to rest with the old world, but you would not become one.

His thoughts shifted with his position, body having gradually grown accustomed to the cool water that lapped around his ankles. He took a few tentative steps further into the lake, prodding before committing. The bottom sloped gently, but he knew better than to charge forward without examining different paths. A moment of tension as something passed between his calves was replaced with a frown upon seeing your amused expression.

Privacy was impossible with you, even if he was currently the one invading your swim.

"I thought you used to come here all the time," a scoff left his lips at your bubbly voice, warmth spreading to his ears, "has it been so long already that you've forgotten about all the dangerous creatures?"

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, his continued advance sending little waves through the water until he eventually lowered himself fully, relishing the familiar cradle of cool water swallowing his shoulders. In Snezhnaya, the water was ill equipped for any type of leisurely bathing. Aside from the obvious frozen state of the vast majority, it had a sharp quality to it, as though frost resided in each droplet, prepared to bite the minute it touched life.

"What a sharp tongue, careful it doesn't get you in trouble."

Maintaining the same air of superiority proved difficult when every stroke of his arms had water splashing, keenly aware of his tousled hair and the gradual increase in how much of it clung to his face. Seeing you barely suppressing a laugh, Zandik dove beneath the surface, body cutting through the darkness with practiced finesse.

It didn't exactly wash away the turmoil as part of him had dared to hope, but at least it was quiet with the constant press of water against his ears. Floating further ahead was your silhouette, the curvature of your legs outlined by what little light pierced through.

Getting close enough to touch, capture a priced catch, he surfaced again, relishing the spray of water from both his hair and your ensuing flailing. The change stung his eyes for a moment before he rubbed away lingering water, keeping the other arm wrapped firmly around your waist.

Always a skittish thing, it was a wonder you'd willingly chosen to stay so close. Not just chosen, he supposed, as you turned in his grasp and reached to wrap around his shoulders, allowing your warmth to seep into his mangled body, you'd insisted on staying against all reason.

Even now, with the false veil hanging by a thread and threatening to crush everything under the weight of its fall, you still steadied the hand holding the scissors. A small smile tugged at his lips, desire stirring to life when your plush legs wrapped themselves securely around his waist.

Even with his unnatural lifespan, Zandik had no experience that could compare to your palm cupping his scarred cheek.

Clearly aware of the effect, you seemingly took extra care to 'adjust' the positioning of your hips, intention so apparent that it only served to make his blood run a little hotter. Especially with how your ankles locked behind his back to squeeze him further. Clever little devil.

He couldn't help but purr in turn, lamenting the lack of leverage from being bereft of solid ground beneath his feet, "You are far too good," but that could be fixed, "maybe I should start calling you my little lotus?"

The tremble of your chest as you suppressed a giggle was nothing short of elating, palms continuing to languidly rub your sides. Even soaked, your natural scent still reached his nose upon nuzzling against the crook of your neck, crisp as Dawn's apples with an undertone of something a little heavier.

"And what brought this on?"

"Because," he pressed his lips to the nape of your neck, tightening his hold enough to hopefully make a point, "you've started to smell like them from bathing here every night," his lips parted in a grin at your mumbled proclamation of his status as a 'creep', "and most importantly, you're much like my personal little nilotpala lotus."

With a clear goal in mind (and ignoring your whined protests and delightfully flushed face) bringing you back to solid ground was no difficult task, not even with how you were draped around him. The towels and blanket you'd brought already neatly laid out where grass started to sprout, as though you'd been expecting this outcome from the beginning.

Perhaps he had grown somewhat predictable to you, the notion sending a foreign burst of warmth through him.

Your voice broke the comfortable silence, characteristic impatience for his antics shining through, "you're just not going to elaborate on the comparison?"

Still, you clung to him like some fragile animal, forcing him to carefully balance as he sat down, smirking a little at the perfectly presented opportunity to squeeze your rear in the process.

"And rob you of the joy of solving a mystery?" Zandik merely chuckled at the sting of your palm connecting with his chest, "I was only waiting for you to ask."

"But no long history lessons," your fingers spread out atop his chest, gently pushing him to lay back as if to dangle a reward for expediting the explanation.

"There are several reasons as to why the comparison is fitting," he lowered his voice, hands moving to caress your hips once he'd gotten comfortable on the makeshift pillow of clothes, "one of which being the direct similarity of your softness to that of its petals."

Zandik couldn't resist the urge to chuckle at how you rolled your eyes, a small pinch to your flank bringing your attention back.

It was impossible to resist the urge to gently chide, "Let me finish; but more than anything, they are, supposedly, a reminder from a bygone time. Every night they bloom in remembrance of their past before chaos erupted, yet they continue to persist in the present," a small roll of your hips had a pleasant tingle spread across his skin, "and, I do believe seeing you brings luck as well."

That earned a huff and a kiss.

The stars above came into focus when his head dropped back fully, the feeling of your slick folds rubbing against his hard dick freeing a sound of contentment from his chest. Always so good to him, your labia were already slick with arousal when a shuddering gasp left you. Zandik's eyes fluttered open too late to catch your expression, determination fueling the exact repeat of the motion, dragging you along until your nub caught against the head of his swollen member and your lips parted around a sigh.

You molded so perfectly against him, thighs splayed across his hipbones, his fingers sinking into the meat of your rear with perfect resistance, your walls practically trying to suck him in. Oh he needed so much more, to taste your essence, take you apart and let you do the same. He needed the weight of your breast in his palm and the softness of your lips contrasting his.

Plans and ideas swirled with ferocity, his own breath growing heavier and the sky practically spinning above, he'd barely noticed the frenzy with which he dragged your hips back and forth. A choked moan reached his ears, a sweet cacophony of your voice and his, mixing when determination set your eyes ablaze and a greedy jerk of your hips had your hole stretch around his gorged tip.

Despite having indulged far more over the years than his schedule should have allowed, the tight fit never failed to steal the air from his lungs. Now, it seemed you'd stolen the ability to breathe itself. White static danced in the corners of his eyes, sharp teeth digging into his own lip to stall the release that threatened to crash over him.

In a rare show of mercy, you passed down the opportunity to gather dirt to blackmail him with later, your thumbs rubbing along his collarbones instead. The smile you wore was enchanting, tranquility soon following and drowning out his body's cries for release.

How had you managed to ruin a man already as damaged as he had been?

Determined not to let the inherent uncertainty of the future rush this, Zandik closed his eyes while slowly guiding you to be fully seated. The little mewls that vanished into the night deserved to be etched in stone and preserved for the eternity to come. When your hips rolled for the first time, smooth skin still a little wet as it dragged against his hips, it was nothing short of exquisite, unity of both the simplest and most complex character.

The definition of a meaningful connection had shifted from what brought resources and opportunity to something horrendously intangible over the years, the shift pinpointed to a single variable entering his life. A pesky thing, not entirely unlike an infection in how it seemed insistent on wrestling control of both body and mind.

Pleasure built steadily once you'd adjusted, clearly eager from how you'd barely given yourself a moment of respite before lifting yourself back up. Liquid fire spread anew through his veins with every brush of your fingertips, soft as laying in a bed of flowers on the first day of summer. It wouldn't be long before that might be feasible.

Like a man compelled, his fingers moved to tangle in your hair, feeling a smile tug at his lips when your hips stuttered - he would make a snarky comment about it tomorrow. Though the fantasy of your petulant expression and flushed cheeks had anticipation mix with pleasure, right now, the thought consuming the vast majority of his mind was far more primal in nature.

Lost to the present moment, Zandik finally allowed himself to assist your eager movements, occasionally peering into your hazy eyes with no regard for posterity. You were squeezing him perfectly, walls clamping around him whenever he would pull the slightest away.

"Easy darling, save your strength for tomorrow," he brought your wrist to his lips, sucking gently where veins ran just beneath the skin.

A slow thrust had your thighs tightening around his waist, back arching deliciously and inviting Zandik to push himself up, wrapping his lips around a soft breast. The sounds that spilled unabashedly from your lips were downright sinful in their purity.

It was only later, in the afterglow left behind, that he realized how much tension seemed to have left his body during the act, manifested instead as blooming marks on your hips and little bites along your neck. You were presumable caught in the same state of lightness if how your fingers flexed experimentally was any indication.

Caught in the shifting leaves, Zandik only noticed your words when they were accompanied by teeth nipping at his chest, surprised by the worry etched onto your expression. "Do you have faith in all our preparations?"

Understanding ran almost as deep as the bitterness that spread across his tongue, "Faith? What a preposterous notion for the occasion. I trust in myself, in our plans, and their inevitable success." he had to, "every possible variable above minuscule importance has been carefully monitored for centuries and accounted for."

He hated how, even with arrogance coating his words, you still squeezed his hand a little tighter. Still pressed your body a little closer to soothe.

It made his voice weaker, vulnerable almost, and he hated how far out of his control it was. "Destroying comes naturally, but what will happen when the thrones fall and the skies collapse has always eluded me. I dedicated myself to seeking beyond the limitations set by the rules of this world, I know the extent of possibility, but once that has been shattered? Once the rules I know exactly how to subvert have been-"

"We'll figure it out, together," your breath was the first sun of spring, "a new set of rules means plenty of tests to conduct. "

A rough chuckle left his lips, even while he could feel the tremble of your body, you attempted to brighten the horizon. Comparing you to a flower associated with the moon would be wrong, the light you spread was your own, not a reflection.

This was unbearable.

How long had it been? Half an hour? Forty minutes? It didn't matter, it was too long. Especially for something as routine as fetching him some damned materials from the storage room.

And not even the one at the other end of the palace! No, it was literally thirty-two steps from the doors to his laboratory to the storage room. At least with his own gait, and granted, he had a taller frame than most and wore heels but-

Again. It didn't matter.

And why was it so warm in the laboratory? He swore under his breath, if the ventilation had decided to stop working now he was going to strangle the last person who did maintenance. Dottore wiped a gloved hand across his brow, near growling at the realization that now he'd have to change them.

Why was everything falling apart? And of course it had to be today of all days.

"Do I have to do everything around here?"

The words felt rough in his throat, more of a snarl even to his own ears, but it had the desired effect, countless of heads rising from their work to peer at him.

It took exactly three beats of his mechanically enhanced heart for them to turn their gazes away, frustration bubbling in his throat. Who did they think they were to so blatantly ignore him?

Did they not understand the importance of their own work? Fools, all of them.

Dottore rolled his shoulders back and straightened up, making certain that his heels clicked obnoxiously against the hard stone floors during his patrol around the room.

All the researches looked more like they were stalling for time rather than working.

It was a plan in two steps. At least it was when boiled down to the most basic division.

The old world would burn. The Crimson Moon would supply the necessary spark, quite possibly eager to exact vengeance on the offending power that claimed her sisters. The branches they'd stolen for testing had been engulfed with a vigor not replicated by presenting the flames with any other material.

This world is a prison.

This world is a prison.

Glass crashed to the ground and was crushed under the steel toe of his boot. It was a redundant piece anyway. Production and research on Delusions had been halted a few months ago, stocks being enough to supply their troops and a decent amount in reserve.

This place is a prison.

Once the threads of fate had been severed, the remains of the Third Descender would be used to tether a new possibility. Insignificant by themselves, they would pose no threat, but with all seven in their hands, the oppressor could be stripped of their authority.

Dottore knew he had to get out, something he needed to do. It was important, but barely out of reach for his whirring mind. A segment, he needed a segment to delegate.

The light wasn't searing his eyes today, perhaps they'd finally been replaced with something less intrusive than the glaring whites.

There weren't any segments left.

They'd been set free. Just as they all would, no more tethers to a false cycle. No longer doomed to repeat the same stories, there would be nothing written on the pages that came after.

Just a few more tests.

Papers scattered with a flick of his wrist, clearing out space for the the leatherbound tome in his hands. Old drawings fell from between the pages, things Dottore hadn't seen in decades. Perhaps even longer.

How had they made it there?

Someone was screaming again. It took a moment for his mind to tune properly in to the sound, a pang of something coursing through him as his own voice rang through the room. Everything seemed to tremble beneath his wrath, even his hands were shaking.

The gloves were black leather, not dotted red with blood.

He hadn't slept for a week had he?

Resigned to the fate of needing to change his gloves anyway, rubbing at the stubble that grew on his chin was a necessary comfort. Just a little longer and all of his work would come to fruition.

Dottore could practically taste the sweetness of your lips. How he yearned to stand beside you and warm his hands by the fire.

Just a little longer and-

-maybe that imbecile of a subordinate would return with his supplies.

His head snapped up when something creaked. Despite several people milling about, it was eerily quiet.

Someone else should have already confirmed the concentration of the isolate, but with how dull everyone seemed as of late, it might be wise to asses it himself. He'd have to do a dilution series, and how many cuvettes would he need?

A curse left Dottore's lips at the same time his hands slammed onto the table. Those were in storage as well weren't they?

His eyes flickered around, pushing away the frustrating shadow in his periphery, a few more days and he'd have time to properly look at whatever had his mask malfunctioning.

The laboratory should be properly insulated, any outside interference was unwanted in a controlled environment such as this.

How many days were left before their plans would be set into motion was a blurred memory, something he would need to check soon.

Nothing seemed remiss in the little village, the sight of children playing with a single kite making your chest feel entirely too tight. The sun continued to shine, clothes already out to dry while the adults tended the gardens nearby. It might be more fitting to call them fields, there was little regard for private property these days, and sharing had proven far easier when the same people had aided in constructing homes for each other.

Flowers had started blooming as well, their scent a desperately needed change from the smoke that had choked the skies for weeks. With gravel crunching beneath your feet, the unease that coursed through your veins was momentarily stifled.

By all means, Teyvat was at peace.

Though you were on amicable terms with the inhabitants here, they still eyed you warily, with varying degrees of pity in their eyes whenever you came to trade. Zandik himself refrained entirely from going, and everyone seemed content to keep him out of sight. Most had come to understand that there was nothing malicious about your partner, but you couldn't blame them for not forgetting the past.

It was an agreeable arrangement, much better than either of you had dared to hope. A small cot in what remained of the forest in what had once been Sumeru, a peaceful existence with the sounds of nature providing the backdrop.

Pantalone had settled in the ruins of Liyue, Capitano had perished, Columbina disappeared with Arlecchino… Of all the harbingers, you were grateful for the fate that had been bestowed on your Zandik.

Even if-

A small hand tugging on your skirt nearly startled you, looking down to see an expression of concern etched onto the face of a young boy. With the skies clearing, his skin was already looking far healthier than last you saw him.

Several other children were huddled around the open space, all shuffling their feet nervously and evidently trying their best not to stare. With time, they'd hopefully forget what they'd seen and never again have to cower like this.

"I heard him last night," there was a fair bit of caution in his voice, and you tried to smile reassuringly over your thundering heart, "he went that way… I think…"

Your feet ached from making haste through the dense undergrowth, hands scratched up from the countless times you'd tripped on a loose stone or hidden root. It was ridiculous to get so worked up, he'd been the Second Harbinger, strength to go up against the divine, and he'd won.

Nothing out here would be any threat to him.

But he hadn't been home since yesterday, and that alone had spectral insects crawling beneath your skin and your heart threatening to flee your chest in hopes of finding him sooner. Would he come home this time?

Mindless swatting at mostly imaginary insects did nothing to dissipate the fog of anxiety that hung around you. The boy had confirmed your suspicion, unknowingly having pointed towards one of the old underground workshops.

It could be a coincidence of course. Zandik could be sitting bare-footed in a stream just a little further ahead, pulling in brightly colored axe marlins to supply your meals. He could have gotten so absorbed that he'd lost track of time and opted to camp outside rather than stumble through a dark forest.

You were fully aware that it was wishful thinking.

How many times you'd trudged this way was uncertain, fingers skimming the edges of stone that marked an upper corner of the facility. Signs had been put up where the ground had opened up into the complex to avoid anyone carelessly falling in. A knot formed in the pit of your stomach, the sounds of glass shattering reaching your ears from below.

Rubble was scattered in the hallways and opportunistic vines and roots had begun spilling into the vast network. The complex had been abandoned long before the final confrontation with Celestia, a time capsule from when Zandik himself stayed in Sumeru to conduct preliminary studies on the power of dreams and forbidden knowledge. From what you understood, it had served The Doctor and his pursuits well,

It made the air heavy with misplaced gratitude and relief.

Stone knocked against your back as you stumbled aside, startled a sharp pang followed by metallic clatter. Still with your heart in your throat, you staggered forward through the haze of tears clouding your vision.

"Why doesn't it work? It has to work. It should work. Everything is right. It's all correct- I just have to finish it- the deadline!" Another crash, the glass shards no sharper than his continued shouts, "There's so little time left I have to-"

Sparse sunlight filtered through and illuminated the ruins of what must have been a laboratory in its prime. You forced your lungs to work despite how every breath seared your throat. The tentative call of his name gave no result.

Zandik was hunched over a slanted desk, one wooden leg broken and threatening to give out. A few metallic tables were scattered around the room, two of them pushed against a wall as if to block out something. Every cupboard had been opened and the contents of several emptied onto the floor. How much was the work of Zandik, you wondered.

"Why won't anyone listen to me? Don't any of you know how to do your jobs properly? Get me those damn supplies or I'll-" two and a half vial clinked together with every restless knock of his fist against the table, "I'll tie a rope around your waist, throw you into the abyss, and dissect whatever I can pull back out!"

Another breath, hands trembling as they reached for him, fully anticipating the way his body jerked and twisted. It didn't make it any less upsetting.

Zandik sneered when your hands cupped stubbled cheeks, and for a moment you wondered if he'd bite like a rabid beast. You nearly choked on a sob at seeing the crudely folded paper that covered the top of his face, holes haphazardly torn to allow him to see. His hair was dirty and tangled, his clothes in no better state.

Soothing shushes left your lips in a steady stream, thumbs continuing to pet his skin and rub the dust from rubble away, thankful that the artificial lights were long broken. His shirt could be mended and washed.

"Zandik, I need you to-"

He howled like a wounded beast, thrashing when you pushed away his paper mask, "Don't you dare call me that! Useless- useless, you're all useless!"

Even disoriented, his grip was iron when his fingers locked around your arms. Tears were running down your cheeks, ignoring the blood that dripped from where his nails had pierced skin. Still, you refused to let go of his face.

"Zandik please.. look around you.. it's over, we- you did it.." his makeshift mask was easily pushed aside, "let's go home.. please?"

For a moment, the fog seemed to clear from his garnet eyes as they flickered back and forth, taking in the scenery anew. A shiver ran through him, hands letting up their grip on your arms in favour of gently feeling along them, confirming your existence.

Irminsul had burned and people's memories had been the price. None more affected than the man who'd held the torch.

It had yet to be determined what exactly had happened to Zandik, resources weren't abundant enough to prioritize anything but survival. And even if they were, he'd barely had a moment lucid enough to properly process your sobbed attempts at explanation.

Perhaps he hadn't been woven into the new tapestry of fate, or maybe his grandest achievement, his beloved eyes in time, had tethered him more firmly to the old threads rather than freeing him. More than once, his hands had held your head close to his chest, just as they did now, and shushed cries that he would never grasp the cause of.

"It will all get better my lotus," your heart already clenched, desperate cries begging to freeze time in place before he continued with his hushed words, "…just a little longer and we'll all be free…"

[glow-worms-are-believers]

Lost and Found (dp x dc)

Alfred sighed as he looked over the wide gymnasium, thinking to himself that he shouldn’t have listened to Leslie. Community service was all well and good as a way to connect with people, but overseeing an inter-school bakery-sale-and-science-fair combined event was proving to be more chaotic than anything else.

As another child dropped yet another just-bought desert on the floor, Alfred slunk into the shadows deciding to let the clean-up be someone else’s task for once. As he got further and further from the main hubbub, the ex(?)-butler arrived near a small exit door and snuck out quitely. As the fresh air hit his face, Alfred let out a breath. Seeing so many children around had him thinking of his charge and where he could possibly be.

The older man hadn’t brought a pack, since he’s been going to a school, but in the moment he wished he had. Sighing once again, Alfred shook off the craving as he took a few steps towards the communal school garden when the sight of a black-haired boy sitting with his back to him had him freezing. A second later his brain caught up to him, reminding him that this was not young master Bruce. The crushing disappointment he felt as he recognized the boy in front of him was much to small to be his little master Bruce surprised him by its intensity.

Alfred took a moment to compose himself before he cleared his throat. The noise had the figure flinching and turning their head towards the older man. Then, as the boy caught sight of the older man, he seemed to slump. Seeing that he was unlikely to speak up first, Alfred took it upon himself to start the conversation.

“Might I inquire what you are doing outside, young man?”

The boy’s shoulder slumped even more though he still answered. “Haven’t got any sweets to sell,” he mumbled.

“Oh?” Alfred sounded out. “Why is that?”

“My cookies ate my homework so I had to put them down,” said the boy as he finally raised his head, long-suffering

But Alfred could only breathe a faint “Indeed?” as the boy’s features were exposed. The resemblance with master Bruce was so uncanny that the butler had trouble looking away. But as he examined him more closely he could see some minute differences. The boy didn’t have the sharp jawline both mister Wayne and master Bruce had shared. His nose was smaller than master Bruce’s and his eyes were paler than the darker blue passed down through the Wayne line. The sight of a face so similar and yet not quite like master Bruce had his mind jumping to the portrait hung above the manor’s fireplace and the face of the toddler sitting on his mother’s lap as a slightly older child stood beside her with his father’s hand on his shoulder.

Everyone had bemoaned the two-fold tragedy of the Waynes. First to lose their youngest son at such a young age, only to be themselves brutally murdered only a few months later. All was left of the previously illustrious Waynes was a grief-stricken eight-year-old who had just lost his brother and parents in such a short period of time. Alfred sighed as he remembered how angry master Bruce was at his inability to find out to this day what had happened to his brother. The man half-suspected this was how the young man had developed such an obsession with solving mysteries.

Once again having to focus back on the boy in front of him, Alfred smiled at the boy. Then, the boy’s word registered and the man let out an amused huff. “You had no choice but to put an end to that, I suppose. Cookies as spirited as yours would sell poorly in any case.”

“Oh you’ve got no idea,” muttered the young man as he pushed himself to his feet only for his hand to slip on the wet wood surrounding the gardening plots and falling face-first onto the hard wooden surface.

“Oh dear!” exclaimed Alfred as he darted to assist the boy in straightening up. The boy groaned in pain as he held his nose and Alfred could see drops of red falling down.

“Here,” said the older man as he handed the boy a fabric handkerchief.

“Thanks,” the teen croaked as he accepted it.

“Put your head between your knees,” Alfred instructed. “Breathe through your mouth.”

The boy offered a thumbs-up as he complied. Alfred waited patiently by the teen as he kept the handkerchief held against his nose. After a moment, the boy held it away experimentally and when he felt no more blood flowing he turned towards Alfred.

“Thanks,” he said before he looked down at the red-stained white fabric. “I can wash it and return it if you give me a return address.”

“It’s alright,” Alfred refused. “I don’t mind washing it.”

“Thanks,” repeated the boy as he handed the older man the handkerchief back, as he got to his feet, this time more gingerly. “I best get back before my friends start looking for me.”

“Be careful on the way back,” Alfred couldn’t help saying.

The boy hummed and as he turned around for a final wave goodbye, their eyes connected and Alfred felt a jolt travel through his body. Though the pale blue of Danny’s eyes was not the distinctive shade of the Waynes, it was however identical to the color of the late Martha Wayne’s eyes. As the boy opened the exit door and disappeared in the crowd of people, Alfred looked down at the blood-stained handkerchief.

He knew there was a less than infinitesimal chance. Still. What would it hurt to make absolutely sure?

[vxperorchist]

What's yours is mine! (Cyno, Wriothesly, and Tartaglia x Fem! Reader)

Stealing clothes with Cyno, Wriothesly, and Tartaglia!

Genere: Fluff

Warnings: None!

This is my first time writing for Wriothesly and I don't find him attractive at all but the way he talks is kinda hot??

Cyno

Cyno doesn't have many clothes to steal to begin with. Majority of the clothes he owns are for work, and even then they are thick with protection or just articles to work with the protection.

He owns a little bit of casual wear but doesn't utilize it much as he is constantly on duty. The only time you'll really ever see him change out of his work clothes is when the two of you are getting ready to sleep, and he'll change over to more comfortable pants. (Shirts are overrated in his mind, but who are we to judge?) His lack of shirts is certainly not a complaint in your household.

He thought it was very amusing to see you in his clothes. You'd wear his sweatpants to sleep as you cuddled up next to him, and he couldn't help but smile. He'd make stupid remarks every time you wore them like; "Nice pants, I wonder where they came from." or "Where'd you get those pants?"

He thought it was funny, but he already lacked comfortable clothes, so he'd struggle at night to find clothes he could wear to sleep as you had took most of them.

He'd eventually start taking them back, and whenever he got new clothes he'd keep you in mind too. He loved seeing you do things around the house with his clothes on, whether it was a loose shirt or sweatpants you had found, he loved coming back to you to wrap his arms around the familiar frame that was now drowning in his clothes.

He'd became very fond of coming back home to you in his clothes, and he'd frown internally whenever you were back in your own clothes. Your own clothes with their specific fit looked great, but he couldn't help but love how his clothes didn't fit you right.

He loved the sight of you in his own clothes, it was one of many ways he could reassure himself that you were his. Maybe it was his twinge of possessiveness that had a part of him in a chokehold, but he couldn't get enough of it after a while.

Wriothesly

Casual wear king. He is known for being cooped up in his office for hours on end, and in the early morning hours or late at night, he is wearing something more comfortable.

He offers up his clothes to you whenever you are down in the fortress. You visit him every now and then, and unintentionally end up spending the night most of the times. Without hesitation, every time he is throwing his own clothes at you to sleep in or wear around.

He gets a kick out of it when you wear his clothes around the fortress as it is very obvious, they are his. He enjoys his subordinates asking about you and your outfit, which just happens to be his.

Who is anyone to judge down there? They're all criminals anyways.

When you return to the surface eventually, he'll be occupied looking for his clothes, which are now in your possession. He'll smile to himself knowing that his clothes are in your hands but won't hesitate to pay you a visit just to get them back. (Also get you back for taking his clothes)

Every now and then you would buy new clothes for him and send them down to the fortress, only for them to be taken back the next time you visit him. He won't stop you if you leave the fortress with his shirt on, even though you look ridiculous with the shirt that doesn't fit you very well. (He thought it was hot.)

Tartaglia

He's another one who is pretty constantly on duty and only changes over in the comfort of his house. Furthermore, when he is in his own house, he is all for sweatpants and some sort of large shirt.

He LOVES seeing you in his stuff. He will never miss an opportunity to give you a sweatshirt or shirt of his. He'll make sure it smells like him too, just so he knows the thought of him will linger with you.

He's also big on matching or similar outfits when he can. Whether it's just matching sleepwear or wearing similar outfits out in public, he adores it. Knowing he has some sort of physical correlation with you makes him smile.

I can very much see him being the type of person to own those red and black plaid pajama pants, and he's the type to get them for you as well.

It's a family tradition of his for his family to own matching pajamas around the holidays, and you are no exception in that tradition. There is a group photo with his family, (Including you) hung up in his family home with all of you in matching outfits.

When he has to leave for work, whether it be for a week, or even a long day, he'll leave you with some sort of clothing article of his, probably with an attached note either telling you he loves you, or to remind you he wants his clothes back at the end of the day.

[bellewintersroe]

okay i'm glad! then i'm sending this in if you ever get back in a BoB mood, but no pressure :)

can i request headcanons on how some of them would react (i was thinking mainly Liebgott, Roe and Speirs, but absolutely feel free to add anyone you want too like Luz or Malarkey) if the Easy company gets dispatched in a town near the sea/has to sleep in a beach or similar, and the sweet and kind nurse that is always dispatched with the second battalion (who everyone is crushing on ofc hahaha) as soon as all the high ranks are gone just, takes off her uniform (so she is like in her bra and underwear) and just bolts it towards the sea, calling for the others to join her and play around in the water, because she just loves the sea that much?

i just thought something fun and light could be cute, since the boys definitely need some fun time :)🫶🏻

heyyyy omg so sorry it’s taken so long to reply but thank you thank you thank you for your request! I love this idea sm!! I have altered it slightly to make it more realistic (don’t ask why cos I bend the rules all the time) but I hope these head cannons are okay!!! &lt;3 <3 <3 <3

Band of Brothers x Nurse!Reader Headcannons

General HC’s for 2nd battalion + some more men reacting to their well loved nurse having some fun in the water.

So first let me set the scene, you’ve all just been told you’re being shipped back off to the pacific and morale has somewhat dropped again.

theres so much anxiety snd tension in the air that nobody really can unwind, so after one particularly gruelling training session, 2nd battalions nurse decides to have a little fun…

It’s a boiling hot day in Austria, the lake looks so inviting, and she’s such a sweetheart she just wants to boost morale. All the men absolutely adore her, if they don’t have a crush on her they find her endearing and a comfort to them.

“fuck it.” She mutters, stripping off her uniform as she runs closer to the pier, dropping each piece of clothing behind her.

One by one all the men’s heads turn and then suddenly begin whooping and whistling in excitement. Joe Liebgott:

Stunned to see you stripping off, in fact he remains frozen with his jaw dropped for a few moments. He’s so used to seeing you all covered up and oh my god boobs.

“Close your trap, Joe, you’re trapping flies.”

wouldn’t take much convincing to get in, I think he’d be super playful with you, splashing you and dunking you.

deffo splashes you a little too much, but when you’d jump on his back and he feels the press of your boobs against his bare back- uhhhh his brain turns to mush.

“It’s so nice, isn't it Joe?”

“Uh- yeah, so nice…” deffo gets a boner.

Eugene Roe:

Maybe a lil different scenario, I feel like if there was a group of you he’d probably sit on the side watching and laughing in amusement.

he’d watch you strip off and immediately avert his eyes out of respect but ohmygodogogososo he’s blushing- he hasn’t seen a woman like that for years.

you’re already super close, so to be able to have downtime together creates something more… intimate.

if you’d jump in at the end of the day, the sun setting when it’s just the two of you I don’t think it would take much convincing to for him to get in the water.

you’d float further back from the surface with a smirk as he undressed, jumping in and purposefully splashing you.

would be a little more shy, especially if there’s more men around, but the second you joke about how he might need to give you cpr and the kiss of life he’s smirking and acting all cool and omg.

his hands would snake lower and lower down onto your butt and everybody would be none the wiser around you guys if there was others there.

who knew Roe could be such a flirt?

Ron Speirs:

Now this guy being your literal superior probably wouldn’t linger around to see you, 2nd battalions own nurse, strip off to go for a swim whilst all the horny men giggle like children from the land.

he’d deffo know he had to be more respectful, but let’s change the time a little, it’s just after the German army surrendered, you’re both wasted.

Rob asks you like ‘so what were you doing in the water the other day?’

You’d tell him in return you were just having some fun and he should’ve tried it. Ron, in a celebratory mood, and captivated by how fucking beautiful you are just thinks ‘fuck it’ and makes the decision to go on a ‘walk’.

You end up pushing each other into the water.

for a moment you’re probs shocked that this is literally Captain Speirs you’re swimming with, but things get… heated and there’s no time to think about being intimidated.

you’d deffo probs have the hottest, spontaneous sex with him in the water lmaooo.

George Luz:

You just know this man would be the first one to jump in with you OMG.

he’d be so excited like finally, somebody’s just as fun as he is…

Probs like that kid on holiday that takes it too far and dunks you to the point you’re so out of breath.

I feel like you two would physically play fight to playfully drowning each other. Would be chaos central and anybody who tried to come near you would get a face-full of water.

Don’t be surprised if you wake up the next day with bruises.

kinda sweet tho, you’d lay on the beach together the same night and he’d be all sweet, apologising and checking he didn’t take it too far?

Don Malarkey:

Everybody knows Don needs this time to unwind and just have some fun.

for the first time in months he feels more like himself, the two of you already have a very close bond so it makes you both so mutually happy to the see the other so care free.

I think he’d be laughing like crazy, probably throwing you off the dock and then jumping in after you, cos even tho he’s playing around he doesn’t want to be too rough with you.

would happily shove any of the other men in the water so that the two of you are left standing on the land together.

When he see’s you in your wet bikini oh my godddd- his brain turns to mush and he practically avoids even making eye contact with you he’s that nervous.

when you sit on his lap later that evening he’s done for.

he’s a little stunned cos you’re always so sweet and innocent… but it feels like a dream come true for Malarkey.

[celestialprincesse]

Mustang 🌵🏜️

The morning after dinner with Simon, you sit patiently on your porch swing, a chipped mug of coffee clutched in one hand, a pen knife balanced between the fingers of the other. Fortunately, the mornings aren't yet sweltering enough to wake covered in sweat and kick off the thin sheet from your bed. The sun still rises languorously over the horizon, and you wake with it.

Simon Riley is surprisingly pleasant, and you begrudgingly admit to yourself that Marlene had been right, perhaps you do need to get out more, meet new people, get over it. Perhaps you like him because he's like you. He's quiet, peaceful on the surface, undoubtedly roiling underneath. It's impossible to miss when you know the feeling so well. Tyres crunching on gravel snap you from your reverie, the black truck, some shiny new ford pulling in your driveway, cab doors swinging open to let its driver out.

"Nice." An appreciative eyebrow is raised in the direction of the truck, amusement barely hidden at its cleanliness. You struggle to imagine him spending meticulous hours cleaning the vehicle - when you do picture Simon Riley shirtless and suntanned, working meticulously to rid the truck of dust and dirt, you internally chastise yourself before walking down the rickety porch steps to greet him. "You left your pot." His gruff accent feels so odd to you still, so out of place whilst still being so somehow pleasant, sending shivers down your spine. "Shit. So I did." The enamel of your Dutch Oven is cool against your hands, chilled from the AC in his car. Still not used to the warmth, you suppose.

"You want a drink?" You hum as you wordlessly make your way back up the porch steps, Ness nipping at your heels as you usher Simon and the collie into your cozy kitchen, quick to shut the screen door behind you. "I got sweet tea, coffee, lemonade." "You got earl grey?" "Do I look like the type to have earl grey?" "Black coffee then, please."

Ness seems to like him. Good judge of character, you think. You hope. Maybe she likes him because of how similar he is to you, and you can't help but appreciate the newcomer as he pets the bicoloured ears of your pet. Your place is exactly how he pictured it'd be, cozy in a lived in sort of way, knickknacks scattered across the countertops and shelves and the occasional picture of what he can only assume is you as a kid strewn haphazardly. The coffee maker whirs quietly to life as you busy yourself with retrieving a plate of biscuits from the fridge, chucked in there to avoid the occasional fly that managed to get through the screen in the rushed moments where you failed to close it all the way.

"Biscuit?" "Just coffee is fine." "Your loss." You quip back, putting the plate back in its rightful place, by which time the coffee has brewed and you pour Simon a chipped mug full. "So, the fastback." Simon manages a little awkwardly, dwarfing your mug between his palms. "Ah, the elephant in my garage." The crappy joke makes you actually cringe, eyelid twitching as you angle your head back to the door, making your way to the garage, in which you pull the cover from the red painted mustang with an awkwardly executed flourish.

Upon assessing the car, Simon grunts out a quiet "Shit", turning to you with an almost concerned look. "You pay for this?" It seems weirdly as though he's mad, like anyone who charged you for this useless hunk of metal and rubber had committed some kind of sin, like they'd kicked a puppy or shunned god away. "No. No, guy said if I could fix it up it was mine." "Good. Cause it's worth fucking naught."

Simon spends the morning tinkering with the car. Pushes it out of the garage with pure brute strength so that he can look at it properly, says he'll fix your garage light whilst he's at it. When he appears at the kitchen door like a lost dog, cautious to shut the screen door, he can't help but appreciate the way you turn to face him, leaning the swell of your hip against the countertop. "The biscuit offer still open?" "You're fixing my shitty car and you already looked at my garage light. At this point I owe you more than just biscuits." You chuff.

The veteran can't help himself but to ogle your ass as you bend in front of your fridge to retrieve the biscuit plate, along with a jug of sweet tea and two chilled glasses.

"Prepared." "Ah, figured you'd get thirsty at some point."

There's something pleasant about the quiet of it all. Reminds him why he moved out here in the first place. The quiet nicker of horses and the sight of a beautiful woman making him lunch after spending hours out in the unforgiving heat. It makes him feel weirdly grateful, something he hasn't felt in a while. He's at your side as you rustle up some other food, something more substantial for a man of his size who's just spent four hours in the steadily boiling heat. He likes the way you don't flinch when a tentative arm slips around your waist to grab the glasses you'd set out on the counter, moving them to the table before returning to press his shoulder against yours.

"Need me to do anythin' else?" "Just stand there and be hot." Slips out before you can stop yourself, and your hand flies to cover your mouth, all whilst he stands, massive arms crossed against his chest with a smug. "Yes, Ma'am."

ᯓ★

Today felt like such a good day to write these two I promise I didn't forget about them!! I love them!! They're my emotionally wounded babies!!!

[aforestescape]

ghoap x gn!reader

inspired by soaps mic collar. id love to make that man whimper. also i’m a simon lover at heart if you didn’t know:)

you’re all a few drinks in at the pub, listening to simon bicker on with kyle about some reality show they’d been watching. curtesy the influence of introducing them to your cousins who loved a snarky drama show. if you knew it would have led to heated conversations while you’re busy trying to get drunk, you probably wouldn’t have done it.

you and john share a look of stilted amusement before taking another gulp of your drink. eyes fleeting over the crowded bar until they land on johnny up at the counter. one well defined arm leaned against the counter, far too big for the tight shirt he’s sporting. that award winning grin on his face as he chats with some bloke next to him. you keep your eyes on them, taking a drink again to wash away the feelings that try to surface.

you were the newest addition to the group. somehow you’d ended up staying along with the four men. it wasn’t something you were used to, team dynamics. sticking to one place for so long to actually find yourself enjoying the company of your teammates. you’d always been an expendable asset. more of a freelancer to help assist other teams missions from the sidelines. but you’d found it hard to want to leave after the months long mission you’d been assigned to with 141.

you’d always been intuitive and from the moment you first met them all you could feel something settling inside of you. a small inkling in the back of your mind that you had time to get used to these people. so when the assignment ended and you sat across from price in his office going over last minute paperwork you couldn’t find yourself regretting agreeing to another mission with them.

the added bonus to the camaraderie, the playful banter and dynamics that felt closer to family than that of coworkers was just how attractive they were. simons cold indifference was similar to you in some ways, it’s the type of men you’d gone for in the past. ones who’s shells needed to be slowly cracked open before you could get a glimpse of what might be inside. it was all too easy to give dry laughs back to his terrible dad jokes. to make sure you kept your voice low when you talked to him, fingers moving in rusty form to talk back with him.

he didn’t like speaking. he could, of course. he had to when they were out on the field, during the times when they had to go, go, go with enemies right down the corridor, chasing them down. but when they were back on base, even on nights like tonight he’d be quiet for so long his voice would be hollower than normal when he finally spoke.

and you couldn’t possibly not have noticed the way he looked at johnny. their dynamic felt untouchable to you. how easily they fell into kilter with each other. the way simons eyes always tracked the mohawked man had your eyes following along. wanting to catch a glimpse of the man he saw. maybe a few weeks ago you wouldn’t have understood so much why his gaze felt like it could burn you in proximity.

but now you could. you’re sure your gaze burned just as hard as your eyes stayed on johnny.

johnny was smart, no denying it. he was analytical and loved to run probabilities with you. on the days following your post mission you’d end up sitting next to each other and he’d ask your thoughts on the people passing by. you figured he only sat still long enough because you entertained him as he quickly divulged into ramblings on how the stranger walking by was running late to his meeting since he found the missus’ with the neighbor. he supported her though since the guy was obviously a wanker, look at his scarf.

it’s not until he’s back at the table, drink in hand that he got for free and grinning at you that you decide that professionalism isn’t enough to stop you from what you want. he takes his seat next to you, thick thighs brushing yours as he goes off on a story about what just happened with the guy. you suppose it might be funny because the rest of the group laugh at what he says but your eyes are glued to his neck.

ignoring the rest of the group you lean over to him slightly, cold fingers from touching your drink grazing his neck as you touch the black leather choker round his neck. fingertips slipping past the fabric to hook it in your grasp before tugging on it.

“you like being collared johnny? why’re you still wearing this.”

your eyes track the swallow of his adams apple, trailing up to catch his tongue swipe over his lips and the blue of his eyes.

“can’t take it off myself,” he says, voice quieter than normal. you raise an eyebrow, mind processing as simon picks up to respond.

“i’ve got the key. you wan’ him you’ll have to ask nicely.”

wrote this a while ago but i wasn’t happy with it so it sat in my drafts. i had a passing in my family recently so my post are probably going to be even more sparse soz

[naffeclipse]

I love how similar yet different Blackwater lure Eclipse and Naga SJ!Eclipse are.

They both become obsessed with photographer y/n after they see y/n appreciate nature, they both are technically alone due to certain circumstances (if SJ Eclipse had cut off his relations with his brothers in this AU as well), and they both want y/n’s attention.

However, Naga SJ Eclipse was the reason he lost his companionship with his family (again if we are using some of the original Sleuth Jester story), while BL!Eclipse is alone because of circumstances outside of his control (if I’m getting apex polarity’s lore correct. I’m still very behind due to school and work but have been trying to keep up with the outside lore snippets).

Additionally, Naga SJ Eclipse’s “admiration” of photographer y/n does not mean they won’t get hurt. In fact, it’s likely what causes them to be hurt by Naga SJ because he associates love with his violent tendencies (i.e. bruising y/n and threatening them). BL!Eclipse admires y/n but is against hurting them and instead chooses to try and engage y/n in their work and gift them with things such as food and showing them amazing places.

Anyways, I think if both Blackwater Lure and Naga SJ Eclipses existed in the same universe they would have an extremely intense rivalry with them both being obsessive over y/n and Blackwater Lure not being happy with SJ hurting y/n.

Oh ho, these two would hate each other's guts not least due to them both claiming the photographer. Neither are okay with sharing, either.

SJ and BL follow their OG counterparts with issues and relations, so both are alone, possessive, and very, very territorial. You're correct to point out how they contrast and mirror each other regarding Y/N.

BL!Eclipse grabs Y/N to take them to a beautiful clearing in the river where the water runs clear and every arapaima fish appears under the glittering surface. SJ!Eclipse grabs Y/N to force them to listen when he is, once again, monologing about what they will do for him once they understand that he is all they need.

BL!Eclipse takes Y/N's camera to carefully look at each photo before giving it back. SJ!Eclipse takes Y/N's camera with the threat of keeping it or breaking it. BL!Eclipse coils around Y/N to make them take a nap with him after seeing how tired they look. SJ!Eclipse coils around Y/N to ensure they can't run while he pokes their cheeks and tugs on their hair at his amusement. You can imagine how the list goes on.

If SJ Naga Eclipse exists in the same jungle as BL Eclipse, it would essentially boil down to who can get rid of who first, and once BL Eclipse learns who's been marking his photographer with bruises... It would not be pretty.

Also this—

Y/N: oh hey, you're back early

BL!Eclipse: jungle's haunted

Y/N: what?

BL!EClipse: *loading a pistol and slithering back into the trees* jungle's haunted

[bbyquokka]

my soul mate is my cat

pairing: lee minho x gender-neutral reader

genre: angst with a comfort ending – MDNI

synopsis: you adopt a cat to help ease the pain realising he is similar to someone you once held close to you

warnings: animal adoption, mental health, loneliness, unable to care for oneself, soft ending, soul mates, reincarnation

words: 1.7k ~ (1,704)

♡ m.list — ♡ you can also read it on my ao3

dont repost. dont translate. minors, ageless & default blogs; dni! feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

“why don't you adopt a cat!” you look up at your best friend and laugh.

“a cat?” you scoff. “seriously?”

your best friend nods and grins before taking a sip of their spirit. you're both out on a best friend date, eating at a local café whilst catching up on life.

“why not? cats are easy to take care off!” 

“i can hardly look after myself let alone an animal.” you chuckle softly.

“oh c'mon yn! are you not lonely since.. well, y'know..” you swallow as your best friend trails off. you let out a sad sigh as you look down at your pastry, suddenly feeling nauseous and the pastry looking unappetizing.

you have noticed that the days are long but the nights are even longer. since being alone, your apartment has felt twice the size of what it usually is. you haven't become lazy per say but the appeal of washing dishes and doing laundry just drains you the more you think about it, causing a pile to build and build until it becomes unmanageable. everything just reminded you of him, of minho. you hated being in the same four walls for that exact reason but you feared that if you left, you’d forget so you willingly trapped yourself.

you'd worry you'd forget about his smell. how he sounded. how he dressed. you still have all his belongings, scared and refusing to throw them out or give them away. every item of clothing still holds his scent, that scent that brings you so much comfort yet such sadness. everything of his still sits on your dressing table. photos, trinkets, dried up flowers, expired amusement park tickets–they're all memories.

nothing has quite been or felt the same. you went from being incredibly loved and being in love by an amazing and wonderful human to feeling nothing. just an empty shell walking and breathing. the only reason you are out right now is because your friend practically barged into your home unwelcomed, forced you to get dressed and dragged you out.

you can't deny that it feels nice to be outside again. the wind on your skin, the chirps of the birds and the buzz of pedestrians however, that part of you just wants to go home and bury yourself under heaps of blankets.

“c'mon yn. i think it'd be good for you. if not, at least think about it.” 

and think about it you do. as you wander around your apartment, all you can think about is a cat wandering around your home. maybe having a fluffy companion would do you some good. maybe it would bring you back and light that spark that's been extinguished.

the more the think about it, the more you want it. a sudden burst of energy rips through your body as you clean up your home. putting laundry in the machine, cleaning up dishes and throwing away trash. you bleach and disinfect every surface in your home, scrubbing until you can see your reflection in the counter tops. 

once that was done, you venture off to the pet store to grab the necessities. cat tree, scratching post, food and water bowls, litter box and litter alongside some food, treats and toys. maybe you overspent and the cat wouldn't use half of what you bought but it's better to be safe than sorry.

you made sure you home is cat friendly, feeling like you're baby proofing the apartment. you tuck away any loose cables, hide anything that could be potentially swallowed and cause harm. you haven't even decided if you want a cat or a kitten but either way, you will know once you come face to face with the animals.

“hi. i'm looking to adopt a cat.” you say to the shelter worker. you walked to your local shelter knowing it's better to adopt than to shop. they smile at you before asking you some questions and filling out some paperwork before leading you to the kennels.

there, you see a whole array of animals. puppies, kittens, dogs, cats. some old, some new. some frightened and some jumping all over the place with excitement. your heart melts but at the same time drops. seeing all these animals in kennels that have been abandoned and are waiting for their forever home, makes you wish you could just scoop them all up and take them home.

but for now, you can only pick one.

as you walk along the kennels, cooing and sighing at the adorable faces of the many breeds of dogs and cats, do you stop at one in particular.

you squat down as the cat stands from its resting place, uncurling itself and stretching out its stale limbs. it's a black, long coat cat with white around it's paws making it look like it's wearing socks. a little white moustache and white chest with long whiskers and pointy ears with tuffs of fur at the tips.

“hi.” you whisper as you put your hand up close to the metal. the cat sniffs your fingers, its pink nose twitching with each sniff before headbutting and rubbing its head on the bars. you stroke the back of its neck gently, heart melting as it starts to purr loudly.

“i want this one.” 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

it's been a few weeks since you adopted the cat, who's name is lee. lee was wary at first, hiding in the bathroom and nervous of its new surroundings and new noises. you spent time sitting outside the bathroom door trying to gently coax him out of the bathroom and let him know that he is safe.

soon enough, he gingerly stepped out off the bathroom, rubbing his head and body on your legs and hands as he would beg for attention. once lee knew he was safe did he show you his true side.

you learnt that he is a very playful yet stubborn cat. you'd catch him on the counter top (or even on top of the fridge) every time you tell him down, he would look at you and groom himself. you can't do anything about it though; he's a cute cat!

as you both slowly get accustomed to one another do you start to notice traits; traits that are all to familiar to you.

the slow blinks, the stubbornness, the playfulness. how he would meow at you when asking specific questions. the head tilts and the sudden swat of his paw on your hand; it's hard to explain to others but to you, you just know

it's a feeling you're all too familiar with. it's habits and traits you know far too well. you didn't want to believe it at first but now you're forced to. you even went as far as showing him a picture to which he nudged at and purred–like he is trying to tell you something.

you watch as he slowly sits up and stretches from your lap. your eyes widen at a distance mark on his fur in the same place as someone who was once close to you. lee looks at you and gives you slow blinks and purrs loudly as your eyes slowly full with tears.

“you're just like him, yknow.” you whisper. lee continues to give you soft blinks before gently placing his white paw on your cheek, his toes beans feeling soft yet firm against your skin. his fur soaking up your tears before he leans in and gently licks your cheek. his scratchy tongue swiping along your cheek as he gives you kisses to which you giggle at and hold him close to your chest.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“i'm not crazy.” you protest to your friend over the phone. “i swear, they're just like him!” 

“yn.. i know you miss him but that's impossible.”

“is it? i mean, don't you believe in the whole afterlife thing? y'know, being reborn and whatnot.”

“not particularly, no. it's just bizarre how you think that. are you ok, yn? like, really really ok?” you sigh deeply, rubbing your face with your hand.

“peachy. look, i know i sound crazy but it's true. it's just everything lee does is so alike to him. since adopting him, i feel more alive! like i have a purpose.”

“and that's great yn! but to say he is exactly like him is a little bizarre don't you think?” 

“well, yeah but– ah, never mind. look, i have to go. talk to you soon.” you hang up with a defeated sigh. of course they wouldn't believe you. you wouldn't if someone told you what you told your friend. they would have to see it to believe it; but even then, would they?

you drag your feet to your bedroom, smiling as you see lee curled up on his side of the bed. you flop down on your stomach, disturbing lee from his nap. his head shoots up, a tired and disapproved meow causing you to laugh softly.

“sorry darling. i didn't mean to wake you.” lee puts his head back down before letting out a big yawn. his ears twitching and soft purrs emitting as you gently pat his soft and silky fur.

“maybe i am a little crazy.” you say with a soft chuckle. “could you not give me a sign or something? i'll take anything at this point.” 

lee looks at you before getting up off the bed and walking out. you watch with a sad smile feeling defeated and your heart weighing you down.

moments later, lee walks back into the bedroom. he jumps up on the bed and drops a piece of clothing by your face. it's a sock but not just any sock–it's his favourite sock.

you sit up, holding the sock close to your chest as tears stream down your cheeks. you let out broken sobs as lee stands on his hind legs, front paws on your arms as he reaches up. you laugh softly, leaning down to allow him to lick your cheek slowly and gently to soothe you.

you scoop him up and nuzzle into his soft furr, getting it wet with your tears. lee endures it, purring softly and rubbing his face against your cheek.

“it's really you.” you whisper. “welcome back, my love.” 

note: idek. i saw a tiktok ok and it prompted me to do this. i have no words, sdjn;aslfb! don’t forget to leave feedback, reblog and tell me what you think here. curious as to what is next? here is my wips list! i hope you all enjoy! ‹3

tags (open): @sstarryoong ; @fairylouist ; @septicrebel ; @alyszaen ; @writerracha ; @hyunluvxo ; @aestheticsluut ; @xcookiemonsteer ; @telesvng

[midnightscramble]

Hi! Are you gonna do a part 2 of the courting story? If so maybe some jealousy raises when one of the kids/partners see reader in public with someone else? Thanks!

Promenading with Widows Part 2 (Violet Bridgerton x fem!Reader)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

The Masterlist

Author’s Note: This is dedicated to @blueberrycoffee19. No author is without faults and bear in mind that asks are taken as guidelines. Please enjoy and Happy readings to you.

Summary: Penelope and Kate have tea with Lady Y/n, clarifying intentions. Violet and Y/n reunite. The Bridgerton children run into Y/n and Lady Cowper in a compromising position.

Warnings: implied period typical homophobia, discussion of unhappy marriage (Y/n's prior sexual/wifely duties), strong feelings of jealousy/insecurity, unwelcome advance (made by Lady Cowper), no Beta read

Penelope and Kate waited in the foyer of the Y/l/n estate. It was one of the largest in the Ton, yet rarely visited as the late Lord was not keen on hosting. It was apparent that the house was in the midsts of a redecoration, with freshly stripped walls and large wooden crates partially cracked open, revealing new furniture within them. All the curtains had been taken off the runners, letting light stream into the house from all directions.

A butler came down the hall and alerted them of where they could find the Lady of the house, "Lady Y/l/n is taking her afternoon tea in the study," he motioned towards the end of the hall, "She can be found there, my Ladies." Penelope found it rather strange that the butler did not guide them to the study and announce them there. The lack of staff also perturbed her, as there was no one waiting outside the study should Lady Y/n need something. It seemed she was rather independent.

The women looked at each other skeptically as they journeyed to the end of the hall. As they entered the study, they immediately noticed its finished state, compared to the rest of the house. Large book cases that stretched from the floor to the ceiling adorned two walls, while the other walls had been painted a pale, creamy pink. The furniture was made of honey wood with dusty pink upholstering. The curtains were a sheer gold color, making the light of the room appear warmer than the sun itself. Every viable surface had a vase of flowers settled atop it, proudly presenting pink African violets. Penelope couldn't help but smile, there was no doubt that this was a woman's study.

Lady Y/n stood to greet them, "Please excuse the current state of things. I fear the whole house has been victim to my remodeling." Kate laughed, surprising herself. After everything Anthony had told her, she did not expect the woman to be so humble and charming.

"It is no problem at all. I must commend you for what you have done with the study. It looks remarkable, Lady Y/l/n," Kate said with a smile and Penelope nodded in enthusiastic agreement.

"Let's sit, and please, there is no need to maintain such formalities. We are all women of similar status, and I am sure we do not need reminding of it. You can just call me Y/n," She led them to the couches and poured her guests cups of tea.

Penelope could not deny, she liked Y/n. She had suspected the woman to be intimidating, as many intelligent women are. However, it had become clear that the bite and intimidation used on Anthony was purely in retaliation, and not a solidified part of her personality.

"Very well, Y/n. I fear we must have an uncomfortable conversation with you," Penelope bit her lip as she watched Y/n calmly sip her tea.

She put her cup down and her lip curled as she spoke, "I take it Lady Violet received my gift, and Lord Bridgerton intercepted the letter?" Y/n obviously found the subject amusing and Kate herself began to see the humor in it.

"My husband was quite upset by it, he worries about your influence on his mother." Kate folded her hands in her lap politely as she explained.

Suddenly serious, Y/n's smirk dropped as she spoke earnestly, "He has nothing to fear, I would do nothing to harm Lady Violet." Penelope examined the woman across from them, her change in tone reflected that this was not the first time Y/n had thought about the topic at hand. It reminded her briefly of Colin's caring, protective nature.

"I'm sure you wouldn't. However, Anthony does not understand your developing friendship, in fact we are all surprised by the suddenness."

Y/n shrugged, "Lady Violet and I find solace in each other, I found that her company was quite comforting. Since Lord Y/l/n passed, I have found myself frequently alone-"

Reminded that Y/n was a widow, Penelope rushed to give her condolences, "I am so sorry for your loss." Y/n waved her off, settling back into her chair.

"I know that I am odd and brash. Men especially seem to find my presence quite challenging to tolerate. However, these unfortunate traits of mine are not contagious. I pose no threat to indoctrinating the faire Lady Violet. She is far too principled to succumb to any of my outrageous beliefs." Y/n elongated her final words in jest of her not so sparkling reputation within the Bridgerton household.

Dropping the interrogation, Kate yielded, "I rather like odd and brash, and I am sure Lady Violet finds it as refreshing as I do. You are right though, I doubt anyone could convince her of something lest she had already convinced herself."

Y/n laughed whole heartedly, "She is quite formidable, is she not." She smiled as she reflected upon their last meeting, "And rather unrelenting. When we traveled to the gallery together she saw through my facade and refused to let any topic of conversation expire until she found what she was looking for." The adoration in her voice was clear, and the gleam in her eyes was all too telling.

Penelope's eyes widened as she came to the realization that Y/n's feelings for Violet were not strictly platonic. She looked over at Kate, wondering if she had arrived at the same conclusion.

Unexpectedly, Kate stood, "I trust that with your companionship, Lady Violet will be in good hands. Penelope, we must be on our way or we shall be late for lunch." Penelope bit her tongue despite having more questions, willing to let Kate take the lead out of respect for her seniority.

Y/n stood up as well, "Allow me to walk you to your carriage." They spoke their parting pleasantries and once in the comfort and privacy of the carriage, Penelope immediately turned to Kate.

"I think she is in love with-"

Kate put her hand up, gently interrupting the younger woman, "I am not sure that either of them are cognizant of their own feelings. In due time, they will figure it out between themselves. We must let it run its natural course."

"Will you tell Antony what we have discovered?" Penelope worried her lip, not wanting Y/n to face societal consequences.

"He is much more progressive than you think, we have plenty of friends with the same peculiarity. If anything, this may prove to relieve him of his tension, knowing that his mother in the hands of someone who loves her." She paused, reconsidering, "Although, he has been quite angsty since the memorial did not go as planned."

Penelope hummed, "Could there be another reason for his sudden stress?"

Kate sighed and rubbed her protruding belly, "He has been in a state since I have become pregnant. Anthony fears dying as suddenly as his father, he spends most of his time in the study, estate planning so that I may not worry if he passes early. I think he may be unfairly projecting his anxieties onto Violet." Penelope patted her hand comfortingly and they sat in contemplative silence until they arrived back at the Bridgerton estate.

...

Approximately one hour had passed since the women had arrived to the family home, and in that hour, word had spread like wild fire. Kate told Anthony of Y/n's feelings for Violet. He felt relieved, knowing the widow's intentions were harmless, and apologetic for his outburst. After discussing it with Kate, who had watched her own father remarry, he accepted that it was only right that his mother get a second chance at love. He confessed "I always felt that no man could replace father. Perhaps this is the unlikely solution that allows the coexistence of his memory and mother's happiness."

In his relief he mentioned to Benedict that Lady Y/n was not after his hand, to which Benedict weaseled the true information out of him. Smug he jested, "Well of course she is a homosexual, it is the only explanation as to why she resisted my charms."

Gregory emerged from around a corner, obviously eavesdropping, "You grossly overestimate your charms, brother."

Exasperated, Anthony grimaced, "You are both sworn to secrecy on this matter, it is extremely sensitive and possibly life ruining." Benedict nodded compassionately and Gregory smiled before running off to tell Hyacinth.

On the other side of the house, Penelope had confessed her discovery to Colin, who sought Eloise in confusion. "So Lady Y/n has affection for the fairer sex? Is such not illegal in London?" Eloise nodded at his questioning, "Yes, and it is illegal. Despite being absolutely harmless, it is too taboo to be brought up in court."

Colin paced the room, "And if the two of them are discovered they will no doubt be put on trial, what shall we do then?"

"I'm sure Simon and Daphne have friends in the high courts, we shall have to tell them should the family need to call in a favor." Colin nodded and with Penelope and his sister walking in tow, they found the couple in the drawing room.

Relaying the news, the Duke and Duchess were quick to accept the hypothetical responsibility. The group failed to notice Francesca and John, who sat in the corner quietly watching the interaction.

All had been sworn to secrecy as to not interfere with the budding romance, and by the time dinner arrived, everyone knew of Y/n's feelings save for Violet.

...

The next day Y/n arrived to the Bridgerton estate and was met by a very eager Hyacinth who walked her to the drawing room, "It is so wonderful that you are here. Mother has been positively bereft by your absence, mopping about as though-" She stopped herself, not wanting to reveal Violet's obvious crush, "that is to say she missed you." Y/n smiled at the young girl and her odd giddiness.

They entered the drawing room and the chatter went silent, all eyes flew to Violet, awaiting her reaction. Anthony broke the tension, "My apologies for the prior hostility, Lady Y/l/n, you are a fine companion to my mother." Violet was touched by the sentiment and stood to greet Y/n who responded gracefully, "Apology accepted, Lord Bridgerton. I shall make use of your approval and invite the Viscountess to lunch."

Gathering Y/n's hands in her own she nodded eagerly, "That would be splendid, thank you."

Y/n smiled and linked their arms, guiding her out of the room. Conversation erupted the moment they were out of earshot, the children began debating who would confess their feelings first.

...

"Where are we going to lunch?"

"I have prepared a feast at my house," Y/n exaggerated as they stepped into the carriage. Violet's breathe caught, she had not yet had the privilege of seeing where the Lady resided. Being invited into the home of someone as private as Y/n was not to be taken lightly, it meant she had earned the widow's trust.

Violet quickly remembered to respond in similar jest, "Let's say my hunger is so great that I devour this proposed feast and you are left with nothing, what then shall you do?"

"Eat you, of course," Y/n easily responded, not aware of the innuendo attached to her words. Violet flushed and looked out the window while pursing her lips together. She imagined them tangled in bed sheets, with Y/n's mouth trailing down her body. She shivered and crossed her legs tightly, trying to ignore the sudden fire within her.

Changing the topic, Y/n began, "Please ignore the state of the house, I am in the middle of redecorating and have accomplished little in my free time." Violet nodded in understanding, knowing that the young woman had inherited her husband's many duties to the Queen.

"On the contrary, I would love a house tour."

Y/n smiled brightly and grabbed Violet's hand, "I am absolutely delighted by that." She held Violet's hand for the rest of the journey, enjoying its warmth and running her fingers over the tendons, watching as they twitched.

Once they arrived, Y/n led the way through the house, "Let us start with the third level and work our way down." She showed Violet the library, indoor green house, and the multitude of guest bedrooms. Y/n seemed to get nervous as they got to the second level, purposely avoiding a room that had a large ebony door, intricately carved with the Y/l/n family crest.

Violet pointed to the room before Y/n could slip past, "What's in here," she innocently inquired.

The younger woman's voice cracked, "That was my marital bedroom." Violet squared her shoulders, not wanting to outwardly show her shock. Awkwardly, Y/n offered, "Would you like to see it?" In truth, she did not want to enter the space, as it held the worst memories of her marriage. She dreaded the room and all it stood for.

Not wanting to offend her host, Violet agreed, "Yes, if you would like me to." Y/n's hand reached for her own as she turned the iron knob. The door slowly opened to reveal a room shrouded in darkness, the closed curtains causing the room to be entirely devoid of light. While the rest of the house had undergone major changes, Y/n could not bring herself to return to this room for longer than necessary, feeling disgust over her memories of the bedroom.

Violet looked around the room, the accents of the room were a deep, dark green. The bed was black and the furniture was all leather. On the wall opposing the bed, there was a large stuffed deer's head mounted, surveying the room. She turned to look at her companion, seeing how small Y/n looked amongst the imposing decor. She moved a hand to the small of her back in comfort, "How often would you sleep here?"

"Whenever he demanded it." She said plainly. Violet nodded, feeling a surge of aggression towards the dead man. Lord Y/l/n had made his wife aware of the fact that he could not love her, carried affections for another, yet bed her on the regular. He was an imbecile, completely unaware of the invaluable woman he had married, content to treat her as a house pet. She exhaled her anger and inched closer to Y/n to put her hands on either side of her arms.

"Do you still sleep here?" Please don't sleep here, you don't have to sleep here, she thought. She looked into Y/n's eyes, trying to get her plea across.

"No, I never want to sleep here again." Violet pulled her into a hug, with one hand around Y/n's waist and the other cradling the back of her head. The memories of Lord Y/l/n's touch vanished as Y/n's senses were filled with Violet, the sweet scent of her hair, the soft caress of her skin, and the strong hold of her arms. They enjoyed the vulnerability of the moment, neither wanting to separate, fearing that it would be a long while till their next embrace.

Y/n sighed, "Lunch will be ready soon, we should probably..." she weakly offered. Violet removed her hand from Y/n's head and brought both down to her waist, keeping their bodies pressed against each other. She knew she was being selfish, to take this liberty in the very room that her companion had felt most trapped. Yet, it felt right, to reclaim this small intimacy, to give this to Y/n without the expectation of a sexual favor.

"We probably should. You know... I have quite the expertise when it comes to home decor. I would be honored if you allowed me to redecorate this room." Violet wanted to erase Lord Y/l/n, to unburden Y/n and allow her to live freely in her home without his ghost lingering.

The widow nodded and pulled away from the embrace, "That would be much appreciated. In fact, this could be your room for when you spend the night. I know that you will soon be in search of a dowager house, so in the mean time, if you need an escape, you can stay here." Violet's heart warmed at the thought.

"You would really give me the grandest bedroom?"

"As long as you intend to use it, yes." Y/n responded as if it were obvious. "Would it trouble you to come by in two days time? I have a painter on retainer and we can pick out furniture for your room."

Smiling brightly, Violet interlocked their fingers, "It wouldn't trouble me at all, shall we have lunch now?"

...

Violet returned home feeling as though her mind had quieted. She walked mindlessly through her home, letting her fingers dance along the walls. Although it was past dinner and the usual time they retired, her daughters had all gathered in the drawing room. Violet was startled by the congregation and entered the room. The women all turned to look at her, and Daphne was the first to speak, "How was your night?"

Hyacinth eagerly patted the spot next to her on the couch, smiling like the cat who ate the canary, "You must tell as all about the evening. What did you talk about it? What did you eat?" Eloise put down her book, giving her mother her full attention.

Feeling shy, Violet guffawed, "And what is with this sudden onslaught of inquiries?"

The room bustled once again as everyone feigned disinterest, Eloise reopened her book and shrugged her shoulders, Francesca tinkered with the keys of her piano and Hyacinth made an excuse, "We are simply invested in your friendships, MaMa."

Daphne was the only one that continued to look at her, "Did you have a pleasant time?" She asked softly.

Violet fixed her daughter with a strange look, she hesitated, "Yes, I did." Daphne clapped her hands once and her sisters turned their attention to her, "It is time for bed, ladies, I am sure MaMa does not want to be kept up by our incessant chatter." Sighs emitted from her younger siblings and they clambered off to bed.

Once it was just the two of them, Daphne tried again, "I know you went for lunch, and you obviously stayed for dinner, so what did you do in the hours in between?"

"I'm going to be helping Lady Y/l/n with redesigning a portion of her home, that is all," Violet turned her gaze away from her daughter, not liking the bitter taste the lie left in her mouth.

"That is all?" Daphne knew her mother was close to cracking.

"She is letting me decorate a room for when I stay there." Violet's leg bounced uneasily under her skirt, not liking the direction of the questioning, "I fail to see how any of this is your business, dear."

Daphne put her hands up in concession, "You are right it is not my business... Mama," She began, "we all so desperately want you to be happy. If you have found something-someone who helps you achieve that, then we are pleased for you." Violet's breath caught in her throat. Her children had always been perceptive of her feelings, but for them to catch something that she herself was only just beginning to accept and understand was on an entirely different level.

"How did you know-"

"When Anthony forbade you from seeing her, you sent letters to her every day. I think you forget that the Duke and I are a floor beneath you, we would hear you pacing at night in frustration." Violet put her head in her hands at her daughter's admission. Had this truly been so obvious to everyone else? How could she deny something that everyone already knew?

Daphne put a hand on her shoulder, "We love you, we just want you to be happy." With that she took her leave, and left Violet with her thoughts.

...

The next morning, Colin, Anthony, Daphne and Francesca invited their spouses for a group promenade.

...

Across the Ton, Y/n sat across from Lady Cowper, listening to her drown on about her husband's latest business deal. She had neglected her social calendar and postponed all meetings for the month following Lord Y/l/n's death, and it was now catching up with her. Dropping a few coins on the table to cover her coffee and croissant, Y/n stood.

"I feel in need of some fresh air, would you like to accompany me on a walk in the park?"

Lady Cowper nodded with a saccharine smile, not wanting their time together to end. Linking their arms, she pulled the younger woman tightly to her side, "I am so sorry to hear about the passing of your husband. How have you been?"

Internally rolling her eyes, she responded politely, "I have been as well as one can be, given the circumstances." As they made their way through the empty park, Lady Cowper tugged her towards a near gazebo. Hidden slightly behind a pillar, she asked conspiratorially, "Are you not relieved that he is gone?"

Y/n felt a shiver go down her spine and she separated herself from the woman, "I beg your pardon?"

"You do not have to lie to me, Y/n. I see the way you stare at women of the Ton," She purred, running her fingers across the collar of Y/n's dress. The widow felt bile crawl up her throat at the unwelcome and unearned familiarity.

She pushed Lady Cowper away, causing her to stumble briefly, "You forget yourself. Good day." She made to exit the gazebo and realized that she had an audience far in the distance, the Bridgertons.

...

They stalked towards their home in silence, contemplating what to do with what they had witnessed transpire between Lady Y/l/n and Lady Cowper. They come to the conclusion that it was a lover's spat of some sort, and hesitated to give their mother the news.

"I think Colin should be the one to say it, he is the gentlest," Daphne offered. Anthony nodded in agreement and watched as his younger brother swallowed anxiously. No one wanted to be the bearer of bad news, however, Violet was owed the truth. Colin finally nodded, and by the time they had approached the house, he had planned exactly what to say.

Finding her in the study, Colin slowly approached his mother, "I am sorry to interrupt you," Violet looked up at him with a smile, stilling her quill.

"You are not interrupting, I am simply writing to Lady Y/n about our plans for tomorrow." He gently took the quill from her hand and placed in on the side of the table.

"About that, are you sure that Lady Y/n is available?" She cocked her head to the side, "Why, of course. We made these plans just yesterday."

"I suppose, what I mean to ask is if Lady Y/n already has a companion who accompanies her on similar outings..."

Violet stuttered, "I-well, I do not know. I have never thought to ask... Is there a reason you are wondering?" Violet's heart rate slowly ticked up as she watched her son press his lips together in apology.

"This morning, we witnessed Lady Y/n having a quarrel with Lady Cowper, it seemed... passionate." Violet's heart sank.

"Oh."

"Would you like me to write to her to cancel tomorrow's plans?" Violet nodded silently and left the room. She bounded up the stairs and slammed her bedroom door shut. Shaking, she felt hot tears stream down her face.

That no good trollop Cowper, Violet thought as she envisioned the Lady caressing Y/n's face. She barred her teeth and let out a sorrowful hiss before dissolving into sobs. She pounded her fist on her bed, raging at her own naivety. Of course a beautiful woman such as Y/n would have the women of the Ton accosting her, and to think that she would be the one to capture the widow's heart was improbable at best. She cursed the very day that Lady Cowper was born, wishing a long insufferable death upon the woman.

She had been a fool and given her heart to someone who clearly did not feel the same for her. Perhaps Y/n would offer Lady Cowper the bedroom...