#ask alter and violet

[alterrune]

Reminder that on the eshop, Deltarune is free!

Yeah, I saw. But I'm gonna wait until PMD arrives for that.

Speaking of, I finally have an ETA on my copy of the game's arrival: November 24th.

Also, he'll be OUTSIDE the AtO game when he downloads Deltarune. We don't wanna risk Spamton coming back and being a pest again.

Just outta curiousity, Kyle, did you buy a physical cartrige or one of those digital download codes?

Physical cartrige. I prefer having an actual physical way to play games when it comes to gaming platforms, with the only exception being PC games (because of Steam).

Well then, if that's the case, you gonna lick the cartridge to find out what that infamous "bitter flavoring" tastes like first-hand?

No, Alter. I'm not gonna lick it. I'd have to dry the cartrige out and all that afterwards. Plus, trying to explain it to my mom and dad why I licked a cartridge would be hell to do. But I will see if I can make out a scent, though. If it has a taste, it has to have a smell to it too.

[dragon-kazansky]

Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Season one

Chapter Twelve - Beautiful day for a wedding

♡♡♡

The invitation arrived in your mail the very next day. You looked down at the writing of Violet Bridgerton on the letter. Daphne and Simon were to be married the very next day.

Your mother ushered you to the Modiste for a dress. You didn't have time for a new one, so she altered one you owned already. You bought a couple of new accessories and headed home.

You did not get to see the Bridgertons at all.

When you arrived at the church with your mother, you found yourself almost shocked at how few people were present, but you also supposed this was best.

On the duke's side were Lady Danbury and Will and his wife. On Daphne's was her family and you.

Benedict looked up just as you entered and smiled at you. He sat with Colin on a pew behind his mother. You smiled back and found your seat with Hyacinth and Gregory. Hyacinth made Gregory swap seats with her ao she could side beside you.

"Isn't this exciting?" She asks softly.

"Very," you smile.

"Daphne will look so beautiful in her dress," Hyacinth smiles.

"I'm certain of it."

You glance up to see Benedict still looking at you. When your eyes meet his, he turns away to talk to Colin again. You're confused by this strange little exchange, but don't dwell on it.

Violet spots you and waves at you with a smile. You return both gestures, and she turns back to Lady Danbury.

The duke stands quietly at the altar, awaiting his bride. As you look at him, you wonder what he must be thinking. From what you understand, this wasn't exactly ideal, but somehow you know, deep down in his heart, he loves Daphne.

He just needs to admit to himself.

His display to the queen, going by what Violet had said, was the most romantic declaration of love there could have ever been. You knew it had to have been true to some extent.

The sound of the door opening has everyone turning to look. You all rise when you see Anthony and the bride enter. You feel yourself gasp softly as you look at her.

Flawless.

Daphne looked beautiful. She was exactly what a bride should be on her special day. Anthony led her down the aisle. As she passed you, she gave you a small smile. She looked like she was putting on a brave face.

You smiled back and watched her pass.

Simon turns to look at his soon-to-wife. Even he couldn't deny how beautiful she is, surely.

Violet was trying so hard not to cry.

All of Daphne's family looked at her so proudly. This was the bottom she had been waiting for. The moment she would become a wife to the man she loved.

Though she had expected love to be true and pure like her parents had, for she knew the truth behind this wedding.

She practically forced Simon into it.

Anthony smiles at his sister and hands her over to Simon Bassett. The two stand beside each other while Anthony joins his mother at her pew.

You all sit.

The ceremony begins.

Hyacinth holds your hand as you watch the couple. You wonder what both of them are thinking.

They face each other. Simon holds out his hand. Daphne places her in it. He removes her long silk glove with ease. Her hand is now bare to him. He places the ring on her finger. Daphne remembers to breathe.

"I now pronounce you man and wife."

They're married.

♡♡♡

The ball after is full of life and cheer. Upbeat music plays on the violins. Though the wedding was an intimate affair, the ball was for all the ton.

Hyacinth and Gregory chase each other through the party while Daphne speaks to some of the guests.

Penelope tries to help Marina find someone other than Colin Bridgerton to marry. After all, Penelope had been in love with Colin for quite some time, though he was unlikely to view her the same way.

You laugh at something Anthony tells you on the other side of the room. Benedict comes over and looks between the two of you. "Is my brother that funny?"

"Quite, actually." You chuckle.

"At least one of us has charisma," Anthony says sipping his drink.

You laugh in the most unladylike manner and try to cover your mouth. Benedict looks at you in shock and in awe. Anthony smiles and shake his head.

"I never knew you could make such a sound," Benedict teases.

"Neither did I until now." You manage to control your laughter, ignoring anyone looking your way.

"A fascinating woman," he grins.

"I'm full of surprises. Even to myself," you smile.

Benedict looks at you curiously.

"Excuse me," Anthony says, nodding at you both and then taking his leave to catch up with someone.

You turn to Benedict only to catch him staring at someone.

"Benedict?"

"Excuse me..." He walks off but is soon cornered by the man he had seen. You sigh and decide to take a stroll of the room instead.

"A most enjoyable party," Henry Granville says to him.

"Indeed."

"Um, Bridgerton... Um... The other night..."

"What happened the other night?" Benedict asks, pretending he did not know. "I do not believe anything happened at all."

Henry chuckles softly. "Very well." A woman joins them, and Granville smiles. "Ah, dearest... I believe you know Mr. Bridgerton."

Benedict stares at the woman, recognising her from the other night. The pretty woman he enjoyed himself with.

"My wife, Mrs Lucy Granville."

Benedict chokes on his wine.

"It is a pleasure, Mr. Bridgerton." She smiles at him.

He just sips his wine and nods. "Mm."

You catch sight of Daphne staring at her husband, who stands across the room. You find this strange because you were made to believe that newly we'd couples rarely parted from each other on their wedding day. Yet, they were standing so far apart.

You were about to approach Daphne, but Anthony came up beside her. You decide to leave them both alone for now.

The conversation seems short, however, as you catch sight of Daphne fleeing the room moments later.

Violet goes after.

Wedding jitters, perhaps? Not that you would know. Would you ever know?

You find that you have circled the room completely and sigh. Benedict finds his way through the crowd and looks at you. "I apologise for that."

"Something urgent?"

"Well, not exactly. Just saw a face I knew."

"Wonderful. Where you know many faces, I know very few."

Benedict frowns. "Is something the matter?"

"Other than your family and Lady Danbury, I don't really know anyone else. Penelope seems lovely enough, but I do not know her all too well."

Benedict remains confused by you.

"Did something happen?" He asks.

"I have been all but abandoned."

"Nonsense."

You sigh. "Forgive me, I'm just tired. Weddings seem to go on for a while, don't they?"

"Can't say I've been to many."

"Do you think I'll get to experience this one day?" You ask, looking around. "Perhaps not as grand as this, but... you know."

Benedict now looks at you with slight surprise. "Of course, if that is what you want."

"I do want it." You confess quietly. "I'd like to be married one day. Not necessarily to a duke," you chuckle.

Benedict laughs, too.

"But I'd like to be a wife and a mother one day." You watch Hyacinth chase her brother around the guests.

Benedict keeps his gaze on you as he says, "one day it shall be yours."

You smile, keeping your eyes on the youngest two of the Bridgerton family.

Benedict does not drop his gaze from you.

♡♡♡

Violet insists you come them to bid Daphne goodbye as she leaves for her new home. You can only wonder how strange it must be for her to leave a place she calls home.

You stand at the back of the crowd as Daphne says goodbye to her siblings. She even hugs Eloise who looks a little reluctant for her sister to go.

Daphne then turns to you and pulls you into a hug. "Thank you," she whispers.

"What for?"

"Being there." She pulls away to look at you, placing her hands in yours softly.

You smile. "Any time. Write, won't you?"

"Of course. Regularly."

You both smile at each other, and Daphne turns around to climb into the carriage. Simon opens the door for her and climbs in after her. She looks out the window to look at her family and her, now, old home.

You wave along with the others, finding your arm looped with Anthony's as you watch the carriage disappear down the road. When it's gone from sight, Anthony escorts you back inside. Violet gushes about the entire day, and you smile as you go with her to fetch some tea.

With the guests gone, the family can relax. You had been invited to stay behind and keep them company for a while longer, and you agreed.

You sit with Violet and the family as tea is called. Anthony stays a while but then excuses himself. Violet makes a comment about him being unable to leave business even for one day.

A cup of tea is placed on the table beside you. You look up to see Benedict standing beside you with a smile.

You accept the cup and sip it. It's been made the way you like it. Benedict remembered something so mundane about you? Or was it perhaps just chance. You have taken tea with his mother before.

"My daughter, a duchess," Violet sighs happily.

"You must be very proud," you say, smiling.

"Immensly." She sips her tea.

"Daphne looked beautiful," Hyacinth says, smiling at you both from where she sits with Gregory.

"Yes," Violet smiles proudly.

You sip your tea and listen to small babble lf conversation about Daphne and where she will be living now, and what a duchess does. Hyacinth was full of questions.

Eloise slumped down in the seat beside you with a sigh.

"You alright?" You ask. She had a book held tightly to her chest.

"Just glad it's all over." She sighs again.

"Did you not enjoy seeing your sister marry?"

"It's not that. I'm very happy for Daphne and shall miss her tremendously. I'm just tired of all the fuss."

"Will it not be your turn next?" You ask.

"Please don't remind me," she screws her eyes shut and grimaces at the thought.

You chuckle softly and pat her arm gently. "You may change your mind."

"I cannot think of anything worse."

You say no more on the matter. After an hour passes, you take your leave. Your mother would be waiting at home for you. Violet calls for a carriage for you, one of their own. Benedict insists on seeing you out.

You walks down the front steps with him and approaches the carriage. The footman opens the door for you.

"Until next we meet," Benedict smiles at you.

You're about to enter the carriage when you stop and turn to him. "Where do you go at night?" You ask.

Benedict seems to freeze at your question. "Pardon?"

"At night, where do you go?"

His mouth hangs open as he tries to think about how to answer, but you keep talking before he can utter a single word.

"The other night when the duke and Lady Danbury came for dinner, you were not present. I asked Anthony about your whereabouts, but he confessed to not knowing. Not that I expect you all to know each others business all the time, but apparently, you have spent a couple nights away from home now. I am curious. Where do you go?"

Benedict really wasn't sure how to answer. Qould you think poorly of him if he told you the truth.

"Well I--"

"No, never mind. Do not tell me. It was rude of me to ask. I was just curious. Curiosity can be dangerous." You climb up into the carriage.

There's a moment of silence before the footman closes the door. Within seconds the carriage takes off towards your home.

Benedict is left standing there wishing he had said something, anything, to keep you longer.

He watches the carriage leave.

♡♡♡

@callmemana - @lilscast - @imgondeletedis - @benedictbridgertonss - @clownsdiehard - @wxnterwidow333

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@cosmixstar - @bree3parchen - @berrnuu - @luckily123345 - @charmainemaclendon

[faetima]

THE AVEN + HANAHAKI THING YESSS I'VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS FOR SO LONG BECAUSE LIKE. I know it's always super angsty when it's the reader that gets hanahaki but rine having it. imagine pushing your s/o away because you don't think you can do a relationship rn just to get hit by the stupid idiot in love disease. damn sucks to be you man

(tbh hanahaki as fun as the angst is I love aventurine so much and usually just alter hanahaki to be like less deadly because a) I DONT WANT TO BE SAD and b) the whole guilt of "I developed hanahaki because of you now love me or I WILL die" feels strange to me)(but also yum angst and the consequences of pushing someone away) ((sorry I talk a lot teehee okay bye))

𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫. 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠. .

. . too bad he wasn't your darling anymore.

// tws ; slight cursing, blood ; gn reader ; modern au, hanahaki au 

a/n: finally wrote the aventurine exes hanahaki au lol ,, had no idea how to finish this but i might make a part 2 !! :3

ever since you had started dating aventurine, you felt like you were a burden to him in some way. but you were never sure if you were actually a burden to him, or if that was your mind playing tricks on you.

but last week had just solidified your beliefs.

you both had fought over something petty--you couldn't be bothered to remember what it was--and harsh words had been thrown around in the process.

words that cut deep into you, practically making you bleed out.

and after that?

aventurine had ignored you for the rest of the entire week. he hadn't even glanced in your direction. it was fine if he needed some space to think, but he didn't even tell you, he just started fucking ignoring you.

your efforts to talk to him had just been met by blank uninterested violet eyes.

everything that happened in the last week had all led up to yesterday.

you stood in front of his door, swallowing your nerves. why were you so nervous?

after everything that happened, everything you felt, everything he said, you didn't think you could handle a relationship at that point.

so, when aventurine answered the door, his blonde hair unruly and lavender eyes tired, you took a deep breath and finally said the words you had been so scared of saying.

"i want to break up."

--

now, you were rethinking your decision.

on one hand, it felt like a large weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

on the other hand, breaking up with him had left you in your current predicament: crouched on the cold tiled floor of your apartment, hurling up bright yellow marigolds. you coughed them up, unwillingly watching as they hit your newly polished floor. they hit the ground ungracefully, clumped together with a disgusting mixture of mucus and blood. you gagged on the flowers as the sickly sweet smell of the marigolds hit you, making you feel lightheaded and sick to your stomach.

you didn't think you would get the disease again after aventurine asked you out.

you had it once, albeit briefly. it was before you had even talked to aventurine, too scared to do so. maybe it had been your shyness, or maybe you were just scared of rejection. you weren't too sure which, but it had caused you to cough out a few lemon yellow petals.

but, as quickly as the disease had started, it had ended. aventurine talked to you and started getting close to you, and your hanahaki had eventually diminished into nothing. after that, you thought it would never start again.

but you guessed you were wrong, since the disease decided to plague you.

marigold petals--slick with mucus--fell out your mouth as you coughed your lungs out. they fell almost gracefully onto the small flower pile.

you took fast and shaky breaths, collapsing. you were too exhausted to move, the hanahaki sucking all the life out of you.

--

it had been a week now, and the disease had just gotten worse. at this rate, it would only take a month or two until you suffocated on the fucking marigolds.

you could talk to aventurine, but he would probably just ignore you again.

you could get the surgery, but you would rather die than forget aventurine. you still loved him.

at this point, you couldn't do anything but hope that the disease would just somehow go away.

--

aventurine was growing increasingly worried as the days passed.

he hadn't seen you at all after you had broken up. sure, that was normal, but his gut told him something was wrong.

horrible thoughts of what could've happened to you plagued his mind, and he couldn't take it anymore.

he grabbed his keys, his coat, and headed towards your apartment.

maybe it was an invasion of privacy, but even your friends felt as if something were terribly wrong. he'd just check on you once, and never speak to you again. you'd be okay with that, right?

--

aventurine had knocked about a dozen times by now, but had received no answer.

he swallowed. he still had a spare key to your apartment, but what if you didn't want him to come in? what if you were just busy? what if he was breaching your privacy?

he took a shaky inhale.

fuck it.

--

he stepped inside your apartment, and was hit by the extremely potent smell of marigolds.

he glanced around, and froze at what he saw.

[in-my-feels-probably]

Home - Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Home

Request: Have you considered Benedict falling for a friend of Daphne's? Like if they're as close as Pen and Eloise but maybe with a little less drama? I think it would be funny for Benedict to ask for advice on how to talk to her and Daph being done. Just "you've known her for as long as I have."

Hi! Thank you again for the request, this is such a cute idea. I hope you don’t mind, but I made the reader a Featherington. I went a little off track too, it was easier for me to write that way. If this isn’t what you were looking for, I’m happy to take another request or alter this one. Sorry for the long wait on getting this out, but I hope you enjoy this :)

(Warnings: insecurity, middle child trauma, nothing else i think? idk, let me know if i missed anything)

—

Living in Grosvenor Square certainly had its ups and downs.

On one hand, you were mere steps away from your best friends. The Bridgertons lived right across the street, and you could visit them practically whenever you wanted. On the other hand—the not so nice hand—your family is the Featherington’s. Which isn’t an inherently bad thing. You loved your family, and could ignore most of the negatives. It just certainly has its pitfalls, being a Featherington daughter.

The Featherington’s—while rich and somewhat dignified—aren’t considered to be the most respectable of families. There wasn’t any one main reason why members of the ton didn’t much like your family, they just didn’t.

It wasn’t a personal grudge with you they had. In fact, you were quite liked by the ton.

More often than not, however, they didn’t pay much attention to you. It was easy to forget you were there when the rest of your family was the center of attention.

You were born soon after Phillipa but before Penelope, making you a middle child.

Your Mother seemed to connect with her eldest far more than her youngest, and that put a strain on your relationship. Not only that, you were much more akin to Penelope, having a lot more in common with her than your older sisters and your Mother combined. You were a bit of a wallflower, like Penelope, and it was a hard trait for your Mother to get past.

It wasn’t all negatives, though.

One of the biggest perks of being a Featherington was the fact that you lived directly across from the Bridgertons. You had spent most of your life over at their residence since the day you developed the ability to walk.

And, subsequently, the ability to walk across the street.

Violet Bridgerton’s first girl—Daphne—was born right around the same time as you were, and she decided Daphne was going to need a friend. Being the first girl born to a family of three brothers was a challenge, and Violet thought it best that Daphne should be able to socialize with a girl her age.

By the time you were both able to talk, you became inseparable. Just as your sister Penelope had come to develop a deep friendship with Eloise Bridgerton, you had come to develop your own with Daphne.

And by extension, you became good friends with her eldest brothers.

Anthony was the oldest, quite a bit older than you. He was already a handful of trouble by the time you showed up, and he already had plenty of practice teasing girls with his sisters as victims. In your first few years, he’d make it his mission each time you visited the house to fluster you, and annoy Daphne. It was harmless fun, and it never really bothered you, although he tried his hardest nonetheless. But as you got older, he became quite protective over you. It was like you were another sister to him, and you definitely bantered and squabbled like siblings do. As annoying as he could be, you loved him like a brother.

Colin was a similar story, although you saw something more to him. It was easy to, with the way Penelope talked about him endlessly. She could ramble for hours, making you listen to every painstaking detail. You definitely understood her affection for him, though. He’s charming and kind, much like his other brothers, but he’s also fun and witty. Daphne tended to favor him the most. They were closest in age, after all. Between her and Penelope, you spent quite a lot of time with him, and you certainly enjoyed his company.

But—besides Daphne—you enjoyed no other Bridgerton’s company like you did Benedict’s.

Benedict was different. He was more.

He was just as kind and charming as Anthony, and just as witty as Colin—certainly as annoyingly beautiful as Daphne—but he was more than that, too. He was sensitive and sweet, far more so than the rest of the Lords of the ton. He was passionate about art and love and valuing the little things. He didn’t care about marrying the prettiest girl for advantage, or inheriting her dowry. He cared about pursuing his dreams, and inspiring others to do the same.

Just the way he talked about his passions and values was enough to make any girl swoon, and yet he was still genuine with his words. It wasn’t for flattery or manipulation, he meant every word. Everything he did, he did for himself and the people he loves.

If it weren’t for Daphne currently holding the number one spot, you’d consider him your best friend.

He’d consider you the same.

You spend just as much time with him as you do with Daphne, and over the years, he’d come to cherish your company.

You saw him for him, not for his title. You listened to his endearing ramblings about his passions because you genuinely enjoyed hearing about them, not because you felt obligated to listen. You treated him like a person, not a prize to be won. It was all he could ask for in a best friend.

But that’s just it. That’s all you were to him. A best friend.

He was so sure that was all you’d ever be. Perhaps one day you’d be his sister in law, considering how close Penelope and Colin had gotten. You’d be family, and that was alright with him. It was what he expected. And then the unexpected happened.

He started falling.

—

The first time he noticed his feelings for you had shifted was the evening of a ball the Queen was throwing.

You’d come over early to get dressed with Daphne, wanting to help make sure she was perfect. She had finally revealed to you her ruse she was sharing with the Duke, you being the first person outside of their agreement to know. You were shocked at first, but as you listened to her speak, you gave her a knowing smile.

“You love him.”

Her eyes widened in shock, her cheeks blushing a rosy pink. “What? Why would you say that?”

“You love him,” you said again, smiling gently at her. “I’ve never seen you speak with such passion. With the way you talk about him, there’s no other possibility. One couldn’t possibly think that highly of another without feelings being involved—”

“You speak of my brother like that,” Daphne interrupted, chuckling when you swallowed your words.

You chose to ignore her statement, continuing to advise her on the best course of action for how to get through the remainder of her agreed upon days with the Duke. If the way he looked at her without her knowing was of any consequence, you were sure he felt the same way about her. All she had to do was make him see that.

When it was time to leave for the ball, all the Bridgerton’s piled into carriages. Daphne was hurried out the door, and she left with her Mother and Anthony, leaving you behind. When you tried to head back home to be escorted by your family, Benedict stopped you.

He had opened and closed his mouth a few times before he was able to choke out any words. Normally, he found it pretty easy to talk to you. But for some reason, the sight of you standing by his front door made his knees weak.

“I’m afraid they’ve already left,” he finally said, stopping you at the door. “They must have assumed you’d be accompanied by us.”

You groaned, feeling a pit form in your stomach. “I have no other way to get there. I promised Daphne I’d be there for her. Pen, too. She seemed quite nervous about attending tonight.”

“Not to worry,” he smiled, offering you his arm. “You can ride with me.”

You sighed in relief, thanking him profusely. “Well, aren’t you a lifesaver? Thank you, Benedict.”

“Of course,” he nodded, helping you into the carriage.

As you settled into your seat, a thought occurred to you. “Benedict…why are you still here? Not that I’m not grateful, but I don’t understand. You’ve been talking about going to the palace for days to see the Queen’s gallery. I would have expected you to be the first one out the door. But here you are.”

He was quiet for a moment as he took in your words, his eyes softening on you.

There were many things he could have said to you to easily explain it away. I’ll see the gallery soon anyways, or, I promised my Mother and yours that I’d make sure you got there safely. Numerous excuses he could have come up with to satisfy your curiosity, and yet, all that was coming to mind was, I can see the gallery another time, but I may never get to see you alone and sitting in front of me looking this beautiful with your undivided attention again, and I won’t pass up on the opportunity for anything.

“I don’t know,” he finally said as he shrugged his shoulders, feigning innocence. “But here I am.”

—

He didn’t truly acknowledge his feelings for you until months later, after attempting to ignore it for so long.

The second time he noticed was when he found out that the only reason he got into art school was because Anthony made a sizable donation to the Academy.

You had found him alone during yet another ton gathering, sulking on the edge of the party. Daphne had already gone home to Simon, and wouldn’t return for some time. Besides Penelope—and occasionally Eloise—Benedict was one of the only people you actually liked enough to be around. And seeing as both Penelope and Eloise were nowhere to be found, Benedict was your only hope.

You just hadn’t expected to find him nearly in tears, anxiously tugging at the cufflinks at the bottom of his sleeve.

It didn’t take much to get him to spill, and you found yourself pulling him inside to keep him away from prying eyes while he was in such a state. He told you all about Anthony’s meddling, and you knew it had crushed his heart to find out that he hadn’t actually achieved anything on his own.

“I know he did it out of the good of his heart…but I wish he hadn’t done it at all.”

He brought his hands up to cover his face, groaning into them. You reached for his wrists and tried to pull them away, but he wouldn’t budge. He finally relented when you said his name softly, letting you take his hands in yours.

“Benedict, it doesn’t matter how you got in. You’re an incredible artist, that’s all that matters,” you said softly, squeezing his hand in yours.

He shook his head, sighing in frustration. “I’m not. My work is child’s play compared to the other artists at the Academy. They all knew why I had even been given a spot in the first place. I’m an imposter, Y/N. A fraud. It was humiliating.”

“That’s a bit dramatic, darling,” you lightly chuckled, your smile fading when his defeated look didn’t waver.

“Alright, that’s it. Fess up. This can’t be all that’s bothering you. I know you, and I know you’re not one to give up that easily. You’ve been flustered all week, so what is it? You can tell me. Not that I have anyone to tell, but I won’t tell. I promise.”

His eyes softened on you as you spoke, and you could feel his grip on your hand get tighter. “I just…I’m tired.”

“Of what?”

“Of being second.”

You frowned, swiping your thumb across the back of his hand. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s just something Anthony said,” he murmured, keeping his eyes on your joined hands. “How I may be the second son, but that it doesn’t mean I am any less required to do my duties to the family. It’s rich coming from him. I’ve been second to him literally my entire life, and he’s only recently started taking his role seriously. I’ve played Father’s role since his passing. Isn’t it just my luck that he’s getting the credit for it?”

“You may be second to him in birth, but that is the only way you’re second. You’re every bit as good as him, Benedict,” you said firmly, but you weren’t sure if your words were sinking in.

He was uncharacteristically quiet, though his grip on your hands hadn’t wavered. His eyes were still on the floor, and his shoulders were shaking as he took uneven breaths.

“I know what that feels like, you know,” you finally said, making him glance up at you. “I’m a Featherington. A middle child at that, and it’s no secret my Mother favors my older sisters.”

Benedict let out a small laugh, shaking his head. “She’s wrong to. I don’t mean to be rude, but you and Pen are worlds more interesting and gracious than your sisters. The eldest, at least.”

“You don’t even know them,” you said in shock, but you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing, too.

“I don’t need to. You’re the only one I’m interested in knowing. Middle child or not.”

You couldn’t help but smile, although his kind words weren’t enough. The more you thought about just how second to the world you were, the more your smile faded.

“It’s not just being the middle child,” you continued, speaking softly. “I love your sister more than almost anything in this whole world, but I have always been second to her, too. She was the diamond of the season the second she was let out of leading strings, and now she’s my Duchess. I’m so happy for her, but it does put a damper on your confidence. Watching your best friend grow into this person everyone loves, and it’s like she didn’t even try.”

“Y/N—”

“Sometimes I feel awful, thinking this way. I know she tried, I was there for her every time she’d get overwhelmed. But she made it look so easy. I don’t know how she did it,” you rambled, taking a shuddering breath as you stopped yourself from speaking.

Benedict’s eyes softened on you as you spoke, making you want to shrink away from his gaze. He was being kind, and you didn’t know if it was genuine or not. If he was faking it for your sake, that was much worse than his actual pity.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make this about me, let’s get back to you—”

“Y/N,” he said again, this time effectively silencing you. “You can’t possibly feel that way.”

It was your turn to look at the floor. “Why shouldn’t I? It’s true.”

“That is the furthest thing from the truth,” he said gently, taking your hand. “You’re every bit as good as my sister. I know she makes things look easy, but she spoke just as highly of you as you do of her.”

You raised a brow. “Really?”

“Really. She used to tell me how kind you were to her, even after Lady Whistledown printed her supposed scandals. You were never judgemental.”

“I have no right to judge anyone, especially not her. She’s never said a bad thing about anyone, it isn’t right that people just took a scandal sheet as truth. And, if anything, she was kind to me. She, Eloise, Colin, and you are pretty much the only members of the ton that treat me like a normal person and not an outcast because of who my family is.”

Benedict smiled, squeezing your hand. “I would never dream of treating you any other way.”

You fought the flush that crept up to your cheeks, feeling the heat settle in them. You cleared your throat, shaking your head.

“Anyway,” you smiled, meeting his eyes. “I don’t mean to keep you away. Should we go back to the party? Someone may be looking for you. You’re quite popular, you know.”

Benedict couldn’t help but smile. And as he watched you look up at him through gentle eyes and an open heart, he couldn’t bring himself to move. It was like his feet were stuck to the floor, and he didn’t want to do anything to pull them up. He shook his head, keeping his hand in yours.

“No,” he finally answered, taking a seat. “Let them look. I’d much rather spend my evening with you. If you’ll allow me to, that is.”

You shook your head, taking a seat next to him. “I’ve got nowhere I’d rather be.”

—

The third time he noticed was when you, Daphne, and he accompanied Penelope and Colin to promenade throughout the square. She and Simon had come to visit, and she wanted to spend time with you and her family.

This time, he couldn’t ignore his feelings.

You followed behind Colin and Penelope, giving them enough room to speak privately without feeling like their older siblings were on their backs. You smiled as you watched Penelope look up at him, Colin being as gentlemanly as ever.

“It took him long enough,” you said, making Benedict chuckle.

“I thought he’d never figure it out.”

“Me either,” you agreed, grinning as you watched Colin smile down at your sister. “I should bash him over the head. I’ve listened to Pen spend countless hours rambling on about how utterly oblivious Colin can be. He owes me a debt.”

“He isn’t the only oblivious person I know,” Daphne piped in, making your eyes widen.

You had told her countless times about your feelings for Benedict, and how he never seemed to reciprocate them.

What you didn’t know is that he had done the same, on more than one occasion going to his siblings for advice on how to address them. Pushing them down until he couldn’t feel them seemed to be working, at least until now. And as far as he knew, you didn’t reciprocate his feelings either.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said nervously, silently pleading with her to drop the subject.

“Neither do I,” Benedict added, making Daphne chuckle.

She just grinned, ever so slightly raising a brow. “I mean Anthony, of course. It took him quite a while to realize that what he felt for Kate was much more than rivalry. I practically had to beg it out of him.”

“You’re a little matchmaker, aren’t you?” You asked, smiling at her. “Who’s next? Eloise, perhaps?”

“Perhaps…you?”

You immediately stilled, making them stop, too. “Me?”

“Don’t look so surprised, Y/N. You’ve been my best friend for ages, and I know what’s good for you. You’re lonely. And as awful as it is, the ton will start to talk. If the only people you talk to outside of your own family are Benedict and I, they’ll begin to notice.”

You frowned, nodding. She was right. Harsh, but right. The threat of becoming a spinster was looming over your head every season, and it had only gotten worse after Daphne married in her first season. Your second season came and went, and you were now in your third.

Without any prospects.

And it was looking like your baby sister was going to beat you to the punch as well. You were silent, a small frown on your face.

Thankfully, Benedict broke the silence. Just the thought of you marrying someone—especially someone who didn’t deserve you—made his skin crawl. He felt like he could keel over, and by the look on your face, he could tell you were feeling similarly. He couldn’t keep himself from turning you away from Daphne’s advice.

“Why settle?” He asked cautiously, giving you a sympathetic look. “Don’t let the ton pressure you. You’ll know when it’s the right time.”

You had fully made it around the square, now back in front of your house. Penelope was saying goodbye to Colin, at least for the moment. His Mother invited you and Penelope to dinner to welcome Simon and Daphne home, and so they’d see each other again in mere hours.

You gave Benedict a grateful smile, nodding. “You’re right. Thank you. If you’ll excuse me, I think it’s time to pull our siblings apart before they actually become attached at the hip. Mother wants us home before we join you later.”

Daphne chuckled, taking your hands in hers. “I think you’re right. I’ll see you soon, dearest.”

You squeezed her hands in yours, before going to gather your sister. You gave Colin a knowing smile, turning and heading inside with your sister in tow. The Bridgerton’s did the same, filing into their house one by one.

The second Benedict shut the door behind him, he collapsed against it, groaning. “What was all that for, Daph?”

“What? I was simply giving you both a little nudge. God knows you needed one. You’re even worse than Colin was, brother.”

“I don’t need a nudge. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

Colin laughed, taking off his coat as he headed up the stairs. “I could hear your stuttering. It was laughable.”

“Oh, piss off,” Benedict pouted, waving away Colin as he chuckled the rest of the way up the stairs.

Daphne offered him a small smile, letting out a sigh. She took his arm, leading them to the sitting room. After promptly sitting down, she gave him an expectant look, and he reluctantly sat next to her.

“Out with it,” she urged. “Why did our conversation with Y/N bother you so?”

“I don’t know,” he huffed, shaking his head.

Daphne narrowed her eyes, speaking gently but firmly. “You do know, Benedict. Admit it. You feel something for her.”

“Does it matter? She doesn’t feel the same way.”

“How could you possibly know that?” Daphne exasperatedly asked, nearly bursting at the seams.

She knew of both your affections for each other, and yet, she couldn’t bring herself to tell either of you about the other. It didn’t feel right, going behind the other’s back. She had decided the moment she knew of each of your feelings to let the matter run its own course. What she hadn’t anticipated was it taking this long.

It was getting near impossible to keep the secret, and she decided a little meddling was excusable.

“She’s never said anything to me that would allude to her feeling anything for me. What would you have me do? Ask her directly?”

“There’s an idea,” Daphne shrugged.

Benedict sighed, trying to shove down the anxiety he felt at the thought of confronting you. “You saw me out there. I wouldn’t even know where to start. How do I talk to her?”

“You’ve known her as long as I have, brother. She’s your best friend! Just talk to her. She’ll understand, I promise. She won’t hurt your feelings if that’s what you’re worried about. You know she won’t.”

“Then why do I feel like I’m going to be sick at the mere thought of talking to her about it?”

Daphne smiled, her eyes softening. “Because you love her.”

Benedict’s shoulders fell, like Daphne just saying it out loud was the first time he was admitting it to himself. Like his feelings hadn’t fully sunk in, and now they were hitting him all at once like a freight train. It was a realization for him, and it both excited and terrified him at the same time. His emotion was clear on his face as his mouth fell open, making Daphne’s smile widen.

“Don’t worry, brother,” she reassured him. “It will all work out. I truly believe that. Take the afternoon to yourself, and keep your mind off of it till dinner. You’ll know the right thing to say when it’s time.”

—

That evening, you returned to the Bridgerton’s residence with Penelope.

The family gathered in the sitting room before dinner was ready, but Daphne pulled you away before you could follow. She took you all the way to the backyard, sitting down on the swing. She motioned for you to follow, and you took a seat on the swing next to her.

“I wanted to apologize about earlier,” she said softly. “I saw your face, I know I upset you. That wasn’t my intention, and I hope you can forgive me.”

You shook your head. “Don’t apologize. I needed to hear it. I might not like it, but I needed to hear it.”

“It hurt, Y/N. You don’t have to minimize that to spare my feelings. It’s alright to admit it. Do you…do you want to talk about it? I think there’s something more to it that’s bothering you, love.”

She was right.

Of course she was, she was always right. You sighed, turning to look back through the window into the house. You could see Penelope standing with the rest of the family, laughing at something Colin was telling her. He was smiling down at her like she had hung every star in the sky, just so he could have the chance to watch them sparkle. It was beautiful.

And it was painful.

“I just,” you started, keeping your eyes on Penelope. “I’m happy for her. I’m so happy for her. But I’m feeling a bit left behind.”

Daphne took your hand, leaning closer. “What do you mean?”

“I feel so selfish saying this, but…it’s what I want. She’s getting all that I want. All my life, I’ve wanted what you and your family have. You’re all so loved, and you love each other so deeply. Pen deserves that, I want her to have that. And I have no doubt that by the end of the season, she’ll have it. She’ll marry Colin, and officially be a Bridgerton. Part of the family. But she won’t be mine anymore. And I won’t be hers.”

Daphne frowned, squeezing your hand in hers. She turned you to meet her eyes, giving you a knowing look.

“I have a feeling this has more to do with a certain brother of mine. And I don’t mean Colin.”

You frowned, and she knew she was right.

“This is about Benedict. With Penelope being with Colin, it’s a reminder that you’re not with him. And you want to be with him.”

You couldn’t deny your feelings any longer. “I do. God, I really do. But it’s more than that. I want to be his family. I want to be your family.”

“And you’ve had to silently watch Penelope get what you’ve been waiting for,” Daphne said in realization, her heart breaking when you nodded.

Daphne stood up, pulling you with her. She wrapped you into a tight hug, refusing to relent until you hugged her back. You sighed in frustration, letting her gently rock you back and forth.

“Y/N,” she said softly, pulling away. “You’re already my sister. Regardless of who you end up with, whether it’s my brother or not. Wherever you end up, it doesn’t matter. You will always be my sister. You never have to worry about that. Not ever.”

You smiled softly, squeezing her hands. Just as you opened your mouth to speak, a throat cleared behind you. You quickly turned to see Benedict standing at the door.

“Mother told me to come collect you both. Dinner will be soon. Daph, Simon is asking after you.”

Daphne nodded, turning back to you. “Come along, then.”

“Actually,” Benedict interrupted, his eyes falling on you. “Could I have a moment alone with Y/N, please? If it’s alright with you.”

“Of course,” you said nervously, nodding towards Daphne.

Daphne smiled, nodding back. She patted Benedict on the shoulder as she headed back inside, closing the door behind her.

When she was gone, Benedict gave you a sheepish smile. He motioned for you to sit down, and you took a seat on the swing. He sat on the swing next to you, turning his body so that he was facing you. His knees brushed yours as he settled.

“What is it?” You asked, giving him all your attention.

“I just wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

Your eyes softened on him, and you laid your hand on his arm. “I’m alright, Ben. Better now, since you’ve arrived.”

“Cheesy,” he smiled, but his heart was fluttering in his chest. “You know how to make a man smile, don’t you?”

“I didn’t think I was doing anything in particular,” you shrugged.

Benedict’s smile widened, and he couldn’t help but ponder his feelings for you. From the moment he found you alone on his doorstep, to when you took care of him at his lowest. From the way you treated his family, to the selflessness you never failed to put before your own wishes. From the way you made him feel, to the way he so desperately hoped you felt. He couldn’t stop himself from confessing, hoping his words wouldn’t come back to haunt him.

“I have to tell you something,” he murmured, taking a shuddering breath after he realized what he said, and what he was about to do.

You nodded. “What is it?”

“I think—and in case this is a huge mistake on my part, please forgive me—but, I think…I think I’m in love with you.”

You stiffened, standing up from the swing. “What?”

“I,” he stuttered, standing up as well. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was—”

You cut him off, taking his hands in yours. “Say it again.”

Benedict’s eyes widened, and you had caught him at a loss for words. He felt like you had punched him in the gut, sending him to his knees. But he nodded, squeezing your hands in his.

“I love you,” he said again, softer this time as he looked at you through gentle eyes. “I’ve loved you from the moment you got into that carriage with me, and I’ve loved you every moment since. I love you.”

Your shoulders fell, and you could feel the tears welling in your eyes. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, clinging tightly to his hands. You felt like your knees could give out, and the only thing holding you up was him.

“You’re not lying? You’re serious?”

Benedict almost laughed, nodding. “Yes, Y/N. I’m serious. Do you really think I would jest about this?”

You couldn’t help but laugh as well, bringing a hand up to cover your mouth. “All that time. All that time, and you couldn’t tell me? You certainly waited long enough.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand, darling,” he said, cocking his head in confusion.

You were starting to worry him now, concern written all over his face. It made your heart clench in your chest.

You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck. You were so happy, you couldn’t help but hold him close, smiling wider when you felt his arms wrap around your waist, despite his confusion. You held him tight, standing up on your toes so he could hear you loud and clear.

“I love you too, Benedict.”

He instantly pulled away, holding you back at arms length. “You what?”

“I love you,” you said again, taking his hands. “And I’ve been waiting ages for the day you’d finally tell me you felt the same. I never thought I’d hear you say the words, but I am so happy that you did.”

It was his turn to ask. “You’re serious? This isn’t a joke?”

You shook your head, and he squeezed your hands. You brought one of your joined hands up to press a kiss to the back of his, smiling up at him.

“I’ve never been more serious about anything in my entire life.”

—

A/N - Hi! I’m so sorry this took so long, it took me a long time to figure out what I wanted to write. Not sure why this one was so difficult, but I finished it! I hope you enjoyed it :)

[aangelinakii]

Hi I saw that your requests were open and I wanted to know if you would be interested in writing a headcanon where Jason's s/o is also a vigilante (they have powers maybe, like Violet Parr's with force field and invisibility); and strangely enough the villains quite like them (in a platonic way) they don't mind reader at all and actually have a type of frenemy thing going on? Wouldn't it be funny if while fighting the villains would just be like "I'll kill you Red hood! You too Batman and... oh hey reader!vigilante name :D how you doing? Have you thought about my invitation to the villains party?!"

If you accept my ask you can make as crack fic as you want, it is a funky prompt so 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️ but feel comfortable to decline also 💖

-🎃

TWO FRENEMIES WITH FRIES ON THE SIDE.

— you're alright. him, however...

summary : you're on patrol with your equally as vigilante boyfriend, when you come across some havoc in the night. the two of you need to work together to defeat them. but it's less easy for jason tonight.

before you read : this will be a superrr unserious fic, so if you aren't prepared for some silly stuff to happen, you just aren't on the level of this fic

note : thank you so so much for requesting pumpkin !! or is that a jack o lantern ??? either way, i love your anon emoji, and i thought this request was so funny !! i turned it into a fic instead of headcanons because i had a better idea for it, so i hope it's what you wanted !!! again, thank you for requesting ml <3

second note : sorry it took a few days to write up,, i went through a mini writer's block, but i hope it's enjoyable nonetheless 🫶🫶

when you and jason had left the apartment to go on patrol that evening, neither of you had really been expecting to find the condiment king breaking into a closed mcdonald's to steal their condiments. and of course it had to have been you two to find him.

no one ever wanted to come across the condiment king. you're probably sitting here assuming it's because of how indubitably evil he is, and how his plans always invoke terror into the streets of gotham; the reason no one wants to find him is because it will make the night a lot of work in terms of saving the city.

well, you're wrong. sure, he made the night far harder than it needed to, by squirting ketchup and mayo all over your patrol gear.

one, it made you stink for the rest of patrol – and when you're out looking after the city, you can't exactly go home and change. two, it's incredibly difficult to get out of clothes, for the condiment king had chemically altered his condiments of attack to thicken when oxidising; it's like trying to get sticky tapioca out of a metal sift.

he'd spotted jason first, who'd jumped down from the shadows to apprehend him. after all, the condiment king had only just bust the door open; he was quite a poor excuse for one of gotham's villains.

there was joker, penguin, two-face... for batman's case, he'd encountered space villains, which seem a lot scarier due to their near-invincible powers.

but you two had been stuck with the condiment king.

"AH!" he screamed, jumping back at the sight of the taller male, scrambling for his tubes and fire-guns. "you shouldn't be here!"

"me?" jason gravelled from beneath his red helmet, his head tilting and white eyes glowing menacingly. "i think we both have two very different ideas about that."

without warning, red and yellow squirted all over jason's front, causing him to step back in surprise, groaning at the growing stench.

before him, the condiment king yelped as his condiment guns were kicked from his grasp, as you sprung from the shadows.

"no can do, buddy," you breathed, watching his guns scatter to the ground, the tubes attached to their bottoms popping as they ripped from the bottles. "besides, haven't you heard about the boycott? why not use taco bell nacho cheese?"

the condiment king gasped, stepping back as you arrived, though his worry ceased quickly as he registered the sight of you. "oh, (name)! didn't realise you were out tonight."

"didn't realise you were, either, buddy."

you moved to stand behind him, taking his wrists and pinning them against his back, slapping a pair of cuffs against the skin. "but you understand why i have to do this, right?"

with a sigh, the condiment king nodded, his stature weakening. "yeah, i suppose so... hey, did you ever receive my invitation?"

"invitation?" the red hood repeated wearily, hands still avoiding his messy now-orange chest.

"uh.. i did, yeah," you chuckled as you tightened the handcuffs around his wrists. "i'll have to see if you can make it, yeah? find someone to bail you out if you can."

"invitation?" jason repeated once more. "what invitation?"

with a smile, the condiment king looked up at the red hood, completely disregarding the sauce he'd messed his clothes up with. "it's my birthday in a few weeks. i invited (name) and some other people, no big deal."

from behind his mask, jason looked over at you, and you could practically feel his quizzical glare on you. "you were invited to this nutter's birthday party?"

nonchalant as ever, you gave a nod, accompanying it with a half-shrug. "yeah, i'd ask to invite you, but something tells me you wouldn't be too wanted there."

[munsons-hellfire]

You're Losing Me 1 | Rhysand

SUMMARY: You married Rhysand for an escape from the Court of Nightmares. You loved him, but he wasn't Azriel. He wasn't your mate. And now Rhys and Azriel are losing you to the aftermath of Under the Mountain.

PAIRINGS: Rhysand x Reader, Azriel x Reader, Rhysand x Feyre Archeron

CONTENT WARNING: Heartbreak, fated mates, MFW, no smut, angst, fluff mentions of abuse, mentions of blood

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This one shot is based around You're Losing Me (From The Vault) by Taylor Swift. This will be a multi-part series that will kind of follow the books but will be altered a little. And yes it starts out with Rhys as the love interest but by the second part it'll be more focused on Azriel. If you'd like to be tagged in the rest of this multi-part series let me know in the comments and I'll add you to the tag list.

WORD COUNT: 2.5K

You were trapped Under the Mountain with your husband. He needed a partner, you needed a reason to leave your family behind in the Court of Nightmares. He was that escape for you, and you were that savior for him. It was only ever a marriage based upon a deal. But over the years you’d both fallen in love with each other. That’s what you had told yourself anyway. You knew that he told himself that too. Rhysand wasn’t Azriel… he wasn’t your mate.

Just before you and Rhysand had left for the party, you had felt the bond snap between you and Azriel. Though you hadn’t been sure if he had felt it. You’d never got the chance to ask anyway. You and Rhys were trapped Under the Mountain for 49 years, with no way for you to feel the bond between you and Azriel. It truly broke something inside you and you had felt it. You knew how you had gotten to this moment in time.

A human had saved you all, but you had suffered choosing to protect her from the wrath of Amarantha. She didn’t take too kindly to that. You were separated from the others not even knowing what had happened with the trials. You lied on the cold floor under the mountain still. Blood was leaking from your body, from the deep cuts that littered your body.

“A punishment for intervening with the human.” She’d said to you before they had dragged you away from Rhys. Panic had run through your body but it truly wasn’t enough to save you. The sobs had long since stopped coming out of your mouth. You felt so hollow lying there on the floor. The cold air rushed against the open cuts on your back. After the guards had left your room you’d heard commotion.

But you made no move to get up off the floor, too much pain ran through your body to allow you to pick yourself up from the floor. You felt calloused hands touch the side of your arm. Slowly you opened your eyes and looked up to see your husband staring back at you. A sad expression crossed Rhysand’s face as he kneeled down to look at you.

“My love.” He whispered, tears threatening to escape from his eyes.

“I don’t want you to see me like this.” You said softly, closing your eyes and pulling your head away from Rhys.

“I need to get you home.” Your eyes opened up and you stared up at him.

“What are you talking about?”

“She’s dead, we’re free. I need to get you to Madja.” You felt shock course through your body.

You would finally be heading home to your mate, seeing him for the first time in 49 years. “How?” It was a simple question and all you could get out.

“Feyre, she saved us all.” When your eyes found Rhysand’s violet eyes, you saw that look. You knew all too well what that look meant.

“She’s your mate isn’t she?” You asked. Rhys only nodded. “Az…” You paused, watching Rhys stare at you with a raised brow. But he seemed to understand what you were trying to say.

“You’ll see him soon enough.” Rhys gripped your hand and the two of you winnowed back to your home.

☾

Darkness is the only thing you saw before you woke up. The pain to your back was unbearable and you ended up passing out in Rhys arms. Azriel sat in the bed holding onto your hand, you rested on your stomach and the wounds on your back were starting to heal. He still wasn’t processing the fact that his brother and his mate were back home. It was so unreal to him. His shadows gilded around your body, careful to not touch your back.

They were beyond happy to have you back. You were home. Azriel wasn’t going to let anything happen to you, not ever again. He looked up when he saw Rhys standing at the door, he gave a small nod and adjusted his wings, pulling them in tightly as he stepped off the bed and walked over to Rhys.

“How’s Y/N?” Rhys asked, violet eyes on his wife. Though he knew that there might be a divorce in the future. You and Rhys would want different things now. He knew it even if you weren’t awake to express that. Rhys still cared for you deeply and would still allow you a home. Besides he knew that Azriel would kick his ass if he let you go back to the Court of Nightmares.

“Holding on.” Azriel kept his hazel eyes on you not wanting to look away for a second. He was so afraid that he’d lose you again. Not being able to hold you, comfort you, be there for you when you were struggling it was killing him.

“You know she doesn’t blame you for what happened to us.” Rhys said, picking up on what he was thinking just by the way he’d been staring at you.

“I should’ve gone with the both of you to the damned party.” Azriel’s tone was clipped, his jaw tight. He crossed his hands over his chest while his shadows moved around his body. Only a few remained near you.

“I gave you an order to stay here. Y/N, told you to listen to it. We didn’t need you there, we needed you here with everyone else to watch over Velaris. Y/N had told me that Amarantha might try to do something, she had told me that it was best that we go and make sure you all stay back here.”

“How did she know?” Azriel placed his hazel eyes on his brother.

“I don’t know, gut feeling I suppose. I’ve been wanting to see if Y/N might have some type of power.”

“Could that be possible?”

“It could be. We found out that she’s Hybern’s child. Amarantha told us. Apparently her mother escaped to the Court of Nightmares but gave her up before disappearing. No one had seen or heard from her that Y/N was left with that despicable family.”

“If you two get a divorce will she be sent back to the Court of Nightmares?” Rhys could hear the panic and worry in his brother’s voice. Finally Rhys turned to place his full on Azriel.

“We will get a divorce because I’m not you, she wants to be with you and to be honest she’s not Feyre. We had discussed this when we got married in the beginning. That should one or both of us find our mate and we want to accept it the other would allow a divorce. I’m letting her go, I still care for her deeply but she is not mine to love, not anymore.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” Azriel said sternly.

“I won’t send her back, Az. You should already know that. Y/N is your mate and your hers. She’s also a valued member of the Inner Circle. I do not plan on tossing her aside because I’ve found myself. I made a bargain to keep her protected from that family and I will continue to do that.” Rhys paused, he placed his violet eyes on you. You had heard the last stretch of their conversation. Rhys had told Azriel that you belonged to Hybern, that you were his offspring and yet he was still here. “I’ll leave you two alone.”

Rhys disappeared before Azriel could say anything further. You adjusted your body slightly to get more comfortable on the bed. Azriel was quick to move to your bed. You felt a few of his shadows swarm your body, they were being mindful of the cuts.

“Can you help me up?” You asked, as you were eager to get out of the bed and walk around. Azriel only nodded, he was silent and you started to think it was because of who your true father was. Azriel held onto your hands as he helped you walk around your room.

“How are you feeling?” He asked softly, his gaze on you. You had to look up at him, he was so much taller than you were.

“I’m fine.” You replied, it was a lie though. You were in a nightmare of your own making. Things were happening, you could feel it. Something was happening, a war was coming and you didn’t know how to tell them.

☾

Three weeks had passed, Rhysand, Azriel and Madja thought that they were getting better. And you were getting better, at least your back was. But you were declinding, your mind wasn’t the way it was before Amarantha had happened. And with all the trauma you’d received at the hands of your adoptive mother and adoptive father, followed by Amarantha. It was a struggle for you.

Cassian sat in your room with you, the door was open and the windows were open too. A breeze flew in while a shadow hovered around you. Azriel was out on a mission, he didn’t want to go by Rhys needed him to go on this mission so he’d ask Cass to sit with you and watch over you while he was gone. You laid on your bed, not facing the light coming from the sun outside. It was too bright in here for your liking.

You pulled the covers over your head ignoring Cassian when you knew he was staring at you. It pained him to see you like this. To see you suffering in silence and not sharing it with anyone. You hadn’t even talked to Rhys and Az about what was bothering you. But the truth was simple, you didn’t know how to tell them, to talk about the things that Amarantha forced you to do. It was far worse than the punishment you’d gotten for trying to intervene to save Feyre.

She’d discovered your powers, knew what you could do. And she used that to her advantage. Every time she manipulated you, made you believe that she’d find your mate and you’d watch him die. That’s when you learned from Amarantha that you were able to sense bad things. You knew that you could sense good things, but the majority of the time it was a handful of bad things that followed you around. You weren’t a seer.

That much was clear, while you could predict things before they could happen you couldn’t see them. Only feel them with every inch of your body, mind, and soul. You had yet to explain this to Rhysand. You knew he was itching to know what abilities you had. He was trying to see if you’d be a threat to him. You felt the room get darker, and suddenly you could hear voices all around you. One voice belonged to Cassian, the other belonged to your now ex-husband.

The divorce was quick and easy. You hadn’t been ready to accept the mating bond yet and Azriel was okay with that, he was okay with waiting even though that’s not what he felt on the inside. The sheets were ripped from your body and you groaned reaching for a pillow to pull over your head.

“No, you’ve been moping around for three weeks Y/N. You need to get up out of this bed now, and we need to discuss your powers.” His voice boomed around in your room, the pillow was then yanked from your hands. Your hair was wild and you were now glaring at the High Lord.

“Why? So you can throw me out the second I seem like I’m going to be a threat to your court.” You tried to hold yourself together, you stood on your bed on your knees glaring at Rhys, and Cassian who was still in the room. His face seemed to soften at the confession that left your lips.

“I will never throw you out of my court, you may not be my wife anymore. But you are and always will be one of my best friends. I made a promise to keep you safe and no matter what I will keep that. But this moping around needs to stop, you’re hurting Azriel.”

You were hurt, those words “you’re hurting Azriel,” they swarmed your mind. The words seemed to send you into a panic, you collapsed to the bed. Your eyes were staring up at the ceiling. Rhy's eyes came into view but you couldn’t move. It was happening again and you knew it. This is what Amarantha said you’d do when they started. You’d go deathly still as fragments of images and words appeared in your mind.

You’d always done your best to hide this from your family (well adoptive family), but when they saw it they knew it was grounds for punishment. And everytime it happened afterward you’d be sent to your room where you’d be locked in there for a week sometimes longer. When you made it to Velaris you’d gotten good at hiding it so they didn’t know about your power. Because you and Rhys didn’t sleep with each other or in the same room he never saw it.

It wasn’t until Amarantha that things got worse. She’d managed to unlock something inside you and turn this into a far more powerful being. You refused to call yourself a seer because you couldn’t see full on visions. When you finally got your vision back you saw Rhys and now Cass. They were both staring down at you worry etched across both their faces.

“What was that, Y/N?” Rhys questioned, as he and Cass lifted you up into a sitting position.

“I don’t remember much about my mother aside from the constant visions she had. They weren’t visions though, more like clipped images and words. And you know Hybern is my father, then that tells you all you need to know about who I’m supposed to be.” You said, pushing your hand up to your forehead to rub the pain away.

“And who are you supposed to be?” This time a new voice entered the conversation. You looked up to see your mate staring at you. A few of his shadows gathered around the other shadow that had stayed with you while Azriel was out on his mission. You stood from the bed and ran over to your mate collapsing into his chest as he wrapped his arms around your waist and his shadows swarmed the two of you.

“My mother gave me up for one reason only. I didn’t understand why and it never made sense, not until Amarantha told me. She was told to hand me over to my father if she ever caught me but she went against his order because she wanted me for herself. She used to tell me that I’d be a very powerful seer one day. I guess because I could see images and words that it would one day be useful especially if I fell into the full ability of my power.”

“So what does that mean then?” Cassian proceeded to question.

“In the wrong hands I could one day help destroy the world.”

[wordy-little-witch]

Okay but One Piece being in the pirate era and the lack of a frankly inordinate amount of sea shanties hurts me. Like you know DAMN well Roger was a partier, Buggy and Shanks undoubtedly know an incredible amount of shanties, from their first crews, from the new crews, from exploring and seeing and experiencing the world so thoroughly from such a young age.

Shanks would be the type to belt them, top of his lungs, but always adhere to the Codes, though he does think on it for a moment. People think he'd be a pirate head to toe, through and through, and he is! Truly, he is. He just doesn't really live by the Code and die by the Code the way some of the older generation does.

Buggy, despite popular belief, is the one to cling to those Codes with all he has. It's subtle, in the way he hums certain songs to himself but never sings the full lyrics without Meaning. He will sing and dance and party with his crew, they will make merry but they will do so properly. He's avant garde and nouveau expressionism but he's also old fashioned.

When he finds out Shanks taught this scrawny rubber twink everything the kid knows about piracy through sporadic meetings over a year, nearing a decade ago, he is absolutely livid. The swordsman is stupid but has a decent head on his shoulders for behavior. The redhead, from what he sees, knows more than most. He decides to put class in session.

He's surprised to be beaten so thoroughly and then furthermore to be removed succinctly. He's not gonna let it slide, obviously, but he'll play along. Sure. Could be fun. He was getting bored anyway.

Shit just so happens to hit the fan with this decision and all that follow. Shanks, knowing the truth of things, is simply VERY amused and Buggy is debating fratricide.

He's been playing this role for so long, it feels unnatural to drop it. It feels wrong. It makes him panic, makes him Itch.

It only comes to a head years later as he's humming to himself late in the evening on a certain day in September, having spent a good chunk of the day on his own, away from company and to the surprise of very few. Crocodile and Mihawk are among those who do not know why, but they alone are the ones to look for him.

Finding Buggy, singing softly to an animal as he gently brushes out their fur, surrounded by calm animals who seem to nearly build a wall with their bodies between himself and the world, was not anticipated to either men. Nor was hearing Buggy's voice, usually so shrill and rasped, flow gently over a melody with a grief filled expression. Ritchie, among the ones closest, gently head butted the clown with soulful eyes. Mihawk and Crocodile simply watch, seeing Buggy groom and pamper the creatures within the stables this far from town as he sings a specific sequence of songs.

Mihawk realizes first just what they're witnessing, and he grips the logia user's arm, guiding them both back. Crocodile, startled, goes to ask, and Hawkeyes simply shakes his head sharply. It is only once they are far enough that Mihawk breaths a stunned, "He's performing Rites."

"What?"

"Rites," the swordsman reiterates, sending the other a suspicious look. "The Rites of the Code."

The mafioso takes a drag from his cigar, gesturing for the other to go on.

Mihawk sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I forget," he remarks dryly, "how uneducated in ours ways you are."

"Excuse me-?!"

"Rites," the other interrupts, "are a form of mourning. Frequency varies, and the honoring actions can be altered as well. The constant component are the shanties sung in remembrance and the flags flown. For some, a single instance can be sufficient..." Golden eyes drift to the side, unfocused, as he continues. "For others, there is a need to continue doing so. Often, it is a crew mourning a commanding officer. Unlike Marines, Pirates all share an unspoken connection. Though paths may vary and goals may differ, we all care Her in our veins."

Violet eyes love to the expanse of blue, the horizon bleeding across the world. He knew. He may lack some of the nuance of the Code from his priorities laying further inland, but he knew this. How could he not when his own blood sang salted sprays? He knew this much at the very least.

"So the clown is in mourning."

"Yes."

".... why?"

"...... ....... it is September."

"And?"

"The 28th."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"You were there, too, 25 years ago. Loguetown."

Silence falls.

The wind rustles branches overhead. It carries the faintest wisps of a voice. The two men pointedly ignore it and the choked quality it had.

".... I see."

"..... yes. That is my theory, at any rate."

"............. Hawkeye."

"What?"

"He was on the King's crew."

"Yes, this has been established."

"Why?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Why him? Why the clown? He's not even 40 yet, so that day... he'd have been, what, 15, at the most? He'd have been on the crew for years by that point. He was there before the man was crowned, after all."

"Shanks was, as well. I believe the earliest mention was when he mentioned an incident from their childhood. He'd said they were... oh, what was it? Seven? Thereabouts. To be on a crew so young..."

"To be there so long, Hawkeye. The brat would have been with them since childhood. That crew was infamous for the things they did - the clown does not fit the pattern."

"He does not boast anything nearing the decorum expected of a fledgling of a King..."

"He knows the Codes, something never mentioned to us nor taught explicitly to his crew that we know of. He served under the King and kept it hidden from the world government for decades. He escaped the Grandline and settled as an East Blue nuisance for years. He was imprisoned in Impel Down with no sea stone."

Golden eyes widen. "You believe he has been hiding more than simply his heritage."

"What makes more sense? This, or what we have thought so far."

"How would we confirm it?"

"Just ask me, maybe?"

Neither man will admit to being startled when a new voice chimes in, soft and hoarse, drowsy. Buggy leans into Ritchie's side as the lion purrs loudly, the clown rubbing his eye.

He continues. "Tomorrow, though. It's late, I'm not feeling well, and Ritch and I have a date with my blanket nest."

"The lion?" / "Blanket nest?"

Buggy giggles softly. "Weighted blankets are expensive. Weighted Ritchies only cost snacks and chin scritches," he remarks softly. "As for the blankets, nests are the way to go. Good night."

Two dark haired men are left by a drowsy clown and lion in the woods on the edge of town with much to thing on and a list to compile for the next day.

The first question? How Mihawk had not sensed him whatsoever on approach.

[hunn1e-bunn1e]

Aether - "Mysterious Adeptus, Sky Weaver"

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

In which the Traveler and Paimon unknowingly come across a mysterious adeptus by the name of Sky Weaver while the two are exploring near the sparsely populated cliffsides of Mt. Mingyuan. Or; In which the long-forgotten tale of the adeptus Sky Weaver is uncovered by Aether from the lips of the various Adepti of the Nation of Liyue and the people who know them.

Prologue | Part 1 | (1.5) | Part 2 | (2.5) | Part 3 | (3.5) | Part 4 | (4.5) | Part 5 | (5.5) | Part 6 | (6.5) | Epilog | Extra 1 | Extra 2

                                                                                                   

🌠•♡•🌠•♡•🌠•♡•🌠•♡•🌠•♡•🌠•♡•🌠•♡•🌠

“Now that we've helped Fujin tend to the soil, Paimon has noticed that it's a lot prettier in Chenyu Vale.”  

The floating fairy-like creature chirps as she hovers along the dirt path by her blonde companion's side.

“Speaking of prettier things. Traveler, did you notice that the sky here in Chenyu Vale is much different from the skies in the rest of Liyue?”

The golden blonde next to her stops and turns his gaze onto her, raising a brow of skepticism. His eyes then raise to the darkened sky that hangs above them and take in the sight.

What Paimon said was true. The sky truly was different from the rest of Liyue and any other region that the two had visited so far. As it was night, the sky was a deep midnight blue with swirls of violet and turquoise that seemed to glow from within the cotton-like clouds that partially obscured and circled the shining white moon. Stars speckle the suspended landscape of night haphazardly, their droplets of white add an almost otherworldly quality to the already ethereal scene. And, of course, the faded silhouette of Celestia looms ominously in the distance, creeping north ever so slowly. It truly was unlike anything that Aether had ever seen before.

“That's–… how did I never notice it.”

The golden blonde mumbles as he looks up in wonder and amazement, but also confusion. 

Why was the sky in Chenyu Vale so drastically different from anywhere else? What was so different about this place? How was the sky this way in the first place? It was strange; like the sky was altered by something to be this way, and although Aether wanted to think that something like that was impossible, his expectations have been demolished and rebuilt countless times since he descended into Teyvat.

The small bob-haired fairy floated in front of his face and waved her arms about to attract his attention.

“Hey, if you're curious about the sky, why don't we head back to Yilong Wharf and ask the locals about it? Maybe if we're lucky we'll run into Cloud Retai– uhm… Xianyun again; she might know too!” 

Paimon suggests before turning and floating further down the dirt road toward their new destination.

“Hm.”  

Aether hums, giving a curt nod as he follows his guide back to the wharf.

“Uuugh! Paimon is so tired! Why is Chiwang Terrace so far from here anyway!? It's already daytime!”  

Paimon whines as she slowly floats along with her blonde companion at a snail's pace in a slumped-over position.

“How about we head over to Jiulue Teahouse? We can sit down and eat some of the local dishes then we can start asking around.”  

The outlander chuckles softly as he reaches over and pats the floating girl on the head in sympathy before grabbing her and carefully holding her under his arm. Paimon only sighs and gives her friend a nod as she's carried off in the direction of the teahouse. 

On their way over to one of the nearby stalls, Aether spots a storyteller on the outside stage; maybe this storyteller has a few tales about the skies here. Though, after a short deliberation, he lets his floating companion go and buy food for the two of them while he goes and speaks to the storyteller; with a reasonable allowance, lest the girl buy out the stall's entire stock and empty his mora pouch.

Once the two part ways, the golden blonde sees the older man leaving off the stage, seemingly emptied of his arsenal of tall tales. So he waves the man, who he learns is named Jiewu going by the nearby chatter of patrons, down.

“Excuse me! I know that you just got off the stage, but I was wondering if you had any stories about the skies of Chenyu Vale?”  

He asked straightforwardly; getting a comical sweat drop from the older man at his bluntness.

Jiewu mutters a bit as he pinches his chin between his thumb and forefinger; his crow's feet becoming more pronounced as he squints his eyes in thought. The older man takes a glance up at the magnificent sky with a bland expression, as if it were the most mundane thing that he'd ever seen before. It was almost as if he didn't notice anything significant at all. Strange.

“I can't say I have any stories about the sky, young man. I've no clue why you're interested in something like that, there's nothing very spectacular about the sky.”  

Jiewu confusedly drones out; raising a thick brow at the blonde and taking another glance at the sky above.

“Was there anything else you needed, young man? If I'm not home soon, my wife will have a fit”  

The older man asks in a still polite but slightly rushed tone, making it clear that he wanted the conversation to end quickly.

Aether only shakes his head and allows the man to take his leave. Turning around, he sees Paimon floating toward him with bagged food in hand and an annoyed expression on her face. He raises a brow at her, silently asking what was wrong.

“Paimon asked the stall owner about the sky while waiting for the food, but he only looked at Paimon with a weird face and said ‘there's nothing really special about the sky, is there?’. And the other people Paimon asked said something similar!”  

The floating girl loudly complains before digging her hands into the bag, pulling out a skewer of food and angrily chomping on it; letting out muffled mumbles about giving the stall owner an ugly nickname.

Aether only sighs as he motions for his fairy-like companion to follow him.

Their next stop: Mt. Mingyuan!

As the traveler scaled the cliffs of Mt. Mingyuan, he kept hearing the sound of a paper bag rustling and the unmistakable munching of food. A metaphorical vein bulged out on his temple as he whipped his head around to look at his floating guide.

“You— Paimon, give me the bag! If you eat everything again, I swear I'll feed you to a cryo slime!”  

Aether growled as he recklessly took one hand off the cliffside to swipe at the bag in Paimon's hands, the girl dodging every time.

Unfortunately, all the wild movements made him lose his foothold in the cliffside and sent him plummeting towards the ground below. In too much shock to deploy his wind glider, all the golden blonde could do was stare upwards at the screaming Paimon who too was frozen in fear. 

But then… on the wind, he heard a faint whisper of droplets landing on the surface of water…

From beneath him, Aether felt a soft embrace pushing him upwards; the quiet sounds of shifting waters made him look back. What he could only describe was a small cloud of heavy mist with a ring of water swirling around it. The strange cloud lifted him, and Paimon when it reached the height she was at, up and over the cliffside, where it then came to a stop and seemingly patiently waited for him to get off. 

The golden blonde shakily stumbled off of the helpful cloud and fell on his bottom on the grassy cliff top. His heart beat erratically and his whole body trembled as the adrenaline finally caught up with him. He didn't even register the tearful apologies of his floating friend as she hugged him and sobbed into his chest.

“...One did not think that mortals had become so foolish over such a short time…”  

A gentle voice softly whispered from a place that Aether couldn't locate.

“...You shall consider yourself lucky that one was present to witness your fall, lest you no longer be among the living…”  

The voice spoke familiarly; it reminded Aether of how Xianyun and the other adeptus spoke. Surely this voice must belong to another adeptus that he just hadn't met yet.

“...Descend the mountain and return to a safer location, the cliffs of Mt. Mingyuan are no place for young mortals like yourself…”  

The voice spoke again, this time though, it seemed to be coming from the cloud that saved him from his fall. With every syllable pronounced, the cloud of mist gave off a faint but ethereal glow in a medley of colors. Colors that were reminiscent of the night sky that he had seen just yesterday.

Breaking from his adrenaline-fueled trance, Aether shakily gets to his feet and takes the still-sobbing Paimon into his arms. He spared a glance back at the cloud, tempted to stay and ask it about its possible connection to the mysterious skies that he had been wondering about, but one look at the disheveled companion in his arms and he knew his answer. He'd have to worry about that later, his dear friend needs him right now.

“Can… Can I ask you for your name?”  

The golden blonde asked, almost sounding as if he was begging with how his voice trembled.

“...One's name should be of no concern to you at this time; you must go now…”

The ‘cloud’ softly answered back, as if it were trying to coax a sleepy child back into a dream.

With that answer, Aether nodded and headed down the mountain with careful and measured steps, occasionally giving quick glances down at the sleeping Paimon's tear-stained face. He sighs, perhaps he can just ask about this mysterious adeptus another time, he has much more important things to worry about now.

🌠•♡•🌠•♡•🌠•♡•🌠•♡•🌠•♡•🌠•♡•🌠•♡•🌠

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

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[misc-obeyme]

Hello my beloved CC I’d love to hear about how Mephistopheles would react to MC giving him conversation hearts?

Dearest Violet, I hope you're having a fabulous Valentine's Day!

I really thought I wouldn't have time to do all the other characters today, but the stars have aligned and gave me some unexpected extra hours! So I went ahead and did everybody, including of course our man Mephisto! I also did my OC Arsenios because I was curious about what his reaction would be lol.

Thank you for asking! 💕

XOXO Part Two - GN!MC x side characters & OC Arsenios

Warnings: none!

Part One

Diavolo

Absolutely thrilled, of course. Tell him everything you know about conversation hearts, even if it's just that they exist and are sold every year. Watch his eyes get all shiny as he looks at them because he thinks they're so adorable.

He will eat them, but he will read every single one in the box out loud to you first. And he'll want you to eat them with him, so he's going to deliberately give you the ones that he would actually like to say to you. This means you end up eating most of them because he can't help himself.

Give him the one that says MY HERO and watch him blush. He tries to keep his cool, but you can see how much it means to him. He's happy you gave him these, MC. Thank you for sharing a piece of your world with him.

Now you're the one blushing. Diavolo gives you his signature laugh and pulls you into his arms. Gives you the last one that just says KISS before doing exactly that.

Barbatos

He's surprised, but quite happy because it turns out he actually made his own version to give to you. He thought you might like a little piece of home, but he never expected you to share that same thing with him. He's touched that you thought of him, MC.

He is aware of them because of his tendency to learn about human world desserts and candies. The ones he made for you are beyond delicious. You insist he share them with you because they taste better than the normal chalk version. Barbatos is happy to, but he finds the regular human world variety quite charming as well.

His hearts have a lot of the usual cute sayings, but a couple of them have more elaborate decorations such as a little bouquet of flowers or an elegant lace pattern. You can't help but blush when you find one that just says your name.

He finds the same message in both sets of hearts and gives them to you. They say BE MINE. Give him one back that says I'M YOURS and all the sweet candies are forgotten because he needs you in his arms that very second.

Simeon

Oh these are incredibly cute. He's so happy that you've given him some! If the box happens to have any texting acronyms, though, he will be baffled. Holds one up for you that says TTYL with a question in his eyes. Explain to him what they all mean and that it's only something they include because they're short enough to fit on the hearts.

Simeon finds them delightful. He'll be especially pleased if you give him an extra box for Luke. He thinks Luke would love to decorate a cake with some of these!

But he has to admit that the messages are a little too short to truly encompass how he feels about you. He shifts some of them around to from little sentences, eventually landing on REAL LOVE, PEACE, FOREVER. Do you understand what he's trying to say, MC?

Maybe you form your own sentence in hopes that he'll see you do understand. Something like ONLY YOU, ANGEL. Watch him blush and smile. Then he's kissing you and it's far sweeter than anything a conversation heart has to offer.

Solomon

Of course he's already familiar with this particular item from your shared human experience. He was probably alive when they first came on the scene and he might tell you about it if you prod him enough. He might not have been paying much attention, though, so likely his memory on this just that they showed up at some point.

He's really quite happy that you gave him some. His instinct is to wow you by using magic to alter them. He turns them different colors and changes the words on them. He makes one spell out a whole Shakespeare sonnet one or two words at a time.

You can't help but laugh at that, but you tell him it's cheating. If he really wants to let you know how he feels, he has to use what's already in the box. He accepts your challenge. Have you forgotten who you're dealing with, MC?

Surprises you by not giving you a whole stack of them. He only hands you a single heart. It says, boldly and clearly, I LOVE YOU. He's smiling his mischievous smile, but there's a slight blush there, too. Your answer is a kiss.

Mephistopheles

At first he's somewhat confused. Why are you giving him a box full of chalk, MC? He's not exactly familiar with human world stuff, so he doesn't realize it's candy at first. Explain it to him and he's surprisingly appreciative. He wasn't expecting you to think of him.

Really knock his socks off by giving him a few extra boxes for his little brother. The fact that you remembered he has one really makes him soft. It also gives him the opportunity to ask about your own family. He wants to know about them, if you want to talk about them.

Now you're having a whole conversation that goes far beyond the hearts, but you're both enjoying them together. He might not even like them all that much, but he seems to be content to eat them with you.

Deliberately give him one that says FIRST KISS and watch him get flustered. Acts like it wasn't an invitation on your part, so you'll have to be a little more blatant if you actually want him to kiss you. Eventually he gets the message and it turns out he's wanted to kiss you all along. You can tell by how hungry his lips are and the way he wraps his arms so tightly around you.

Raphael

Surprises you by actually knowing about them. Seems confused by your surprise. Surely you've heard about Michael's preference for sweet things. That extends to human world items like this, too. He doesn't really get the appeal, but he is happy that you thought of him.

He actually likes the brevity of the messages. They're short and efficient, communicating a single sentiment quickly and clearly. Nobody could misinterpret something that says CALL ME. That's pretty straightforward, don't you think, MC?

This argument is all well and good until you give him one that says XOXO. He has no idea what that means. Perhaps it's in a human world language he's not familiar with? He takes back everything he said about clear communication.

Once you explain what they mean, he gets a little flustered. Hugs and kisses? Why not just say that? Distract him by pulling him in for a simultaneous hug and kiss. He's blushing for real now. He understands the essence of XOXO a little better, but he wouldn't mind if you showed him again.

Thirteen

Wow, humans do some really adorable things, don't they? Look at these tiny hearts with cheesy words on them! They look like chalk, but she finds them endearing. And of course she's trying to hide how pleased she is that you gave her something. It's really cute of you.

She's already coming up with ways to use them for traps. Put a spell on one and leave it somewhere an immortal sorcerer just might happen to find it. She might do it, too, if you don't distract her a bit.

Find one that says MY GIRL to give to her. She smiles and blushes just a little, but leans in to ask if you think she belongs to you. Maybe you tell her that you'd like that. A direct response such as that flusters her and now she's not sure how to react.

Searches through the hearts, but she can't seem to find one that says what she wants, so she just shoves the first one she picks up toward you. It says LOL. You actually do laugh because it's pretty cute how flustered she is. She decides to clear things up by kissing you. You get a little dizzy at how quickly she goes from shy to bold. It's some time before she lets you go.

Arsenios

The minute you put the box in his hand, he's fighting down a blush because wow, you are really cute, MC. A sweet little human like you actually taking the time to give him these candies stamped with lovey phrases really surprises him.

He takes them all out of the box and lines them up in the way that makes the most sense. You're a little confused about why he's doing it until he takes out his guitar. A few chords later and he's singing you a song using every phrase from the box. You're both laughing pretty quickly because the words are mostly nonsense.

But Arsenios deliberately left the best group for last and his voice becomes sweet when he sings you the final line. ONLY YOU, MY LOVE, BE TRUE. It's still only a fragment of a sentence at best, but the sentiment rings through the notes and you can see it in his eyes.

He smiles at you as the notes fade away because he's pleased at your reaction. But it isn't enough, so he takes your hands and asks if he can kiss you. If you say yes, you'll find yourself so distracted in his embrace that you don't notice that he never actually ate any of the candy hearts.

xoxo part one with the brothers

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

I really love you aemond fics!! The angst always on point, so I have a request you can reject it.

After the birth of thier child who doesn't hold targaryen features, aemond doubts his wife, and his mother doesn't help ease his doubts. He refuses to see her or even be in the same room, which makes the reader falls into depression it wasn't until the babe was few months old and able to open their eyes probably that the violet targaryen eyes are shown. He hears it from her personal maid and then tries to redeem himself after seeing the state she has fallen into, feeling great guilt because of his mistrust to her.

Sorry if it's too long and thank you!

Woof, nonnie, you're going straight for the jugular with this request.

I hope you don't mind, but I've altered this slightly to fit with the headcanons I have for Aemond. Drabble below the gif and cut. This is SFW, but still 18+.

You cried, tears of relief and exhaustion rolling down your cheeks as you fell back into the pillows. Finally able to relax, hours of painful and intensive labour were at an end as the nursemaids worked to remove the afterbirth and wrap your squalling bundle.

Aemond ceased his anxious pacing as the babe was placed into your waiting arms. Striding towards the bed and seating himself on the edge of it, he placed his arms around you protectively, kissing the crown of your head. "You did so well, my love, I'm proud of you."

"Congratulations, Prince and Princess, you have a healthy baby girl." smiled the nursemaid.

You beamed up at your husband, as you cradled your newborn daughter to your chest.

The look of adoration and wonder shone bright in Aemond's violet eye as he gazed down at the infant. "We will call her Alysanne" he whispered.

You smiled, offering a tired "hmmm" in agreement. You eyes were heavy with impending sleep.

"I will let you rest, my love", Aemond said softly, placing a delicate kiss to your temple, "I must tell my mother the wonderful news. Avy jorrāelan." I love you.

Aemond had a spring in his step as he walked the corridors of the Red Keep towards his mother's apartments. He was a father, surely there was nothing that could sully this happy feeling?

Chatter from the courtyard below caused his ears to prickle, and he stopped in his tracks, lingering behind a pillar to mask his presence as he eavesdropped.

"I just can't imagine wanting to couple with...him..." a lady's voice said, full of disgust.

"I know!" the other assented, "Imagine having to look upon that marred face. It would make me sick."

"I shouldn't imagine that princess does look upon him much. Who would want to?"

"Yes, it's highly unlikely the babe is his. A bastard, I reckon."

Aemond had heard enough. Bile rose in his throat, as his heart hammered wildly in his chest. The search for his mother forgotten, he found his legs carrying him back towards your bed chambers.

Insecurity fuelled his actions. You'd never given Aemond any reason to doubt your love or devotion for him. If anything, you were slightly over eager to perform your marital duties and Aemond basked in the attention you rained down upon him.

There was always a niggling doubt in the back of his mind though. "She can do better. She deserves someone whole."

He swept back into the room, regarding you coldly, as he stood at the foot of the bed.

You paused your rocking of your fussing infant and looked up questioningly at your husband.

"Is she mine?" he demanded.

Aemond regretted the words the instant they left his mouth, seeing the hurt expression that crumpled your soft features.

"How can you ask such a thing?!" you gasped, holding Alysanne protectively to your chest, as if to shield her from the insinuation his question carried.

He felt his heart twist urgently in his chest as he struggled to find the words to placate you. "I..."

"Leave us!" you snapped, hot tears scalded the rims of your tired eyes.

Aemond felt as though his very soul was being torn from his body, he reached forward, desperate to comfort you in your fragile state.

"I said leave us!" you all but screamed, tears now flowing hotly down your cheeks. Your daughter wailed in your arms.

Aemond turned, downtrodden, and walked away. "What the fuck have I just done?" he thought to himself.

After a few hours riding on Vhagar, Aemond returned to the Red Keep with a sense of clarity and deep regret.

He slipped quietly into your bedchambers. You were asleep, unsurprisingly. The hour was late and your labours had left you exhausted.

Baby Alysanne lay gurgling in her cradle beside you. As he gazed down at the babe, the pale moonlight reflected the vibrant lilac hue of her doubtless Targaryen eyes. He hated himself for ever questioning her parentage. For questioning your loyalty.

He gingerly reached into the cradle, stroking a gentle hand over his baby daughter. A lone tear tracked its way down his cheek as she grasped his index finger in her little fist.

"ñuha byka zaldrīzes, iksan sīr vaoreznuni", he whispered. My tiny dragon, I am so sorry.

You awoke as the sun was rising, bleary eyed and waiting for the room to swim back into focus. Confused as to why you hadn't been awoken by the cries of your daughter.

The sight that finally met your eyes when you eventually sat up immediately melted your heart, all anger you'd felt for Aemond the previous day dissipated.

He sat slumped in an armchair beside the bed, dozing as Alysanne lay sleeping soundly on his chest. One of his large hands was splayed protectively across her back as she nuzzled into his neck.

You were unable to stop the happy tears that flowed freely and your sniffles startled Aemond from his light slumber.

Slowly and with much care he lifted baby Alysanne from him, placing her back in her cradle and moving to sit beside you on the bed.

"I am so sorry", he whispered, his voice mere moments from cracking, as he pulled you into his arms.

"All is forgiven, my love," you stroked his hair to soothe him, "I know you did not mean it, but why ever did you say it?"

He inhaled a shuddering breath, before pulling away from you and cupping your face as he looked earnestly into your eyes. "I overheard some common folk yesterday saying how awful it must be for you to have to lay with me and I am ashamed to say I let my own thoughts get the better of me."

"Oh, Aemond", you whimpered, "How can you let anyone make you think that? You know there is no one I would rather have as my husband than you. No one I love more."

"I know", he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead, "And I will never doubt you again."

"Good", you quipped, pressing forward to capture his lips with yours. When you finally broke apart you whispered, "And if you tell me who these common folk were, I will have them fed to Vhagar."

He chuckled drily. "Avy jorrāelan, ñuha nēdenka zaldrīzes." I love you, my fierce dragon.

[alterrune]

Have any of you seen what happened while she was in the forest? Any Pokémon hurt her?

Oh I remember what happened. VIVIDLY. Back in the monster house, two of those little shits hit me with synchronized attack, with one poisoning me and the other paralyzing me. They both got 10 hits on me. And I don't mean 10 hits total, I mean 10 hits EACH. I was hit 20 times by those little bastards before I managed to escape with the others. The reason why I vomited so hard before passing out wasn't just overexhaustion, it was also that damn poisoning.

As for the paralysis, well, I think you know what it did. I already knew it had happened when I couldn't keep myself up while I puked the last of the poisioning out of my system and did a faceplant into the grass. I thought it was gone since the poisoning had finally worn off, but I was wrong, and my legs are now completely unusable until we get back home.

...wow. That is just...wow. I have no idea how to respond to that.

Don't worry, Kyle, you don't have to respond to that. On the bright side, I am enjoying the piggyback ride Alter's giving me.

Thanks, Vi. I'm glad you're enjoying the ride on my shoulders. I'm definitely enjoying giving you the ride just as much!

[cluelessteam]

Whispers Through Time: {~Meeting Daemon~}

A/N: I am so sorry I have not posted chapter 3, I have been really busy with school and had to catch up with all my work since I was really sick last week and missed a bunch of work!

Summary: After being mysteriously transported into the world of House of the Dragon, a modern-day woman poses as a seer to gain entry into the Targaryen court. Armed with knowledge of the future, she secretly warns Rhaenyra and Daemon of looming dangers while hiding her true identity. As she grows closer to both, romantic tension builds, but so do the risks of her deception. With Daemon's suspicions rising and Rhaenyra’s trust deepening, the reader must navigate her lies while trying to alter their tragic fate—before everything unravels.

Characters: Rhaenyra & Daemon

Pairing: Rhaenyra x Fem!Reader x Daemon

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1243

Tag List: @snowtargaryen

Chapter 3 --- Chapter 4

Days had passed since you left the first note for Rhaenyra, and the subtle shift in her demeanor was unmistakable. While she had yet to confront anyone publicly, you could sense her wariness in the way she interacted with those around her. The seeds of doubt had been planted, and though you were relieved that your warning had reached her, the constant danger of being discovered hung over you like a storm cloud.

But it wasn’t just Rhaenyra’s growing caution that concerned you. Daemon Targaryen’s presence had become more frequent, and wherever he went, he seemed to move with a purpose that unnerved you. You had caught glimpses of him here and there—always watching, always listening. It was only a matter of time before your paths crossed again.

And then, one day, it happened.

You had been sent on an errand to deliver herbs to the maester’s chambers, a mundane task that took you through the winding corridors of the Red Keep. Your mind was preoccupied with the next note you intended to leave for Rhaenyra—one that would warn her of a more immediate threat from within her inner circle. As you turned a corner, lost in thought, you nearly collided with someone coming in the opposite direction.

Startled, you looked up—and your breath caught in your throat.

It was Daemon.

The Rogue Prince stood before you, his silver hair catching the light of the nearby torches. His violet eyes regarded you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence between you thick with unspoken questions. His gaze swept over you, as though he were trying to read your every thought, your every secret.

“Apologies, my lord,” you stammered, quickly stepping back and bowing your head to avoid his piercing stare. Your heart hammered in your chest as you prayed he would simply move on and forget the encounter.

But Daemon was not one to let things go so easily.

“You’re the midwife, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice smooth yet laced with something sharp, something dangerous.

“Yes, my lord,” you replied, keeping your tone as neutral as possible. “I was sent to deliver these herbs to the maester.”

He nodded, though his eyes never left you. “I’ve heard you’ve been quite useful since your arrival.” His words were casual, but you sensed the underlying suspicion. “Unusual for someone to earn such favor so quickly.”

“I only do what I can to be of service,” you said, trying to maintain your composure.

Daemon smirked, his lips curling into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Modest, too. How very noble of you.” He took a step closer, and you instinctively tensed. “And yet, you’ve managed to find yourself in quite a few interesting places around the Keep, haven’t you?”

Your pulse quickened. Did he know? Had someone seen you near Rhaenyra’s chambers? You forced yourself to remain calm, to hold his gaze without faltering. “I go where I am needed, my lord. Nothing more.”

His smirk widened, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Of course. You’re just a humble midwife, after all.”

The way he said it made it sound like a lie, like he knew there was more to your story than you were letting on. But you couldn’t afford to let him push you. Not here. Not now.

“I should be going,” you said, shifting the basket of herbs in your arms as an excuse to leave. “The maester is waiting.”

Daemon stepped aside, though his gaze followed you as you passed. “Take care,” he called after you, his tone laced with amusement. “The Red Keep can be… unpredictable.”

You didn’t respond, quickening your pace as you made your way down the hall. Only when you were far enough away did you let out the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

That night, as you sat alone in your room, the weight of the encounter with Daemon settled heavily on your shoulders. He knew something—maybe not everything, but enough to make him suspicious. And if there was one thing you knew about Daemon Targaryen, it was that he didn’t let things go easily. His curiosity was as dangerous as his sword, and now, it was fixed on you.

You had to be more careful.

But even as the thought crossed your mind, you knew that avoiding Daemon’s scrutiny wasn’t your only problem. You still had to deliver the next note to Rhaenyra. And this time, it would be even riskier.

The following day, the Keep was buzzing with activity as preparations for an upcoming feast were underway. Servants rushed through the halls, carrying linens, food, and other supplies, while the nobles discussed matters of the court. It was the perfect distraction.

You had written the second note the night before, the words carefully chosen to warn Rhaenyra of an impending plot by one of her closest allies. Slipping the note into the same alcove near her chambers would be tricky, especially with Daemon’s increased presence around the Keep. But you didn’t have a choice.

As you moved through the crowded halls, your mind raced with thoughts of how to avoid detection. The feast provided some cover, but there were more guards than usual stationed near Rhaenyra’s quarters. You would have to be quick.

When you finally reached the corridor leading to her chambers, you were relieved to see that the guards were distracted by a group of visiting nobles. Seizing the opportunity, you hurried toward the alcove and slipped the note into place, your hands shaking slightly from the adrenaline.

Just as you turned to leave, you heard footsteps approaching. Panic surged through you as you ducked into the shadows of a nearby column, your heart pounding in your chest.

Daemon.

He appeared at the far end of the hall, his expression unreadable as he spoke to one of the guards. You held your breath, praying that he wouldn’t notice the note—or worse, see you hiding. For what felt like an eternity, you stayed perfectly still, watching as Daemon scanned the corridor.

But then, as if by some stroke of luck, he turned and walked away.

You didn’t wait to see where he went. As soon as the coast was clear, you slipped out of the shadows and made your way back to the servants' quarters, your heart still racing. You had managed to leave the note without being caught—but just barely.

Later that evening, you found yourself on edge as you worked, your thoughts consumed by the possibility that Daemon was still watching. You had been careful, but how long could you keep this up before he—or someone else—figured out what you were doing?

As you went about your duties, you noticed Rhaenyra in the distance, speaking with one of her advisors. From where you stood, you couldn’t hear their conversation, but you could see the way her hand clenched tightly around the hilt of her sword, the tension in her posture unmistakable.

She had found the second note.

For a brief moment, her gaze flickered in your direction, but there was no recognition in her eyes. You were still a stranger to her, just another face among the many who served in the Red Keep. And yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling that, in time, she would come to depend on your warnings more than she realized.

But for now, your secret was safe.

At least, you hoped it was.

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Home At Last (141 Members x Reader)

Summary: You and your boyfriend spend some time together after an extended mission. Preference for what has changed in each of the 141 men after a long mission abroad, including Simon “Ghost” Riley, John “Soap” MacTavish, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, and John Price.

AN: It’s hard writing preferences so kudos to all the writers who specialise in them! I’ve found that I really like writing fics where you share a bed with the COD boys and/or they’re vulnerable with you lmaoo. 

Content warnings: Some allusions to smut (Minors DNI), Reader is GN and some use of Y/N, a mixture of soldier!reader and civilian!reader

Masterlist // AO3

Your name: submit What is this?

Simon “Ghost” Riley

“Can you fix it?”

Ghost was slowly but surely making his way out and allowing room for Simon to come back, one of the eye sockets sliced apart. Part of that process was removing the mask when he was sure he was absolutely safe: in his room, door locked, preferably with you. But this part had been altered.

In his hands, he held his balaclava with the skull faceplate splintered diagonally down the middle. As he stared back at what he usually stared with, he winced. The snot green marks, mottled with violet, framed his face where the mask had crunched into him, beneath the butt of a gun. His ears were still ringing from where his brain struggled to process this attack. Vaguely he remembered an enemy soldier standing above him, raising his empty weapon to strike Ghost in the face again, to match his mask, his skull, and his moniker as truly one. Then blood spurted out the enemy’s gut, his clothes tearing in two spots, and the enemy collapsed alongside him.

Your question echoed around in his head, a sign he was failing to ground himself as well as he usually did. He tossed the mask away from him. He wasn’t sure where it landed and he didn’t care either.

“No.”

“I’m sorry.”

Your voice was closer now, and reverberating less. Good. Simon was coming back.

“It’s just a mask,” He replied.

It would be easy make another one. He could darn and mend clothes well enough, and making a new mask would only refine his oft-abandoned stitching skills. Plenty of spares lined his top drawer

Somewhere in his inner monologue, you’d changing into your post-shower lazy gear.

“Nightcap?” You offered.

“Fuck,” He sagged at the suggestion, “Please.

Through lazy eyelids, he watched you collect the decanter, pouring two fingers worth of whiskey into glasses. You mixed yourself a drink too. Clinking his glass against yours in the smallest celebration of the mission’s end, Simon knocked half the whiskey back. He enjoyed the burn a lot more than the bruises.

Swallowing, he heard you sniff and gag, “Oh my god, it reeks.”

In your hand was the abandoned mask. Sitting down beside him on the cot, you began unpicking the stitches that held the broken faceplate against the fabric, whilst Simon poured himself another glass then sipped and swirled at it.

With the plate removed, you held the balaclava up in front of you both, “Just needs a scrub. Save you buying a replacement.”

Good thing about the fabric being black: in the dark, you couldn’t see the dried blood.

“Thanks,” Simon knocked his head lightly against yours, groaning a curse word in instant regret. He held the cool glass against his bruise.

“How’s the rest of you?” You asked tentatively.

“Fine,” Simon closed his eyes, “Not broken.”

The next thing he felt was your hand touching his that held his glass, the gentle contact tracing up his arm until you reached his ropey shoulders. There, you began to squeeze out the first knots your thumbs found. Simon grunted appreciatively, soaking up the touch he’d missed these last few weeks.

After a few minutes, he tilted his head back to see you, knelt behind him and smiling away at your handiwork. He couldn’t help but grace over your cheek with the backs of his calloused fingers.

“You ok, sweetie?” You leant against his touch.

Simon blinked languidly up at you, “Mm, it’s good to be home.”

-

John “Soap” MacTavish

AN: Genuinely wrote this before Neil decided to drop his Soap in the bubble bath checklist.

John “Soap” MacTavish really knew how to brighten a doorway. His broad shoulders carried bulky arms and a body to boot, almost entirely blocking out the hall light when he opened your bedroom door and sheepishly smiled at you.

“Hey love.”

Never before had you left your bed with such speed. It was like you could fly, fairy dust and the happiest thought of your husband’s return after three months radio silence spurring you across the room. Your arms wrapped around him to prove he was really hear. There was a thunk of his bag falling to the floor, and you were swept up in his embrace.

You only realised something was off when no stubble rubbed against your neck as Johnny nudged his cheek there. Drawing back to take in his face, you gasped at the sight of several strips of white tape holding his chin together.

Your hand traced over his cheek, avoiding the injury by several inches, “What happened?”

“Razor wire, it’s fine. Healing,” dismissed Johnny, pecking your lips between his answers. You were too concerned to respond at first but then you realised he was trying not to react every time his lips pursed, tugging on his fragile skin.

“You’ll fuck up your cuts,” You tried to lean back away from his kisses, as tempting as they were.

But Johnny had you in a boa constrictor’s grip and he wasn’t about to let you go, “Don’t care. Missed you.”

“Johnny,” You said in an attempt to warn him.

“Baby,” He mocked and managed to get the one more kiss on the corner of your mouth that caused you to cave.

“Missed you too,” You said, sheepish under his fond gaze. Fingers brushing through his overgrown Mohawk, you kissed him thrice more, the final lasting until you couldn’t hold your breath any longer.

With his lips brushing yours, Johnny whispered with a smirk, “I stink.”

“I know you do.” Your hands slid down to his shoulders. “I can run you a nice hot bath.”

You thought his pupils couldn’t dilate any more, but his iris was now barely a ring around his pupil at the mention of his second greatest weakness.

Swaying from side to side, Johnny tucked his thumbs into the waistband of your pyjama pants, “Will you join me in there?”

“Scrub you down?” You raised an eyebrow. Fluttering his eyelashes, Johnny nodded with a pouting bottom lip, and you snorted at how ridiculously charming he was acting.

Despite the comedy routine, Johnny was clearly more interested in the simple pleasures that were hot water and your presence against his war-torn body. The groan that released from his throat as he sank beneath the bubbles made your cheeks warm as you removed your sleepwear.

Before he wrapped himself around you, Johnny splashed you – which you claimed was unfair since his stitches prevented you from splashing back. But he made it up to you by settling you against his chest, heart beating strong within it, arms returning to cuddle you close. You stroked over his forearms, letting the water soak his fluffy dark hairs while the pair of you flirted with each other. With the Sandman lingering over you after your extended day, you almost drifted off beneath the bathwater - twice.

-

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

When Kyle Garrick sloped into medical, you were in your office with no idea that he was there. Being buried up to your eyes in paperwork worked wonders for preventing distractions. He was hovering by your office door and watching you in your official habitat with that dopey smile on his face, lovesick after two months away from you, and you hadn’t even noticed. Your pen continued scribbling down details of the latest entrant to the med-bay, your eyebrows creased in the centre of your forehead – the picture of intense concentration.

Unable to stand being in your presence without acknowledgement any longer, Kyle cleared his throat. Your head shot up, eyes wide to take him in, and you gasped.

“Oh my god,” You shot out of your chair, leaving a line of ink at the end of whatever insignificant word you’d just written. You didn’t care about anything else as your arms squeezed around your boyfriend and all his tac gear.

But then he grunted, restrained rather than relieved, and you pulled away, assessing his entire body as you asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Need a change on bandages.” He gave you a wry smile as he gestured to his shoulder. It was then that you caught sight, beneath his vest and jacket, of a bandage that did not look as sterile as it had presumably been when it was first dressed on him.

“I swear to God, if you went for debrief before you came here…” You trailed off when Kyle dropped his gaze, looking a little sheepish, and you couldn’t keep a wrangle on your volume as annoyance filled your body: “That idiot! Did you tell Price you needed them changed?”

No time for an answer, you dragged Kyle (by his good shoulder) to a bed in the bay. He watched with affectionate exhaustion whilst you worked and rambled about the “bloody paperwork” being nothing compared to “potential for infection, did you even have access to anti-biotics on this mission?” Even as you ranted, your touch against Kyle’s wound was as gentle as ever. The reunion with softness made the soldier shiver. You mistook it for feeling the chill of the evening and sped up your healing – and your tirade on Price’s priorities.

“Next time Price comes here, I’m not using anaesthetic. Don’t even care how much it hurts,” You grumbled as you tucked in the end of the gauze and surveyed your handiwork. Content with this conclusion, you let out a sigh like it was the first breath you’d taken since Kyle came back.  

“Feel better?” Kyle raised an eyebrow with fond irony.

Peeling off your rubber gloves, you dumped them in the disposal, “No. You’re still hurt.”

“Barely a scrape. Come here.” His good arm raised to make way for you, and he kissed your forehead to welcome you back. “I missed you.”

“Me too.” You allowed yourself a little break in his embrace, before resuming your role, “I’ll get you some painkillers then we can head to bed.”

“Got all the medicine I need right,” He pecked you quickly on the lips, “Here.”

“I’m not kissing your bandages.” You proved this by kissing his cheek, “And you’re still taking some painkillers so I can cuddle you.”

Kyle sat up a little straighter. Ah yes, the most potent medicine, often best paired with kisses: cuddles in bed with a loved one after prolonged absence. It meant swapping sides on the bed so that you weren’t leaning on Kyle’s injury, but that was hardly a sacrifice.

And if there were a few more kisses on places that didn’t risk medical attention, that was between you and your beloved boyfriend.

-

John Price

It was an easy rule to agree to: no PDA on a mission or on base. Only in the privacy on his quarters – unofficially yours too –permitted you both to let your real feelings show. Therefore, a mission two months long had deprived you of the affection John often shared with you.

You’d gotten creative over the years: the occasional tap if his knee against yours if you were sat beside one another, or a hand touching the small of your back as he passed you by during the watch changeover if you were really lucky. But it was nothing compared to what you could get up to when you were off-duty. More than anything, the mission had been a real exercise of self-restraint, one you both took with the utmost seriousness.

Two weeks prior, when your hearing took a knock from a grenade exploding close by, John had almost given in. He was the one to cup your face, getting Ghost to shine a torch whilst he checked your eyes for signs of a concussion. He took your watch that night too.

But now, with steam curling about the small bathroom, he was able to rest his hands on your waist, pouting and pulling faces as you sliced the foam from his cheeks.

The fully-fledged beard that had grown across the mission had been hidden mostly in a balaclava, to protect against the cruel snow and ice that had battered you day in, day out. It did suit him well, as did the waves that curled in his longer tresses  beneath his hat – in a sort of gruff recluse kinda way. But he had his image and reputation, and the SAS was hardly a place to be sporting untamed hair. Hence why you were carefully trimming at his beard until the floor of his private bathroom was littered with brown (and the occasional grey) hairs.

“I’ll shave it properly in the morning” he had said when, upon entering his quarters, he’d embraced you tightly and tickled your neck with his unruly facial hair.

You replied, “You could go to a barber’s, treat yourself to a hot towel.”

“You’re cruel for teasing a soldier with the prospect of hot towels.”

“Or I could do it?”

That suggestion struck a chord with the Captain, and he realised later that it was a nice way to ease himself back into the comforts of your relationship.

You were half tempted – in your post-mission mania – to shave his cheeks bare like when he was a Lieutenant and bask in the baby-face he’d suffer from for the three weeks it’d take to get his mutton chops back to their original glory. Nonetheless, as you followed the grooves of his chin, you decided that treating this act of trust as sacred was better than the split second of devilish delight you’d get from that. Maybe when you were both retired though.

Patting down his cheeks with a fluffy towel that’d been hanging on the radiator, you revealed him unto you, “Hello handsome.”

At last you could show your love for him and without worrying about getting his facial hair trapped between your teeth like dental floss. Still holding his chin up, you pressed a smiling kiss to his already pursed lips.

“Thank you, gorgeous,” He hummed against you, and you both giggled at how his appreciation – and his freshly trimmed beard – tickled the small space between you.

[dyssonant-skyline]

Hi! :] For the little edits/changes ideas post have you considered doing edits of charlie with a more gold/blue palette? Something that would fit more in heaven given her character o: that or lucifer with something more violet since that's the biblical color of Pride?

(This was really really fun to do, like making alt color palettes for a fighting game lmao, also excuse the janky pixelated lineart, I am NOT good at extracting it)

I didn't make any alterations to add patterns or anything, just flat fills where color already was. I think they turned out well!

For the pride purple, I added a golden undershirt since I think it contrasts well and all

The heaven design has the original pilot pupils, with a lighter pink blush as more human-ish features on her design. I wanted to keep the yellow pants, but I thought they might be a bit too bright and attention grabbing so there is an alt.

Thanks for asking! :D

[wizardwomenwisdom]

dear straight people

if you don't know (and i'd like to assume you don't because otherwise you're being homophobic around MY bridgerton loves), gay people can marry people they aren't attracted to and still have lovely beautiful life-altering relationships. it's how we've survived this long. it's how aro people find life partners. its a friendship that transcends all others, that begs someone specific to stay by your side forever because you understand one another. fran and john are going to have their epic love, its just going to be quiet and soft and different the same way violet described it. michaela is still going to have that gap to fill regardless, she's just going to be a woman doing it now.

and if you don't know queer women also experience infertility issues when they're with women. they also struggle to get pregnant and hurt over it, with a serious amount of added layers to that trauma. this story is giving us the chance to see ourselves the same way WHWW did.

and finally, if you really really don't know, fran isn't going to feel for michaela the same way regardless of how tongue-tied she got. good luck babe! is still relevant in 2024 - you think it wasn't when girls were asking questions like "inserts himself where?" comp het is real and you bet fran is just gonna want close companionship from michaela for years. you also bet that "thank you for letting my son love her first" is gonna hit somehow even harder when there's an undertone of accepting their love despite public opinion.

[jacevelaryonswife]

ㅤCatch me if you can, working on my tan, Salvatore.

The summer's wild and I've been waiting for you, all this time, I adore you, can't you see you’re meant for me?

∴pairing: Sugar Daddy!Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

∴warnings and notes: age gap, reader is 20+ but her age isn’t mencioned, smut. Inspired by Salvatore from Lana Del Rey.

The first time you saw him was at an exhibition at the Targaryen foundation, which depicted life in Old Valyria. He was magnetic, intense and almost too attractive. Truly inaccessible, you thought, however, life wanted to positively surprise you with the opposite of that. You weren't used to going to sophisticated places, although you were a girl with expensive and demanding tastes, so when your friend invited you to the event your heart almost jumped out of your mouth. It was so exciting to be among such a select few of New York's elite, you could almost relax for a moment. Almost.

Underneath the subtle makeup and cheap clothes — perfectly chosen for the occasion —you were scared. Not out of fear of discovering your humble nature, after all that never embarrassed you, but fear of rejection, of the superb and elitist look in your direction, fear of humiliation by unhappy and mean people. At the start of the exhibition your figure stood alongside your friend and her friend, Aegon Targaryen, a fully representative specimen of the rich fuckboy stereotype — at least he was funny. However, as the evening progressed and people became more relaxed, you assumed you could move around and mingle with less tension around people. You've talked to some of the Targaryen/Velaryon youths closer to your age. Two of them, Jacaerys and Daeron were genuinely adorable and even a little flirtatious, which made you slyly recoil upon realizing their interest.

In this way, finding yourself in a corridor away from the small crowd, you began to contemplate some paintings placed on the wall that didn’t belong to the exhibition. One of them caught your attention and captured you for a long time, it was a night city in a cyberpunk aesthetic in the shape of the upper part of a male silhouette. You've never seen anything like that.

"Do you like it?" A male voice asked very close to you, on your side actually.

And then he appeared. Tall, thin, short hair, with a discreet smile.

“Uh, I'm not a big art connoisseur, but I appreciate a beautiful painting,” you said.

“And what do you think of this one?”

You returned to contemplate the painting again, before replying: “I like the futuristic aesthetic. It's aggressive, rowdy and intimidating, it reminds me of works like Altered Carbon, it's chaotic and dark and I can't stop admiring it. I don't really know if it's futuristic at all, but it resembles me. I think it was my favorite so far.”

He didn't hide his satisfied expression upon hearing your opinion, looking away from his handsome face to the screen in question.

“The reference was a troubled phase of my youth, I spent nights awake in galleries in downtown New York, Chicago and Paris. It was more underground than it is today and I certainly have some scars, but nothing that time can put us back on track.”

His eyes sparkled in self-realization. That was not only the author of the painting, but he was also a Targaryen. How did you not notice before? The short gray hair and violet eyes were distinctive enough to give away a Valyrian for miles. Maybe it was some mechanism in your brain to avoid associating him with a descendant of the dragon and making you nervous again, but it didn't matter now, not when he was already beside you in that beige linen shirt with the long sleeves and collar and sophisticated posture.

“Daemon Targaryen,” he said, holding out his hand.

You introduced yourself with a shy smile, greeting him back. “Are these all yours? They are very good."

He didn't need to look at the other pictures in the hall to nod. “Only a few, most are in my gallery.”

“Oh,” was all you said. “How long have you been painting?”

“I like to say I was born with brushes for fingers,” he chuckled with a hint of smugness. “And as for you, what were you born to do?”

"I don't know. I never really knew. I like my field, although I haven't graduated yet, but I never had a big dream or talent for arts in general.”

The look he gave you was understanding, almost affectionate, nodding. You stayed the rest of the night together, and even though you hadn't lived a third of what he had told you, the oldest Targaryen didn't make light of your experiences and aspirations for the future, quite the contrary, he asked a lot about your tastes, your dreams, your preferences and desires. Even if you were apprehensive about being around the most charming man you'd ever seen, Daemon was good enough to break through your preoccupation and wrap you up in a spiral of seduction veiled in sophisticated words and good conversation. By the gods, how you longed for that night not to end and you had to return to your simple and unglamorous life, to your heavy routine of studies and tiredness with uninteresting boys unlike the handsome man at your side.

“You have a beautiful face, you know, I would love to have you in one of my paintings,” he said as he rested his glass of white wine on the shelf beside him, “and I can already imagine how.”

"How?" You smiled in ecstasy, especially when he moved a piece of your hair to your ear and caressed your face. Your heart froze a beat and your mouth parted, a part of the smile still visible. It seemed too unreal to be true, but you would never object to what was about to happen.

“I'd love to show you,” he said before cupping your face and pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that made you float. You grabbed the back of his neck to pull him closer and rose on tiptoe to reach him properly, only to find yourself deliciously pressed against the wall as he stole the breath from your lungs in the sexiest, most demanding way possible. It wasn't an exaggeration to say that your reality seemed fully magnified as he pulled back and stared into your face, still so close you could only get intoxicated on his expensive woody cologne. “Come to my apartment, I need you babygirl.”

Oh dear, an indecent sound nearly escaped your mouth at the nickname, your breathing turning into wheezes immediately. You've never been in a relationship with an older man, not for lack of interest, but there weren't any such attractive options close until tonight. It felt like a sensual dream, especially when he traced circular patterns on her neck with his thumb.

“Yes."

Daemon glared fiercely before pulling you gently around the waist and out of the room, opening the door for you to say goodbye to your friend and Aegon, hating the knowingly slutty look he directed at your figure. Your heart pounded with each traffic light the luxurious red convertible crossed, impressed by the ruby, blue and green lights that illuminated that part of town and even more by the large hand that was on your bare thigh. How you wished it would rise a little higher...

Luckily his dazzlingly modern apartment wasn't far away, with beautiful floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the sea of buildings and skyscrapers of the world's greatest metropolis. It was breathtaking. You couldn't help but walk to the center of the room, gently tapping the glass as a smile left your lips. "It's so beautiful."

“No more than you, I promise,” he whispered into your hair, next to your ear, sending shivers through the body. He curled one hand in front of your body, caging you between the glass as he brushed your hair away from your neck to sensually kiss your erogenous spot, making your eyes close and your hands rest on the glass. His vague hand ran over your waist and breasts, squeezing your flesh deliciously. “Have you been with a man before, babygirl? A real man, not these fuckers who don't know how to satisfy a girl properly.”

“No, I never have been,” you replied breathlessly, looking at him through the reflection.

“I will make sure you never forget this night.”

Daemon turned you around to kiss you, demanding to taste, lick, suck, and bite each of your mouths. He'd like to taste your sweet pussy right there, fucking your beautiful body against the glass, but he wanted more, so much more, he wanted to lay you on the bed while the blue light outside illuminated your body just like the painting he'd imagined. And so he did. He stripped you of your clothes before laying you on the white sheets, drinking in the masterful image before you. He leaned down to kiss and suck on your neck as he slid his hand down the length of your body to the wet spot between your legs, spreading your wetness with his fingers before massaging your clit incisively with the palm of his hand, making a long, breathy moan out of your throat as you held him from behind, desperate for more friction. He removed his hand from your legs to grab your breasts and bring them to his mouth, but was quick to repeatedly grind his clothed manhood against your needy, wet pussy. He smeared saliva on your breasts and continued to tread south, kissing and stroking your stomach with his big hands.

“Fuck,” he growled at the sight of your shimmering femininity, so eager for his attention. “So fucking pretty,” he said before kissing the inside of your right thigh, holding your hips in place to dip like a bee on your flower, eating you like no other has. You moaned loudly and squeezed your eyes shut, holding onto his hair as your legs unconsciously tightened around his head. He never wavered, devouring your pearl like a starving man only to feel your body relax beneath him, your orgasm coming so hot and wet it had you moaning pathetically as he licked for another moment. A proud smile appeared on his features, which was met by a shy and satisfied smile before your hands struggled to remove the last physical obstacle that separated them.

“Ready for me, love?”

You nodded during the long look at his beautiful member. How he would love to thrust into you with no hindrance, but that would be asking too much for a first night, he knew that. So when he returned to the bed with the condom on and settled himself between your legs, his hand on your knees, there was nothing to look forward to but losing himself in your wet heat, so deliciously hot and tight. He let out a guttural growl as you let out a sly moan, sagging in glee as your pussy was filled in a steady rhythm.

“Daemon,” you cried breathlessly, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss. He became deeper and faster in his movements. “Oh! Don’t stop!" Your whisper had him moaning in your ear and biting down on your bottom lip, fucking your sensual body hungrily.

“Fuckin' hells,” he growled as you squeezed him and milked him wet all over his cock, kissing the sensitive spot on your neck. He didn't last long after that, allowing himself to fully enjoy your heat to come hard over your body, rolling over to discard the condom and lying next to you, pulling you into his chest.

“That was amazing,” you said, smiling wide and tired, feeling your warm intimacy relax completely.

He just smiled and nodded silently, draping an arm over your shoulder. You didn't bother too much to stay awake, however, Daemon's low voice caught your attention.

“You said you never had great aspirations, but you also told me of dreams to be fulfilled, desires, everything you would like to have, see and live. Let me do it, babygirl, let me help you.”

Your eyes widened, looking up to meet his calm features. "Are you serious?" We don't even know each other well, this is a big step for both of us,” you said.

“We have enough time for that, I just need to know if you want it.”

This is definitely the best night of your life. Of course I do, holy shit I want it so bad. “Yes! I want it! I want it so much!” You kissed him sleepily, smiling against his lips. And that's how the dynamic between you began.

tag: my bestie @valeskafics cause she planted the idea of sugar daddy daemon in my head with this work here, check out her work! She's the queen of hotd content.