#and remarked on how funny it was that I was guiding the guide

[foreignobjecticus]

Going to go to bed soon. Offering my full night of dreams to anyone: trade for deep, restful sleep only.

[rxttenfish]

Pardon the question, but how do the reimagined merfolk reproduce? In MP I recall them saying that merfolk reproduce in a similar way to seahorses (may be a throwaway joke, but in any case) but the reimagined merfolk are obviously different from how they are in MP in many ways.

ah yes, one of those things that i've had worked out fully for forever but never made a dedicated post on it over here... at least partially because im suspicious of tumblr and its ability to nuke anything even frankly talking about sexual selection and reproductive methods of various animals, oops.

which is why this is going under a cut, oops. like i said, lots of frank discussion of sexual selection and the processes of it. im a nerd when it comes to this.

-

the first thing most humans would notice when looking upon a group of merfolk (of the same species), is a notable lack of dimorphism. there's no dramatic color shifts, no difference in size beyond usual distribution among a population, no odd behaviors, nothing to really sort them out from each other. this is a consistent theme among merfolk in general — while they continually get larger as they age (at a much slower rate than they did growing up, certainly, and not as dramatic as pop media might suggest this to be), it's still fairly close along the existing curve of height distribution, and usually the only real "tells" for an adult merfolk's age is that they get pitted and worn, a little like a statue slowly wearing down, or similar to the age of crocodilians.

which might be a little odd for these hypothetical humans looking onwards, even if they were already familiar enough to be able to tell merfolk facial features apart. even moreso because as frank as merfolk cultures usually are about sex and nudity taboos seem rare, all of their applicable anatomy is internal, so even seeing one entirely in the nude isn't enough to sex them.

the truth has to do with merfolk as a secondarily aquatic tetrapod. i've mentioned before that the early ancestors of merfolk were temnospondyls that responded to environmental stressors in their freshwater environments by being able to take advantage of a wide variety of environments. they have lungs and gills, meaning they can breathe on land very well if they need to move between pools and ponds, and they have gills to optimize their time spent underwater and not have to surface if the going is good underwater. even more than that, they developed both external gills and internal gills, meaning they could reap the benefits of both fast-moving and slow-moving water.

all of this is relevant, because to be exposed to all of these different environments and to be able to move between them when the going gets tough in one, means they had to make longer and longer treks over land. some were dependent on specific vernal pools that they would travel to to raise their young, but this also limited the areas in which they could live, and if those vernal pools dried up then they could not reproduce.

so these early-line temnospondyls made the same switch that other tetrapods have made, and switched to internal fertilization. this meant that, if they were to find another one of their species during their land-travels, they could mate and continue onwards, even being ready to lay eggs right at the moment they found the vernal pool, limiting the amount of time the offspring needed in the water.

however, they did still need vernal pools and water, and were very vulnerable in these stages. and with the existing push towards shorter and shorter time spent in the vernal pools, well, what if they just didn't bother with them at all? it'd put more stress on the parents, but they were already primed to be able to survive through these periods of stress, so it wouldn't be such a huge jump.

so the line that would eventually lead to merfolk and the leviathans both made the switch to live birth fairly early on in their history.

the rest that happens from there varies. this was a more diverse group, back in the day! there were many different species with many different methods for that live birth. some would continue just carrying the fertilized eggs to be dropped off in the next suitable pool they found, some developed them into tadpoles, some went through metamorphosis in the womb and popped out into the world as mini adults, some left spermatophores for others of their species to pick up, some developed evertable genitalia and went at it that way.

but another shift also happened early on in their evolutionary history. them being able to spread out so far and wide meant that there was a very low density of them in any given area, and these low numbers made them vulnerable. if there was high disparity in the proportion of sexes in any given area, they'd feel the effects of that quicker, and when they were already in competition over the same niches as other temnospondyls, crocodylomorphs, marine reptiles, and later early cetaceans, etc who dominated these niches, they were often kept at these lower population numbers.

which was about when these early-line temnospondyls also made the switch to a trioecious mating system.

this happened because sex determination in amphibians is already weird, so it wasn't too far of a leap for a mutation to arise which created fertile dual-sexed individuals. and these dual-sexed individuals had a lot of success under the niche they had already carved out! now, whenever they did find another member of their same species, it was guaranteed that they could mate with them, which meant that their populations were self-sustaining and stable on much lower numbers. due to how their dispersal already worked, inbreeding wasn't as much of a negative factor, and they were even more capable of making it through the disasters and ecological strain that had the other non-lissamphibia temnospondyls going extinct. they could eke out a living wherever they found it, make long traversals over land if they needed to seek out greener pastures, and they were able to sustain themselves in the background without needing as high of a density of themselves in any given spot.

like i said too - this was a diverse clade back in the day! and you ended up getting different variations on this. some species didn't have any dual-sexed individuals. some species had only dual-sexed individuals. some had only males and dual-sexed individuals, and some only females and the dual-sexed individuals, and all in various different proportions and numbers.

what matters here is that merfolk were a part of the line who had evertable internal genitalia, and who ended up entirely composed of these dual-sexed members, making them an entirely unisex species in the modern day.

(this is also where i butt in, to explain from an authorial perspective, this is me kinda... being sneaky with canon and how it tends to phrase things. yes, technically it is the male who gets pregnant with merfolk! but, also, so would females. because they don't have "male" or "female" in these strict terms, and any given individual to them has the potential to do both. this is something that i do a lot with the usual facts given to me by canon, where it's technically true, just because i like to be contrary about it and not take things in the most literal way. it's just what i find fun, i know some other people do it differently, and that's fine with me!)

what this means is that merfolk don't have a conception of "gender". it checks out with their social structure too, because if a merfolk's miivt'ia have a child, then it doesn't matter who actually physically created that child, said merfolk would still consider themselves their parent all the same. the reproductive unit is larger than a singular merfolk or even two merfolk, and at that point, even if they were bisex, then each grouping still has the same reproductive potential as any other.

what this means is that, when miranda describes herself as a princess or a girl or that the king is her dad or she has sisters — these are best seen as translation errors. to a merfolk, the concepts at play aren't gendered. they would not immediately identify themselves as male, they would not immediately identify themselves as female, they'd be very confused and would only get more confused as you tried to explain it to them. miranda describes herself as a princess and uses she/her because she was told that, for landfolk, everyone had to pick one of two and she had to just choose one. she picked "princess" and "girl" because one of the first things given to her as a way to learn english were fairytales, and she really ended up latching onto the princess characters in them.

in fact, this is why merfolk seem to be a little... reductive? when it comes to gender? as in, if you do take the time to explain it to them, you will have to explain it all. which means starting with gender relating to the different genitalia, and you have just told this hypothetical merfolk that it is important to landfolk, who will now operate under that assumption. they will not innately understand why landfolk care about this or all the distinctions thereof and certainly not the nuance of it, so they end up just going "okay, when this landfolk tells me this person is a girl, that must mean she is like this", and potentially getting frustrated when you tell them that that's wrong.

it can't even really work for royals, who do simplify parentage down to two people, and care a whole lot about who is related to whom. for royals in the current merkingdom, its primarily about attempting to preserve a specific lineage. because merfolk lineage is its own can of worms, they simplify - they take the current heir (one who has been groomed and taught how to behave as though emblematic of that lineage and has been guaranteed to have the strongest claim to it), and will find a suitable non-heir of another royal house, for whom they will forbid either of them to make kids with any other merfolk. this agreement is less like a marriage in the traditional sense, and more like the heir's house is briefly sponsoring the non-heir's house, sending extended political and economic benefits to the latter through this connection, in exchange for reinforcing the lineage of the heir and making it more potent, reinforcing their political ties.

this is to ensure that absolutely no other genetics can be involved and to contain the process. because this occurs by who-was-born-where, it also means that only the heir really matters in this ordeal. if the heir dies while the non-heir of the couple lives, and they already have had children, then the non-heir is "locked in" and cannot remarry, obliged to stay within the heir's house in their current position to ensure the current holders of the lineage are brought up and cared for properly. if the heir dies while the non-heir lives, and they have no children, then the non-heir is sent back to their prior family with no benefits, and the next heir is named as though the marriage never happened. if the non-heir dies while the heir lives, then they can remarry as they please, existing children or not. this is not especially popular, as the non-heir's family can accuse the heir's family of being unfair or snubbing them, but it is still perfectly legal and accepted.

for instance: the king, miranda's father, had to marry into the royal family. it was the queen, miranda's mother, who was the crown princess before miranda, and who is seen as passing her inheritance down onto miranda and the other three sisters. when the queen died, the king could not remarry. he was secure in his position as king, but any other marriages would not carry the lineage of the royal family, and at best he would be seen as trying to "dilute" that lineage.

in this setup, it's not all that important who is the donor party and who is the carrying party. either the inheritor or their partner can be the one carrying, so long as it's certain and guaranteed who the baby comes from and that this can be assured with certainty. usually it's agreed between the two of them for whatever reason, though the carrying partner does have a benefit in being a surefire way to prove that they are one of the parents, with zero doubt. inheritors will do this mostly to make their kids look the most "100% royal line, no doubts", but this can also go the opposite way, to cement it down to it being a specific line who carried them and to reinforce the political benefits their prior family enjoys from this arrangement.

which brings me back to merfolk genetics, and why this is so important for the royals to ensure they know exactly who made what!

which is to say, merfolk never opted for traditional sexual competition, and instead erred towards sperm competition.

early on in their lineage, they didn't have a lot of sexual dimorphism to begin with. they were already fairly widespread, and while gatherings around early vernal pools were a pressure towards sexual competition, after they stopped relying on vernal pools, the differences between the sexes became more of a hinderance than a benefit. why would they bother with any colorful spots or being extra big and bulky when you're not even around enough of your species for choice to be an issue? if you can find another one to begin with, then that's really all either of you need, and challenging each other just puts another bind on that low-population issue. they were all function, minimal fuss, beyond some general traits that were seen as markers of health.

even when the ancestors of merfolk first started forming their colonies along the coasts, they didn't change this. there wasn't an initial hierarchy laid out, they were just a large group of the same species arranged in the same area for the same purpose, and also maybe some protection by numbers. they did start to form the early groups that would later lead to the modern miivt'ia, and they started to primarily associate with those groups and socialize with them, which meant that when they wanted to find someone to mate with, that hunting group was always the first and the easiest to access.

why fight over mates in that situation? why compete? the health of the group starts to become directly correlated to the health of the individual, and you've already determined they all have good genes, or else they wouldn't be this beneficial to helping you hunt and survive and evade predation.

but this isn't to say competition isn't happening. there is still the slight edge that natural selection adds in, and with multiple matings between different individuals, the thing that gets selected upon is the sperm itself. faster sperm, ways to kill competetor's sperm, ways to suppress the immune system of the mating partner to ensure that sperm will take, more output, ways to remove competetor's sperm to begin with, etc etc etc. their internal genitals start to get bizarre, both for the sake of excluding saltwater intrusion as they get more and more aquatic, but also for the sake of this sperm competition. this system also means, not only do more matings occur right after each other, but more partners involved. the "default" evolutionary position for merfolk starts to look more and more like a clump of noodles, writhing around and over each other. sexual contact becomes a way to bond and to connect with someone primarily, and a means to reproduce secondarily. it's an easy way to solve problems and to get merfolk to make up, by them simply fucking it out and everyone feeling better for it.

which is where i can get into the actual mechanics of it all!

unfortunately this is also where i run out of steam (also am sick. that will do it too), so i'll absolutely have to make a part 2 to this... and also i'll make another post sharing a few old writings of mine on this topic.

someday i'll make like. a masterpost on merfolk reproduction and what's going on there, but like i said. sexual selection is one of those things my brain goes ham for and i looooove talking about all these additional little facts. like how merfolk pregnancies last 2 years (to match with other large marine predators), and that they're based off of both tiger sharks and the alpine salamander, the latter of which has the record for the longest pregnancy on the planet at up to five years :3

also read Bitch: On the Female of the Species by Lucy Cooke if this sounds interesting to you! and maybe listen to the episodes the Common Descent Podcast did on Live Birth and Milk!!!

[ozzgin]

What does Daos, the Romanian werewolf boy look like? What is his personality like? What was his childhood like and what made him want to be a warrior? Did his parents do some witchcraft or offerings to the gods to have a son so big and unnaturally strong? Why was he betrayed by his own people? May we get a story of how was like in battle before he became a werewolf? Love your OC!

Yandere!Werewolf Headcanons

I’m so glad the wolf boy is liked! I genuinely didn’t expect much when I wrote the story, but he’s definitely grown on me as I researched and expanded his lore. Here’s a little doodle of how I imagined him, plus a little background. I couldn’t think of any particular war story, but I came up with a funny reasoning for it instead.

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, character info

Background. Daos came from a family of tarabostes, or cavalry nobles. While Dacian society was divided into priests, nobles and peasants, all of them were trained for battle. "A hand above the weapon, and another holding the plough" is how they were described. Much of their culture revolved around war. Thus, even as a child, Daos spent most of his time sparring. He'd always had a sturdy build: he was taller that most of his peers, could work for hours without breaks, and his wounds were quick to heal. He was sent to serve in the army before he even reached his teenage years.

Was there witchcraft involved? Not at all. Everyone seemed to agree, however, that such strength and tenacity were not a mere coincidence. Clearly this boy had been sent by Zalmoxis himself, perhaps as a reward for their relentless pursue for victory. Daos carried the flag of the wolf-headed dragon through countless battles.

Why was he the one to be sacrificed? Well, because he was the chosen one, naturally. What better messenger for the Heavens than the godsent gift itself? Daos absolutely despised his reputation as a blessing from above.

With you. In his human form, he is quiet and reserved. You suspect the blinding aggression of his werewolf self is reminiscent of days long gone. The fearless warrior who lived for bloodshed has fallen into slumber, only awakening under the guide of a full moon. You can only imagine what kind of battlegrounds required such boundless violence, as he speaks little of his barbaric past.

Maybe it’s too painful to remember, you assumed.

“Before I died, you mean?” he asks with a raised eyebrow, looking up from his book. “I didn’t think you’d be curious about it.”

“I didn’t want to intrude, and you never mention it”, you explain sheepishly.

“That’s…” he purses his lips, visibly uncomfortable. “I just assumed you’d find it boring. I’m an old man. I didn’t want to saddle you with embarrassing war stories.”

You watch as a deep blush spreads across his face.

“Oh my God”, you remark, baffled by the realization. “Is that why you never…you’re terrible at this.”

He gently pats his lap.

“Come here. I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

[Main Story] | [More Monsters]

[leovenuslatina]

˚₊‧꒰ა 𝑪𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒎 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒂𝒎𝒆 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

why/how you became famous?

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

this is the first in my fame series! this series is all about what your life of fame will be like !! enjoy !!

‧꒰˚ʚ🎀ɞ˚꒱ ‧ this is just a reminder that tarot isn’t permanent or set in stone YOU decide how your life goes no one or nothing else now take a deep breath and choose the pile that calls to you ‧꒰˚ʚ🎀ɞ˚꒱ ‧

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧⛧°。

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧⛧°。

🎀 pile one 🎀

four of cups, page of cups, eight of wands

⋆｡‧˚ʚɞ˚‧｡⋆

pile one i see you being famous like an over night thing. maybe you post a silly video or something while you’re bored at home and out of nowhere you blow up!When it comes to massing a following, being genuine with a big personality can be an irresistible combination for you. People are drawn to your authenticity, and you are someone that exudes genuine qualities coupled with a larger-than-life personality you’re magnetic. you are refreshing and invigorating to encounter. you are true to yourself and unapologetically embrace your unique qualities. This authenticity shines through in your posts, words, and interactions, creating a sense of trustworthiness that undoubtedly attracts others. A big personality adds another layer of charm as it infuses excitement and enthusiasm into every moment. People are naturally captivated by you who radiates positive energy and have the ability to bring joy into everyone’s life. Ultimately, it is this winning combination of genuineness and a big personality that draws people in and makes them love you so much. Suddenly, your follower count skyrockets, and notifications flood in from people all over the world. It's surreal, to say the least. Comments pour in praising your humor or admiring your beauty. Your inbox is flooded with messages from brands wanting to collaborate. From being an ordinary user scrolling through memes and cat videos, now everyone wants a piece of you - interviews, guest appearances, sponsorships - it seems endless.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ extra ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

boredom

disappointment

re-evaluate

announcement

birth

good news

hasty action

motion

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ♡ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ♡ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ♡ ୧⋆ ˚｡

🎀 pile two 🎀

two of swords, ace of pentacles, ten of wands

⋆｡‧˚ʚɞ˚‧｡⋆

you’re famous pile two because of what you say and what you talk about what you say and the things you talk about really resonates with others! you may be a motivational speaker or writer someone who really gets to people deeply with just your words. i see you a lot in the spot light and on like red carpets in fancy dress and dripping in diamonds. you have a beautiful smile so you might be funny or a comiden actor/actress. pile 2 people are so obsessed with your mind i don’t know what it is about but the way you think is remarkable to others. you’re constantly pulling people in with your opinions on whatever topic . you could be a talk show host ! giving wendy but better. you’re so welcoming and sun shining all over everyone who is a fan of yours. pile 2 if or when you become famous your recognition and success will be extremely abundant ! you’ll be so well loved and very well known.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ extra ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

balance, bambi, deer 🦌, red, red carpets, peace of mind, cameras, emotional stability , finical, gain , luck , talk shows , recognition, success

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ♡ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ♡ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ♡ ୧⋆ ˚｡

🎀 pile three 🎀

seven of cups, temperance, the tower

⋆｡‧˚ʚɞ˚‧｡⋆

pile 3 you’re famous for something you’ve always wanted to do something you’ve dreamt of doing for your whole life. this career is something you definitely manifested. this maybe something you wanted to do ever since you little. i’m seeing your inner child guiding you to this career. you’re famous because your life is inspiring! people see how hard you work and have been and all you’ve been through. people from all over are drawn to you because of you being so true to yourself and not ashamed to be who you really are. you may become a actress i see you might have a flare for the dramatics and or performing on a sort of broadway stage. you become famous pile 3 because you’re a very ambitious person who goes after any and everything you want.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ extra ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

dreams and ambitions , stars ⭐️ , inner self, capable, control, dramatic change, new start, blue,

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ♡ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ♡ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ♡ ୧⋆ ˚｡

🎀 pile four 🎀

the well, three of pentacles, eight of pentacles

⋆｡‧˚ʚɞ˚‧｡⋆

you’re definitely an artist !! you’re extremely comfortable with your medium whatever it is painting or music or whatever you make your art with your extremely skilled ! whatever it is that you create resonates will millions. and you’re praised heavily for your incredible art work. everyone is so impressed how you can be so skilled you are at such a young age. people are truly amazed by your talent. if you’re an artist can see your artwork being displayed in huge museums in from of crowds of people. i see opportunities falling right into your lap so if you do desire fame and fortune simply remain indulgent in you passions that will lead you to true happiness

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ extra ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

nurturing

opportunities

creative

excellence

satisfaction

mastery

success

teamwork

purpose

new skills

apprentice

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ♡ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ♡ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ♡ ୧⋆ ˚｡

[stuffeddeer]

Hii! I dont know if this has already been requested if so just feel free to ignore this, but could i request dazai with a reader whos really outgoing with friends and people she knows but when it comes to being serious or talking to new people shes super akward, anxious and stutters in a kind of wierd way and like if shes made fun of she doesnt know how to respond so she just says silent?

Sorry if theres any spelling mistakes or if this is confusing english is not my first language😭

Dazai with a socially anxious s/o | Bungo Stray Dogs | Dazai x reader

dazai locks tf in.

he's outgoing 24/7 so if you're ever in a position where you're meeting new people, he'll step up and make a complete fool of himself so you don't feel anxious

there is no need to fear a bad first impression when the guy next to you just fell to the floor screaming for no reason . 💀

or he'll put on the show!!! he can guide the conversation and metaphorically hold your hand through introductions (or physically if that helps you feel better!!!)

no need to be anxious because he'll create an environment so casual so regular so nontoxic comfy cozy you'll be behaving normally in no time and BAM new friend just made 🙂‍↕️

if you get made fun of btw????? he's "locking in" a new round of bullets—

sources say he no longer kills. Shame!

but fr he'll go up to bat for you. dazai is really good at making passive aggressive comments so it doesn't start an all out war if you're not into confrontation but will make the other person feel terrible about themselves!!!

or if you don't care he'll just chew them out right there and then. he'll just say their home address and social security number while looking them dead in the eyes

maybe you care Too much! who's to say! so you'd prefer a kinder option - that's fine, dazai loveesss expressing how much you mean to him anyway!!!!! if someone makes a rude remark about your looks, personality, what have you, he immediately starts talking about how, actually, you're perfect and he loves that about you and such

making fun of your stuttering? that's funny, because dazai actually has security cam footage of them stuttering when grabbing their mail from the main floor of their apartment complex—

he wants to be so evil and mean to those people and it fully depends on if you'd be comfortable letting him off his leash to do so lol

if you go silent dazai will make some excuse and get you out of the situation and take you home or to get food or whatever you want to get away from those people!!!!!!!!!!

dazai doesn't really care for serious conversations anyway, so no worries there :) he'll just be silly with you whenever you need

[alicesivory]

Old Habits Die Hard [6/?]

Previous Chapter // Main Masterlist // Next Chapter

Pairing: Nightwatch! Aemond Targaryen x wildling female! Reader

Genre: Historically accurate Aemond, mature! so please MDNI‼️

WC: 4648 👀

Summary: When new emotions sparked within our Targaryen prince, he could not help but to doubt himself. Afraid of his past, his present, and his future. Especially when it comes to love and his doe.

“Hold still,” her chuckles echoing in his tent.

Aemond has lost count on how many moons have passed. He adapted his new life with the wildlings, and he was surprisingly content. Especially when she is there to help him at every step he takes. 

 Aemond is also still intent on maintaining his clean-shaven appearance. 

He sat down obediently as his doe carefully shaved his little overgrown beard that he disliked. The knife she held sometimes got a little too close that put him on edge, dodging it away for a second.

“Do not cut me,” he said in worry.

“I won’t gosh— if you keep moving I might put out your other eye,” she joked.

“That is not funny,” he glared at her, actually offended.

“Then stay still.”

Her words made Aemond sigh, adjusting his seat, “You are horrible at this,” he muttered under his breath. “Oh I know. I am aware I’m not a skilled hairdresser from your castle. You should take me there one day. Maybe I can learn the art of shaving from your hairdresser,” she giggled in return, not taking any offense from him. 

“I actually will one day,” Aemond replied, trying to mask how much he liked the idea of taking her back in Kings Landing. How she will fit into his customs, wearing dresses like a lady in court. Yet he wonders how she will run or show her boyish charms in those kinds of clothing. Will she run in the fields of godswood coming home with her dress stained with the wet soil. Will she dance with him if he asked?

“Would ya?” His doe asked amusingly with a hopeful smile. 

“And not only you’ll learn from my hairdresser, I shall give you silk dresses the same way as the ladies in court. I’ll ensure they’ll give you the finest silk they have—,” Aemond answered, being genuine about his answer. He took her free hand in his, “I shall ensure you will be well fed, and buy you anything you wish for in the world.”

“A way to repay your debts, snow haired?” The she-wildling joked once again, not realizing how dead serious he was with his words. He would buy her anything she’d want to. “Or maybe I just want you to come with me.”

He failed to sound nonchalant, catching her attention as Aemond looked down to her hand in which he was holding with his. His fingers felt how rough and calloused his doe’s fingers were. He wanted to take care of her, prevent her from hard work or any work that might endanger her life. He wanted her fingers to be smooth and gentle, as proof that she is well taken care of by him.

“I will be there when we march to the wall one day,” reassuring him with her gentle words. “I do not want you to stop at the wall.” 

“What lies beyond the north, Aemond? I am a wildling, I do not fit with your customs. I will not fit into your world.”

“You do.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.” 

His stern and sure words made her heart warm. Her bright smile revealed her pearly white teeth, and as she grinned, her eyes shaped into upside-down crescents. 'You are stubborn, Aemond,' she remarked, gently guiding the knife along his jaw. 'And weird,' she added with a soft giggle, which made him smile in return, letting go of the tension he had in his shoulders.

 His doe slowly took her hand away to hold his jaw still, resuming shaving him. Aemond felt a pang of disappointment but he knew she had to. She was gentle enough to shave off his facial hair, leaving stubbles across his jaw since she told him that she was afraid to cut him unintentionally. 

“There ya go,” she said, stepping back inspecting him with a smile. She reminisced about their first meeting, where he had a luscious long, silvery hair that cascaded longer than her own. Now, as she gazed at the man seated before her, she observed the transformation. His Targaryen lineage was unmistakable, his once-flowing locks now trimmed into a shorter style that framed his face. A hint of stubble added a rugged charm to his appearance, intensifying his masculine features even further. 

Aemond smiled when he saw how proud she was with her masterpiece’. As long as she likes it, Aemond was sure he will. “Do I look like a prince again?” He asked, just wanting to talk with her further. “You certainly do. A fine prince, I must admit.”

“A compliment from a wildling? Is the world ending tomorrow?” He hummed with amusement, teasing her further.

“If the world is ending tomorrow, what’s your last wish, Targaryen?” Stepping back from him, she puts her knife away as she keeps her eyes on his face. A mischievous smile plastered on his face. “I wish to see you in a silk dress.” 

She scoffed, “In your dreams.”

Aemond laughed at her answer. 

“Oh I will dream of you tonight.” 

A pause.

He saw how a bashful smile tugged her lips as she turned to face him, “I will look foolish in a silk dress. I am a spearwife, not a lady at court.”

“I am not jesting. I would die to see you in one.”

“So you would laugh at me?” 

He knew that she was jesting but he couldn’t help but to grave at her words.

“Quite the opposite, my lady,” he said as he stood up on his feet. 

Flattered, she smiled. “Surely I am a free woman but I am no lady–. I eat with my hands, Aemond–. And I am sure the ladies at your castle don’t do that.” 

Oh how he could stare at her smile for hours. 

“You will look splendid in a dress,” he said sincerely, stepping closer to her. “But I feel splendid in my usual attire. I didn’t come from the south like you– besides, dressing like any of the men around here does not make me less of a lady.” Aemond couldn’t help but to smile knowing how different the free folk’s custom were comparing to westeros. His doe is free to dress as she pleases, hunt like a man, swear like a man. Even if it was different on how he was raised to view maidens, he didn’t think of his doe any less. She was fierce and straightforward. Too Stubborn and loud. But she could be gentle and clever even if it appears rarely. 

Aemond couldn’t help but to adore her. “I knew of that. I did not say you were less of a woman, but a man couldn’t help but to imagine a pretty woman with a nice silk dress.” 

“And sometimes the way we clothe is how we preserve our identity. I am a free woman, I am a spearwife, I am a warrior, and I would like to stay that way.” 

“And I will accept all of you.” 

Stopping right in front of her as his body gently collides with hers as his tall body looms over her smaller form. “You will look splendid in any clothing, but those ladies in the south will look terrible in yours,” the one eyed prince complimented his companion as he looked her up and down. Even with only an eye, he could read her like a book. How his doe’s eyes softened, her cheeks slowly turning into a light shade of red as her lips slightly smiled, her pretty teeth evident and could make any man in Westeros melt in a second. “Are you trying to woo me, snow haired?” Shoving him away with a laugh. 

That’s where he knew he had her. 

She was too flustered to even face him. 

Stepping away from him, Aemond saw how his doe exited the tent without a word. Letting her presence linger as he stared at the entrance. His heart thumped, even just the thought of her made him warm. It has been awhile since he felt this way. And he intends to keep this feeling alive. For she made him alive. Resurrected. 

Her tribe was nomadic, it was quite common for a few wildling tribes she said. Aemond listened to her as they walked through the snowy lands of the field. Until they find the perfect spot, they shall camp together. Even if she kept reassuring him that they will march back to the wall soon, Aemond couldn’t help but not to think of it when all he could think of being with her. 

Being free with her. 

Train with her,

Hunt with her, 

Even as simple as walking side by side with her as they venture through the fields and mountains with her tribe. 

The sky was dark as they lit a fire in the middle of their camp. It was simple, but lively. The wildlings sang and feast, childrens running around as the night was filled with their laughter. The songs they sang were foreign to his ears, but they were beautiful. They sang with their heart; it was full of life. His eye couldn’t tear off from her, who was laughing with her friends, singing with joy as the fire warmed them in the cold night. 

They were a family.

Something he craved for since he was a child. 

Aemond knew his mother tried his best while his father was…detached. He longed for the warmth a family has as a whole. He wished to feast with laughter with his siblings. Laughter and warmth. Not silence and resentment. Even in secret, he longed for the warmth of his half-sister to her children. Yet his mother spoke nothing but words filled with venom about her half-sister and her family. 

Now he wondered if any of that were true. 

He only had Vhagar 

And even the stranger took her away from him. 

Looking up, he saw her standing across the fireplace. 

She smiled underneath the moonlight. 

He smiled at the sight, yet he wondered if the stranger would take her away one day. 

It scared him. 

“Why so gloomy, Targaryen?”

Gruff sitting down beside him

“It is nothing, today’s training has really worn me out,” he muttered. Slowly regaining back to the present, leaving his memories in the back of his mind. “Yeah? Not because you can’t bed my friend over there?” Nudging Aemond as he gave the prince a glance at her. 

Aemond stared at the red hair, giving him a look. 

“I shall not disrespect her like that.” 

Gruff could only scoff, “I’ve caught ya undressing her with that purple eye of yours–,”

“–I do not undress her with my eye–,”

“–Oh I think you do. I bet you have multiple wet dreams of her–,”

“–Do not taint her like a common whore–,”

“–A common whore? Mate, I bet she wants to bang you as much as you d–.”

Aemond groaned and stood up, intending to leave this conversation. 

“We are free to bed anyone we want. You are not in the south anymore,” Gruff exclaimed to Aemond. As much as Aemond would like to leave that red haired wildling to his own thoughts, he couldn’t help but to speak, “But it does not hurt to respect one.”

“Respect? This is not about respect, it is about passion and freedom!”

“But is it respect if I force her to bed with me?” Aemond hissed in frustration, conflicted with his desires and morality. “Force? You know well she will not reject you, one eyed,” Gruff said with amusement. “You do not know that. I do not know that, no one in this cursed world knows that! No one knows except her.” Running his finger through his hair, he stomped away from the scene wanting to be left alone with his own thoughts. 

He was not good with wooing or romance. It came to sense that he never really knew how to woo one. That time in his tent, it just slipped from his tongue and if he were to reenact it, he was sure he would fail. The first time he bedded a woman when he turned ten-and-three. 

And that was not based on his consent.

Fucked that same whore, believing that she was the only one who understood his body and vulnerability for she was the one who took him for the first time. Convincing him that she was the only one who could take pleasure out of him. Before Aegon ruined it– did he? Or that he needed Aegon to humiliate him so he could break that cycle? Was it a blessing in disguise? He does not know. 

Then Alys, 

A story he both regretted and cherished. 

He didn’t mean to hurt her at first.

Yes she was a war prize but she was his shelter when the world turned his back on him. She was his ally, helping him through the war. Didn’t he plant his seed in her? She was full of his heir when he last saw her, kissed her. Or devoured her. She knew of the future, then did she not know that he was about to die? Did she intend to send him to his death? 

Did she keep his child?

Did he put his seed in her based on her consent?

Conflicted with his morality and mistakes, Aemond kicked the snowy ground at every step he took, away from the camp. Away from her. 

Afraid that his desires would take over and hurt her. 

Like how Aegon hurted him,

Like how that whore used him, 

Like how he hurted Alys. 

He will never forgive himself if he does. 

“What did Gruff say to you now?”

d Aemond turned around and saw her emerging from afar. She walked towards him as her torch casting a warm, golden glow that cut through the encircling darkness. The light from the torch was like a miniature sun blazing, lighting his way in the dark. In that moment, the torchlight became a beacon of hope and warmth for him. 

“He did not say anything to me,” Aemond lied. 

“Yeah he definitely did not say anything to you. And you're probably out here alone cuz you wanted to take a piss,” her words sarcastic and unimpressed with his lie. “He did not say anything, I just needed some time alone,” he said sincerely, trying to convince her. The she-wildling stepped closer to him as her torch gave them both a warm glow. “You do know I can cut off his cock and hang it in front of your tent, right?”

Caught off guard, Aemond could only let out an amused scoff, “I know you can.” 

Aemond looked away nervously as he realized how deep she was staring at him as the winds of the north gently blew her locks. 

“Come with me,” encouraging him to follow as she walked ahead lighting the way with her torch. 

“Where to?

She does not say as she kept leading him away from the camp, before finally stopping just behind a giant rocks since they camped not far from the mountains. He paid attention to how she stabbed her torch in the ground before sitting down behind a rock. “Sit down,” she ordered, patting an empty spot beside her. 

“Quite a distance for only asking me to sit,” he teased. 

“I want to show you something. They should be here at any moment.”

“They? The undead?”

“No! Heavens, no,” she chuckles. 

Then he heard heavy footsteps. Heavier than any footsteps he heard coming from a man. The footsteps were slow, heavy, yet steady. “Keep yourself hidden, okay?” She said as she peeked through the rock. Aemond curiously followed her wondering what is it that she’d like to show him. 

The colossal figure emerged from the shadowed mist, and that was the first time he laid his eyes on a giant. He had heard tales of such creatures—myths whispered around campfires and recounted by old maesters and history books—but nothing could have prepared him for the sheer scale of this living legend. The giant moved with surprising grace despite his size, each step causing the ground to tremble subtly. “Is that a giant?” He asked in awe, not tearing his eyes away from the creature.

“They reside in the mountains, and they usually come down when the sky is dark. Incredibly shy creatures I might say, but can be very angry and aggressive if they feel threatened. I don’t want us to scare them away,” she whispered as she rests her chin on the hard cold surface of the rock that hid them from the giant’s view. 

“Have you ever personally encountered one?”

“No, not directly. My father has, and he said that they were intimidating but they have a sense of dignity in them. Although they appear stoic,  they are far from aggressive when you treat them kindly. Us wildlings have lived side by side with them and respected their space.”

As he sat there listening, a dawning realisation unfurled within him. He felt a deep sense of fondness for her, it struck him with a gentle but undeniable force, filling him with a warmth that surpassed even the glow of the firelight. In that tranquil space, he understood that his feelings for her went far beyond mere admiration. The way she stared at the giant, he saw how much she adored them. 

As the giant stomps back up the rugged mountain slopes, his colossal form gradually swallowed by the encroaching mist, she turned to look at him one last time. Her pretty eyes boring into his, “I have another place to show you.” She stood up with a smile, her movements almost as seamless as the flickering dance of the torch she held. Without a moment’s hesitation, she began to jog away, the rhythmic thud of her boots against the earth blending with the crackle of the torch’s flame. Aemond couldn’t help but to follow her along, curious what wonders she’d like to show him. 

Following her torch through the darkness of the night, he saw how she lead him into a cave near the mountains. The flickering light danced across the rough walls, revealing glimpses of ancient stones as she ventured further into the depths. He followed closely behind, each step echoing softly in the confined space, the only illumination coming from the small, steadfast flame that illuminated her path ahead. 

As they ventured deeper into the cave, the chill of the outer world gradually receded, replaced by a gentle, welcoming warmth in the heart of the cave. Before them lay a natural hot spring, its steaming waters glowing with an inviting warmth. The heat radiated outward, a feeling of comfort that wrapped around him like an old friend. 

“I found this the other day,” she said, placing the torch gently in the ground of the old stones of the cave. A pregnant pause, he saw how she turned around to face him once again. Swallowing a lump in her throat, she slightly shivered as she exhaled a nervous breath; an unusual demeanour he finds her in. 

“I heard that you are afraid to bed me.”

Aemond’s heart stopped for a moment.

She began to untie the intricate knots securing her layered coat.

“I am no animal”

He could feel his heart racing. 

As the coat loosened, the heavy folds of fur and cloth fell away, a layer of sheepskin that was wrapped tight around her body. 

“I know I am no lady at court. I know I am a wildling, called a savage by your people. But I am just as a woman who is able to pleasure someone at sex.”

His heart raced as realisation sank into him. 

She thought he was afraid to bed her because of her. While in reality, he was afraid to bed her because of himself. It was never her to begin with, and now she throws herself into him to prove something to him. 

While in reality, she does not need to prove him anything. 

Aemond rushed into her before she could undress herself fully for him. Holding her hands in place, refusing her to undress any further. “I know you are,” he said. His voice is gentle and careful. “But I do not want it to be this way.”

“Why? Men always want to bed a woman when they have a chance.” Aemond sensed from her words that she still does not believe his sincere intentions. “I do, I do want to bed you– you have no idea,” he says with a frustrated chuckle, smiling at her glossy gentle gaze as her lovely lips were slightly parted, still searching for an answer from him. “How could I not?”

Placing his hand on her cheek. 

“And I am not afraid of you–. I am just afraid of myself.”

Dropping his hand, Aemond hangs his head low as he couldn’t even face her. 

“I have hurt a lot of women in the past,” he confessed.

“And women have hurt me in the past in return.”

She stood in stunned silence, her mind a whirl of unspoken thoughts as he bared his soul before her. His confession hung in the air between them, raw and trembling with the weight of his vulnerability. “I do not wish to hurt you. And I do not want you to feel any less because of me.” 

“You will not hurt me.” 

He felt the subtle shift in the air as she stepped away, a delicate movement as her touch lingered and echoed through the stillness of the moment. 

“But will you bathe with me?” A gentle longing question that slipped from her tongue. “We do not have to touch each other.” If he had the bravery he once had, he would tell her that he would do anything to touch her for he has longed for her touch for so long. So he nodded as he himself slowly undressed as well in front of her. 

Bare like the day they were born, with his healthy eye, he could not help but to eye her from up to down, taking her in. He could not find the right words for how much he craved for her. She was perfect.

He puts out his hand for her to hold, “Careful, it’s quite slippery.” 

Smiling to him, she gently placed her hand in his as he led her into the hot springs that nature has provided for them. As the warm water hit their skin, he smiled when he heard her gentle chuckle as her smaller hand was held tight with his. When her body fully sunk into the warm water, Aemond kept her body close to hers. “May I?” Disregarding her suggestion of not touching each other, his hands reached out to her waist, but careful not to touch her without her consent. 

“You may.”

A smile formed in his face as he gently cupped her naked waist and pulled her closer in the water. Their chests pressed against each other, and he swore shivers run down his spine when she wrapped her arms around his neck. Her gaze was intimate as a gentle light made her skin glow. The one eyed prince could not help but to rest his forehead on hers, embracing each other in silence. 

“Did you mean your oath when you were a crow? For not using your cock?”

Her choice of words made him chuckle, nonetheless he understood her. “I never meant any of the oaths I spoke.” His doe smiled at him, brushing his now short silver hair back. “What was your former lover like?” She asked with a smile, reassuring him. “She was older, long black hair, and a witch.” 

Her eyebrows raised with amusement, “A witch? Oh could I compete with that?” She teased. Aemond chuckled and pulled her closer, wanting her to know that he chose her now. “She was my past and I must admit that she left a trail in my heart. But you are my present and future. Without her, I wouldn’t be here with you,” he whispered intimately, pressing a gentle kiss on her cheek. 

She hummed, “But still, she is a proper lady nonetheless.”

Tucking her hair behind her ear, Aemond asked, “What does that mean?”

A pregnant pause.

“I am no princess, nor I have a title. I am just a wildling who just spotted you before the others. I apologise for it, and one day when you do bring me to your home, I do not think I shall fit in. But nonetheless, I think I can love you just as much as anyone could in your life. I hope you know that,” she whispered as tears started to build up in her eyes. 

As much as he hates to admit it, she was right. If he did bring her home, what then? What would his mother say? What would the people say if a Targaryen prince married a wildling? Even the smallfolk have higher status than her. But from all circumstances, she was still his.

“Do not apologise for any of that,” resting his forehead on hers once again. “You are not just a wildling who just happens to pass by the wall when you see me. I believe the gods sent you to me. If it weren’t for you I might be rotting in the watch’s cell.” Nuzzling his nose to her hair, Aemond couldn’t help but to embrace her, never wanting to let her go. 

“All my life, I cared for the judgement of others and the prison of power in the realm. But then I met you. You taught me freedom, love, and growing up. For once, I want to do as I please.” He pulls away slightly to look into her pretty face. 

“For once, I want to do as I please and stop caring what people might think of me. I want to love you aside from my title. For at the end I am just a man and you are my woman. And no one shall take you away from me, nor anyone could take me away from you.”

“I might not have bed you, but I want us to grow. I hope you understand. I want this more than just…lust. I want to know you. All of you.”

Spellbound, as she smiled brightly, the joy in her face was evident even as tears rolled down her cheeks. The contrast was both heart-wrenching and beautiful—her eyes sparkled with a light that seemed to come from within, even as her tears glistened like morning dew upon her flushed skin. “I don’t want to leave this cave,” she whispered as she traced his sharp jaw with her gentle touch. 

“Me too.” 

Aemond suddenly drew her into a passionate kiss. The world around them seemed to blur as their lips met, igniting a spark that burned between them. His arms wrapped around her with an urgent embrace, pulling her closer. The kiss was a tempest of emotions, a melding of longing and desire, each touch and caress speaking volumes that words could never capture. 

“I do not deserve you,” he said in between kisses. 

Lifting her up a little, fixing his grip on her. Aemond groaned in pleasure when her nails digged into his back, making him flex it a little to feel her even more before resuming their kiss that made his doe giggle when their lips connect once more; repetitive wet clicks echoing in the cave they wished to live in forever. 

“You deserve every single inch of me as I deserve you.” 

a/n: This is literally my favourite chapter so far like I actually got emotional writing this🥹🤏✨ Yes heavily inspired by Jon and Ygritte (I’m obsessed with them) I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it! I would actually love to write more of Aemond and our wildling reader so I don’t think this series will end in just 10 chapters soooooooo stay tuned for future chapters<3🌷💫

[nouvxllev]

a snowy night

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Summary: in which you had a fun idea for you and taras first anniversary (and christmas)

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: none

a/n: merry late christmas everyone!!!

masterlist.

Pulling your very sleepy girlfriend out of her bedrest wasn't ideal for a first anniversary, nor the first very early morning of Christmas.

"Y/n," Tara groaned, her body and pajamas getting dragged across the ground like she was a sack of vegetables, "Y/n, it's literally the middle of the night, what are you doing?"

Ignoring Tara's protests, you persisted in dragging her like a lifeless corpse you found on the snowy street of New York. "I know, I know, but trust me, you wanna see this!"

With some reluctance and a little bit of motivation from you, Tara mustered the energy to get up and finally walk with your hand guiding her.

"Okay, what's so important you had to drag me across our bedroom so early?" she mumbled, rubbing her eyes, still half-asleep as she yawned. You could feel her eyes observing you as best as she could, eyeing the duffel bag you carried, "And why do you have a duffel bag on you like you're gonna flee the country?"

"And why would I ruin the surprise by telling you?" You grinned, pulling her by the sleeve, "Okay, before I let you in on this, close your eyes." You both stood by the doorway of the bedroom, Tara looking slightly unimpressed.

"Tara, can't you trust your girlfriend for like one second?" You asked, crossing your arms and raising your eyebrows.

"No?" She chuckled, crossing your arms alongside you, "not after you pulled that prank on me last Christmas."

"Okay, but you've gotta admit, trapping you in a life-sized gingerbread house was pretty funny and, a stroke of genius by yours truly."

Tara rolled her eyes, a fond smile tugging at the corners of her lips, "How'd you even do that anyway?"

"You know I always love the flair for the dramatic." You looked up at her, nothing but smile and love from your eyes.

"Which is why I love you." Tara whispered, her arms wrapping around your waist as she pulls you in closer.

You chuckled, she leaning into Taras hug. "And which is why you're going to love this! Come on, close your eyes," you let go of Tara's grip on you, taking her hands into yours and watching as she closed her eyes with her palm.

"I'm so breaking up with you if this is another prank," she remarked, playfully, of course, but who knows how likely that might become true?

"Oh don't say that, I won't be able to continue those anymore."

With Tara's eyes closed, you guided her into the living room, or maybe just a room with how you renovated it.

When you knew Tara was fast asleep, you had dashed over to the living room after taking your sweet time removing yourself from Taras koala-like cuddle from you and tore it down bit by bit.

Not really, but every piece of furniture scattered on the floor you relocated to the garage. The soft carpet that covered the tiles, was carefully stored in someplace else, revealing the smooth hardwood tiles underneath people could easily slide on.

You led Tara to the living room, her free hand intertwined with yours, the warmth of her palm this season never felt so comforting on yours.

"I knew you always wanted our anniversary to be unforgettable, ever since the day you told me on a warm winter night on top of the apartment building I used to live in, and I thought," you continued, pulling Taras hands down with your own, "what's more unforgettable than spontaneously pulling my girlfriend out of bed to go indoor skating with me in our home?"

Tara opened her eyes, only to see an impromptu ice rink in the middle of their living room. Fairy lights were adorning the corners, little Christmas trees scattered along the way, the floor was powdered to give it a little more boost to the slipperiness, and makeshift cardboard walls surrounded the area. It wasn't the biggest, considering it was only a living room, but it had everything that made Tara Carpenter happy. And that thought was enough for you when you designed this.

Her jaw dropped, and she looked at you with a mixture of disbelief and delight. "You did all this for our anniversary?" She questioned, excitement palpable in her voice.

You nodded, a proud grin on your face. "I wanted to make it special, something we'd remember." You giggled

Tara couldn't help but laugh, the joy bubbling up inside her. "You're fucking insane, you know that?" She pulled you in for a kiss, "but there's no denying that I love it."

You smiled, a lovesick one at that, before taking her hands again and leading her to the powdered floor. "Well, I figured if I couldn't take you to the ice rink in Central Park in the middle of the night, I'd bring the ice rink to us."

You put down the large duffle bag you had been carrying and opened it, pulling out two matching socks that kind of resembled the both of you, "And, as per ice rink tradition, we have skates! Or, socks, in this situation."

Tara chuckled at the sight of the matching socks, each knitted with a design you specifically asked for.

"A duffle bag for a pair of socks?" She laughed before taking the socks from you and slipping them on, "Only you would turn our living room into an ice rink and substitute skates with these."

"Well, I try my best," you replied with a playful wink, already putting on your own pair of socks. "Also, I still have many in store with this duffle bag."

You both stepped onto the powdered floor, the smoothness beneath made it super easy to glide and a comfortable feeling set between the two of you. Tara was wobbly at first when she first tried to slide across, but when your hand was with hers, she quickly found her balance.

"Tara, did you know your talented, smart, beautiful, girlfriend can do a triple axel?" you teased, letting go of Taras hold as you give yourself space from her.

She rolled her eyes playfully, "Oh please, as if you can even do a single one."

You smirked, feigning an offended look. "You deeply underestimate me, my love."

You took a few steps back until your body hit the cardboard walls. With little to no skating experience and the fact you've never trusted yourself once with your balance, you launched yourself. A bit too fast for your liking to the point you ended up doing not even a full rotation and crashed into Tara, "Fuck, oh shit Tara—!"

It was a decent attempt, you'd say so yourself since you didn't completely eat shit, but it gained a laugh from Tara who had been laughing her ass off ever since you landed on top of her.

"Okay, I'd give you points for your ambition and spirit." She chuckled one last time before pulling you and herself up.

"Thank you. Someone finally recognizes talent here."

"Is the talent the 'talent of crashing into your girlfriend?'" Tara teased, brushing off some of the imaginary dust from her clothes, but also the white powder that clung to her shirt.

You grabbed her hand and continued to skate, ignoring the heavy pain you had in your chest, "It's a skill only a select few possess, you know."

Tara rolled her eyes with an affectionate smile. "Then looks like I've got the most skilled girlfriend in the world."

The two of you continued to slide and glide all over the living room, talking about whatever and whenever. The both of you lost your balance here and there, and the both of you may or might not laughed before pulling the other one out of their misery on the cold powdered floor, but it was the most memorable moment of your life; you'd say.

Minutes turned into hours, and you and Tara continued until every single cardboard wall was down due to your attempts at doing probably one of the most difficult tricks in ice skating.

Exhausted but exhilarated, you and Tara found yourselves lying off the ice rink, taking off some steam and deep breaths.

You stood up, quite abruptly, and lent Tara a hand. "Mind coming with me?" You asked, eliciting a confused smile from Tara, but she took your hand anyway.

You helped Tara to her feet and led her outside the door, the cold breeze hitting the both of you like a truck. "Where are we going exactly?" She asked as you led her around the corner to where a ladder lies that goes up to the rooftop.

You quickly climbed up the ladder and turned back to Tara. "Come on, there's something else I want to show you," you say, as you reach for Tara's hand to pull her up.

To her surprise, there was a blanket laid on the rooftop, fairy lights being hung on poles you had taped to the ground, yet again, and cups of eggnog and hot chocolate waiting for you both. The city lights glittered in the distance, and the stars above shined brightly.

Honestly, Tara didn't know how she managed to have someone like you in her life.

"Y/n.. y/n, this is so— It's beautiful." She said, breathless, as she approached the picnic blanket with you in hand.

You smiled at Tara's genuine appreciation, happy that your surprise made her happy. "I'm glad you like it," you replied, squeezing her hand reassuringly. "Shall we sit, my love?"

Tara chuckled and sat down with you, never letting your hand go one bit. "The moon looks beautiful, even at this time."

You could've been looking at the moon, adoring its enchanting glow that reached the world, and the beauty of it all. But no, you were allured by another celestial being, something far more greater than anything that would exist in the cosmic universe, it was Tara.

"Yeah, it's quite beautiful."

The two of you sat in silence, gazing at the stars that slowly started to disappear as sunrise started to take over as you held hands together.

"I'm sorry." Tara broke the silence, her voice soft, "I should've planned something like this too for you, and for our anniversary. It's amazing, y/n."

You turned to Tara, a soft smile playing on your lips. "Tara, you being here with me is more than enough. I didn't plan this to receive anything in return; I just wanted to create a special moment for us and for you to have the best anniversary you can get from someone. And many more, of course." You reassured her, gently squeezing her hand, "Besides, being here with you is all I could ever ask for."

Tara leaned in and pressed a tender kiss against your cheek. "You're incredible, really. You know that?" she whispered, "you didn't have to do this."

"I had to, and I wanted to. You gave me so many happy moments in the short time we've been together, it's just a little something to pay you back."

Tara smiled as she wrapped your arms around yours, pulling you into a gentle embrace. "Thank you, y/n. I love you. Like, so much."

"Well, it's not over yet. There's one more thing," you said before unzipping the duffel bag you had brought and pulling out a box.

Tara raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "What is it?"

You turned to her, facing Tara with nothing but love.

"I want to make everything special and feel special for you, Tara. You're someone I couldn't bear to lose, and someone I didn't think I deserved, up until now. I want to tell you that I promise to do everything for you so that I'll deserve every piece of you in my heart." You vowed, opening up the box to reveal a promise ring. And, as if by cue, snowflakes were falling to the ground, and ones that ended up in Tara's hair. You never knew there was the absolute perfect time to gift the love of your life something special.

"Y/n—Y/n, this is too much, seriously." Taras heart swelled with love, her eyes widening and her smile reaching up to her ears, revealing the dimples you always loved.

"Never is it too much when I want to show my love to you, Tara. You only deserve the best, and only the best. So," you held your sentence as you lifted up Tara's hand and slid the promise ring onto her finger, "I bought this to tell you that I'm fully committed to you, body and soul, and promise I'll always cherish you no matter what. It's a reminder that you are deserving of all the happiness in the world."

Tara stared at the ring, content in her eyes as she looks up towards you. "Y/n, I don't know what to say. This is... it's perfect. Thank you."

You grinned, feeling a sense of contentment in making Tara feel special. "You don't have to say anything. Just know that you mean everything to me, and I'm grateful for every moment we share."

Tara chuckled, "For a moment, it felt like you were exchanging vows over there."

"Oh, my vows will be much more longer." You responded, a chuckle you gained from Tara.

"Well, speaking of vows," Tara began, her tone becoming more serious, "I want you to know that you have a special place in my heart since the day I met you. You've made every moment memorable that I didn't even know it was possible. Every mundane chore could never be the same now that I have you, y/n. God—I just, love you. Like so, so, so, much."

And with that, you leaned in for another kiss, embracing Tara and laying down with her as you both kissed. "I love you too, Tara."

The night, or maybe early morning, continued as you both laid down, seeing the sun take over the night sky as the moon was still visible.

You turned to Tara, "Do you think we could still sleep in?"

"I don't think people crossing the street on Christmas would like to see two people sleeping ontop of their rooftop."

"Baby, it's New York, people probably stumble into waaay worse things in their mornings."

Pulling your sleepy girlfriend out of her bedrest wasn't ideal for a first anniversary, nor the first very early morning of Christmas. But was it the best decision you've made? Definitely.

[delicatebarness]

cry baby | chapter nineteen

Summary: Cry Baby tries to get life back to normal after the encounter with Bucky as Peter and herself head to the countryside for a weekend away.

Warning: More sad boy Bucky. SMUT (But between who???)

Word Count: 1918

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A/N: I have no words. Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as it is mine. - B

Tags: @buckys0whore | @thezombieprostitute | @lanabuckybarnes | @mishkatelwarriorgoddess | @softieekayy | @noonespecial90 | @hello-therree | @randomawesomeperson102 | @whoreforbarnes | @thejutvtsupport | @somnorvos | @cjand10 | @plasticbottleholder | @birdenthusiastez

Days passed since the heated exchange with Bucky, and since then, you found solace with Peter. Spending more time with each other during the evenings, you grew closer. It was Friday night, and you both agreed to head to the bar. It was just like all Friday nights, lively and crowded. 

Hand in hand, you and Peter walked in as you laughed at a joke he had told while parking. As you stepped inside, you noticed your friends gathered at the booth. Steve, Sam, Natasha, Wanda… and Bucky already sat there with drinks. Bucky’s eye met yours as you approached, you shifted your gaze quickly to greet the others with a smile. 

“Hey, guys!” you called out as you squeezed Peter's hand affectionately. 

“Hey!” Wanda waved, scooting out of the booth to make room for you to access your spot. “You two are looking happy.” 

“We are,” Peter replied, guiding you into the booth and onto his lap. His hand trailing down to your thigh. A feeling of contentment coursed through you as you leaned into him. 

Bucky’s gaze lingered on you, a flicker of something you couldn’t make out passed over his eyes before he looked away, focusing on his drink. The tension between you and him had not faded, you tried to ignore it, turning your focus toward the positive energy Peter brought. 

You remained close to Peter throughout the evening, sharing affectionate touches and private whispers. The warmth between you was evident, and your friends were noticing. Wanda leaned in at some point, a smile on her face. “You two are just adorable.” 

A rush of heat rises to your cheeks as you laugh sheepishly. “Thanks, Wands.” Peter kissed your temple in reply. 

Abruptly, Bucky stood, muttering something about getting another drink. Climbing over the booth seat, he walked away from you, and a pang of guilt sank into your heart. You noticed the hurt in his eyes, but you had to push it aside, you had to focus on Peter. 

As the night wore on, you fell into easy conversation. As Bucky returned to the table, a fresh drink in hand, this time, a whiskey, Peter was recounting a funny anecdote from his day. Bucky sat down, expression unreadable.

“So, any plans for the weekend?” Sam asked around the table.

“We’ve got a cabin booked in the countryside,” you said, glancing back at Peter who nodded with a grin. 

Steve’s brows furrowed as he considered your plans. “Make sure you keep her safe out there,” he directed to Peter, his tone laced with a protective edge as he pointed his beer toward Peter. “It’s a quiet place, but you never know.” 

Earnestly, Peter nodded. “Absolutely, Steve. I’ll make sure she’s safe the whole time.” 

A rush of affection ran through you at Peter’s commitment. Leaning in, you place a gentle kiss against his cheek. His arm stayed securely around you.

~

As the evening came to an end, you and Peter exchanged a quick kiss before he excused himself for the bathroom. As the boys began to make their way out of the bar, Natasha and Wanda approached you. 

“You seem happy,” Natasha remarked, her eyes warm and curious. 

“Yeah, it’s been nice,” you admitted, glancing toward the bar’s entrance, where Bucky had walked out. 

Wanda leaned in once again, her expression turned serious yet playful. “So… what’s the plan for the weekend? Even more of those adorable dates?” 

Taking a deep breath, you glanced around the bar before speaking. “Actually, I wanted to tell you both something… I’m ready to take the next step with Peter. I’m planning on… you know, going further this weekend.” 

Natasha’s eyes widened. “That’s a big step. Are you sure you’re ready?” 

Nodding, you pushed a sense of doubt out of your mind. “Yeah, I am. Peter’s amazing, and I feel like it’s the right time.” 

Wanda wrapped her arms around your shoulders, squeezing you. “Just make sure it’s what you want and that you’re comfortable.” 

You assured them with another nod, just as Peter returned. “Everything okay?” He asked, noticing the expressions on your faces.

Offering a smile, you shook your head. “Just girl talk,” you replied, taking his hand in yours. As you said your goodbyes to your friends, nervousness coursed through you as you made your way to Peter’s car and your weekend began. 

~

The next morning the weather promised a perfect day for your road trip out of the city. You woke up to the gentle sound of the city outside your window, stretching, you glanced over at Peter. He was already awake and bustling around your room, gathering the last few supplies for the trip. 

“Morning, sleepyhead, “ he said, crawling up the bed to place a gentle kiss against your lips. 

“Morning,” you replied, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You felt the excitement for the day ahead, hitting the road with Peter by your side. 

After a quick breakfast and a goodbye cuddle for Alpine, you packed the last of your things into Peter’s car and set off on your journey. The drive was filled with laughter and music, Peter’s hand resting against your thigh, the miles passed by in a blur of green and yellow, winding through the road. 

Approaching the small town where you’d be staying, you couldn’t help the anticipation building in your chest. Quaint and charming, the town filled with rows of colorful houses and locals milling around. 

~

The innkeeper stood outside the cozy cabin as Peter parked the car, the man greeted you warmly as he gestured toward the cabin. He spent a few moments showing you around, explaining how to use the fireplace and hot tub. 

As the sun set, you sat out on the front porch. Sketchbook in hand as you wrapped a blanket tighter around you. With two steaming mugs of hot chocolate in hand, Peter joined you, sitting down beside you. He placed the mugs down beside you as you snuggled closer. 

“It’s beautiful out here,” you sighed, looking out at the surrounding trees and listening to the gentle sound of nature. 

“Yeah, it is,” he muttered into your hair before placing a kiss against it. His arm wrapped securely around your waist, pulling you closer as you basked in the tranquility of the moment. 

Taking a sip of your drink, you savored the warmth. “This is exactly what I needed,” you sighed. “Just us, away from… everything.” 

Crinkles formed at the corners of Peter’s eyes as he smiled. “You deserve a break from all city craziness.” 

You turned to face him, your hand reaching out to cup his cheek. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about, Petey.” 

His expression shifted, and his smile faded into a look of concern. “What is it?” 

Placing your mug down, you took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking, a lot, about us and how much you mean to me… And I think, I, un, I think I’m ready to take the next step…” your voice trailed off as your gaze moved toward the bed in the cabin. 

Peter’s eyes widened, surprise and joy flickering across his face. He cupped your face gently, this thumb brushed against your cheek. “Are you sure? You don’t feel rushed or pressured?” 

“I’m sure, Peter,” you smiled, touched by his concern and thoughtfulness. “I want this.” 

~

His lips curved into a tender smile as he leaned in, he captured your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. The firelight cast warm shadows around the cabin, adding to the intimacy of the moment. The outside world faded as you melted into Peter, focusing on his touch and gentleness. 

His hand trailed down your sides and back up again as they moved with a practice tenderness. He deepened the kiss as your heart raced, pulling you closer.

They slowly found their way to the hem of your dress, pushing it further up your thigh, brushing against your bare skin.  

Your hands moved up to tangle in his hair. His lips traveled from your mouth to your jawline, to your neck… each kiss laced with desire. Your breath hitched as he slowly began rubbing over the fabric of your underwear. As he took in the sight of you, his eyes darkened.

As he traced his fingers along the hem of your underwear, he paused, searching your eyes for permission. Nodding, your breath hitched in anticipation as he carefully lifted the fabric. 

But as he pulled the fabric down, exposing more of you than ever before, a sudden wave of doubt washed over you. Memories of the heated exchange with Bucky lingered in your mind. You tried to focus on Peter and the connection you felt for him. But, just as Bucky left, another memory surfaced– John Walker. 

John Walker and the last time you felt ready to take such a significant step. That hadn’t ended well. The feeling of betrayal and being used still felt fresh, your chest tightened with anxiety.

Your hands tightened in Peter’s hair as you tried to shake off your intrusive thoughts, shivering under his touch. His touch grew more intimate, wrapping his arm around you, and guiding you to lay down. He began to lift your dress high, exposing your stomach, then your breasts, all the way up until it was tossed to the ground. The warmth from his hands spread across your skin, soothing the cold grip of doubt: for only a second.

Peter mapped out every curve and dip as his hands roamed your body. “Peter,” you whispered, the tremble in your voice betraying you. His tongue swirled around your nipple, sucking gently. A gasp escaped your lips, your body arching into his touch. His fingers found their way back to your inner thigh, spreading your legs open as he settled between. 

His thumb found your clit, rubbing soft and slow circles around it with a skill that had you moaning in seconds. Gripping the sheets, your knuckles turned a lighter shade, you writhed under him. Pleasure built up quickly, the sensations he was eliciting overwhelmed your mind. 

His fingers continued their movements, alternating between insistent pressure and gentle caresses. He watched your reactions, taking in every gasp, moan, and lip bite. As his thumb circled, his fingers slid lower, teasing your entrance with delicate touches.

The movements were careful and deliberate as he slowly slid a finger inside you, stretching you gently as he continue his rhythm on your clit. 

Just then as he added another finger, the thoughts of John resurfaced. Memories of the way he looked at you, the way he made you feel wanted. Then, the way he discarded you, leaving you feeling used and empty. The contrast between the memories of his endless teasing, and the gentleness Peter was showing you now was jarring.

“Stop,” you gasped, pushing at Peter’s shoulders. “Please, stop.” 

He pulled back immediately. “Did I hurt you? What’s wrong?” His eyes widen with concern, the darkness subsided replaced by the warmth they once held. 

Shaking your head, tears filled your eyes. “It’s just… I can’t do this. I’m so sorry, Peter.” 

Receiving your dress, he helped you back into it. “It’s okay,” he murmured, gathering you in his arms, and holding you close. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for,” he continued, kissing the top of your head. 

Feeling the steady beat of his heart against your cheek, you clung to him. “I’m sorry,” you repeated, whispering against his chest as the tears fell. 

---

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[fandom-whores-world]

Remarkable 3

Batfam x Neglected! Reader

Prologue , Part 2

Hey guys! I’m back! After seeing how popular this series became I knew I had to shift my focus to it! I hope you guys enjoy Part 3

You woke up the next morning, and everything went the way it usually did. Alfred knocked on your door to announce breakfast, Tim walked right past by you in the hall, and the rest of your siblings made plans you would never be invited to. You finished up breakfast quickly, thanked Alfred for the delicious food, gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and then were on your way.

Instead of taking the limo to school with Tim and Damian, you preferred the less stressful option of riding your bike to Gotham Academy. You hadn’t really cared much about going to school with Tim, but now that Damian was about to enroll as a freshman a part of you wished you had gone to school in Metropolis. Damian was a difficult person to deal with on the best of days. His status as Bruce Wayne’s only legitimate son gave him more than a big ego, but the truth was you really just didn’t want another Wayne to have to compete with. At least if you had gone to school in Metropolis you would have been closer to your best friend Kara.

Kara and you had become fast friends when you first moved into the manor. She would tag along with her cousin, Clark Kent, who had a close relationship with your father despite living in a different city and having very different occupations. According to Kara since you were the same age it was a sign you two were meant to be best friends. While you didn’t really believe in things like “signs” you were glad to have Kara in your life. She was kind, funny, strong, but most importantly she saw you. It didn’t matter to her that you weren’t a prodigy like your brothers. She loved you for you, and that meant the world.

You sighed before chaining up your bike outside of the school. ‘What’s done is done’ you thought as you approached the large marble building of your school. Even if you didn’t like going to school with Damian, there wasn’t anything to be done about it. After his elementary school graduation Damian would be attending Gotham Academy whether you liked it or not.

As you entered the school building you noticed a large group of students crowded around the announcement board. You tried to catch a glimpse of what they were looking at, but there were too many people in the way. Eventually you found your friend Olive in the crowd and asked her what was happening.

“You haven’t heard (y/n)?” She pulled you to the side of the crowd where there was a small gap just wide enough to see the poster that had caught everyone’s attention.

“Your father is coming to give a speech about running a successful corporation”

You whipped your head around in shock. Olive continued talking, but all you heard was static. Your mouth felt like cotton, your ears started ringing. You were about to start spiraling, but before you could you felt a hand clamp down on your shoulder. You turned around and saw Olive looking at you with worry.

“Are you okay, (y/n)? Maybe you should sit down? Come on, just a few classes before lunch with Kyle and I”

She guided you away from the crowd and the board so that you could calm down.

“Homeroom is about to start (y/n). Why don’t we head to class?”

You nodded mutely, but your mind was still on your father. You may not fight for his attention anymore, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t affect you. You knew that as soon as the event was over everyone would be swarming you and Tim for info about your father. While Tim may not like being pestered with questions at least he wouldn’t have to reopen all those wounds of neglect you would.

Eventually you reached your homeroom. Olive started waving at her boyfriend, Kyle and pulled the two of you over to where he sat. Kyle smiled warmly at the two of you before gesturing to the seats around him.

“Don’t leave a poor boy alone guys”

Olive laughed before putting her bag down and sitting next to him. The three of you were desk mates with Kyle sitting closest to the window, Olive in the middle, and you in the aisle. Seeing that they were waiting for you to join them you shook your head free of the negative thoughts that filled your head, and took a seat.

Eventually the three of you settled into light conversation over one thing or another, and before you knew it the class had started. You were grateful to have Biology as your homeroom since it is one of your best subjects. When you first moved to Gotham you had wanted to be a Doctor like the men and women who took care of your mother before she passed. While you didn’t want to be a Doctor anymore, you were still reaping the rewards of study from your childhood dream.

The class came to an end, and after that the rest of the day went by in a haze. By the time you realized it you were on your way back to the Biology Lab for second homeroom. You had left your book bag open by accident, and a girl pushed by you knocking all of your school supplies out in the process. She threw out a half hearted apology and a tight smile before rushing by. You decided not to let it bother you. There were very few students in the hallway, but the hall was very narrow which made it difficult for you to pick up your things without getting in someone’s way.

Eventually you decided to just wait for your classmates to leave the hall before grabbing your things. When you were almost finished picking up everything you heard some footsteps approaching the hallway. You looked up and saw the Dean of Gotham Academy turn into the hallway while talking to your father’s party guest, Harvey Dent. You were surprised to see him again so quickly after the party. While you were lost in thought the Dean became aware of your presence, and moved to introduce you to him. However, before she could Harvey stepped forward and held out his hand,

“Ms. Wayne, it’s a pleasure to see you again after the gala”

You laughed awkwardly while getting off the floor before accepting his hand and giving it a shake.

“It’s nice to see you again too, Mr. Dent”

The Dean noticed your familiarity with Harvey Dent and started going on and on about your accomplishments at the school.

‘She’s probably looking for a donation’ you thought wryly.

The whole time Dent nodded his head and listened with rapt attention. Eventually the two started to wrap up their conversation. Once again Dent turned to you, and started to chat

“I don’t want to seem pushy, but it really would be nice to have you work with me. Have you given my offer any more thought?”

You bit your lip and fidgeted awkwardly before finding some inner courage and saying

“I want to take you up on it please!”

Dent gave you a million dollar smile, shook your hand, and said

“That’s the spirit, kid. Glad to have you on board as my newest intern! You start Saturday at 9:00 a.m. Don’t be late!”

[cozy-cinnamon-roll]

A Princess' Guide to Interrogating a Radio Demon (Part II)

(read Part I here!)

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Ler!Charlie, Ler!Vaggie, Lee!Alastor (strictly platonic)

Content/Trigger Warnings: tickling, interrogation (in the most playful sense). If there are any trigger warnings you'd like me to add in the future (and/or to this fic), PLEASE let me know! I am always happy to oblige.

This is a ticklefic! If that's not your cup of tea, kindly move along.

First: MAJOR thank you for all the sweet notes and feedback on Part 1 of this fic! I was not expecting such an enthusiastic response, and it really made my week! So grateful to be part of this lovely community 💕

As promised, here is part 2... This one gets a little more intense than the last, but it's still all for fun (and Al can handle it 🤭) So excited to share it with you all!

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

Vaggie is never quite sure what she's going to find when she hears a commotion elsewhere in the hotel - especially when it's coming from the direction of Alastor's room.

But nothing could have prepared her for the sight of her girlfriend pinning the most powerful overlord in Hell to the floor, tickling him to hysterics.

"Uhhhh..... Sweetie?"

"He won't tell me where he hid it!"

Vaggie just takes it in for a second. "So you're tickling him?"

"How else am I supposed to get it outta him?!"

"That's an... unconventional method, babe."

Charlie pauses her assault to shoot her girlfriend a deadpan look over her victim (who merely remains sprawled out on the floor beneath her, using his reprieve to take in as much precious oxygen as possible).

"You think I'm stupid enough to threaten real harm on The Radio Demon?"

That remark draws a maniacal little chuckle from the crumpled heap.

"Doesn't sound very effective," Vaggie observes.

But Charlie is too busy growling taunts at her victim again, tazing him in the sides. "Sorry, did I say something funny, giggles? Huh?! Did I?"

Vaggie can't help but smile herself at how hard it is for her girlfriend to keep a straight face during her "interrogation." She pokes and prods and scribbles all over the poor man, until his distinctive cackle echoes from the ceiling. And then she sits back on her heels, practically beaming with delight as he continues to shake with residual giggles.

At one point Charlie flashes her girlfriend a goofy grin. "I really think I'm wearing him down."

"Oh yeah. Absolutely, babe." Vaggie leans back against the doorframe with a smirk. "He really looks like he hates this, doesn't he."

As Charlie goes after his ribs again, Vaggie tilts her head. "He's lost his weird radio buzz."

"Oh!" Charlie abruptly clasps her hands to her chest, eyes wide with sudden worry. "Are you okay, Al?"

"Heh - yes, yes, of course..." While he is indeed too drunk on laughter maintain his usual tinny radio filter, the tiniest hint of a wheeze still edges his voice - which surprises Alastor himself more than anyone. His evil cackle is, after all, one of his signature intimidation techniques, and it's never affected his voice before.

But the uncontrolled, helpless hysterics Charlie's had him clutched in is very different from what he's used to. For all his practice intimidating his victims with a well-timed chortle, it appears his genuine laughter is rather rusty.

"I'm not hurting you, am I?"

Still breathless, Alastor can't help but chuckle at that too. "...Y-you are aware of what an 'interrogation' is, right?"

Charlie's look of concern drops to a mild glare.

"Alright, babe. Step aside." Vaggie curls a dangerous little grin of her own. "I'll handle this."

As he sees Vaggie striding toward him, Alastor scrambles to sit up. "Wait, wait- Vaggie, dear, can't we-" He presses backward, only to find himself cornered between the couch and the coffee table. "Er- can't we talk this over?"

Vaggie crouches down. "You wanna tell me where Angel's speaker is?"

"No."

Fingernails are crawling up both sides before he even registers movement. Poor Alastor is clutched over cackling within seconds.

Charlie may be a surprisingly effective ler, but it quickly becomes clear who taught her: Vaggie is ruthless.

"Get his tummy, that's his weak spot!" Charlie chirps, not even bothering to hide her delight any longer.

"Chahaharlie!!"

Alastor actually feels a spark of legitimate panic as Vaggie's nails find their way to his upper belly, tracing along the lower edge of his ribcage, sending his laughter silent for a moment.

"Hey, if you really want me to stop, you can just tell me what I wanna know."

"YOou cahan-" (gasp) "-PRY it from my-" (brief giggle fit) "-cold, dead-" (wheeze) "-fingers!!"

"Yeah? I'll show you cold, dead fingers..."

Alastor feels a hand slip under his shirt.

"AaaaAAAHH! No, no, Vaggie don't!"

"Oooh, this is a good spot, isn't it?"

"NO don't do that- please please please..."

"What? You don't want me to do this?" Her fingernails skitter across his bare tummy. The poor man can't remember the last time he laughed this hard at anything - which, for someone who literally hasn't dropped his smile for decades, is a pretty high bar to clear. And he's gotta admit, it's the best he's felt in weeks.

"Don't kill him," Charlie pipes up, "I still need him to help run the hotel after this."

"I'm not gonna kill him." Vaggie leans in close. "I'm just gonna keep tickling this sensitive, vulnerable, unbearably ticklish little belly, up and down, over and over, on and on..."

The surge of radio static induced by this one sentence is so intense that it leaves Alastor's own voice virtually incomprehensible for several seconds. He tries to summon a shadow creature, a tentacle, anything, but he's so disoriented the shadows dissipate before they can be directed anywhere.

And that's finally what breaks his resistance. Being rendered helpless under Charlie's fingers is one thing, but being unable to use his powers at Vaggie's mercy is considerably more unnerving.

"OKAY, OKAHAY! I'll talk! I'll talk!"

Vaggie lifts her hands off him, though they remain hovering just a few inches over his torso.

It takes a solid minute for Alastor to catch his breath. "For heaven's sake, you could've just asked me..."

Vaggie scrunches her fingers in the air a couple times, causing the radio demon to fold up like a lawn chair.

"Ack! Nonono I'm kidding!! I'm kidding!" He fights back a fit of nervous giggles.

"Ten seconds to spit it out before I go borrow Nifty's feather duster."

Alastor rolls his eyes. "Oh please. You think you can threaten me with cleaning tools? Don't be ridiculous..."

"Five seconds." Vaggie turns to Charlie. "Hey babe, have you tried his ears?"

A little squeak of microphone feedback. "13th floor hall closet, second-to-top shelf, under a dead rat."

Charlie recoils. "Ew! Al!"

"Pardon, two dead rats." As Vaggie withdraws her hands Alastor sits up, brushes himself off, and reaches for his microphone. "Second one came along as I was arranging the first, and... offered to help."

Charlie just stares at him in horror as he stands and twirls his mic with his usual classy flair, the very picture of eccentric elegance - as if he hadn't just spent the last twenty minutes being reduced to a hysterical mess on the floor.

"Is there any point in warning you not to pull something like this again?" Vaggie mutters, more to herself than the demon.

"No. But you can if it makes you feel better." Alastor grins and offers a hand to Charlie as she gets to her feet. "That was a lovely chat, my dears. Next time I need a good laugh I'll be sure to commit another petty theft."

Charlie rolls her eyes as he turns on his heel and strolls off.

"And let me know if you need help finding the batteries for that speaker," he tosses over his shoulder.

"OH you little piece of-"

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

This was such a fun fic to write! Hope you had fun reading it too.... let me know what you think!

💜 - Cozy

[teriri-sayes]

Reactions to The Incomprehensible's Chapter 339

Brief summary: Cale and Aurora thought of each other as crazy. Lock says the beast tribe people wanted him to be their pope. Count Lupe is actually a missing demon of the Demon Realm.

===========

The first half was absolutely hilarious because of Aurora's shock and disbelief at Cale's slacker life dream. 🤣🤣🤣

Aurora: What is your goal, your end? Cale: To be a slacker. Aurora: in disbelief and shock as Cale's answer continue to echo in her ears Raon: Human, your consistency is as great as mine! Rasheel: What a great guy. CH: As expected of Cale-nim. Mary: I wish I could learn from the young master's tenacity. CJS: Hahahaha! Aurora: A slacker? (Really?) Cale: Yes. Oh, not just a slacker. Aurora: hope shines in her eyes Cale: I dream of being a rich slacker. Aurora: hope dies in her eyes A rich slacker… Cale: Yes, it's a dream that's very hard to fulfil. Raon: Cheer up, human! Aurora: hollow laugh Hahahaha- Aurora: (This man who saved worlds and defeated hunter families… This man is a madman. He shouldn't be taken lightly. Madmen who look sane are the ones you should be most wary of. Someone who did all that is a slacker? Heh. Is he serious? What a scary man! Gods! Worlds! Dimensions! And all he wants is to be a slacker? And a rich slacker at that? Terrifying. Let's not mess with this madman.) Raon: But human, we may be poor, but we've made a lot of money! How many mines did we get this time- mmph! Mmph, mmph! Cale: hastily covers Raon's mouth Aurora: looking at Cale with sparkling eyes For now, slurp, I'll guide you a place where you can rest, slurp. Cale: (She looks crazy. I should avoid this crazy woman.) Raon: Human, why do you stare at that demon the way you stare at Clopeh? Cale: …

Aurora's reaction was priceless. 😂 And how the two thought of each other as crazy... 🤣🤣🤣 The way Aurora "slurps" at Cale when she hears how rich Cale was... 😂😂😂

Meanwhile, Lock got offered the pope position because the Aipotu beastkin treated him as the same as their Blue Wolf God. 😂😂😂 Sheritt got angry and called Eruhaben, saying that they would take care of it. But Lock suddenly had an uneasy feeling, wondering if he should call Cale afterwards... 😂

The last part was about the Arbitrators and their history. Aurora said that several demons who supported the former Demon King mysteriously disappeared, and even whole villages too. After hearing from Cotton about the game world, she suspected that the missing demons were there.

Thus, we learned that Count Lupe was actually from the Demon Realm! And he was also the richest demon there. So he was not a game-created NPC but an actual living being that got stuck in the game?!

However, Cale found it hard to explain to Aurora on how he knew Count Lupe. I mean, he'd have to tell her how he was the final boss of the 3rd Evil, and that Count Lupe was his subordinate, right? 😂😂😂

Ending Remarks Today was full of funny moments because of Cale and Aurora. Next chapter would be a continuation of that. I guess Aurora would be shocked again if Cale explained how he came to knew Count Lupe. 😂

[strxwberry-milku]

𝐌𝐲 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐝 𝐀 𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐧? 𝐏𝐭𝟐

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Roomate!Jimmy x Reader x Twin!Jey

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: You always had a thing for twins…

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1,097

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: Daddy k*nk , Gagging , Cream Pie , Spitting

* 🎀 𝒫𝓇𝑒𝓈𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒯𝒾𝓂𝑒 🎀 *

“ Bend ova fa me princess ” Jey said while plopping you down unto the bed.It was so funny at the fact that , he was not to long ago cussing you out , but now look at him….ready to stretch that pussy out until you can’t even spell your name out correctly . Being a good girl you listened to his instructions and bent over making sure you arched your back real good , so him and Jimmy can see your glistening folds nice and presented. It was pathetic really, you bent over , after not even 24hrs of meeting these men, pussy throbbing and clenching at the mere thought of there big , long and thick dicks sliding in and out of your hole and painting your insides white with sticky hot cum. But of course you would like that wouldn’t you? them claiming every inch of your delicate body , leaving hickies and bruises on your neck and thighs for everyone too see, and know that they’re there bcause of them . Naughty little slut you are.

Groaning at the sight , Jimmy came forward and glided one of his thick fingers through your puffy folds “ Shittttt mamas, look at you all excited and shi, you can’t wait can you ?”. Moaning at the sensations of him prodding your hole you grind your ass back up against him , dying to feel at least something to soothe the aching feeling of wanting to be stretched and full. Not liking the fact that you didn’t respond to him, he gave your pussy a quick slap. “ ah-h-hh yes daddyyyy, Ooooo I can’t wait , I want you to fill up my pussy with your throbbing dick pleaseeee” you remarked jolting from the bitter but sweet sting that erupted from your pussy. Laughing he gently grabbed your jaw with of his hands and set your face at angle so that you were staring into his eyes.” That’s what i thought princess,respond when daddy talks to you ” you nodded your head in agreement. “such a good girl you areee” Jey taunted in the background , clearly amused by your obedience.

“Stick out yo tongue pretty girl” Jimmy commanded , examining your face as if it was a sculpture from the museum. Doing as told you stick out your tongue, which was already coated with saliva so you tried so hard not to dribble on yourself. “ Good girl” Jimmy whispered and pursed his lips together ready to let his saliva drop into your mouth .Moaning at the taste of his spit you swallow and keep your mouth open . “Such a dirty slut you are…I wonder what else you could do with that mouth of yours?” Jey said and came from behind Jimmy to peer down at you. He pondered for a second and smirked, with the mischievous glint in his eyes you knew that , by the end of this, your throat would surely be sore.

“Turn yo sexy ass around sweetie” Turning around you focus your attention on Jet yet again, “ That’s it baby ” he muttered while hastily pulling down his grey sweats,quickly revealing his already leaking precum , 8-inch caramel dick . Your eyes widened at the sight “ Fuck” you thought , how and earth was that gonna fit in your mouth ?. Sensing your worry he patted your head reassuringly “ Don’t worry angel, you can handle it , you’re a big girl”. That being said, you took a deep breath and guided his glazed cock into your mouth. Groaning at the feeling of your mouth suction cupping his dick , he pulled your hair into a make shift ponytail and gently began to bob your head up and down. “ Fuc-ckkk yess , baby just like th-att” the pleasure you were giving him was all too much, with the way you were going , you would’ve thought this was you regular job or something .Spit seeped through the gaps of your lips and his dick and dribbled down to his balls, you slightly gagged due to his enormous size, but it was nothing you couldn’t handle .

Feeling a bit left out from the action Jimmy climbed unto the bed and hiked up your dress to position himself behind you . Being so cock drunk from pleasuring Jey , you didn’t even feel Jimmy slap his tip against your pussy until you felt him push the fat head inside .Moaning at the sudden penetration you push back against him,trying to feel full as much as possible. Slapping your ass he gripped unto your hips and started to slam his pelvis against your ass at a rough pace . “ Damn princess , ion know you was that tight...mmn-gn you finna ma-ke me bus-s quickk” he moaned and shut his eyes. It was like your body was on fire, it was all to much, from Jimmy complety obliterating your insides , too the point it felt like he was about to touch your liver too Jey who was face fucking you like there was no tomorrow.

Your body shuddered and your knees stared to buckle a little due to the overwhelming pleasure that was seeping through your body. Every moan or noise that threatened to escape , sent vibrations straight to Jey’s dick , further forcing him to his edge. “Shit,Shit,Shit!” Jey gritted out as he could feel his stomach tighten,signifying his release was about too come. You were on thin ice as well, one more thrust from Jimmy and it was over for you. Your blood pumped so fast around your body to the point you could hear it drumming in your ears, sweat dripped down your face and into your bouncing boobs. Jimmy was gripping unto you so tight , there’ll surely be bruises . “ I’m boutta cum princess, come with me ” he strained out, trying so hard to wait on you .

You couldn’t hold it anymore, your eyes rolled at the back of your head and the coil in your stomach finally snapped. Your pussy convulsed around Jimmy’s dick, completely milking him for what he’s got .Quickly pulling his dick out of your mouth he jerked of until his nut spilled all over your face ,almost like a finalised signature ,completing that you belong to him, Jey Uso. Pulling out of your sloppy hole, Jimmy groaned in defence from the loss of your warmth.

*BANG * *BANG* ( the front door )

“ Uh hello ? It’s your new roomate!”

𝐃𝐔𝐍 𝐃𝐔𝐍 𝐃𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐍….

I love ending on cliff hangers, it’s to funny. But anyways, how y’all like the new format ? ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

[c0smiclatt3]

DAN HENG: JUST DOING MY JOB!

a university au - oneshot

☾₊ ⊹ TAGS: university au, first kiss, sfw but tension. is uh happening

AN: for context if you've never seen library stacks they look like this and you have to turn the wheel to open up a path between library shelves, so you have to watch out to make sure nobodys in the rows before using them can you tell i am a uni student

It’d been a few weeks into the semester since you first met him at the library, since those steely gray eyes that peered over at you from the front desk seemed to puncture right through your defences. It’s funny how one day of forgetting your laptop charger could turn into a new daily routine of dropping by the library, requesting to rent one just so you could be struck again. Charger rentals quickly turned to him asking you about the books you’re reading to chats about classes. Then one day he started leaving you cups of tea on your desk for your late night sessions - and always when you have your head down for a power nap so you can’t ever thank him. But the teabag in your cups are always the same brand as the ones you see dangling from his thermos, though he will always deny it.

Today you actually did need his help, though. You were looking for a specific book that was not in the regular library shelves, and needed someone to guide you through the labyrinth that was the archives. Luckily for you, Dan Heng seemed to know them like the back of his hand.

“Sorry to take you away from your job like this.”

“I work at the library help desk. You are asking for my help,” he says matter-of-factly, the way he always spoke. “This is quite literally my job.”

The archive stacks lay out before the two of you, with stacks on stacks of shelves stretched out for what must be all the way from East to West campus. With the archives located in the library’s underground level, it was entirely plausible. It was crazy how in a room that loomed this large, they still had to stack the shelves together to accommodate all of them. Each shelf had a great big wheel on its side, which you knew you had to turn to roll the adjacent shelves aside, allowing you passage to the shelf of your choice. With the smell of finely aging books curling yellow with the years wafting through the room and these great big contraptions of shelves, being down here almost felt otherworldly. You looked to Dan Heng, who walked with purpose and direction - how long must someone spend down here to sift through the shelf labels as algorithmically as he did?

“May I?” Snapping out of your awe, you found him holding his hand out to you, expectantly. Wait - what?

“Huh?”

“Your phone. I forgot the call number.”

Oh. You hand your phone over. This deep into the archives, with the fortress of shelf stacks in front and behind you, the ceiling lights could only reach so far. So when he opened your phone, the light of the screen gently illuminated his face.

“Interesting phone background.” Crap. You'd forgotten what you set your lockscreen to and felt blood rush to your cheeks.

You frown through your embarrassment. “Don’t you have a job to do?”

“Friendly banter is an effective way to make a friendly atmosphere between library staff and visitors." Once again, as matter-of-factly as ever.

“I didn’t take you for the bantering type.”

Just before you swear you could detect an almost imperceptible smile on his lips. But just as quickly as it came, the light of your phone was snuffed out.

“Here it is,” he set both hands firmly on the wheel, turning and rolling what must have been eight stacks of shelves aside. You didn't expect a nerd like him to do so without breaking a sweat. The shelves gave way with a creak and the crackle of plastic-wrapped books. A space opened up between your two target shelves, just wide enough for one of you at a time to pass through.

“Looks cozy,” you remark, taking a step inside. But you knew this was the farthest right he could push the shelves, and you didn’t want to trouble him to push aside any more. “Let’s go find that book.”

You two work silently, scanning the bookshelves row by row: you on one side and him on the other, meeting in the middle. You would be lying if you said you didn’t feel a little flustered when you two bumped shoulders as you finished the first row, him just silently turning to you, shaking his head. The words registered with just the look on his face. It’s not on this one. And then you two proceeded to the next row.

You went on like this for a little bit, occasionally accidentally brushing hands as you two closely watched the book spines, only for you to hurriedly draw your hand away. But row by row, shelf by shelf, he started to move his hand to yours first, your hands lingering, skin to skin, for just a moment as you both pretended to be carefully observing the last book. Never daring to look the other in the eye lest either one betrays the look on their face. First a brush of the knuckles, them the backs of your fingers, then his hand moves over to just gently slot his fingers over-

The shelves began to close together with a heavy groan. You two must have been so quiet, someone else must not have realized you two were there, and began to close up the stacks, and they were closing in quickly.

Dan Heng's head whipped around, immediately putting himself between you and the incoming shelf, bracing on the shelf behind you. “Excuse me!” He shouts to the stranger, and the shelves ceased.

The stranger called back. “Sorry! I’ll be done in a sec!”

The momentary shock settling down, you realized the position you were in: the two of you, pressed dangerously close together, Dan Heng with one arm above you to steady himself, looking down at you. Your faces were so close as you turned your head up to look at him, you felt a lock of his hair brush your forehead.

“Are you alright?”

You open your mouth to say something, when you realize that with his body pressed to yours he could feel your heart beating wildly in your chest - and was that his thrumming in response? Must the adrenaline from saving you from the shelves be getting him this worked up? Why was your own heart still fluttering if the threat is over? And… Why did your face feel so warm?

“I’m…” You look into his eyes for the first time since you two entered the shelves - he’s handsome. Devastatingly handsome. The faint ceiling lights cut through the shelves, offering a window of light for you to look at him, him to look at you.

You feel his breath on your ear as he speaks in a low whisper. “Sorry… Is this too close?”

You shake your head. “No, it’s… It’s fine…”

Your eyes wandered - could he see where they were looking? Down his face to his lips, and you tried to focus on something - anything - to distract you but all that was before you was him, his eyes gray like winter above you, his heart thumping through his jacket and against your chest, and his lips, god, his lips.

You two stand in silence as you try to peel your eyes away from him. But then he gently puts his free hand under your chin, tipping it back up to look at him. You can’t hide it now - you cheeks flushed pink, the way you’re looking at him. Your foreheads are touching now, his eyes searching yours as his gentle breath fans across your face, a few locks of hair on your cheek stirring. You quietly whisper.

“Is this also part of your job description?”

There's an amused hmph from his lips. A flutter of his eyelashes. Yours closing in response. Your hearts, drumming up courage in you both as he lowers his face and you bring yours up to meet his.

And then the gentlest, gentlest of kisses. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, and his hand under your chin drops to your waist in response, drawing you near. His kisses are long and drawn out, then punctuated: short, sweet like haiku syllables, playing out on your lips, writing you to life.

writing masterlist | bots masterlist

☾₊ ⊹ AN: and that's the last of my works from my sideblog migrated here wooo

[wisteria-blooms]

sunburns & dragons (charlie weasley & reader) (8/??)

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

TAGLIST AT THE BOTTOM! (Let me know if you'd like to be added or if I've missed you!) A/N: Sorry this took so long to get out! I've been experimenting using my iPad + keyboard to edit which messed up my coordination on my laptop, if that's any excuse. It's just been hard to edit in this little rut where I can't bear to read what I write, but stick around, things are going to get exciting after this...

(GIF credits to @alicent-targaryen; I have so much trouble properly crediting when the GIF isn't the first in the set, ahh).

CHAPTER 8: Foolishly thinking things would slow down after Charlie moved in with you, you find that you're dead wrong. In fact, he finds a new way to integrate into your life: by attending the highly-anticipated book club meeting your mother had invited you to. But as you watch women flock to him like bees to honey, you find another problem to deal with, one that involves your heart. (6.6k words)

CHAPTER 8: TEA TIME (YOU'RE SO VAIN)

And all the girls dreamed that they'd be your partner, they'd be your partner...

“(Y/N)! Congratulations on the new place—”

“It’s every bit as beautiful as Bill described to us—”

“Perfect for a new couple, truly—”

Fred and George strode through the ajar door while talking amongst themselves as if they were walking into their own place. They displayed absolutely no respect for your sacred space. However, you felt no need to stop them from where you were in the kitchen—you were expecting them on this lovely Friday afternoon. After all, you’d invited them.

George cradled a large, wrapped box. He was strong but you could tell it was heavy by the slight strain in his arms. Fred, conversely, easily held a bottle of wine adorned with a ribbon on the neck.

“Thought we’d bring some housewarming gifts,” George said, setting his present on the counter.

“Had to guess most of it, as you and Charlie didn’t have a registry of any sorts,” Fred quipped, a smug look on his face, proud of his insinuation of you being married.

“Very funny.” You rolled your eyes. “When are you going to give that up? You seem to be the only ones who know the truth, but refuse to acknowledge it.”

You should’ve expected their answer that was given in unison: “Never.” 

“I do appreciate the gifts,” you said earnestly. Underneath their teasing tones, Fred and George were still your greatest friends, and you were appreciative of their generosity.

You laid two palms on the box George had set on your kitchen island. “What’s this?” 

“Open it up and see,” offered George. 

Delicately, you began to unwrap the gift, plucking the tape off and careful not to rip the paper. 

“Save us the anticipation and just rip it open, will you?” Fred suggested, finishing off his remark with an animalistic shake of his head, like he was a lion tearing his prey’s flesh. The prey being your present.

“I’ve been conditioned not to do that,” you explained with a gentle sigh, recalling all your mother’s scoldings when you used to tear into presents as a child. When you set the edges of the wrapping paper down, you beamed at what was in the box. “An espresso machine! Really, Georgie?”

George nodded proudly. “Figured you’d need your coffee first thing in the morning.”

You enveloped him in a warm hug. “Oh, you know me so well.”

George rolled up his sleeves. “I‘ll get it set up,” he offered.

“And I’ve procured some wine for when you need a sleeping aid,” Fred added.

“Thank you,” you responded. “ Now I’ll have my morning and nights covered.”

Fred placed a hand on your shoulder and gently guided you away. “Let’s see Charlie’s room.”

You stiffened. How many times and to how many people were you going to have to explain this one? “It’s not his room.”

“Then what is it?” Fred queried innocently.

“It’s a guest bedroom.”

“We can debate the semantics of the love lair”—Fred had to suppress a laugh when your face contorted menacingly, and even George tried to stifle his laugh—“ but for now, give me and Georgie a tour of the this lovely place, will you?”

When the two jests had finally left after dinner, you closed the door and leaned against it. Fred and George’s footsteps faded with each passing second. You drew a deep breath. After the initial onslaught of visitors, being alone felt splendid. 

You lit a candle and began drawing a bath when you returned to the bathroom. Stripped away were the comforts of Dobby’s aid and you were left alone to your devices. You were off to a good start and you were going to prove you could manage just fine. You submerged yourself in the hot water to wash the grime and the weight of workweek away. 

When you were clean and dry, you slipped into a silk nightgown, the one with thin straps that hung over your shoulders and whose hem just covered your thighs. It was by far the comfiest because of how little material there was. You walked into the kitchen to fetch yourself a glass of water but not without admiring your space shrouded in moonlight first. The only thing keeping you from touching a blanket of stars were your windows. The flowers you’d received from the move-in were still in full bloom, the steel from George’s espresso machine gleamed, and your couch was plush and cozy. 

It was lovely and inviting. You didn’t regret moving out at all, no matter how difficult the circumstances were initially.

“So this is what freedom feels like,” you hummed. You loved the feeling of wearing and doing anything you wanted—you were the master of the house. 

You then ambled back to your bedroom. You set the glass down and walked over to the window to appreciate another view of the city—something you didn’t get back at home. Your eyes found the dome structure of King’s Cross station immediately. Hues of yellow and magenta surrounded the space to guide passengers and it stuck out like a sore thumb in the silence of the night.

You shut your curtains and crawled into bed.  You wondered how Charlie was doing, if his train was timely and if the ride was comfortable. As you fell asleep, you hoped the answer was ‘yes, it was.’

You didn’t know what time it was when a light roused you. Your mind was still clouded with sleep and you had just the slightest bit of consciousness. A weak beam of light seeped out from below the bathroom door. You heard the running of the tap and the bristling of a toothbrush on teeth. 

When the bathroom light flickered off, a new one flickered on. This one was more faint, further from you. 

“Wow.” 

That was all you heard before the second light shut off. You were far too deep in sleep to inquire about what you were seeing or hearing. Probably ghosts of Charlie floating about, taunting you and luring you into wicked, unthinkable dreams. 

When you fully roused in the morning, you rubbed your eyes. The feeling of complete rest tingled pleasantly in your body. You walked over to the window where blackout curtains shielded you from the sunlight. You swung them open and let the light filter in, illuminating every crevice of your new bedroom. You walked into your washroom to brush your teeth, wash your face, and to tame your hair. 

Remembering that George had generously gifted you an espresso machine, you hurried out of your room to get a sip of that sweet substance. 

The first thing you saw when you exited your bedroom was a black topcoat hanging from the rack. Below it, mounted by the wall, was a pair of slightly scuffed leather boots. Fred and George left with all their belongings, so the coat and shoes couldn’t have been theirs. Your heart skipped a beat and fear consumed your body: there was an intruder in the house. 

The most rational thing to do would be to bolt out the front door and to call security for help and enlist someone more qualified to dispose of the intruder. But pride got the best of you, and you decided you weren’t a damsel in distress who needed saving anymore. It could’ve been Fred or George coming back to play an elaborate prank on you. And when you fell for it, they’d never let you live it down. And the concierge would never let in an unauthorized visitor, so yes, obviously, there was nothing to worry about. 

The only issue was that your wand was in the living room, shredding any chance of self -defence. Instead, you grabbed a metal shoe horn and tiptoed quietly down the hall to the kitchen where you could hear sounds of someone being there: a barstool squeaking, the kettle steaming, and some humming. The bass notes of a man’s voice wasn’t clicking in your memory. Now, you were starting to doubt it was Fred or George.

It was too late to retreat. “Get back!” you yelled with ferocity. You hated to admit, but you’d squeezed your eyes shut so you were waving a shoe horn aimlessly. How you passed Defence Against the Dark Arts was a mystery indeed.

When you heard nothing, and felt no signs of you being murdered, you opened your eyes.

This was no thief or intruder.

It was Charlie.

He playfully threw up both his arms in surrender, teabag in one hand, and pretended to fall backwards, tailbone digging into the kitchen counter. 

You set down your weapon. “What are you doing here?”

He flicked the tag off his tea bag with his thumb, then let out a low whistle. “I think the question you mean to ask is, what are you wearing?”

Charlie’s question echoed in your head as embarrassment stirred up inside you. What were you wearing, exactly?

You looked down for the answer: a thin-strapped silk dress that barely covered your shoulders and thighs. Well, all that while brandishing your favourite accessory: the shoe horn.

“Is that how you win your duels? By distracting your opponent?” he asked. 

You were so infatuated and caught up with the idea of independence that you had forgotten that Charlie had a key and that he was staying over. Combined with the adrenaline of thinking that there was someone in the house, you might as well have had amnesia. His presence did corroborate with the lights and voices you heard last night. Oh shit, come to think of it, he did warn you he was coming over before he departed on Wednesday, but in the mess of things like his and Bill’s untimely appearance and Alicia’s fervent teasing, you’d forgotten.

“This is just what I sleep in!” You were in a right state. Panicked, you tried to make fun of him. Maybe he would lose some of that unbreakable composure. “Don’t you sleep in the same thing? If the rumours are true, that is.”

Charlie chuckled lowly, his laughter rising in volume. “Are you seriously asking me what I sleep in?” he responded. “(Y/N), your mind is a literal cesspool.”

You didn’t want to give off the impression of being embarrassed, so you walked on into the kitchen like nothing happened. “I think I know the answer, based on your deflection,” you mumbled as you settled in the spot beside him. “You can sleep in whatever you like, Charlie, I won’t judge you.”

“I was going to say I often wear much less,” he added in a husky half-whisper by your earlobe.

Oh.

You hand squeezed the metal handle of the espresso portafilter. The coffee wasn’t going to be the only thing steaming in here. You didn’t dare turn your head. You could imagine the handsome smirk at the things he was making you think: Charlie and his naked torso covered in a sheen of sweat, languidly moving under the covers, each hard ridge of muscle skimming the sheets… “Well, that’s just dandy for you, isn’t it?”

“Do I detect a trace of sarcasm?” Charlie pouted, looking down at you. He gave you a nudge. “Need I remind you that you asked me first?”

You kept your mouth shut and fiddled with the top of the espresso grinder instead. It didn’t come off easily, so you tried to pry it off with your nail. When it felt like the grinder was going to take off your nail instead, you gave up.

“Have you made coffee before?” Charlie questioned. His larger hand enveloped the top and twisted it off with ease. 

You seethed silently. 

Charlie continued, unbothered by your lack of response: “I was thinking we could grab breakfast first and discuss how to use the espresso machine after.”

Charlie’s offer was sounding pretty scrumptious. You needed a jolt of caffeine stat if you were going to make it through the rest of the day. 

“Fine,” you conceded quickly, shutting the machine off. “Lead the way.”

“Are you going to get changed first?” Charlie snickered. “It’s a bit nippy for that little number, isn’t it?”

You grabbed the shoehorn from the island. “If you aren’t careful, this shoehorn will meet your head.”

His mouth twisted in a way that made your heart flutter. “Whoa, you’re pretty intimidating for someone so small.”

Beautiful, crooked words.

“I’m really not just saying it for show,” you warned. 

Charlie stepped back, face full of feigned fear. “I’ll believe it.”

You huffed and turned around.

“When I see it,” he added quickly.

You nearly stomped back to your room to change.

“So, if I am staying over Friday night, I’d like to keep some eggs in the fridge and bread in the pantry, at the very least. I get pretty peckish right after I wake up.”

Charlie was explaining his terms and conditions to you on the way back from the cafe where you enjoyed a breakfast sandwich and a coffee. You were grateful you kept your attire simple—a white shirt over some flowy culottes and a trench coat—because you would’ve felt ridiculous setting foot into a homey family establishment dressed otherwise. Charlie even had a long chat with the owners, a married couple in their late sixties who’d insisted on your meal being on the house. 

After breakfast, you’d forgiven him for his teasing and stopped by the grocers to pick up some pantry staples. Charlie cradled a paper bag in one arm and looped a bag of tangerines around the other. Despite all this grocery juggling, he held the door for you as you made your way to the lift and continued to talk about his favourite topic: breakfast.

“Of course you can,” you replied.

“I appreciate you being alright with it. After all, there’s a decent amount of space in your fridge. Do you even cook?”

You reddened. “I only moved in two days ago. I haven’t had the time to—”

“Hm.” He cocked his head as the lift ascended. “Not much of an excuse given the rest of the space looks so furnished.”

“Fred and George came over for dinner last night with takeaway,” you retorted.

Charlie made a strangled noise. “I wasn’t invited?”

“You were at Hogwarts,” you reminded him.

He laughed. “It’s the thought that counts. The notion of me being invited. I thought you Malfoys were all about keeping up appearances.”

“You seem to know very little, Charlie,” you said as you opened the door, “about Malfoys.”

“You’re killing me today, (Y/N),” he said. He set his paper bag down and began organising his purchases on the island. “I didn’t take you to be so mean.”

You froze midway through taking off your trench coat. “I am not mean.”

He placed a carton of eggs in the icebox. “So, so, mean.”

You opened your mouth to say something but your words caught in your throat. You decided not to entangle yourself in the web that was Charlie’s teasing though it felt nice that he was so concentrated on you, and that he kept the conversation going. You sauntered over to the bookshelf instead and plucked out one of Madame Millicent’s books. You turned to the page you’d bookmarked, knee-deep in learning how to knead the most buttery and flaky pie crust. It would’ve been a really mundane topic, but this Millicent woman used such vivid descriptors that you could practically taste the decadence in your mouth. 

“What’s this?” Charlie asked, walking towards the sectional.

“Something I’m reading for a book club.” Oh, shit. You really had to get going on those Madame Millicent books. The date for the afternoon tea was fast approaching and each second brought you closer to a due date of less than a week. 

“Hm.” Charlie plucked a book out from beside the empty space, flipped to a random page, and began reading aloud. “Create a vacuum around his appendage. Use your tongue to stroke the tip of him. This is his most sensitive region. Make sure to gently lap any juices. Remember to engage in eye contact with him. Your eyes will be his undoing.” Charlie looked up. “Did you know that, (Y/N)? You may be on your knees or writhing under him, but you are the temptress with control, he is your subordinate.

You blanked out and blinked at Charlie. “What?”

“Is this what you’re discussing at your book club?” Charlie asked, handing you the book. His fingers touched the header. “Oral sex in flowery prose?”

You frowned. “You made that up.”

“I didn’t, but I’m flattered you think I write so well.”

You grabbed the book from him and looked to where he had been narrating from. To your horror, these were the exact words he’d read, except the addition of your name when he tried to get your attention. “I didn’t know it was about… this. It was supposed to be about female empowerment.” You looked at the book you were initially reading, confusion splayed all over your face. “Or at least her first title was?”

You skimmed your fingers over the textured spine where ‘Madame Millicent: Pleasing the Patriarchy’ was deeply embroidered. Well, this radiated a completely different persona than ‘Madame Millicent: Maître de la Maison.”

“Of course you didn’t, Miss Malfoy,” Charlie said with a snicker. “Wait until your father hears about what you’re reading now that you live all alone.”

You scoffed. “Actually, my mother was the one who recommended it.”

Charlie cleared his throat very audibly. “I’m sorry, what?”

You nodded slowly, never breaking eye contact with him.

Charlie shook his head. “Not the fair maiden, Narcissa Malfoy. She would never muddle her name with such sacrilegious affairs.” He stopped when a new train of thought struck him. “But that’d give our mothers a mutual topic to talk about, if they ever met.”

You eyed him curiously. Was he implying the saintly Molly Weasley indulged in erotica? Feeling awkward, you continued to talk about the book club.

“Well, Charlie,” you started, about to shatter his misconceptions about your mother.  “My mother is part of the book club that Madame Millicent is speaking at next week. She’s invited me as well, hence why I’m reading her titles. And you’ll find that lonely housewives adore books like these.”

“Seriously?” Charlie’s eyes lit up delightfully. “You get to meet the temptress in person?” he asked excitedly. “Can I come, too?”

“Why would you want to do that?” You snapped your book shut. “There won’t be a single man there.”

“Why, (Y/N), because I’m extremely well-read. And I care deeply for female empowerment, especially in the brazen manner Madame Millicent portrays it.”

You cocked your head and narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously. “Really?” You shook the book he was holding. “Or just this title in particular?”

He eyed you curiously, a smirk spreading across his face. “I’ll have all these titles finished by next week.”

“You shouldn’t overestimate your ability to read through all this, it’s quite a bit.”

“Oh, I know my limits,” Charlie affirmed. “I’ll see you at this afternoon tea.”

“You really read through it all?” you asked Charlie, voice thick with doubt, as you walked on the cobblestone entrance. 

Tea was to be hosted this afternoon at a venue your mother had written to you about. It was such a lovely place, green and whimsical, and its dreamy appearance befit its claim as a popular wedding destination. Evergreen shrubs, touched with the slightest amount of morning dew and rain, lined the path you and Charlie were taking. It had rained earlier this morning when the both of you were getting dressed in your apartment. 

“(Y/N),” Charlie started. “We read all day yesterday. All day. You didn’t even let me take a washroom break.”

That was true. He’d gotten back from Hogwarts late Friday evening, slipped into his room, and woke up before you to work the espresso machine for the two of you. Then, you got right to it. You had both claimed the opposite ends of the sectional and read through the rest of the titles in preparation for today. Charlie seemed content to spend his Saturday with you, and you were elated when he nestled into the couch and made no plans to leave. He did head back late Saturday evening to the Burrow, but came back this morning to dress for the event. 

You had Charlie for a full weekend, and you couldn’t suppress a smile at the thought of it.

“I had to oversee you reading the other two titles,” you teased. “Seeing you were so affixed on Pleasing on Patriarch.”

”It’s what I know best. I’m sure Millicent and I will have colourful discussions on it.”

You were received by a dapper little house elf in a bowtie at the front door who guided you through the hallway inside the mansion, then helped you down the back down some stone steps, before leading you into the gardens. It didn’t seem sensible or at all seasonable for afternoon tea to be hosted outside this time of year, but a warming spell that arced across the pavilion kept the women at the round table warm. The trees were blazing with hues of red and orange, nearly ready to shrivel and die as soon as the temperature dipped any further. At least they provided some colour in contrast to the dull, grey skies. 

“How are you feeling? Cold?” Charlie asked. He fiddled with the collar of your tweed cardigan that you’d layered over a long dress.

You perked quickly at his concern for you and the brush of his finger near your neck. His touch was the only thing that was shiver-inducing. “I feel fine. What about you?”

”I’m at the perfect temperature,” he said as he adjusted his suit. He was wearing an outfit a touch toned down from when you had dinner with your parents. While you liked his bedhead and the mess of curls that he usually sported, you had to admit that he was unusually beautiful when he tamed his hair. It drew attention to the sharp juts of his jaw and cheekbones that were usually hidden.

The two of you continued down the steps and the further you got, the more the stunning set up came into view. A round table was constructed in the centre of the gardens. A tablecloth decorated in rich autumn hues—deep red and gold—draped over it. The centrepiece which consisted of candles, pumpkins, and a leafy wreath snaked around the middle.

“Charlie!”

You both looked up.

This voice did not belong to your mother. It didn’t belong to anyone you were particularly familiar with.

But when a grey-haired woman stood up, you could pinpoint exactly who’d called.

“Mrs. Cromwell!” Charlie responded first.

“Cecile!” she yelled in cheery correction, still a ways away from the base of the steps. She lifted herself from the chair, gloved hands by her side to help with her balance, and ambled as quickly as her old age would take her to where you and Charlie were standing. Charlie, not wanting an elderly lady to walk unsteadily to him, ran over and you followed. Cecile gracefully extended her arm as if pulling him over. Time had softened her bones and compressed some cartilage, and she seemed very, very small next to Charlie. “Remember me?”

“How could I forget?” Charlie chuckled, placing a kiss on the back of her hand. Cecile giggled at his show of chivalry. 

As the twosome continued their conversation, you caught your mother beckoning you over with a glance. You left Charlie and Cecile and shuffled over.

“Why did you bring him?” Narcissa whispered, pulling you in by the arm. “I thought I made the invitation exclusive to you.”

“I informed you in a letter, mother,” you rebutted. 

“And I responded saying there were no extra seats at this function. It is extremely exclusive, (Y/N).” Narcissa’s tone was sharp and stern. “Charlie absolutely cannot be accommodated.”

“Okay,” you said. “Then I’ll leave.”

”You are not leaving,” Narcissa insisted in a harsh whisper. “Madame Millicent is expecting you.”

You looked back up to where Mrs. Cromwell was leading Charlie back to the round table, a funny sight indeed seeing that Charlie had no issues ambulating, but Mrs. Cromwell was roleplaying a nurse supporting an elderly patient at St Mungos.

“Mrs. Cromwell certainly seems to want him here,” you muttered through your teeth. “She’d happily let him take her place.”

Narcissa let out a long, hopeless sigh, and her hands lifted to rub at her temples. “I kindly ask you to ask him to leave.”

”But—”

“Good afternoon, ladies,” a voice called out from the back of the house. Twelve heads spun around to the lady standing at the top of the steps. She was short, slightly stocky in nature, and cloaked in beautiful deep purple robes. Her greying hair was pulled back into a bun on the top of her head. Her features were foxy and homely, and if you didn’t have the context that you did as to who she was, you’d never have guessed she was Madame Millicent. 

Her house elf scrambled in front of her. “Ladies,”—he glanced at Charlie—“and gentleman, may I present to you, Madame Millicent?”

Everyone at the table stood up as Millicent proceeded down the same steps you and Charlie had just taken.  

“Who do we have here?” Millicent called out, fixated on Charlie whose arm now permanently belonged to Mrs. Cromwell.

”Charlie Weasley, madame.”

”Weasley?” she questioned with a quirk of a well-groomed eyebrow. “Now, where have I heard that before?”

Your breath caught.

Narcissa gave you a pointed look and shook her head slowly. If Madame Millicent hated the Weasleys a fraction of the amount your parents did, you’d truly come to regret inviting Charlie.

”Now I know why that sounds so familiar!” Millicent exclaimed suddenly, clapping her hands together with glee. “Molly Weasley. Is that your mother?”

Charlie nodded. “Yes.”

”Such a small world we live in, don’t we?” Millicent continued. “She came to my last book signing and we had a chat about my recipes that lasted over an hour. Such a lovely woman, so lovely. I reckon I’ll be looking to her for advice on homemaking for my next book. A powerful woman, too, raised seven kids, if I remember correctly, and put them all through school.” She looked up Charlie up and down. “She forgot to mention how handsome her son was.” 

“Handsome? Wait until you see my older brother,” Charlie said, brushing off a compliment for the first time you’d witnessed.

Charlie’s comment certainly piqued Mrs. Cromwell’s interest. She looked up at him with an inquisitive look while Millicent did a quick assessment of the available seats and frowned.

“Well, that just won’t do,” Millicent tutted. “Gibbly, fetch me another seat for Mr. Weasley. He can be seated right next by me.”

Gibbly, Millicent’s house elf, dashed back inside the house to retrieve a chair. You and Narcissa just looked on with astounded expressions (like mother, like daughter). Neither of you expected Millicent would be so taken by Charlie. 

“You could’ve given me that honour, Millie,” Mrs. Cromwell huffed with a displeased expression. “I wouldn’t mind sitting next to him.” When Millicent just smiled, you relaxed. It must’ve been an old joke between friends, you reckoned. 

After Charlie was seated, tea had made its rounds. You stirred your earl grey with trepidation, knowing your mother was looking on, ensuring you were following good tea etiquette. You’d stirred for close to two minutes, preoccupied with trying to catch a glimpse of Charlie. You were seated left of Narcissa, so six seats from Charlie which was six seats too far and at a very odd angle. 

“I want to get to know the unfamiliar faces in this room. Would you mind introducing yourself, love?” Millicent was staring at you.

You set your spoon down. “I’m (Y/N) Malfoy,” you said. “I’m Narcissa’s daughter. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” 

“Of course, I should’ve known,” Millicent said with a smile. “I can see your mother in you, but you take after your father so well.” 

You almost retched. 

Then, she turned to Charlie. “And what brings you here today, Charlie? I don’t recall seeing your name on the guest list.”

“Actually, (Y/N) was the reason I came today.”

Millicent leaned in. “Really?”

“Her interest in your writing rubbed off on me,” Charlie explained. “I was thrilled to have the opportunity to meet you in person. Take it as you will, but I was quite literally on my knees to be here today.”

You squinted. Was that… a patch of red spreading on Millicent’s cheeks?

“Well,” Millicent chirped happily. “Let’s start our discussions then.”

The first part of the discussion focussed on her first two titles, Maître de La Maison and Tips for the Domesticated Witch. Women around the table praised her recipes and how the results were always a hit with all their guests at functions they hosted. You nibbled quietly at a cucumber sandwich as the conversation droned on, having nothing of substance to offer. Charlie, on the other hand, seemed very interested, and even asked questions: “Millicent, precisely, how important is the bain-marie method for a perfect cheesecake?”

“Now,” Millicent said suddenly with a clap. “Let’s move on to what I know you ladies are really here for.”

A wave of giggles chorused through the pavilion. You looked to your mother for solidarity, but she remained tight-lipped and looked displeased. Well, there was only one last book left to discuss…

“I wish I could’ve attended an earlier session, but I was touring Northern Europe for the release of Pleasing the Patriarchy all summer. I’m delighted to be back in England to discuss my latest bestseller with you.”

“And I wish Chuck was still here to witness all my learnings through that book,” Mrs. Cromwell added in a serious tone. “You couldn’t have finished that book any earlier, Millie?” Her quip earned a round of subdued laughs. 

“Well, as I say to every woman, it’s never too late,” Millicent assured. “I reckon a steady dose of intercourse will keep all of us healthy and young on all accounts.”

”Trust me, I know,” Mrs. Cromwell said. “But I find men my age are so selfish and well-worn in their ways. I’m from a cursed generation where a woman’s pleasure was always secondary to her husband’s.”

“And it’s so awful,” Millicent agreed. “But you’re a crafty woman, Cecile. You must know a way around such a dated practice.”

Mrs. Cromwell made a face like the answer was obvious. “Of course, I only entertain the younger men now.”

An unabashed chorus of laughter erupted from the table this time. Mrs. Cromwell sent a wrinkled wink at Charlie, who smiled back. 

“Speaking of younger men,” Madame Millicent changed the topic and looked to Charlie, “It’s fate that we have one of those here today. What do you think of the advice laid out in my latest release?”

“You’re still talking about Pleasing the Patriarchy, correct?” Charlie repeated.

“Yes.” Millicent nodded. “I’ve consulted a fair share of men as preliminary research, but I’m curious as to what you think of it, the feasibility and authenticity of the tips, that is, if you could comment on both.”

“Well,” Charlie started, leaning back in his seat, “I reckon your advice is fabulous, very feasible. You’ve really captured the steps precisely. Put it in better words than I ever could.”

“Hm.” Millicent seemed mighty proud of herself. “And have you been able to integrate these tips in the bedroom?”

“Ah,” Charlie stalled, his breath catching in his throat in another historical first. What happened to the ever-so-confident Charlie Weasley you’ve come to know? He cast you a quick glance. You imagined his hesitation was due to the fact that your mother was right beside you, and he was being lightly coerced to talk about his sex life despite keeping things as vague as possible until this point. The only people in the room who knew about you and Charlie were your mother and Mrs. Cromwell; you weren’t certain Millicent or the twelve others had connected the dots.  

If Narcissa weren’t here, he might’ve been more adventurous in his answer. He shifted his attention back to Millicent in a flash; the untrained eye wouldn’t have sensed any hesitation. “Of course. I wouldn’t pass up an opportunity for self-improvement.”

“How considerate of you,” Mrs. Cromwell added with a dreamy, longing sigh. 

“Very much so,” solidified Millicent.

“Millicent, what do we do if our husbands are so consumed in their work at the Ministry that they won’t even pay us the time of day when they get home?” a younger woman in her thirties, draped in a dark teal shawl, piped up. Her seat-mate nodded in agreement. “I don’t even have the opportunity to practise anything I read. I’m so terribly frustrated, Millicent.”

“Sadly, that’s not out of the ordinary,” Millicent consoled, sympathy written on her face. “Has he always been so detached, Anna?”

“Ever since we’ve started living together, it’s as if the passion has faded.”

Millicent nodded. “Through my research, there are a number of things that decimate passion in the bedroom: children, work, and moving in together. When you move in together, you sacrifice the feelings of excitement and mystery that fuelled the passion and intimacy at the beginning of your relationship. We tend to absorb our roles as homemaker or a mother and less of a sexual partner.”

Anna sighed.

“Charlie, do you live alone?” Millicent queried. 

“I live with (Y/N),” Charlie answered without missing a beat. “Most days, anyways.”

Millicent’s mouth rounded. Mrs. Cromwell leaned in suspiciously at this revelation. Likely, her head was whirring around the fact that you spent time with Charlie in the bedroom. 

“And if you’re comfortable sharing,” Millicent asked in such a delicate but firm manner that you know she’d definitely prodded like this before, “what fluctuations in your physical relationship have you experienced since moving in?”

“I reckon everything’s stayed the same,” Charlie mused, his eyes brooding in deep thought, “or honestly, at an increased frequency.”

Both you and your mother immediately turned as red as the sugar-glazed strawberries on the tart on the serving tray. Your mother coughed, the insinuation that Charlie had punched into the conversation—that you and him had sex—interfering with her ability to masticate. You buried your head down to evade curious glances and looked down at the table cloth. Wow, has crocheting always yielded such beautiful results?

Millicent leaned her face into the palms of her hand. “Why do you think that is?”

“Well, as you said, we shouldn’t forget our roles as partners. And with a partner so beautiful, it’s not hard.”

You were mortified. You thought about asking Gibbly to help you dig a hole into the ground so you could block out all the chatter about your fictitious sex life.

“Well, my love,” Millicent redirected her attention to Anna, “here’s what I think you can do to bring back the spark in the bedroom….”

An hour later, afternoon tea was nearing an end. Gibbly cleared out the trays and teacups as you followed the other woman on the trail back into the manor. Charlie stood back with Mrs. Cromwell by a gate. This old woman and her spindly claws just weren’t going to let go of him! Your eyes followed his body as he leaned down, almost on his knees to listen to what she was whispering to his ear, a corner of his mouth pulled up in handsome amusement. 

‘She’s probably inviting him to her bed!’ you thought. 

“(Y/N),” Narcissa called, gently pulling at your arm. “Let’s go somewhere private to have a chat.”

“Sure,” you responded, walking with your mother northward but eyes still on Charlie southward. 

As you walked, you felt a sharp tug on your heart when Anna skipped over, teal dress grazing the grass, to join in on Charlie and Mrs. Cromwell’s conversation. Charlie’s smile was as friendly as ever as he chatted with a married woman who’d loudly and publicly announced she was lonely—practically a mating call if you’d ever heard one. He couldn’t be so deaf or stupid to ignore that, could he? 

You felt forgotten even though Charlie made such a grand display of you being his partner.

You almost tripped over a divot in the ground, but you couldn’t stop staring at what was unfolding behind you. It reminded you of his chummy conversation with Mallory at the bar, him never brushing off Mrs. Cromwell’s forward advances, Millicent praising his looks and asking him invasive questions, and now Anna giggling at him. If he could be so forthcoming with all these random women in front of you, how many of them was he charming behind your back? All while crawling his way to sharing the same apartment as you?

But it didn’t matter, did it? Your chest felt heavy at the realization that he wasn’t doing anything immoral or wrong. If you were together, you’d be well within your rights to be suspicious. Factually, you were the one who tangled him in this ruse, and the only credit you could give yourself was that it got a little more complicated and spindly than you could handle. So, you forced yourself to swallow the apprehension about the women in Charlie’s life the best you could. 

Narcissa led you over to a more secluded part of the garden where only the trees could hear your conversation. And you were going to be glad for it. 

“Is it true?” Narcissa prodded.

“What’s true?”

“What Charlie said?”

“He said a lot of things,” you reminded her. “But yes, mother, the bain-marie method will yield a better-tasting cheesecake.” 

“No,”—Narcissa shook her head—“about your sexual activity.”

“Mother!” you exclaimed in a whisper. You leaned out to make sure Charlie hadn’t come any closer. “I’d prefer if we discussed it later, or never at all, especially as it was already dissected in front of everyone.”

“I understand,” she said. “It’s a difficult topic, but I regret not sitting you down when you were younger, I truly do, (Y/N). It was a failure on my part. I had your father talk to Draco about these matters, but I need to make sure you’re taking care of your reproductive health before something unwanted happens.

“Of course I am!” you promised. “You needn’t worry about it.” Because we aren’t in a relationship. We aren’t having sex.

You wanted out of here. This conversation and the charades that followed didn’t feel exciting anymore. It now felt empty and wrong. It was a chore, trying to keep in line with what Charlie had announced, and you were certain he didn’t put a single care behind his words to you. 

“Well, it would give me peace of mind if you made an appointment with our Healer. There are many options for contraception nowadays, much more than when I was a young witch.”

“Contra—”

“It doesn’t have to be at the first appointment, but Healer Tousignant will go over your options and you should take some time to decide what works best for you. I promise, she is excellent at what she does. And I won’t ask anything of it afterwards.”

You skimmed through all the options in your head. If you refused Narcissa’s offer, you’d be subject to more questions about your sexual health, and who knows what inopportune place she’d choose to talk about it next? In front of your cousins during Christmas in Switzerland? In the middle of Diagon Alley? At dinner where Draco and your father would be present?

If you just accepted the appointment, you could conceal the fact you weren’t in Charlie’s bed (despite a naughty crevice of your brain that controlled your dreams hoping you were). 

A dull pain interlaced with the beat of your heart at the possibility of that person not being you. Reality told you it wasn’t going to be. It could be Mallory, Mrs. Cromwell, Millicent, Anna— 

“Fine,” you agreed with a forced smile. “Tell me when, and I’ll be there.”

>> NEXT CHAPTER

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

TAGLIST: @badgerqueen07 @superduckmilkshake @k-k-merlin @kisskittenn @pluiesdefleurs@lilianelena39 @bathwater101 @evilunicorns4minions @noah-uhhh-what @earth-to-lottie @kissingyourgrl @sihtricswife @adalia-jaycee @anuttellaa @weasley-clan (Let me know if I missed you, or if you want to be added!)

[general-cyno]

it's dressrosa time for more zolu rambles. there were some really good and funny bits like zoro being (unsurprisingly) on board with luffy's idea of fighting the emperors

luffy charging right after zoro when he gets his sword stolen bc it looks fun (though he ends up in the tournament instead)

zoro getting absolutely sidetracked from his very important mission of going back to the sunny to help the others bc he saw luffy participating in the tournament, then again when he saw luffy in person (he wanted to be invited too!)

luffy happily and without hesitation agreeing to zoro's crazy plan for the lift

cheers to luffy's casual, unwavering faith in zoro!

zoro just letting luffy do whatever he wants and manhandle him around with a simple "yeah sure where we going" compared to law who is decidedly Not Even Remotely Used to this kind of treatment

their gremlin braincell once again shining through as they both laugh at pica (much to law's continuous exasperation)

I also liked how confidently luffy decided and told zoro he'd continue ahead while zoro chose to stay behind and deal with pica, yet again demonstrating luffy's casual but firm trust that zoro can handle things and protect others in his stead, while he takes care of the biggest threats. zoro's own taunting and smug "our captain wants nothing to do with a pebble like you, so you have to make do with me" at pica was good too lol.

when zoro finally defeats pica and side characters, in awe of his strength, are baffled that someone so powerful is luffy's "henchman"? also peak.

two other things I enjoyed, albeit not necessarily involving zoro and luffy directly, were:

- zoro taking the lead, attempting to stop doflamingo's birdcage by force and doing so by asking for ppl's help (showcasing his willingness to guide as much as rely on others when it's needed) which drove folks to actively follow him in a similar fashion to how they tend to do with luffy. in a way, zoro's determination uplifted ppl's spirits + the whole thing helped keep civilians and others safe while luffy recuperated enough to finish off doflamingo. it's no wonder zoro was one of the few straw hats to stay behind in dressrosa, since that's the kind of feat someone like him (as luffy's first mate/second in command) can accomplish. really highlights zoro's role in the crew and why luffy's belief in zoro's reliability, of him being able to handle dire situations and protect ppl on his own without luffy having to worry abt/over him is a recurring and important part of their overall relationship. usopp desperately asking zoro to save him back during the pica ordeal and hugging him afterwards in relief as other characters thanked him too, was a funny and sweet way to acknowledge this as well.

- this interaction between luffy and rebecca:

can't say whether it was intentional or not, (probably not since these chapters are wildly apart from each other) but it made me think of luffy and zoro's first meeting, and how luffy ultimately decided to make zoro part of his crew after he asked to be fed the stomped riceballs and for luffy to tell rika they were delicious. these two are so very similar on a fundamental level, even if they still retain certain differences and distinct approaches depending on the situation, and it was nice to see another reminder of it. both luffy and zoro are, at their core, strong and kind characters (though in a curiously selfish manner) who don't hesitate to acknowledge and repay the kindness they're offered in turn. imo it's cool how these shared traits have allowed them to understand and stay alongside each other to this point.

edit: forgot to mention but sabo entrusting the crew with luffy's safety and giving them luffy's vivre card (handing it to zoro specifically) as zoro fondly remarks how he resembled ace back in alabasta was just. really really good as well. esp when you consider how much the crew loves luffy, and what zoro himself has done to protect him.

[holisticpippin]

HITCHHIKER'S GUIDE TO DIRK GENTLY: ALL THE HITCHHIKER'S GUIDE REFERENCES I'VE NOTICED IN DIRK GENTLY'S HOLISTIC DETECTIVE AGENCY (a.k.a. everything is connected)

(spoilers)

this took a good couple of hours and I tried to do this in order; buckle up!!

SEASON 1:

the posters on the windows as todd is walking by the convenience store place has a silhouette of a falling whale, what I assume is a reference to the infinite improbability drive whale, and an ad that says "zaphod," a reference to zaphod beeblebrox (s1e01 'horizons')

(also todd's stance here is so funny to me)

the rowdy 3, consisting of four (and later five) members, could be a reference to how the hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy is called a trilogy that happens to consist of 5 books ("there are four of them!" "I'm wildly aware")

one of the screens in the death maze has the number 42 on it (s1e04 'watkin')

SEASON 2:

there are 42 blackwing subjects

farah's awesome jacket with "D Adams" on it and the number 42 (multiple episodes)

the boretons' dog is named agrajag, which is the entity that arthur dent accidentally kills in every incarnation. unfortunately he dies here too (multiple episodes)

in the tree car, farah remarks that "the odometer's only on 42 miles" (s2e02 'fans of wet circles')

the book francis cardenas has by him as he's having the nightmare that says "PANIC!" on the cover (in what can only be large, unfriendly letters), with the subtitle "attack devil dolphins." (s2e07 'that is not miami')

the executioner guy in wendimoor calling dirk a "hoopy frood" as he helps him unload the scissor blade things (s2e08 'little guy, black hair')

the blackwing phone number on the business card, "555-424-2424" with a wild amount of 42s (s2e09 'trouble is bad')

dirk telling himself "don't panic" before jumping into the portal (s2e09 'trouble is bad')