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munsonthings86 · 2 months

Text

sunkissed

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: soft morning sex w steve <3

warnings: cursing, fluff, clingy!steve, established relationship, smut, praise, tipsy sex, oral (f receiving), penetration, no protection use

an: today (apr. 14) is the day steve and sunshine met ;) so i wrote something a lil special for them. hope you guys enjoy! *minors dni*

wc: 4.1k

steve and sunshine’s timeline

It couldn't have been later than six a.m. The waking sun shed an amber light that tinted your white sheer curtains, as they gently swayed in the brisk morning breeze. The wind blew harshly at times, prompting the sleepy boy next to you to nuzzle desperately closer to your heated touch. His lush, chocolate hair tickled your cheek as his head rested softly against yours when he abandoned his own pillow.

A freckled arm held you tightly against him as he spooned you, a breath that still smelled of beer and some other alcohol fanning your cheek. Usually, you recoil at the sour stench of liquor on people, but you couldn't help but to find it a bit endearing at the moment.

It was Steve after all. You found countless things about him endearing. Even his smelly little morning alcohol breath.

Sailing curious, feather-like fingers across his tanned skin that shined in the golden light, you stared at him in awe. His neck was still littered with stains of your lipstick from where you kissed him the night before. If you weren't so comfortable where you laid, trapped in this blanket of Steve, you'd rush to sneak a picture on your polaroid.

You knew exactly which one of your purses you'd want to keep the picture in too. It was only fair seeing as he kept his own photo of you in his wallet. And another on the dashboard of his BMW. And another on his bedside table.

It began getting hard to keep track of them all. Steve didn't mind though. When Steve would be having a less than ideal day, a rare but not uncommon occurrence, he couldn't avoid the grim ache of how much he missed you. It was such a treat when he would randomly stumble upon a picture of you somewhere, powerless against the blush and smile that would come.

The brightness of your room was blinding and unforgiving to the headache your hangover brought. Your hazy eyes stung when you tried to ogle the sunrise but you willingly gazed anyway. The sky was a gentle blue, cloudless, and full of melodic birds.

The moon still sat high and mighty, glowing, as it was being kissed by the sun's light.

It was such a breathtaking sight. A needle of guilt pricked you when you realized that you were witnessing it all alone.

Your fingers twitched when you thought about waking Steve, but he just looked too peaceful sleeping like this; lips puffy and dry from all his snoring and sleepy mumbles— hair perfectly untamed. Some rogue strands fell over his eyes, enticing you to gently sweep them behind his ears, careful not to wake him.

He groaned when you were unable to resist scratching at his scalp, eyebrows furrowing as his tired eyes failed to stay open. Not careful enough, apparently. "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you," you apologized in a hushed tone, apologetic smile to match.

"That's alright," he mumbled through a small grin, exhaustion weighing his voice down. Unfolding his body from the curled position he was in, his body tensed when he full-body stretched. You loved watching Steve wake up. It was like watching a flower bloom in real time. "What time is it?"

"Almost six," you responded after taking a glance at the dainty clock hung above your vanity. Steve's eyes widened as if he was startled. "Jesus, why're you up so early," you think you hear him say through his yawn. He laid his head down on your chest when he settled.

The hair that draped over his face was pushed back by your fingers so you could admire his lengthy eyelashes from this angle. "Maybe because somebody wouldn't stop kicking me in his sleep," you quipped, poking a finger at his side.

He scoffed in return before adjusting his head to stare back at you, "Well, I hope you find the guy who did that because I, personally, do not kick in my sleep."

You rolled your eyes, "Yeah, tell that to my leg." Steve shrugged as if you insisted on the matter, tossing the duvet over his head before trailing down to your legs. "What're you-"

The question was cut off with a muttered, "I do not kick in my sleep." He prodded at your thigh after each word to accentuate his (false) statement. Giggling at him, you waited for him to return from under the covers but he didn't move. It fell a bit quiet even. "Did ya get lost down there, Harrington?"

"Something like that," soft, sedative kisses to your hip punctuated his reply. It was so easy to be distracted once he had this view of you. Plump thighs that he wanted to sink his teeth into, stomach that he wanted to pepper kisses on, and a tempting honeypot that made his mouth water, on full display for him.

It was a trap that he unintentionally fell into, but was fully delighted to be in, nonetheless. You lifted the duvet from over his head, tittering at the mischievous grin on his face.

Pushing the oversized white shirt that belonged to Steve once upon a time above your belly button, he found comfort between your legs. A knot in the pit of your stomach formed at the tasty mix of curiosity and anticipation manifesting from all that was unfolding.

With booze still lingering in your system, your body was more sensitive than usual. Every little touch Steve gave you sparked electricity along your skin and, greedily, your body chased the sensation each time, clearly unable to stave off its hunger.

His hair tickled you dangerously close to your core and your body seemed to have a mind of its own, hips bucking up on his face involuntarily.

He simply smirked at you, indiscreetly relishing in the way you reacted to him so easily. So needily. Grabbing at your waist, the pads of his fingers pressed hard onto you, and you were sure the two of you would fuse. Your eyebrows pinched themselves together, tighter and tighter, the more impatient you became, mumbled pleas stumbling out of your lips.

Steve reluctantly broke eye contact with you to look down at your heated core that he was certain was desperate for his attention.

Pinning your lower half to the mattress, he left a few taunting pecks to your lacy underwear, loving the way your puffy lips felt against his mouth. A low groan eluded Steve when your nails tugged lightly at his roots after clutching a handful of his hair. The vibration from the sound was like a dull shock to your pulsating cunt.

As if the kisses weren't egging you on enough, the tip of his tongue started flitting about, sweetly licking at your clit and in between your folds. His movements were slow and calculated; giving you just enough but leaving much to be desired, all at once. It was becoming unbearable.

Any discipline you had left in you was long gone.

With one hand gripping Steve’s hair and the other twisting at a stiffened nipple, you tried to keep yourself steady as you grinded yourself against Steve’s face while quiet moans fell from your lips.

His tongue had quit its dance and he wasn’t kissing where you needed him anymore. Instead, he grinned; gawking at you through his eyelashes as you selfishly didn't stop using his face to get what you wanted.

It's almost too much to look at him.

His cock twitched and strained against his boxers, savoring the way you were getting so lost in pleasure. Steve caught how you struggled to maintain eye contact with him whilst you shamelessly flaunted your lack of self restraint.

The pillow by your head fell victim to the squeezing and kneading trap of your hand, helping to keep you grounded. Soft whimpers that poked through the silence of the room were nothing short of music to his ears. Steve always found himself captivated when you got like this. You were so hot.

It’s almost too much to look at you.

"Steve," you fussed. "It's too early to be teasing me like this." Though you were being sincere, you laughed a bit amid your desperation. Steve's carelessness to shave for the past few days left stubble on his jaw and the friction it gave you against your soaked panties was too enthralling.

"Never too early for that," he laughed, tracing a finger along the intricate patterns of your racy bottoms, "but anything for my princess."

He could never say no to you. There were no bounds to what his angel deserved. Your body was hungry and his mouth was thirsty.

Fingers wrapped around the hem of the flimsy material, he unveiled your needy core to his even needier mouth. He drew his own undergarments down with a single hand, the other finding your waist as he settled himself between the sweet temptation of your legs once more.

Steve garnered a mouthful of saliva before slowly spilling it onto your cunt. He watched, mouth agape, as it crept, long, wet and sloppy from the top of your sex to the bottom. It blended in seamlessly with all the arousal pooling around your folds and dripping down your ass.

A reflexive moan slipped from you when he blew cool air onto it, the sensitivity making your body react. He hummed, staring intently at your gorgeous, sopping hole. Any minute now, he was going to be drooling all over himself.

He dotted smooches to your bikini line, addicted to how the sounds you made practically begged him to ease the burden between your legs. Tongue swiping across his lips as if he was starved, he was certain that you were the most appetizing thing he had ever laid eyes on.

His dark, lustful eyes never left yours while he laid his tongue flat against your vagina, a pleased sigh luring itself out at the taste. The sudden contact hoisted your body off the bed.

Steve's eyes flutter shut when you let out the prettiest moan for him. It only drives him to devour you deeper, completely determined to lap up every drop of your nectar. He was already eager to feel you clench and shake against him as you came. The thought alone sent his body to grind his erection against the firm bed.

The satin sheets you dressed your mattress in were smooth and kind of cold on his cock.

Watching Steve like this was so hypnotizing. Him embraced by your thighs, hair wild, eyebrows knitted with threads of lust and focus, chin soaked from making out with your pussy, and fucking himself on your bed from how feral he was; it was all so dirty it left you speechless.

He didn't even have to touch you, really. Just seeing him be so primal was enough to leave you a moaning mess. Brainless for him. Fuck.

Steve's tongue instantly lands on your clit when he goes to tease it, being so familiar with your body and all. He was so hooked on the way you tasted, that he would eat you for hours on end, if you'd let him. He didn't tire. Steve loved the way he could send you into a frenzy with just his tongue. He got so much pleasure from seeing you in pleasure. It was so fucking sexy.

You were already close to your peak considering how aroused and needy you'd been for the past few minutes. Whining when he unlatched from you, he hushed you, running a thumb from your clit down to your entrance.

He didn't warn you before slipping in his long, slender pointer finger and you both let out a satisfied groan. While you moaned at the penetration, Steve moaned at the way your warm, dripping cunt easily dragged him in, gripping his digit. He used his hand to help you reach the high he knew was coming, curling and pumping in and out of you just the way you liked.

His mouth wasn't done with you yet, though.

Steve's tongue was frantic and slippery across your wetness. Your fingers were lost and running amuck in his brunette tresses as you struggled to cling onto reality. Legs trembling and chest heaving as your breathing got rapid, "Steve, Steve, Steve," tore out of you as if it was the only word in your vocabulary.

You didn't have to say anything else. He knew exactly what time it was.

"Mhm," he hums into you. The resonance from his voice tickles your clit perfectly and it's what you need to launch you over the edge. You slipped into a deep pool of euphoria, completely coming undone for him.

Both of your shaky hands held Steve's head firmly against you, giving him nowhere to go but right where you needed him. "Let it go, baby. Give it all to me," his muffled voice wavered a little as he coaxed you delicately.

If your hangover wasn't already making you dizzy enough, then Steve definitely was.

"That's it," he insisted, sweeping a comforting hand along your hips, "Just ride it out for me." His thrusts against the bed nearly brought him to an orgasm of his own but he was determined to save it for you. The way your hole pulsated, it was like it was calling for Steve to fill it.

The tight hold you had on his hair loosened as he crept his way up your body, leaving a trail of kisses behind the further he got.

His face was soaked and covered in an elixir of his spit and your juices, and some of it found solace on your own face when he leaned down to kiss you. The lewdness of it all turned you on more if that was even possible. His smile at you was dopey and naughty and it's wildly infectious.

"How're you feelin'?"

"Dizzy," you confessed, tucking some of his hair behind his ear though it doesn't make it look much neater. Concern straightened Steve's face in the blink of an eye, "Good dizzy or bad dizzy?" The pads of his fingers rushed to your temple to sooth you.

"Good dizzy, for sure," you kissed at his flushed, puffy lips in pure bliss. "Such a good dizzy," your hand trailed down from his stomach to his throbbing member. He was so hard it made you gasp. Steve tended to be harder than usual in the mornings, but this was different.

"You're so hard, oh my God," giggling against his lips, you stroked him agonizingly slow and steady.

"Well, duh. Prettiest girl in the world just came all over my face. How could I not be this hard for you?" His words hitched in his throat when your thumb spread his precum across the tip of his cock, groans rushing out of him.

He thrusted into your hand eagerly, but you soon stopped your movements, much to Steve's dismay. "God, you're such a little tease," he dropped his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling the flirty perfume that still dwelled on your skin.

From your ear to your collarbone, he showered you in open-mouthed kisses, whimpers and throaty hums pouring out when he grinded himself against your velvety ass like a dog in heat.

You could tell how badly he needed you.

"And you're such a little hypocrite," a smile played at your lips, "but you're lucky. 'Cause I need you just as bad," you purred, stretching your leg behind his waist, bringing Steve to hold up your knee.

He slapped his cock on your entrance a number of times before running it along your folds, coating himself in your dripping mess. A hearty moan from you set off sparks in Steve's chest when he plunged his hard length into you.

Your pussy welcomed him in with open arms, surely not wanting him to leave as it gripped him tightly when he pulled out only to thrust right back into you.

His and your moans harmonized as you both reveled in the fervor. A hand flew to the back of Steve's head and held him there, loving the way he stretched you so perfectly. His cock was just the way you liked it; thick and veiny in such a way that it caressed your walls inexplicably well. It's a sensation so good that it makes your mind happily go blank and numb.

You were completely at Steve's mercy.

Steve caught your lips when they fell ajar, kissing you deeply. His head went fuzzy when you moaned shamelessly into his mouth, tongues colliding. Your racing pulse thumped against his fingers as he held you by your neck. Pulling away from the kiss, he slid his hand down your chest and stopped right where your heart beat, reminding you to breathe.

Still, his cock trucked in and out of you at a pace that was so delicious. It wasn't too fast and was in no way slow. It was exactly what you both needed.

"Shit, you feel so good."

Droning, you were unable to form any words other than fuck, yes, and Steve. Your mind, body, and soul was burning with a desire and yearn for him. Eyelids low and flickering, you put up a fight to keep your eyes from closing so that you could cherish this sight of him.

Sweeping back his hair, his eyes fluttered shut when you rubbed at his ear, knowing that he liked it so much when you did that, especially in moments like these. Steve loved the way you felt around him, of course, but it was the little intimate touches that really drove him over the edge. Steve wanted to stay here forever.

Your t-shirt bunched up around your chest, leaving your bouncing breasts on full display for him. Your face pulled against his, breath fanning his face as you mewled and moaned and begged. Pleading, glimmering eyes never leaving him. God, how scenic. You were so dreamy. Steve almost wasn't sure if he was still asleep or not.

You grinded yourself back against him, husky moans sounding from the boy that was making you feel so fucking good. Every hard thrust he gave, teased that little sensitive spot inside of you, and you swore you were in some sort of heaven. You cried out, back curving in ecstasy.

"There it is, yeah," he grunted, resting his hand on the spot where your back arched. "Right there, baby?"

Nodding your head hurriedly, a plethora of "yeah"s tripped out of your lips. He thrusted into your dripping core relentlessly, feeling you clench around him tightly. Your eyes were screwed shut and your legs were shaking like leaves in wind.

That, coupled with the gratification Steve was giving himself earlier, he already knew he wasn't going to last much longer but he needed to see you cum again one more time. At least.

His hand ran down your sweaty frame to where your bodies met, drawing circles at your clit.

"I love that. I love this," he praised the way you clenched around his shaft whenever he touched your clit while he was inside of you. It was wildly addicting. Steve couldn't put into words how heavenly you truly felt. He couldn't believe that you were his.

The moans you let out were breathy and frequent, a sure sign that you weren't far behind your climax either.

"You sound so pretty, baby," he whimpered, nudging his head so that his ear was pressed to your lips, not wanting to miss a single little noise you made for him. His clumsy fingers worked tirelessly at your clit. You held onto his wrist as you became consumed by bliss.

His and your hips collide when you buck yourself back against him as your cunt choked down on his cock, body writhing. If you carried on like this, soon you'd be seeing stars.

It's a nirvana that your past lovers were never able to take you to. Not the way Steve could. Steve loved watching you cum. He'd do anything to get you to cum.

"F-Fuck, that's so good. You're doing so good, sunshine. You're so fucking pretty like this. It’s unreal. Holy shit," he babbled. If Steve didn't stop now, he'd surely explode.

While riding out your orgasm, you felt him go suddenly absent. "Why'd you pull out," you whined, head falling back onto your pillow in protest. But trust him, it's the last thing that he wanted to do.

"Because I was about to fucking cum," he whined back, laughing a bit as he squeezed the base of his raging cock. "When you cum you get so tight. It feels so fucking good, you have no idea, baby," he cooed, rushing back into you, already missing your warmth.

After your two orgasms, your hole was impossibly wet and hot and Steve's dick was absolutely drowning. It doesn't take Steve much to utterly crumble. He was now at your mercy, all whiny and needy and desperate for you, fucking you faster and deeper than before. His gaze never dared to leave your face. You were so beautiful it made his chest ache.

If there were a textbook solely dedicated to beauty, there was no doubt in Steve's head that you'd be plastered all over it. Just look at you.

"How're you so perfect, huh? Why are you so perfect? It's not fair, baby, I swear," his thrusts were becoming sloppy and offbeat. "You could get away with anything with a face like this." Steve Harrington. The king of praise. If his cock or mouth couldn't make you cum, his words surely could.

"You gonna cum for me, Steve?" His forehead dropped onto yours as he nodded, beads of sweat falling on your face and you can't say that you mind at all.

Steve loved having you under him like this. Loved having his hands laced through yours on either side of your head, your legs wrapped tight around him, keeping him in. Loved being able to lower his head just a few centimeters to have his lips clash with yours. He just wanted to kiss you and love you and fuck you like this all damn the time.

"Oh, baby." His mouth falls open as whimpers and moans and groans spill everywhere, warm cum spurting into you. Goosebumps erupted all over his body. As he came, his greedy, convulsing body pushed further and further into you, chasing down his high incessantly.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, keeping him close, while you peppered his contorted face in pecks that were gentle, in contrast to the intensity his body was feeling.

The repeated, grating clanks of your metal headboard beating against your wall slowed and soon quieted once Steve collapsed onto you, totally fucked out and sleepy all over again.

"Fuck, that was so good, princess." A smile pulled at your lips in agreement.

His breathing was heavy and you chose to calm him down by playing with the short little hairs that stuck to his skin from all the sweat.

The crook of his neck was in your face and you noticed the lipstick stains you saw earlier still hadn't faded.

"It looks like you have a sky on your neck," you lilted, finger ghosting over the area below his ear. The sentence made Steve's eyebrows scrunch together. Confused, understandably. Still, he was curious to know what you meant. "I have a what now?"

You reached for the compact mirror on your end table, opening it to give Steve a look, "A sky!"

He blushed at your sweet giggle. "These kiss marks kinda look like clouds and your moles are the stars," you traced them as you spoke. "See? It's a sky," you affirmed with a smile.

Steve only stared back at you with the most lovesick grin on his face. He still couldn't believe you were his. He rested his head back down on your shoulder, drawing invisible patterns along your sternum. "I like the way you see things; the way you think about things. It's so adorable and bright. I love your brain. I love you, sunshine."

Your heart undeniably skipped a couple beats at that. Steve always complimented you, but there was something about how sweet and gooey like honey those words were that made you feel like you were going to burst.

"I love you too, Stevie," you took his freckled cheeks in your hands, planting your smiling lips against his own for a kiss, still tasting yourself on his lips. Pulling away, you ogled the way he beamed, completely and utterly glowing in front of you, the same way the moon outside glowed when it was kissed by the sun's light.

The moon only glows when kissed by the sun.

💌 1 new message from jojo: smut isn’t really in my skillset so im a little unsure abt this lol. but i wrote this with a lot of love, nonetheless! feedback is so greatly appreciated!

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edges-of-night · 11 months

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Imagine where your first kiss with LotR characters would be ♡

Thank you for all your positive responses to my first post! I hope you’ll enjoy this one as well, it was a lot of fun to write!

･ﾟ✧ Aragorn.

Aragorn would make your first kiss absolutely romantic. He would take you to a moonlit spot he found in the forest, where you’d listen to a brook and the night birds as he holds your hand. Aragorn kisses you without expecting or demanding anything in return. He is content as long as he can be with you!

･ﾟ✧ Arwen.

Arwen would playfully guide you to her favourite tower in Rivendell by your hand. She’d smile brightly over her shoulder as you ascend the artful staircase to be closer to the night sky. She’d stargaze with you there, maybe show you a book or two about the Elvish constellations that she keeps up there. You would kiss over such a book, or maybe against the white balustrade.

･ﾟ✧ Boromir.

Boromir is well aware of his charms. When it comes to your first kiss, he teases and plays with you. However, once you share a quiet moment in the ruins of Osgiliath, he gives in to your advances. Leaning against a stone column, the usually shameless man grows silent against the comforting touch you provide.

･ﾟ✧ Elrond.

Elrond keeps his house very orderly. He takes it upon himself to sort the library, for example. Since you offered to help him, you have been working all afternoon. “This is the rest,” you’d say with a tired smile and a sigh as you set back the last books. Charmed by your blush of exhaustion in the golden sunlight, Elrond would smooth your hair back and lean in for a thank you kiss.

･ﾟ✧ Éomer.

Éomer would kiss you in the wide grasslands of the Riddermark. Your horseback ride has been interrupted by a sudden storm – the weather here is erratic – forcing you to find shelter in a rock formation. There, Éomer would make sure that you’re alright and dry, and as you’d touch, his heart would skip a beat at your damp hair and puffed lips. Being the man that he is, he’d kiss you passionately then, however offering you to “keep this between us and the rain” should you desire so.

･ﾟ✧ Éowyn.

Éowyn loves the hills and cliffs of Edoras. There, she has a secret hiding spot where she used to play as a kid. Now, she uses it for romantic rendezvous’, as she tells you with a smirk. You joke around a bit: “So, I’m your romantic tryst?” – “Perhaps you are!” – before you both lean in for a playful kiss that soon turns into something more romantic, truly.

･ﾟ✧ Faramir.

If it was up to Faramir, he’d kiss you anywhere – on the market in Minas Tirith, in the forests of Ithilien, or his castle after the Ring War. However, he couldn’t have chosen a better place than you: a flowery meadow where you sat down with drinks and books to tell each other fantastical stories about magic and dragons. While you lie in his arms, all you need to do is look up to find that Faramir wasn’t even reading the book you held up and instead just admired you. And then, cupping his cheek and gently guiding him toward you is just too tempting!

･ﾟ✧ Frodo.

Frodo would kiss you in front of your house in Hobbiton, having accompanied you home after a party at the Green Dragon. He’s a gentleman, so he’d always offer to walk home together. Maybe you’re both a bit tipsy, but either way, you end up leaning against a quiet corner of your house, hidden away in the night shadows, where you share a kiss that Frodo blissfully smiles into.

･ﾟ✧ Galadriel.

Galadriel would know you’d want to kiss her even before you yourself were really aware of it. One day, while sitting by a brook near her abode in Lothlórien, she’d grin at you because she knows very well the reason for your blush. She’d offer you to sit by her side, or maybe even on her lap, and converse with you before brushing your hair out of your face to finally give you that kiss!

･ﾟ✧ Gandalf.

Gandalf would finally kiss you after a long day of studying. You’ve been sitting in Minas Tirith’s library for hours, pondering ancient magic and recent developments. Once you call it a day, he’d look up and smile at you, like he just remembered something. Then he’d wish you goodnight. “But first…” You’d be lying if you said you haven’t seen it coming from a mile away, but of course you let him have his joy anyway!

･ﾟ✧ Gimli.

While usually brash and charming, Gimli is all quiet when it comes to asking you for a kiss while staying in your home. If he was wearing his helmet, he’d take it off, needless to say! You know he meant it to be a chaste forehead kiss, but you like to give your Dwarf a kiss worthy of a song – one that renders him speechless for at least a day. He’d definitely stumble over the doorstep on his way out!

･ﾟ✧ Haldir.

It is needless to say that Haldir would deny any desire to share a kiss with you until the very last second. After protecting the borders of Lothlórien from orcs, he is badly wounded and in dire need of your healing skills. Though he is ashamed of the vulnerability, he cannot help but marvel at your beauty and compassion while you’re immersed in your task. He’d guise the kiss he gives you in the moonlight as a shameful repayment, but by now you can read his marble face so well that you know better!

･ﾟ✧ Legolas.

Legolas would kiss you swiftly and lightly, like sunshine does when you step outside on a summer morning. Out in Mirkwood, he’d swirl around you like a butterfly to keep your fears away. You’d heard stories about the dark forest, but he knows just how to keep your mind off of it. “There,” he’d smile after your kiss, just shakily enough for you to realise he means this seriously after all, “the fear is gone.”

･ﾟ✧ Merry.

Merry would make a pompous scene out of kissing you. He’d announce it loudly, standing on a table in the Green Dragon. He’d get a blast out of your reaction, whether you’re blushing in embarrassment or laughing brightly at his joy. When he does join you by your chair and pecks your flushing face, the crowd cheers you on!

･ﾟ✧ Pippin.

Pippin would kiss you on a festive night. You’d run through the strawberry fields all night, always hunting the colourful fireworks sent by Gandalf from the hills above. After you break down beneath a tree, laughing and exhausted, Pippin would exclaim something like, “I could kiss you right now!” and quickly lean in.

･ﾟ✧ Sam.

Sam keeps a mental list of things he’d like to say to you someday. However, he’s so insecure he doesn’t even dream he’d ever get the chance. But when you’re sitting in the shadows of the sunflower field on a bright summer day, he’d want to seize that opportunity and babble in his adorably timid but sincere manner. But, being embarrassed by his own fumbling, he’d eventually go, “Maybe I oughtta kiss you instead, y’know?” Far be it from you to object!

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veenxys · 7 months

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「Picnic date with BNHA Boys」

⤷ Bakugou

he didn't like the idea very much at first; the thought of mosquitoes and the heat of the sun irritated him. but, seeing how much you want to do this and how excited it makes you, he ends up accepting it, however, it is you who does everything in the beginning; prepare food and drinks and choose a good place. he pretends not to like it at first but the place you chose is perfect; under a big tree near a small lake. the sun is not so hot and for the first time in a long time he feels whole and happy and carefree. so he just surrenders in that moment; eating with you, smiling and stroking your hair as you lay in his lap while you talk about anything that comes to mind.

⤷ Deku

you and he make all the food you bring on the picnic: the little sandwiches, the cupcakes, even the lemonade. you spend the whole morning in the kitchen, laughing and messing around and exchanging kisses until everything is ready and packed in a basket so big you have to carry it along, one of your hands and one of his on either side of the handle.

it's a sunny day, the kind when the sky is so blue it hurts to look at it for too long. the two of you lie down on his blanket and feed on grapes as he tries to convince you that the cloud to your left looks like an elephant (you're not convinced).

⤷ Kirishima

he doesn't mind going to parks where there are a lot of people or in quiet places where it's usually just the two of you; he will go anywhere with you. he likes to peel an orange for you and he always asks something like "is it good?" looking at you for a few seconds with a smile on his face before returning his gaze to the orange he is peeling for himself. he also likes to play something with you or just listen to you talk, but at the end of the day he likes to lie on the blanket and close his eyes, using one arm as a pillow while the other he gently strokes your hair or your sides while you lay your head on his chest.

⤷ Todoroki

he likes to go to large, quiet places that are close to a river or lake; the noise of the water and the birds singing in the sky just makes the climate and atmosphere more perfect and pleasant. you two take everything you like; fruits, cakes, sweets, juices or soft drinks but if you see a fruit on a tree close to where you are, he won't think twice about putting you on his shoulders so you can reach and pick it up. he washes the fruit for you in the river or lake and then you spend the rest of the afternoon lying on the blanket looking at the clouds; your head on his chest as he gently caresses your sides, wishing this moment would never end.

⤷ Denki

having a picnic with you is one of his favorite things; he loves and appreciates every moment by your side and makes a point of keeping those moments deep in his heart and also on his phone. he likes to film and take pictures of the two of you preparing food, walking hand in hand, sitting on the grass, eating or talking.. he likes to record these moments so he can watch them again when he is sad or missing you , or to post on instagram.

⤷ Tamaki

you and he would have the most beautiful and aesthetically pleasing picnics ever. with delicious foods and sweets that you bought at your favorite bakery. and you also take a lot of pictures that you two post on instagram or just to keep for yourselves.

but it's not really about how pretty everything looks or the social media posts. picnics with your boyfriend are always so adorable because you get to relax and stop thinking about anything else. the two of you just sit and talk and eat for a while. it's a nice change of pace that makes your heart settle in your chest.

⤷ Shinsou

no one knows you better than he does, so when he suggested you guys go on a picnic on one of his rare days off, you knew it was his way of trying to relieve all the stress you two had been feeling lately. it's so sweet and soft the feeling of lying on a blanket in the sun with your favorite boy as he plays with your hair and the two of you share a tangerine. it's a healing time for the two of you to reconnect and de-stress from the week just passed. he tells you all the gossip from work and you tell him about your two coworkers who are secretly dating.

⤷ Hawks

you and he are always taking videos and pictures of you to watch when you're apart. he's so bubbly and sweet all the time because he finally gets to spend time with you without worrying about work (no matter how much he likes it) or anything else. he can just chill with his favorite person.

you usually have your picnics at the end of the day, almost like dinner; after eating you lie down on the blanket while looking at the sky, he turns his face and smiles slightly as he runs his finger along your jaw, enchanting you with how beautiful you are. and then you walk around the park, greeting all the ducks and squirrels you pass. and he also takes a lot of pictures of you and the animals because to him, that's the cutest thing in the world.

⤷ Dabi

he only agrees to go if it's in private places, where it's just the two of you. he doesn't talk much, he just eats while listening to you say whatever you want; he gives you advice or encourages you to talk more while looking for more candy in the basket you brought. he always says he won't stay long but seeing your smile and how calm the atmosphere is, he changes his mind. he leans against a tree and pulls you towards him, you lie on your back on his chest and he gently caresses your waist or belly while you are talking about anything or are silent; just sharing a soft, comfortable atmosphere that none of you want to leave.

⤷ Shigaraki

you're the kind of couple that brings games with you on your picnic. you spend a lot of time talking and eating and the other time you two spend a lot of time playing on your nintendo; relaxing games like animal crossing or competitive games like mario kart. it feels so good while you are sitting outside in your favorite park surrounded by all your favorite delicious foods in such a calm and pure atmosphere.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 10 months

Text

Hunter's Delight

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, violence, blood, coercion, and other elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: A peaceful getaway turns to horror when you encounter a strange man in the woods.

Character: Kraven the Hunter

Note: So, this isn't what I was planning as my birthday fic but my other fic was just not happening lol.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

The smell of cedar tinges the air. Birds wing across the pale blue sky and critters rustle in the twigs and leaves that trim the forest floor. Shadows nestle between the trunks and lend an ominous hue to any otherwise harmonious landscape.

It’s a long needed escape from urban crush. The fatigue of your nine to five recedes as your brief getaway frees you of the unseen cuffs of modern survival. There are no emails, no memos, or stuffy meetings. There is only you and naked outdoors.

Oh, and your friends.

You never traveled much. Most of the time you had off, you were too tired to do much more than the bare minimum. You hadn’t even thought of it until Larissa invited you. It just never occurred to you to spend the money or the energy. Now you’re more than happy you did.

You follow the snakish path that dips between valleys and over hills, up steep walkways and across sprawling plateaus. The lush green is endless, littered with patches of thick forest, and the occasion running river crested by an old wooden bridge.

Larissa chatters loudly about your eventual return to the cottage. She dreams of kebabs cooked over the campfire and some fruity sangria. You trail the others, four of you in all. Jodi and Cameron ahead of you as your host leads the way. Work friends, but you suppose more now that you’re here.

The river water sends up a fresh scent from behind the looming trunks and you glance over at the gleaming ripples, almost twinkling as you admire them between the trees. You could do this every day. Just wander until you can’t move anymore.

“I can’t believe this is your first time up north,” Jodi says, drawing you from your mind.

“Uh, yeah, never did much exploring I guess,” you shrug.

“Even as a kid?”

“Nope. I think we had one family trip and we didn’t even make it to the amusement park,” you chuckle dryly, “ah well.”

“Ugh, I remember one time, when we were camping, my brother, Toby,” Cameron begins, “he put a frog in my bag. I screamed so loud. My mother didn’t even believe me.”

“Damn,” you remark. Cam tends to do that. Everything in some way relates back to one of her stories.

“Oh, I have an idea,” Larissa stops and faces you, “we have to decide who’s cooking.”

“It’s fine, I said I would–” You begin.

“Boo, that’s no fun,” she snips, “we used to play this game when I was a kid. I always won. Whoever collects the least acorns in ten minutes cooks.”

“Acorns?” You look around nervously. “Where?”

“You shouldn’t get lost. If you go too far, just stay still and we’ll find you,” she brushes off your concern, “it’ll be fun. And I know all the best spots!”

“That’s no fair,” Jodie pouts.

“How about I start after you. I’ll only do five minutes,” she barters.

“How do we know time’s up?” Cam picks a fingernail.

“Like I said, if you don’t show up, we’ll come find you.”

“I guess…”

“Alright, how about, whoever collects the most gets princess treatment for the night. The rest of us will have to serve you drinks and get you whatever you want,” she offers with a smug grin.

You bite your lip but don’t argue. It’s obvious she’s going to win but you wouldn’t mind the chance to explore a bit more. Besides, you never complain about time alone. It’s so peaceful here, that might just be a reward of its own.

“Come on!” Larissa claps, “bragging rights are included.”

“Fine,” Cameron sighs, “I guess it’s not completely stupid.”

“It’ll be fun just to wipe that look off your face, Lar,” Jodi snorts.

You shrug and give a nod. You have little faith in your foraging skills but you don’t mind running to the cooler a few extra times that night. Besides, the cottage did get a bit suffocating with all of you there. This might be your only chance for alone time.

“Alright, on three,” Larissa declares, “one, two–” Jodi sprints off and Larissa holler, “I didn’t say three!”

Cameron runs after her and Larissa scowls. She puts her hands on her hips and drags her foot over the grass. You give a sheepish smile and awkwardly sway.

“Guess they won’t know if I start early,” she says and sets off in the opposite direction.

You slowly putter away as you head for the river. You have no intent of gathering acorns, you just want to watch the water. You weave between the trees and come out to the shore along the winding river. You watch the lazy flow and the little minnows flitting beneath the clear ripples.

You get closer and sit on your knees in the dirt. You drag your hands through the water and push your fingers into the silt. You bend slightly and look at your reflection. You're almost hypnotised by the ambiance.

You close your eyes and pull your hands from the water. You place them on your shorts and take a deep breath. You want to hold onto this moment, to remember it once you're stuck back behind a keyboard.

You smile and your lashes flutter open. You see your reflection again, then it suddenly darkens as a shadow comes up behind you. At first, you’re confused, but you assume it’s one of the girls trying to scare you.

“Very funny–”

You fly forward into the water, arms flailing out as you splash into the shallow depth. Your head is pushed down to the riverbed as a foot crush your skull. You cough and gag, gulping down water as your breath bubbles out of your nose. Your head begins to thrum as you choke until at last, the weight relents and you rip your head from beneath the surface.

A sharp boot cracks into your ribs and sends you onto your back. You heave as you land flat, keeping your head just above the water. A man stands above you, crystal blue eyes boring into you as a growl creases in his forehead. He squats and grabs your chin, unsheathing a large knife from his belt.

“Scream and I’ll cut your throat out,” he warns as he pokes the knife tip along your lip, hushing you as he turns it slowly.

You shut your mouth, eyes rounding in terror as you watch him. Who is he? What does he want? You can’t let him know about the other girls. At least, you hope he doesn’t already.

“Listen to me,” he traces along your jaw and down to your throat, “you will do exactly as I say.”

You blink, saying nothing. His voice is gristly and unbending. His dark hair curls behind his head and he wears a thick beard that thins to coarse stubble. Around his neck is a thick cord with a single fang hanging from it.

Your eyes nearly cross as you try to see the knife in his hand..

“Gold locket. Pearl set in the middle. Bring it to me.”

You stare at him searchingly. It’s like he’s speaking another language. Or your brain just won’t hear them as fear courses through your veins.

“She wears it around her neck.”

You see the golden chain around Larissa’s neck. You noticed it once or twice, never really thinking much of it. You just thought it must be sentimental. Your lip trembles as the man clutches the back of your neck and leans into the blade.

“Why?”

He chuckles, “you want to live. I can feel it. So no more questions and I might let you. The locket, midnight. I will wait here. If you do not come, I will come to you. And you can weep with their heads in your bed.”

You gulp as he smirks at you. You nod slowly as he loosens his grip. He releases you. You almost sink back under the water as he stands and you push yourself up. He swirls the thick knife then holds it up to reflect the sunlight.

“Such a beautiful day, it would be a pity if it were to end in blood.”

“I will bring you the locket. I promise.”

“I know you will,” he says as he struts towards the trees, “it is why I chose you.”

You sit dumbfounded, staring after him until you can see nothing but the trees. You shiver as the water stirs calmly around you, soaking you through to the point of discomfort. You climb out of the river and wrings out the fabric of your shirt.

As you look around at the serenity of the pastoral bliss, you can’t fathom that the man had ever truly been there. The tenderness in your neck assures you otherwise. He was and he will be back.

☀️

“What happened to you?” Cameron giggles as you appear from the trees.

“No acorns, huh?” Jodi boasts.

“I uh… dropped them in the river. Tripped,” you lie. You’re too stunned to explain further.

“You okay?” Larissa asks.

“Yep, fine,” you utter.

“Well, Jodi got eleven and Cameron got eight, and I… got twelve.”

“Cheater,” Jodi mutters under her breath.

You’re thankful they’re too distracted by their child’s game to be very concerned. You throw up your hands. “Looks like I’m cooking,” you resign dully.

“And I get to be pampered,” Larissa trills tauntingly.

“Whatever. You’ll be lucky if I don’t dump the sangria on you,” Cameron warns.

Larissa laughs. The girls might play up their cattiness but it’s just friendly competition. Another thing you never really had growing up. Friends.

They leave the acorns in the grass. You’re quiet as you follow them onwards. You look back just before you’re out of sight of the river. You don’t see the man but you have no doubt he meant what he said. He knew about Larissa and the necklace, that’s enough for you.

🌄

As a gracious loser, and a terrified individual, you volunteer to make a pitcher of sangria for the other girls. They happily accept the offer and go out to get the fire started. The night is quickly setting in as you watch the time on your phone. As there is only one solar charger amongst the bunch of you, your battery stays at fifty percent. Without reception, it isn’t of much use anyhow.

You mix the wine, brandy, lemonade and fruit together with a wooden spoon. You hear Larissa giving orders outside over the crackle of the fire. The locket with the pearl. You know she’s still wearing it, you looked for it and there it was, around her neck. What use is jewelry all the way up here.

Your thoughts are split by the snap of the spring door. Jodi tramps inside and huffs.

“Is the wine ready yet? She’s driving me nuts.”

“I’ll bring it out,” you assure her, “why don’t you grab the kebabs, they’re ready to go.”

You nod to the pan of skewers and she lets out a disappointed grumble. She takes the pan and leaves you again to ponder your impromptu mission. You’re not stupid enough to ask for the locket. You watch the oranges swirl in the wine mixture…

You can’t. Can you? You peek over your shoulder and peek through the window. They wouldn’t notice. You could say you used more wine than you thought.

You turn your back to the window. The girls can survive a few bendaryls, they won’t survive that man and his knife. You can deal with hating yourself. That’s never been hard.

You tiptoe across the kitchen. You don’t know why you think they’ll hear you, your guilt just makes you paranoid. You go down to the room and search in the lower bunk for your bag. You take out your box of emergency benadryl and slide out a full insert. Just enough for an edge, nothing deadly.

You sneak back out and drop the pills one by one into the sangria. You stir and you stir and you stir. Finally, you’re content that your potion is complete. Your curse is pharmaceutical allergy relief with a side of drowsiness. The girls are probably too thirsty to notice you’re not sharing.

🌙

Jodi stumbles back from the outhouse. You watch her cautiously, ready to hop up and catch her. She manages to make her way back to the fire and falls into the folding chair with a burp.

“Damn, that sangria is strong,” Cameron chimes.

“And it’s going right through me,” Jodi slurs into a giggle.

“Me too,” Larissa stands up and puts her hands in front of her shorts, “my turn.”

You listen to her go around the side of the cottage, her sandals scraping and scuffling. Jodi leans her head back and snorts, waking herself and lurching forward. You get up and keep her from falling out of her chair.

“Hey, you should lay down,” you say.

“Lightweight,” Cameron teases and gulps down a mouthful. You try not to cringe.

“Whatever, I’m fine,” Jodi babbles.

“Come on,” you get her up, letting her lean on you heavily.

She’s dragging her feet as you get her across the yard and to the steps of the deck. You haul her up and through the back door. Inside, you feel her slacken on your arm until you're pretty much carrying her. You get her into her bed and roll her onto her stomach, already snoring.

You check the time. It’s late. Just after eleven.

You go back out, the blaze of the fire obscuring your view of the yard.

“Not you too,” Cameron chortles as Larissa falls past the chair trying to sit.

“I think it’s time to call it a night.”

“Bleh, listen to the office administrator, she never gives it up,” Larissa sneers, “isn’t that right?”

“Yeah, I guess,” you agree softly. You want all the abuse she has to offer you. You deserve it.

“You wanted to be princess for the night,” Cameron calls over, “let her carry you to bed.”

You ignore Cameron as you steady Larissa and direct her around the fire. You take the same path with the same end, dumping her in the singular queen she claimed for herself in the main bedroom. You make sure she’s on her stomach and shake out your nerves.

You flip on the flashlight built into your phone and shine it over her. You apologise before you unclasp the necklace. It’s heavier than you expect. You tuck it in your pocket and leave her.

One more.

Cameron meets you at the door to your surprise. She’s yawning and staggering. You let her pass as she mutters about the fire. You follow her, making sure she gets to her bed before you go outside to kill the fire.

When all is dark and still, you look up at the moon and measure the journey ahead of you. What if you get lost? What if you can’t remember the way back? You think you do. Doesn’t matter. It’s almost half past and you need to get going.

You grip your phone as you come out around the front of the cottage. You remember that you came from the right… didn’t you? You turn on your flashlight again as the darkness consumes you. You tremble at the sheer endlessness of the night.

As you set off, you hear every twig snap, every branch sway, every bat squeaking from some hidden nook. You are exposed to the unseen. Easy prey.

You hear the low trickle of water, louder in the dearth of night. You use it to guide you, flinching as leaves brush against you. You shine the light around you, trying to get a glimpse of your surroundings. It only illuminates the shadows and adds to the depths of the blackness.

A noise rolls in the darkness. Thunderous as it grows louder, footsteps making themselves heard, a beast closing in. His laughter comes from all around you, dizzying you as you spin and try to find him.

At once, he quiets and you hear nothing but the stirring of the breeze. No footsteps, not laughter, only the frantic beat of your heart. You stop and squint as you shakily raise your phone, making out the thick trunk of a tree.

There is a sudden warmth behind you. His hand is on yours, squeezing before he rips away your cell. You hear it land in the grass. His other arm hooks around your middle. His breath seeps through your hair and across your scalp.

“Give it.”

You reach into your pocket, squirming as you dig out the necklace. You hold it up with a whimper and he wraps your hand up in his again. His rough skin sends a shiver through you. He hums above the soft tinkle of the chain.

“Very good,” he keeps you close, “you are an obedient little pet, aren’t you?”

You don’t move, you don’t speak. He has what he wants. Now you want to go.

“I’ve decided,” he says bluntly. You hold your breath, trying to decipher his meaning. You try to pull away and his arm hooks tighter around you. “I will take you too.”

“What?” You quiver and grasp his arm, shoving on it without result, “no, let me go–”

“You can scream for me,” he walks you forward until you collide with a tree, putting your hands out to keep from being crushed against the bark, “the louder, the better.”

Your fingertips curl painfully against the tree. He traps you against the tree as he lets out a grow, the heat of his breath and body enshrines you. You shake and whine as panic sinks into your chest.

“Please, let me go. Please, I did what you asked–”

“I’m not asking,” he snarls and grabs your shoulder.

He spins you so violenly you can’t help but fall back against the tree. The subtle friction of metal on leather cools your blood as a sliver of moonlight gleans off the knife’s edge. You brace the tree as you babble dumbly. You don’t want to die.

He brings the curve tip of the knife to the hem of your shirt and yanks up, shearing open the front so that it falls open, revealing the bralette beneath. He makes as quick work as that, slicing up the middle and exposing you to the night chill.

He stands over you, bearing in on you as he bends slowly. You gasp as he clutches a handful of your hair and pulls your head to the side. He leans in and grazes your throat with his teeth. You writhe, caught in the arrest of his gruff touch.

He bits down, pinching your flesh until you cry out. He snickers and unclenches his teeth, trailing further down, teasing along your collarbone and over the tender flesh of your shoulder, once more nipping into you. He tortures your flesh, sucking it until it throbs.

He goes lower, tracing his path first with the metallic cold of the blade, then piercing with his teeth. He bites into the curve of your tit, he leaves sore marks blazing all around, at last taking a nipple in his mouth. His tongue swirls around your hard bud, toying with it, sucking, flicking, until finally he bites again.

You sob as he sinks his teeth in. You feel the flesh break and the warmth trickles from you into his mouth. He hums as he drinks it in, unlatching to let your rough skin turn fiery in the open air. He tends to the next, just as cruelly, as your body wracks in shock and agony.

How can this be happening? It can’t be real. You don’t understand. Who is this man? Where did he come from? You close your eyes, trying to hide from reality as it nips at your flesh.

You drone as he leaves a trail of spit and blood down your stomach, biting again and again, a tortured trail down to the top of your denim shorts. Your legs shake, threatening to give out.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he tisks and pinches your thigh, “you are weak but you will not give up, pet.”

He cuts along the seams of your shorts, left then right. You tremble with bubbling, teary gulps. The denim falls to your feet and he uses the end of his knife to play with the cotton elastic of your panties. He clicks his tongue but does not voice his amusement further.

He drops to his knees, a hand framing your hip as your legs quake. He squeezes, his thumb jabbing into your pelvis. He drags his knife down the front of your panties and hooks the fabric along the tip. He tugs until they rip, breaking through the fabric, cutting a line along your cunt.

He turns the flat of the blade against your flesh, grazing the folds before pulling it away. You bat your lashes as terror overflows. Your head lolls as your muscles twitch. You see the man’s faint shadow in the slats of moonlight breaking between the cedar trunks, you hear him lick the blade with a purr.

A silver shine reflects the eerie night glow as he raises his knife. You scream as he aims it toward you, stabbing into the wood just beside you. Your heart hammers to cacophony as he laughs at your fright.

He pushes his hand up your thigh, his calloused fingers mean against your soft skin. He feels along the shorn cotton and dips two fingers into the opening. He delves between your lips, flicking his fingers up and down your cunt. Your legs quiver and you clutch onto the divots in the bark, fighting not to fold into a heap.

He slides his fingers back and forth, feeling every part of you, doting on your clit, only to trail back to your entrance. You suck in air sharply and sob. Please just do it. Just let it be over with.

He pushes into you. Slowly, Deliberately. He leans forward and nuzzles the soft vee of hair along your cunt and sighs into you as he wiggles his fingers deeper and deeper. You groan as he stretches you. Even as your body reacts, even as the slickness welcomes the intrusion, it hurts.

He growls as he meets some resistance. You clench around his knuckles and he rams his fingers into you, to their limit. You shriek and your sandals slip in the dirt. Your nail catches in the veins of the tree and snaps.

The coolness of his tongue frightens you as it pokes out and slides along your lips. He tilts his head and glides between your folds, doting on your clit with furious flutters. You gulp and gasp, panting as a new heat blooms inside of you. Your pulse races with more than adrenaline.

He eases his fingers back then in again. Your cunt clenches around him, constricting as his tongue toys with you, flurries your nerves to an unbearable storm. Your insides clutch as rivulets of hot and cold gather in your core, mingling to a fiery roil.

You spasm, stunned by your own body. You stand on your toes as your muscles tauten and your nerves ping off each other. You cum with a raspy whine, forced over the edge by the battle of his thrusting fingers and diligent tongue.

His laughter rumbles through you as he indulges in your dissemblance. He slows as you heave helplessly. He slides his fingers out of you, leaving an emptiness there, and wipes your cum down your leg. He parts from your cunt entirely, a rocky snarl as he stands.

You smell yourself on his breath as he comes close again. He grabs the back of your neck and draws you away from the tree. Your legs tingle and shake beneath you. He turns and hurls you down to the ground. You land on your knees, hitting your elbows in the dirt.

He grabs your hips, keeping them up. He kneels behind you, one hand brushing up your back and forcing your chest down to the ground. You don’t fight him, you have nothing left.

He feels along your panties, hooking his fingers in the rent of the fabric and tears it further up your ass. He gropes you roughly, digging his nails into your skin and dragging them up, leaving hot scratches along your ass. He runs his hand from your shoulders to your hip, gripping you as his other hand retreats from your ass.

The air stills and your ears ring as each breath scalds in your chest. You stare into the deep void of the forest as his zipper splits through the silence. Time slows as dread suffocates you. This is it. This is really happening.

His fingers tickle along your ass and you twitch. He reaches your cunt, rubbing and spreading your lips, taunting you as he curves his fingers along it. He edges closer on your knees, pushing yours wider, and he pulls his hand away.

He prods you with his tip, making a slow path down to your entrance. He circles it as he groans, basking in the tension of that moment. He leans against you until his tip slips into you. You strain around him, heaving into a horrifying wail as he pushes deeper.

He reaches to your neck, pinning your face in the dirt as he jerks his hip, filling you with the single, agonizing motion. You cry out louder, your horror echoing into the sky. Your head quakes and your ears vibrate with the volume of your own grief, rising from you without restraint.

He slides back and snaps into you again. The slap of flesh underlines your breathy weeps. His weight puts an ache in your neck and down your spine. Your fingers dip into the dirt as you clutch at handfuls of dirt. He bucks again, again, again, each time growling with delight.

His palm cracks against the side of your ass, a new pain radiating through your hips. With each thrust, he smacks you, curling his nails into you, pinching, only to do it again. You whimper and wail, trapped in his fervour as you taste soil and the salt of your tears.

He bends over you, hooking his arm around your middle and the other around your neck. He sits up with you against him. His hand brushes up your side and kneads your chest as he rocks you in his lap. Your head lolls as you hiccup through your tears.

He ruts from below, splitting you in two as his muscle bulges around your neck. You wheeze as he squeezes tighter and tighter, until the world speckles to grey and black. You feel his final, jarring rams as they throb in your core, and the sudden burst of heat inside you. Almost soothing as it assures you of the end.

But it is not. He puts you on your back. Senseless, dazed, he’s on top of you, crawling over you like an animal. He fucking you against the ground, holding your leg bent against him, biting into the flesh along your shoulder. Torturing you from the inside until he’s spent again.

Not spent, not done. You’re on your side, the world flickering beneath teared-webbed lashes, each ruts shaking you. Legs together, he claps against your thighs until again he empties into you with a raucous roar.

Again, again, again. Until you’re smeared with dirt, grass, sweat, and cum. Until you’re left an empty husk across the forest floor.

Your eyelids part as he pulls the blade from the tree, a softer light emanating from the sky as the dawn approaches. He sheathes the knife as he marches around you, poking you with the dirt of his boot. He stops and squats at your side, a crooked smile on his lips.

“This hunt is not over, pet,” he reaches to brush a roughened thumb across your cheek, “I know you are stronger than this.”

He stands again and rolls his shoulders as he shakes out his mussed curls. He takes a step forward, then another, and another, striding into the sunrise without a look back. You lay prone across the lumpy ground, trying to untangle his words. They are more than a warning, they are a promise.

#kraven the hunter #dark fic #dark!fic #fic #kraven the hunter x reader #one shot #marvel

807 notes · View notes

hurtmyfavsthanks · 3 months

Text

Febuwhump Day 24: “I’m doing this because I care about you,”

Content warning: none

Villain knew the exact moment Hero snapped back into consciousness. Not because they were watching them, nor because of some particularly developed sense of hearing. No, Villain knew the exact moment Hero woke up because of the hacking, painful cough that tore through them the moment they opened their eyes.

By the time Villain had bookmarked their place and moved into their living room, Hero was gasping for air. They were clutching at their chest, blankets thrown haphazardly around their waist, tears dripping down their face as they struggled to breathe.

They looked horrible. Red faced and clammy, shaking with a constant chill despite the thick blanket Villain had thrown over them. Villain could practically see the fever wafting off of them. If there were a picture in the dictionary for the word ‘sick’, Hero’s face would be plastered there as a prime example.

It took Hero a moment to lift their gaze. When they did, their eyes widened in shock. “You—where, what–” Their eyes flicked across their surroundings at breakneck speeds, before returning to Villain with a confused glare. “Am I on your couch?!”

“It’s a sofa, but yes.”

They stared in disbelief. “Why?”

“I thought that bringing you to bed would be a tad too forward. Was I wrong?” Villain asked, voice a purr. They grinned at the way the redness on Hero’s cheeks darkened.

Hero scowled, “You're wrong for thinking I want to be on your stupid couch,” they grumbled, working to untangle themselves from the blankets. With an amount of effort Villain couldn’t help but notice, Hero lifted themselves onto unsteady legs, one hand still resting on the sofa’s arm.

They took a step. The jangling of a chain accompanied the movement.

Hero looked down, finally noticing the cuff connected to their left ankle. The other end was locked snugly around the sofa’s leg.

Hero turned to face Villain. They didn’t even look angry, simply annoyed. “Are you kidnapping me again?” they sighed.

Villain grinned. Ignoring the distrusting glare Hero sent their way, they snapped their fingers. Their abilities responded eagerly, and their once empty palm was filled.

A simple medicine cap appeared in Villain’s hand, filled to the brim with a thick, purple liquid.

Hero looked up at them like they'd grown a second head. “You brought me here to take medicine?”

“I brought you here because you dropped from the sky in a dead faint mid battle, before I so much as touched you,” There was an edge to Villain’s voice. They swallowed it, forcing their smile to remain in place. “I certainly wasn’t going to waltz up to your agency, carrying you like a princess. So I decided to take you home with me.”

Villain didn’t miss the way Hero’s eyes widened at their words. Or how their stare was filled with confusion like they had no memory of the day’s events.

Hero turned away. “It’s barely a cold. I didn’t need help.”

Didn’t need help. Yes, because someone ready to fall over in public, their allies nowhere in sight, in the middle of a fight with a villain, didn’t need help. It was ridiculous, the typical, endlessly stubborn non-logic they knew Hero for. It was usually something Villain found amusing. But looking at Hero now, the shadows under the eyes, the gauntness to their face that a simple cold could not explain, Villain felt only anger.

They couldn’t stop thinking about Hero falling. Their eyes rolling into the back of their skull, whatever retort they’d been about to make dissolving into a nonsensical slur. How they’d just dropped, falling like a bird shot from the sky.

Villain would never admit to the scream that’d torn from their lips at the sight. They didn’t want to consider how close of a call it’d been. If Villain had been just a little slower to act…

Villain pushed the thought from their mind, instead pushing the cap into Hero’s hands. Hero held it like Villain had just presented them with a dead rat.

“Oh, don’t give me that look. I’m doing this because I care about you.”

Hero sighed, “You’re doing this because you like bothering me.”

“Those two sentiments aren’t mutually exclusive,” Villain grinned. “And there’s no fun in defeating you when a cold is doing the work for me.”

Hero glared for a long moment. Finally they sighed, defeated. They lifted the cup to their lips, throwing their head back and swallowing the medicine as if it were a shot of bourbon. They returned the cup to Villain’s outstretched hand without question. “Done. Can I leave now?”

Villain took the cap back graciously, sending it back to their bathroom with a wave of their hand. “And what made you think you’d be leaving so soon?”

“But I thought–,” a sudden cough interrupted them, hacking and thick with flem. Villain almost winced at the noise. “-- I took the stupid medicine, what else do you even want?!”

They wanted Hero to avoid keeling over in their foolish goal of saving every pathetic little life in the city. “Plenty. Your downfall, the keys to the city…,” they said instead. “But that’s besides the point. You won’t be doing any more heroics for the remainder of the day. I suspect you'll be dead to the world within the hour.”

Hero's eyes bulged. “D-did you drug me?!” Their voice squeaked with indignation.

“If you consider Nyquil a drug, then yes.”

“Oh,” and just like that, their anger faded. “Then I’ll be fine, a little cough medicine isn’t going to knock me out.”

“Have you had Nyquil before?” Villain asked. ”Darling, it’s infamous, and you already look dead on your feet. I wouldn’t bet on your chances”

Hero crossed their arms, pouting like a stubborn toddler. “I’ll be fine. I'm not even tired,” Villain noted that they also sounded like a stubborn toddler. They decided not to mention either fact.

Villain sighed, hands moving to rest on their hips. “Your abuse of the word ‘fine’ aside, I’ll make you a deal.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” Hero countered, scowling. And then they sniffed, entirely ruining the impact of the expression.“You let me go, and I don’t kick your ass.”

Villain ignored them. “Stay for an hour. If you’re still awake by then, I’ll let you go.”

“I don’t have time to just sit around!” Hero groaned, pulled at the chain on their leg. The cuff was made of a soft, comfortable material, but it was sturdy. It stayed firm despite their tugging, which only encouraged them to tug harder. “I’m supposed to be on duty!”

“You’re also actively being kidnapped, as you put it. Most hostages don’t get to negotiate the terms of their stay. Be thankful.”

Hero glared, expression more of a pout than anything else. Red faced and ruffled hair, they looked as intimidating as a kitten.

Villain grinned. “But fine, if you’re so insistent on leaving, I can negotiate. Stay for forty five minutes.”

“Hell no. Twenty five.”

“Absolutely not. Thirty, and I get to pick the movie.”

Hero raised an eyebrow. “The movie?”

“Well, I’m not going to just sit here waiting for you to pass out.” Villain huffed.

Hero glared for a long moment, arms crossed. Villain could see them considering their options, stubborn pride battling against bone-deep exhaustion.

They saw the moment Hero’s exhaustion won out. They sighed, shoulders slumping, and they flopped back into their seat. “Fine. Thirty minutes and I’m out of here.”

Grinning, Villain sat themselves besides Hero, making a show of getting comfortable. They spread the blanket across both of them. Hero huffed, but didn’t move.

“I hope I get you sick.” Hero sniffled.

“I’m not exactly human, my dear; your little bug won’t touch me. Feel free to continue to hope however.”

The pair sat in near silence for a moment, the only sound the occasional hacking cough. After several minutes of consideration, Villain settled on a film. A simple, vapid romantic comedy. Utterly unremarkable and dull. The perfect film to fall asleep to.

They turned to their nemesis, finger hovering over the play button. “Any complaints?”

Hero shrugged. “Whatever. It's not like I'll be watching.”

“Because you'll be asleep, I know.”

“Because I'll be leaving.”

“Certainly. Whatever you say…” Villain’s voice dripped with condescension. Hero only huffed.

Villain flicked the movie on and snuggled into the blanket.

The film was just as unimpressive as Villain had hoped. It was just interesting enough to be vaguely entertaining, but it was clearly a film designed to be background noise. Which was perfect, of course.

Villain wasn’t paying the film any mind. What they were truly focused on was Hero. They’d tucked themselves underneath the blankets, half-curled into the covers. Their arms were crossed over their chest, expression set as if their very honor depended on them staying awake.

Hero was fighting a battle against exhaustion, and it was obvious they were losing. Within the first ten minutes, they’d already begun snuggling into the covers, pulling the material close to their trembling frame. Their eyes were barely open by the fifteen minute park. They were still sitting upright, but their head would tip forward every few minutes, eyes falling shut. They’d always jerk themselves back to wakefulness moments later. Villain didn’t miss the way they’d glance over to Villain each time it happened, expression embarrassed. Villain carefully did not meet their gaze.

Villain resisted a smile when Hero finally leaned back fully, resting their head against the sofa.

By the half hour mark, Hero had gone entirely slack. Their mouth was slightly ajar, quiet, congested snores the only noise they made. They were out like a light, just like Villain had predicted.

Slowly, carefully, Villain leaned towards them. “Time’s up darling,” Villain whispered into Hero's ear, tone thick with amusement. “Should I let you go? You seem rather comfortable.”

“Hnnn…”Hero only grumbled in response, words unintelligible. They shifted in place, and Villain froze and Hero flopped over, falling to lean heavily against their side. They tucked themselves into Villain, nose pushing itself into the crook of Villain’s neck.

They hummed sleepily, content, before falling still again.

“Oh,” Villain didn’t dare move. They could feel heat coming off Hero in waves, fever leaving their skin clammy against Villain’s. Their breath ticked against Villain’s neck. Neither feeling was particularly unpleasant.

They tried to move away, carefully shifting Hero’s body to rest against the sofa’s arm. But then Hero gave a half-conscious whine, fingers blindly gripping at Villain’s shirt. Even in their sleep they were stubborn as ever.

Villain sighed, accepting their impromptu downgrade to Hero’s cushion. They made a mental note to continue their ‘kidnapping’ for the remainder of the week.

#oh this is barely whump once more #sickfic #sick whumpee #stubborn whumpee #hero whumpee #villain caretaker #whump #whumblr #hero x villain #febuwhump #febuwhump 2024 #febuwhump day 24 #illness whump #my stuff

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comfortless · 4 months

Note

for your consideration, dearest syl: hybrid Flemish giant rabbit!König 🐇💭

flemish giant rabbit hybrid! König x fem, coyote hybrid! reader

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. hybrids: König is (mostly) human! he just has bunny ears and a cute lil tail & the same goes for reader!, kind of dark- mentions of what is essentially cannibalism, violence, scent & breeding kink, dubious consent to everything. please heed the warnings!

hello lil wisp! sorry!! this veered off a bit from what i usually write. there is still some fluff and sweetness here if you squint real hard…

Winter is setting in.

You could feel it on your bare skin, the chill that sweeps past the trees like breath from a ghoul’s rotting throat: something dead and wretched, so cold it steals your breath and halts the blood in your veins. If you weren’t careful, staying ahead of yourself and the rest of the things lurking in the woods, that ivory death would creep up, grab you by the neck and drown you out in the snow.

With the season comes the need to feed. You don’t have the luxury of hibernation settled into the primitive roots of your brain. While everyone else tucks themselves into dens carved out from mountains or beneath the earth, settled in with the roots of vast trees, you’re still left in smothering snow, heavy as the weight of the hunger.

You were born for this, the hunt: to feel your fingernails dig into the fallen leaves and forest debris, curl in carving your name into the earth, bite and rip and tear. “Little coyote,” the birds would call, seated up on tree limbs so, so far above that the sunlight would burn your eyes if you dare to look at them, “let us watch.”

You always put on the show, always stage the fight with grace. A lost, blubbering sheep one day; the wool ‘round her ears dried your throat, her mournful bleating only died down when your teeth found her throat. The canopy above echoed your pride, they were always grateful to have something to scavenge later, whether it be finger or eye or ear; your hunger wasn’t the only that raged out here in the forest.

This winter would have to be your last alone. You could feel the way a life of roaming without pack or anything to settle with had eaten away at not just your body, but that little illusion of a soul somewhere tucked a long way down inside of you.

It would be a simple one, too— drag some creature to your den to keep your flesh warmed and your stomach full, survive this loathsome season and flourish with the spring. When the leaves returned and the lakes thawed, you could settle into some foreign pack. Flash your neck, hide your teeth and hope they wouldn’t rip you apart as you have so many others.

You think to yourself that a deer would do, some meek little doe that would bat her eyelashes and plead that you only wait the winter out with her, curling against you to keep you warm as you keep her safe until finally…

You didn’t like to think about it too much.

As much as the chase and the thrill had a hold on you, thinking about the loss of life, the ghosts that cling to your shoulders and wail, waiting for your turn to join them was far different. You couldn’t fight your nature, but you knew well enough you could never entirely swallow down the guilt that came with it, either.

There was a pain in your legs as you walked, exhaustion that would go unsatisfied until your plan had been laid out proper. It begins to feel dismal when you realize you have not seen another creature in miles, no prints, either. The only thing that brings you any companionship are the first flakes of snow, sifting down from far above, the great bone white and gray of an falsified sea.

You crouch and wait, curling your arms around your midsection as you shiver. Time passes, but you can’t be certain of just how much… mere seconds, maybe hours. The sky gives nothing away.

Now, there’s a rabbit.

You catch the scent of it on the breeze, musky and floral. Poor thing has probably only basked beneath evergreens, lived in sprawling gardens its entire life, kissed the sun and held flaking petals in its hands. So very unlike you who only knows the shade, the blood, and the hunt.

Your charge is determined, the soles of your feet torn and bloodied from angry thorns springing up from the crushed leaves on the cold soil; teeth bared as you hurtle through the brush of dying plant life. Its so close, so terribly close you can already feel the way your teeth will rend its flesh, feel saliva pooling up on the back of your tongue.

Reaching the forest’s edge you spot… him.

The rabbit is huge, stood in the midst of the deadened field with his back turned to you. The tall, decaying grass just barely brushes against the backs of his knees, low hanging fog veiling his face. If not for the puffy, fawn-colored tail situated just past the expanse of the pale, toned back, you would have assumed you were faced with some sort of bear.

This is not your usual prey.

No matter the sharpness of your claws or the ferocity of your bite, you know well enough that someone like this could never be brought down by yourself alone. It’s too risky, even as your belly aches and you itch to be back in the warmth of your den, surrounded by the pelts of the four-legged imitations and the fire roaring in its pit…

Rabbits were simple, at least. You press your face against them and cuddle, whisper sweet things in their ears and they melt, begging to be swallowed whole without any idea that you’ve only ever meant it literally.

You approach him with cautious, gentle steps, allowing your body language to remain open and friendly as you present him with the view of you bare, claws turned inward into your own palms and teeth hidden away by soft, warm lips. Your ears lie back to rest against your head, tail tucked between your thighs: all a display of utter submission, and a trickery that has worked time and time again.

“It’s getting cold..,” you murmur, voice low and as pitiful as it can get. “Will you keep me warm?”

Your rabbit cocks his head at you, one flopped ear lifting in curiosity. And he doesn’t move, doesn’t startle… The poor, stupid thing remains in place as his stare drinks you in, almost adoringly as you pad right up to him. There’s no hope of your faces being level, you merely use that to your advantage, putting on a cute pout and placing your palms flat against his bare chest.

“Ja,” he murmurs, gently coaxing your chin up to look him properly in the eye. Cute prey was easy, but never… never in your life had you found your prey to be handsome. Even with those silly ears bouncing with each cloudy puff of breath he takes, his face is still something of a myth. The old humans would have made statues in his honor from his build alone, but that face would have given him the look of a warrior of myth— brutish, yet charming with the wide grin he gives you when you meet the sea holly color of his irises. “Come here.”

He lifts you into his arms with ease and your shivering immediately ceases, he’s warm like the summer sun.

“I’ll take care of you,” he whispers into one of your triangular ears, causing it to involuntarily flick from the rush of his breath and press tighter to your skull.

Your intent was to take him to your own den, but as he begins to move it winds up being the opposite; there are mountains, an ice covered stream all laid out before you as he huffs more sweet words in a foreign tongue against your temple. It takes some time to understand that what you had intended to do and what he intends are entirely different. The mouth of a vast cave comes into view right as he dips his head, huffs several breaths against you, panting like a dog.

You’re only dropped when he kneels down to enter the den— his, ripe with the scent of sweat and musk and something floral. The rabbit has supplies stowed away for the winter, an array of preserved food, ample pelts likely stolen away from some other poor creature. He has weapons scattered about, stolen away from what remained of the old humans and their buildings, some sharper and more deadly than even the claws that crest the peeks of your hands. Your heart only plummets… you’re not in the presence of some stupid bunny, but a behemoth.

You begin your protests in a hiss, only to have your lips met with dried fruit, something sweet and red laid out on your tongue that tastes of sugar. He pulls you up and over his lap as he fits you both into the bed of animal skins and feeds you by gently guiding the food to your lips. The only think still spitting and crackling is a fire pit at the center as you allow yourself to somewhat settle.

The rabbit man only hums his contentment against your throat as your back presses to the expanse of chest behind you, and his hands trail away from your mouth, down further until they’re spreading your legs for him. Your pulse races as your eyes map the daggers across the floor down to the fur he’s seated you with him upon.

There’s only a hiss of breath that leaves your lips when his already leaking cock does press against the heat of your core. You don’t fuck prey— that would only spoil it, and you suppose that you are satisfied in knowing that he has no intention of harming you, only filling you with his seed, perhaps even his kits…

As his tip snags at your entrance, he purrs finding you already wet, bared open for him with his hand still steadying your thigh.

“Coyotes mate for life, hm?,” he rasps against the back of your neck, his own thigh trembling with the sheer excitement of the prospect of breeding you, tethering you to him for not only the rest of this winter.

You can hardly bite back the moan as he pushes through your folds again, nudging your bud as he spreads your arousal over the girth of him.

“Answer,” he commands in a sharp whisper, using his free hand to guide your chin up again. And you do, only in a weak nod.

He stuffs you full then, leaves you a panting heap as he repositions you onto your knees and covers you in himself. The furs smell of him, not the animals they’ve come from. Just the scent of lonely nights and a bitter, masculine stench that you whine and whimper into; all while he grunts his approval and praises about your tightness, your warmth, how you look somehow prettier now, capsized in his bed. Even has the audacity to whisper how long he’s watched you dart through the forest and waited for you to come to him as you sink your claws into hay and fur to steady yourself from the punishing pace he sets.

He only seems more fervent and adoring when he brings you to a rapturous bliss, keening whines and and tight praises pulled free from your throat as your cunt drools around him.

“You want kits?,” he purrs behind you, around you, everywhere as his voice lowers to an almost growl with each word spoken. In your trembling state, addled by sheer bliss as his cock soars into you to grind against your deepest places, you’ve barely the mind to refuse him anything. You merely mumble into the fur, something akin to a yes that has him grasping at your hips as though you’re his last tether to life itself.

When he’s finished, your stomach full of fruit and cunt full of him, he whispers into your ear about how the old humans believed in fate. His hands trail over your back, your waist, every curve only to rise and cup your cheek. His ears raise when he kisses you then, tender, as if trying to push his faith that you belong here right past your teeth.

#könig x reader #tw: dubcon

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jenicaclarisse · 3 months

Text

NOZEL SILVA

What’s it like dating the serious and disciplined nozel silva

writing: canon info, fluff to fluff, relationship headcanons and husband nozel being a cutie pie cause he is. Do not see many fics about him so I’ll do it ✋

Fragile - Laufey

MEETING:

Getting to know him was awkward but yet interacting with him left you a feeling of curiosity and intrigued of his mysterious nature. How he kept to himself and remained poised to reflect his high status. You assumed he was the serious type and he is wholeheartedly

Overtime you noticed his mannerisms, despite his love for wine he couldn’t handle it very long as you noticed his usually straight back being slightly more hunched as the night grew.

“I assume you can’t handle your wine very well Mr. Silva.” You sat at one of the chairs provided by the bar.

Nozel didn’t notice you at first as he stubbornly took one more sip of his glass. He looked at you with a raised brow and crossed his arms.

“Women shouldn’t comment on a man’s capacity to handle alcohol.”

“So it’s the truth?”

Nozel nudged his lip forward.

“Silence yourself.”

Despite that, you giggled at his expense as his cheeks flushed from the alcohol. He asked what was so funny and you replied was his face. Nozel quickly palmed at his face as he looked at you once more.

“I think I have seen you from the past.”

“Oh? Do enlighten me.” You replied.

He proceeded to tell you of his sightings of the times he had caught you walk by and or during your missions where you were with your squad.

That night he asked you of the things you experienced as a magic knight. You replied hastily as his questions came right after the other. All the time his face was adorably serious, he couldn’t even finish his wine.

In return, you asked him what he liked. He gestured to his wine.

“Wine.” He simply said.

“But you couldn’t finish it though.” You remarked.

“Then don’t ask what I like” He crossed his arms.

You laughed at his face as he decided to down half of the left over wine from his glass.

“And now you did finish it”

Nozel gulped down and nudged you to the side in slight annoyance.

“It will do you well if you silenced yourself”

You laughed once again as he now faced away from you with a gruffy sound coming from his throat.

As the night came to a close, you and him left the bar as you clutched your bag from outside the establishment. Nozel turned to you.

“I look forward… to more conversations with you.”

Despite yourself, you managed to peak the interest of Nozel. Although there wasn’t a personal meeting for much later, the both of you indulged in correspondence via letters

There he expressed his interest clearly, answering whatever you have asked in the letters you have sent. He very passionately agreed to your whims and there you learned that he can be sweet

If the flowers at your doorstep wasn’t enough then surely the desserts, dresses and jewelry can surely change your mind.

He brought you to many dates most of which was flying over the city of clover as per your request. But on times where you preferred to not tire out nozel by flying out into the sky for hours on end the both of you settled for a nice dinner, roasted duck.

Soon you began to realize that Nozel did have a cute side. He was slightly clumsy and even socially awkward at times, how he’s not completely aware that animals tend to dislike him and the way his braid makes him even more angry looking

You even teased him. “Angry bird” you call him

You ask nozel to teach you spells on times where he had free time which he very begrudgingly agreed to do.

You often pull at his braid and he slaps your hand in annoyance. But sometimes, sometimes he may let you braid it yourself.

One thing you noticed much later was the fact that he had a fan base! Everytime he appeared near the plaza or on times where he had to fight you would often hear cheers from the crowd. Mostly women.

But you rest assured. Knowing that man was yours.

———————

Nozel Silva is so fine smhhh

#nozel silva x reader #nozel silva fluff #nozel x reader #nozel silva #black clover x reader #black clover #nozel silva x reader fluff #black clover fluff #black clover x reader fluff

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just-a-creep-babe · 11 months

Text

A Demon’s Ache — Part 12

Eyeless Jack x Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Commissioned by @cookiereblogss — thank you! so so very much as always!!!!

Requests are closed but commissions are open!

Masterlist: x

His fingers reach for the edges of his mask

He swallows thickly, saliva filling his mouth like venom before a snake strikes

You look so peaceful, so calm and relaxed in his arms, like you trust him completely

You could be all his

He could finally claim you—once and for all

He pushes his mask up past his nose, tongue tracing over his teeth

He feels the distinct points of his canines; he feels every bump, every edge and groove of the sharp enamel protruding from his gums

Then, gently so as to not wake you from your light sleep, he shifts, bringing his mouth inches from your neck

His warm breath fans over your skin, but it doesn’t seem enough to stir you awake

He notices the smallest details of your body; everything from the steady rhythm of your pulse to the divine aroma of your blood

He craves you

Even after finally getting what he's wanted for so long now, he still wants more

He‘s as insatiable as ever

The touch of his lips to your throat is slow and soft as he kisses you

He presses his lips once, then twice against your neck before scraping his teeth on the thin flesh over your pulse

He’s on the verge of doing it, on the verge of sinking his mark into your throat—permanently

But then you mumble his name, and he isn’t sure if you’re sleeping or awake, or somewhere between the two, but it’s like it’s enough to snap him out of it

That’s not what you want and he knows it

He recoils away, guilt and shame twisting in his gut

He has to leave, he realizes

Staying will only make it harder to resist

He readjusts his mask over his face, then carefully slips out from underneath you

He throws his clothes back on, opens the door, then offers one last fleeting look at your peaceful form on the bed

His heart clenches, heartache throbbing in his chest like an old friend

And then he turns away, closing your door behind him with a final resounding click

It’s hard for him to think about anything else for the rest of the night

He imagines giving in to the temptation of claiming you, and just the thought has him salivating

His instincts keep urging him to go back and do it—but he knows he shouldn’t

And so, after mindlessly wandering the halls, searching for a distraction with little to no success, he ends up returning to his room

He wants to go out for a hunt, but it’s still raining, so he loses himself to his medical books in the meantime

The rain only really lets up around 2 in the morning, but as he steps out into the darkness of the night, the drop in temperature and humidity feels pleasant against his skin

The earth is still damp, and as he wanders the city, he finds puddles reflecting the street lamps on the asphalt

It’s a pretty sight, and if he wasn’t so lost in his thoughts, he might even be able to appreciate it

Even as he’s cutting through bodies, all he can focus on is the thought of you

You’re too perfect for your own good

He stays out until the sun begins to rise, lightening the sky to a pale blue with faint hints of pink and orange

Morning fog hangs in the air, but all things considered, it looks like it’s going to be a sunny day

When he hears the birds starting to wake, chirping in the crisp morning air, he takes it as his cue to head back to the mansion

He wants to return to see you, wants to find the warmth of your bed and lay down next to you, but he's worried it'd scare you off

Casual fuck buddies don’t usually stick around like that

He decides not to push things, and instead, he spends most of the morning pouring over his books

It’s only when Hoodie texts him, asking to train, that he leaves his room again to make his way through the forest

He sees you on the way out, talking to Natalie in the living room, and when he makes eye contact with Nat, she smiles a big, wide grin at him

"I assume it's been a good morning, Jack?"

He usually wouldn’t care about anyone making stupid comments to get a rise out of him

But you’re right there, and you look absolutely mortified when she says it

It makes him pause halfway to the door, and he watches, admittedly in amusement, as you hiss her name out under your breath

You're cute when you're upset

But then again, you’re always fucking cute

“What makes you assume that?” he asks, feigning ignorance

Your eyes widen, face flushing, and you look off to the side, like you’re dreading every second of this

“Oh, you know,” Nat carries on, waving her hand dismissively, but that broad, mischievous grin never once leaves her face

For once, Jack appreciates her usually-obnoxious teasing humor

“You just seem much looser,” she continues, “You don’t look as tense, like you don’t have that stick up your ass anymore. It almost looks like you finally got laid or something”

"Nat!” you snap at her, "Don’t you have some peanut butter to clean out of your shower?!"

She snickers, and Jack can’t tell if that’s just some code word, or if it’s an actual thing

Why would she have peanut butter in the shower?

"Yeah, yeah," Nat rolls her one good eye, "I'll leave you two lovebirds at it"

She makes her way out, squeezing past Jack standing at the entryway, but not before turning to give you one last wink

You look like you either want to kill her or yourself

Well, at least he doesn’t have to worry about hiding the truth from Nat

"Sorry about that," you sheepishly apologize, "I wasn't, like... it's not that I was trying to gossip or anything, I just, you know, it kind of just—"

"Easy, easy," Jack chuckles, because my god, you're way too adorable for your own good when you're all flustered like that, "it's fine," he reassures, "trust me, I know how nosy they can get sometimes"

You nod, smiling with relief

"Yeah, she's... she's definitely excitable when it comes to... well, you know..."

You trail off, then shake your head

"I mean, anyways, I uhm..." you trail off again, and there’s suddenly a thickness in the air between the two of you

You shift your weight from one foot to the next

“I… I really enjoyed last night,” you admit

He nods, a familiar warmth starting to bloom in his chest

"I did too"

It’s faint, but he can’t stop himself from noticing the shift in your hormones at the memory of last night’s events

He takes in a deep breath, and somehow, just that simple act has more of your perfume infusing into the room

You want him again

He forgets about Hoodie, forgets about Nat, forgets about everything else except what he wants to do to you

Would you let him bend you over right here and now?

You stiffen, like you notice the change in his demeanor

Like you know he’s aware of your arousal

He hears your heart rate pick up, hears the way your breathing changes

You're divine

He walks forward, closing the gap between you, and all he can suddenly think about is how fucking good you felt wrapped around his cock

Like no other feeling could ever compare

"J-Jack—" you shakily say his name, and he wonders if you’d whimper like that too if he sank his teeth into your neck

He captures your jaw between his fingers, tilting your head up so that your lips are inches apart

And he’s about to kiss you—he’s about to kiss you hard and fast until you’re dizzy, but a voice from behind snaps him out of the moment

“Oh—oh, am I interrupting something?”

Jack turns, finding none other than that new proxy standing in the doorway, eyeing the both of you with a shit-eating grin on his face

“Yes,” Jack hisses

“N-no,” you stutter at the same time

The proxy’s grin widens

“Hey, listen, if you’re about to fuck, you can’t be doing that shit out in the open. Get a room or something. And anyways, blue guy, they want you down at the shack”

Jack huffs, trying to hold back a snarl

He wants to wrap his hands around your waist, pull you up close and kiss you long and hard to send the guy a message—you’re his

But instead, he swallows back his urges and steps away from you

It’s childish and petty, but he can’t resist shoulder-checking the proxy as he makes his way past him

He hears him make some insignificant comment as he walks away, and he almost can’t resist turning back and scaring some sense into that kid

The walk through the woods helps calm him down

It seems like the rain did some good to the forest; the foliage is bright green, and he can hear the insects and woodland creatures buzzing and scurrying around him

He reaches the training grounds by the shack, and he realizes something’s up when he sees Slender there with the proxies

The entity almost exclusively shows up when he needs something

He walks up to them, offers a nod, and Slender’s unpleasant static numbness fills his mind

“You are required for a job,” the entity speaks, its telepathic voice a gravelly murmur, “you will be going with Tobias”

The demon looks at the proxy in question, and Toby grins, flashing up a peace sign at Jack

"You are to leave in three days' time. I will provide more information as required. Is your cooperation a certainty?"

When Jack nods, Slender expresses his approval, and just like that, he disappears in a blink, leaving Jack alone with the three main proxies

"Training, huh?" Jack asks, looking at Hoodie, who shrugs

"Hey man, I didn't know the boss was planning anything, promise," he holds his hands up in a claim of innocence

"He gathered us-us up here just a few—just a few minutes ago," Toby defends with a crack of his neck

"It seems-seems like it's going to be a big one," he continues, "f-fucking getting two teams on it and everything"

"Two teams?" Jack asks

"Masky's leg is better," Hoodie gives a nod at his best friend, who grunts, and Jack notes that he looks fully recovered, though part of him still wants to check it out later, "so we're going in as well, but at separate locations. We still don't even know what the plan is," he admits

"And why isn't that new guy helping out instead?"

Masky huffs, and Jack gets the sense that he's also not too fond of him

"Hell if we know," he snorts

"There's no point in worrying about it now," Hoodie shrugs, then nods his head to the field, "C'mon, I was serious when I said I wanted to train, y'know. It wasn't just a ploy to get you down here; we all know you're Slender's little Discord mod, anyways"

Toby snickers, but it seems like Masky also doesn't understand the reference

"Slender's little what? What does that even mean?" Jack asks

"Don't worry about it. C'mon, let's do this, already"

Training goes well for the rest of the afternoon

Jack isn't the most pleased about having to leave for a mission, but he figures it's not the end of the world

The worst part of it will be having to stay away from you for god knows how long

He's about to return to the mansion after sparring, when Hoodie suddenly pulls him to the side

"Hey, actually, there was something else I meant to bring up," he admits

"Yeah, what's up?"

"About that favor you owe me..."

Jack’s first instinct is to deny that he owes him any favors, but then he remembers that day with the campfire

"What about it?" Jack asks hesitantly, warily

Hoodie cocks his head to the side, humming

"You and (y/n)—things been working out?" he answers Jack's question with his own, and Jack suddenly does not trust whatever he's planning

"I guess you could say so"

Another hum from Hoodie

"That’s good. You know, the two of you are cute together, I think you’re good for each other"

"What're you getting at?" Jack's thinning patience becomes evident in his tone, but it only makes Hoodie chuckle

"I'm calling it in," Hoodie finally claims, "I wanna watch"

At first, it doesn't fully click with Jack

"Watch what?" he asks, now fully annoyed that the other's being so coy about the whole thing

But then it does click, and he's one uneaten organ away from snapping the guy's neck in half

As if sensing the demon's sudden change in demeanor, the proxy raises his hands and backs away a few steps

"Hey, listen, listen, I'm just asking to watch. That's it. Nothing more, relax"

"Relax?" Jack takes a menacing step forwards, "You want me to fucking relax? You're a sick fucking perv, you know that?"

"Hey, a deal's a deal—you knew what you were getting yourself into when you agreed to it"

Rightful indignation floods Jack's system

Without thinking, he yanks Hoodie up by the collar and raises his fist threateningly

Hoodie doesn't even raise his hands to defend himself, which somehow only pisses Jack off even more

"That's not fucking happening," he snarls, and even though he really, really wants to hit him, it's not like Jack to throw the first punch

Hoodie laughs—the fucker actually has the audacity to laugh—and before Jack loses his temper and actually wrings his neck, he shoves him away

The proxy grunts, stumbling backward, catching himself last minute before he falls

"Why are you laughing?" the demon demands

"I'm laughing cause you don't got a choice," he says, readjusting his collar, "we made a deal"

"Yeah? And? (Y/n) was never involved in making the deal, you can't just drag her into this like that”

Hoodie eyes Jack for a moment, the tension between the two growing palatable

"Alright, fine," he eventually says, "How about this, then; you ask if she's alright with it, and if she is, we go through with it. If she isn't, I'll either figure something else out, or you'll still owe me one later"

Jack huffs

There's no way you'd agree to something like that... right?

He almost can't believe how dogshit his luck is; the very next day he has the self-control to take things further with you, this happens

How is he even supposed to ask for something like that?

Another huff from Jack, and he shakes his head

"Not a fucking chance, man"

Hoodie snorts

"If you don't ask her, I will"

Jack's fists clench at his sides

This guy's fucking dead

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #eyeless Jack x reader #eyeless Jack #crp

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abiiors · 6 months

Text

sold to the 1975 😔✊🏼

a/n: i spent way too much fucking time on this and literally no one deserves to be subjected to this yet here we are. GOODBYE. (this is my legacy...)

when i open my eyes in the morning, the world feels different. the birds don’t chirp like they usually do, the sky is grey and leaves on the tree outside seem wilted and dead. still i drag myself out of my bed and trudge to the bathroom.

the bags under my eyes are pronounced—a result of cleaning up after my mother when she returns home from her late night clubbing sessions. my lifeless blue orbs (🔵👄🔵) stare back at me. there’s no spark in them anymore… i used to be the curious girl who found beauty in everything. now… i can barely look at myself in the mirror.

a heavy thudding on the door interrupts my depressive spiral.

“autumn raine! open this door right now,” my mother slurs, mixing up her words and the syllables of my name and—

“have you died in there?”

the banshee shriek gets me moving. i toss my hair in a messy bun and throw on an old band t-shirt—radiohead, my own little inside joke since no one else seemed to know the band. other girls my age fawned over taylor swift and boys who barely looked old enough to be in high school. i felt like an old soul.

“autumn!” another sharp rap on the door. “we have guests.”

guests? at 8 am? that piques my curiosity.

“coming!” i reply and shimmy into my skinny jeans.

i open my door and come face to face with my mother’s fuming nostrils. if my situation weren’t so pathetic and sad i’d almost find it funny.

she takes my arm in a vice-like grip and smiles an ugly smile.

“what have i done to be cursed with a child like you, huh? you couldn’t dress up even for today.”

“why, what’s—”

“hush now!” she chides, “go put on some lipstick and meet me downstairs in two minutes.”

she pushes my back into my room and shuts the door before i can tell her that i don’t own any make up. the most i can find is some tinted lip balm and old, crusty mascara. the only jewellery i can find is the heart shaped necklace from my dead father, so i quickly put it on. between that and my tattered old converse, i feel like the prettiest girl in the world.

i roll my eyes at my sarcasm and make my way downstairs.

the stairs creek in a familiar way and i don’t even notice that something feels way out of the ordinary until it’s too late.

i don’t even notice the four men sitting on our torn old sofa until i’m right in front of them.

my mother looks at me with a saccarine smile. “be a darling and make some tea for our guests, autumn.”

“no, that won’t be necessary,” one of them cuts in and for the first time i look at them properly.

the one who’d just spoken is smaller in comparison to the other three. his arms are littered with tattoos, his hair curly and going in every possible direction. his eyes look hard and cold and brown.

the other three nod in unison.

“we need to finish the transaction and get going,” he speaks again and mother pales slightly.

the…transaction?

“of course,” she smiles a fake smile and wrings her hands together.

“i’m sorry, what’s—”

“autumn!” i shut up the instant she glares at me. i know that look. don’t speak until you’re spoken to.

“you haven’t told her?” the other one speaks up. his voice is much deeper than his friend’s. his whole vibe is more intense than the rest of them. he’s all sharp cheekbones and bleached, buzzed hair and chipped nail polish. not a man of many words but something tells me people listen when he speaks.

“i… of course i h-have,” my mother stutters and throws me a look. “she knows, don’t you, sweetheart? tell me.”

tell them what?!

my heart hammers in my chest and i try to swallow the dryness away. “y-yes. i know”

all at once four pairs of striking orbs are on me and i blush from the intensity of their gazes. (🟤👄🟤 🟤👄🟤 🟤👄🟤 🔵👄🔵) all the attention in the room is on me and with horror i realise they expect me to speak further.

“she t-told me,” i stutter out and smile at my mother who looks like she’s swallowed a lemon.

“and did she tell you who we are?”

i think about nodding again but there’s no way i can fib this. the truth it i’ve never seen these men before in my entire life. all i know is that if i went along with my mother’s lie, things might be good for me. even if it’s temporary.

hesitantly, i shake my head.

“we are the 1975,” the curly-haired man speaks and i cock my head to the side. what an odd little name… “and you’ve been sold to us.”

—

“sold?!” i screech as soon as they’re out of earshot.

“ungrateful bitch,” she hisses back, “keep your voice down! i’ve taken care of you for twenty years and this is how you repay me?”

“taken care—TAKEN CARE OF ME?” i bellow, unable to keep it down anymore. “all you did was drown yourself in a bottle of wine every night and left your child alone to take care of everything on her own. and now you’re asking me to repay you?!”

“don’t act like you’re a special little gem. the girl down the street was sold to five people last year and she went without any complains.”

my blood boils at the mention of her. lila rose… the girl down the street. no one had heard from her in a year and no one cared enough to find out anything.

“don’t bring her into this,” i retort. the air around me feels charged and my entire body feels alive. never in my life have i talked to my mother like this before and now that i do, i feel… alive.

i laugh at the irony. the most free i have ever felt in my life is after being sold to four men i do not know.

my mother’s hand raises above her head and i know what’s coming—won’t be the first time she’s slapped me. the air around me shifts with the force of it and i flinch away, tightly closing my eyes. i brace myself for a slap… that never comes.

slowly, bewildered, i open i eyes and come face to face with a… back?

“you will not touch our property,” the man speaks and this is the first time i hear his voice.

he’s impossibly tall, perhaps the tallest among them all. half his face is covered in a beard and his hair is tied up in a neat bun. and even when i’m offended at being called their “property”, i can’t help but feel a flutter in my stomach.

he saved me from getting hurt.

“o-of course,” my mother stutters. “i was just—”

“you were just…?”

he scoffs when she cannot answer and turns to look at me.

for the first time i’m truly aware of just how big he is, just how he towers over me. the difference in our size leaves me speechless, and i tuck my hair behind my ears and flutter my lashes up at him.

he smiles. “you have thirty minutes. go pack.”

—

back in my room a sense of sadness hits me for the first time.

there’s nothing in this house that i’m going to particular miss, apart from my stack of secondhand paperbacks that is…

i thumb through the pages one last time and say goodbye knowing my mother won’t hesitate to use them as kindling the moment i’m gone. not like she’s ever read a book in her life… all she knows how to do is drink, party, cake her face with make up and obsess over men.

i stuff my clothes into a tattered old duffel bag. there’s no make up i need to pack, just my favourite books and vinyl, if they even let me use them wherever they’re taking me.

almost on dot, once my thirty minutes are up, the curly haired man from before enters my room. his lip curls in barely concealed disgust as he looks around my room—at the peeling wallpaper and the jane austen bedsheets on my bed, at the random niche band posters that i don’t expect him to know about (oasis, blur, arctic monkeys etc) but he’s gentle when he takes a hold of my hand.

“let’s go, autumn raine.” he says and i refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry. instead, i square my shoulders and blink my tears away.

and then i close the door to my bedroom for the last time.

autumn raine ↑ if you even care

#THIS IS GETTING DELETED IN A FEW HOURS I HOPE YOU KNOW #GOODBYE #the 1975 #matty healy #ross macdonald #george daniel #adam hann

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bokettochild · 4 months

Text

Hyrule headcannons because :)

he doesn't actually understand Hylian Sign, he grew up in Calatia and knows their sign, but he's still new to Hylian anything, but since the others don't realize this, he sometimes gets left out of conversations

He's bi-lingual, Calatian and Hylian both, with a small smattering of Labryn

he absolutely loves sweet things, with a preference for sugary items over juicy ones

he tends to save extra non-perishable foods in his bag for a rainy day

he has a favorite type of bug, and yes, it's based off of flavor

he adores butterflies and likes finding out new kinds, because their wings are all so pretty and unique (he will not eat them)

he knows a lot about geology, just not the proper terms. he has his own vernacular for geological happenings, but he has a good grasp on the science of it all outside of that

he's better attuned to magical signatures than the rest of the chain

he likes Wild as a person, but while they share interests and habits, Wild's magic is strongest when he's doing what he loves and because his magic is Very Off-Putting, it makes it hard to be around him for extended periods

he has so many unspoken puns. Pun King. He doesn't think they'd be appreciated by the others, but he's biding his time until they're all comfortable enough with each that it won't matter

his favorite color is yellow because that's how his parents described the sun before Ganon's power corrupted the world

he's very good at weaving, and while art isn't his thing so much, designing new patterns for his fabric is a fun past time when he's very bored

because Hylian culture is new to him, he's been studying it a lot and, unlike the others, has already pieced together a rough timeline

he actually doesn't care much for his fairy form and only uses it when he needs to, mostly because he perfers the freedoms that having a larger body gives him, even if flying is nice

the idea of birds is still very new to him, and he tends to be off-put by bird-song and the sound of wings; the world making noise is still weird to him

while he's okay with having someone treat his wounds, he's very insistent about clean-up afterwards due to his blood being a key to resurrect Ganon. He's not above using Legend's hemophobia as an excuse either, if it gets him out of explaining

a bit of a clean freak in general, he likes to keep his items in perfect condition and organized, even his cave has precise places for everything

while birds are off-putting, he likes feathers, he likes collecting fallen ones to wash and tusk in his bag, not to use on anything particularly, just because they're pretty

he thinks cows are one of the most beautiful creatures in the world (Malon loves it)

he's very particular about gift giving; showing thanks is important, but giving gifts out of the blue feels rude because it makes others feel awkward, still, he'll make sure to return any gift given to him, usually with a particularly pretty feather, rock, or a small woven trinket

during long winters he used to build tiny houses with sticks to entertain himself, and his designs are very intricate at times

his favorite type of food (outside of sweets) is soups, he fully supports food being drinkable and when Wild introduced him to smoothies (sweet and drinkable) he fell in love

he loves art, although he doesn't care to try making it, but legend's sketching and Sky's carving have his full support and awe. Aurora likes to paint as well and he can spend hours just watching her work

he's terrified of babies, he's certain he'd either break them or get them sick or somehow screw them up, so bringing a baby in the room is one of the quickest ways to make him leave

in contrast, he loves cats and handles them like most people do babies

math whizz

#lu hyrule #linked universe #linkeduniverse #headcannons

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jymwahuwu · 1 year

Note

Imagine reader's child with yan!tighnari turning out like their dad

Like imagine reader hinting to their children that they weren't happy with the marriage by telling stories but their children snitched on them and told yan!tighnari Abt it bc they saw it as their mother trying to leave them

IT WOULD BE SO FUN TO SEE DJJEJS

tw: yandere, non-con, implied kidnapping, spanking, orgasm control, breeding, knotting

yandere Tighnari breeding reader that rejects them part 1

part 2

this is amazing... who doesn't like being punished by Tighnari - with the fox babies it's much harder for you to leave🤭💕

With Tighnari and the fox cubs, life in the forest is peaceful. Fox cubs love to snuggle up to you, mutter "mama" in soft voices, bury their heads in your arms, and the fur on their ears always tickles your chest - and your heart too. You brush and clean the tails of the Tighnari and the babies and apply plant-based waterproofing oil. You like to pet their tails and ears. Every time you do this, the fox cubs involuntarily purr but then deny this.

Tighnari has produced some learning materials for children and you are responsible for teaching them to read, one of the ways is to tell bedtime stories.

"What did you dream about last night?"

"In the past, people in this country could not dream, but now when the God of Wisdom enters the dream, all of us weave dreams…"

One of the cubs said they dreamed of inexhaustible padisarah pudding on the table, you smile. Unfortunately, you find out that all the storybooks have been read. They have inherited the wisdom of their father - they never forget a story they have heard once. You must have new stories to lull them to sleep…

You have an idea, speaking with metaphor.

"In the kingdom of forests and deserts, there lived a bird.

They have wonderful singing voices, and their goal is to become the lead singer among the thousands of birds, offering songs to the sky and stars. However, this is too difficult. They lived with songs, and in the woods there were larks, nightingales, canaries… some of them were mean, but some were kind, and their songs were said to be the best.

They thought they were one of them.

But one day, they found out that they were just ordinary finch, bouncing around the ground, sharing food, singing with other companions - that's their usual life.

They still don't give up, dreaming that they too can achieve their goals.

At this time a fox told them: Do you want to live with me? The life of a bird is too ordinary. Life is more than singing.

They refused.

What they don't know is that the fox has a big cage ready for them. At night, the fox sneaked into the forest quietly. He found them resting on the tree, and the cage covered their bodies. Their singing has since disappeared into the woods.

Living in a fox cabin, they don't need to compete with other birds, there is enough food, gifts and beds, but they kind of miss the sky and the smell of rain. That's what they lost.

One day, they escaped from the fox's house and took to the sky while the fox was not looking. They flapped their wings and sang in the sky, attracting the attention of other birds - they were surprised to find that one of them had such a melodious song.

However, they no longer care about other people's evaluation - they left the forest where they lived, flew over towns, mountains, and fields, leaving sweet songs everywhere for everyone. "

After hearing this story, the fox cubs pouted, a little sullen. "mama, why is the fox in this story a bad guy?"

"That's just a coincidence. The little lion was the villain last time." You smiled and kissed their little foreheads. "Good night, my babies."

The next day, Tighnari returned to the forest from the seminar, and the fox cubs jumped into his arms, yelling "papa!". He hugged them and gave them presents - some new toys. Under study, they are already smarter than many children of the same age at this time.

"Papa, are foxes bad?? Does mama want to leave us?" one of the cubs asked. The cubs recount last night's story to Tighnari - though they don't quite understand parts of the story, they have a vague sense that you want to leave the forest.

"Oh, there's such a thing." Tighnari raised his eyebrows, and there was unknowingly meanness in his tone, but then disappeared, comforting the babies gently. "It's okay, mama is just telling you stories, and won't leave us."

For you it's another attitude - he's away for two days and you're signaling to the kids that you want to leave? Does this mean you already have a plan? unacceptable. Entering the house, Tighnari greets you and casually asks what story you told the babies last night. He notices you avoiding his gaze - "You really don't have anything to confess to me?"

"Wait, my- my story doesn't mean that!" You panicked in denial.

Tighnari does not accept excuses of any kind - punishment is a necessary part of your education since you are so stubborn, chasing your unrealistic dreams.

He orders you to bend over, slips a vibrator into your wet inner wall, and rubs his thumb along the edge of your glistening flesh. The little machinery buzzes and vibrates deep within you. You whimper and beg him to stop. "Please- please- Tighnari I'm sorry- I won't do this again…" You try to keep your balance in the shock, but the ruler appears and smacks your ass hard. The slapping lands on both of your ass cheeks, and it's never in the same rhythm - when you think your left ass is about to get spanked, Tighnari smacks three times on your right.

Tighnari rubs between your legs after a round until orgasm is imminent, then starts a new round, leaving you in deep despair. You can't remember exactly how many times you took it, basically a mess of tears, legs shaking and a stooped posture. "I- I'm so sorry…!!" he asks you in a mean, veiled, sinister voice. "Do you still want to leave? Is there anything more comfortable than getting my cock? Hmm?"

"No- no! I just need you - Tighnari-" you gasp, unable to choose your words. You just desperately want to be released, to be filled.

"Okay," he muttered, sinking his already swollen long cock deep inside you, pounding you hard, rubbing his fingers on your clit. You scream, tears and juice splattering the table, pleasure flowing through your body, your walls contracting.

"Maybe I should give you some other babies." Tighnari announced as knotted inside you. "You won't have time to leave."

#alani.answers #yandere genshin impact #yandere tighnari #yandere tighnari x reader #genshin tighnari x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader

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judesmoonbeauty · 28 days

Text

WC: 1,745 Writing Prompt: Play Fighting/Playing with Hair Pronouns: She/Her Tags: SWF ┃Modern AU ┃Road Trip ┃Fluff ┃Slice of Life ┃Pinching Kisses┃Established Relationship┃Teasing Dividers: @/natimiles This may potentially have a part two! Part 2: Here. [Master List] [Invitation to Crown]

Arid desert air swept through the hair of three beautiful Crown members riding in a black convertible as it sped down the blacktop that stretched for miles beneath them, just as the boundless blue sky did above them. The static of an FM radio played even though no one was listening to it, and a cloud of smoke that breezily escaped Jude’s lips, quickly disappeared into the air. Lying reclined in the passenger seat with his feet propped on the dashboard, he finished the cigarette he smoked right after he woke up from a rare nap that he usually wouldn’t take.

As Ellis drove them towards their destination that was still a few hours away, Jude had intended to review his prospective business partner’s profit and loss statements they’d submitted to him one more time, but the hot climate had relaxed his tense muscles into a much needed slumber. Jude lifted his black, round sunglasses and massaged his eyes in order to rid himself of his last bit of drowsiness, when he started to wonder if she had gotten any rest herself?

She hadn’t slept since departing from London for their overseas trip. It was like she was hardwired the entire flight. If she wasn’t looking out the window snapping pictures of the clouds or of the food that was served to them in the first class cabin, she was hard at work, arranging Crown’s ever-growing missions itinerary, along with his own work schedule. She was skilled and diligent, but this was concerning.

Subtly turning his his head to find her laying down in the back seat, Jude found her typing away on her tablet and check her watch for messages.

“That damned princess is going to work herself to death,” Jude grumbled under his breath.

Ellis said, “She’s been awake the entire time. What’s wrong, Jude? I thought you liked it when we work hard for you, it makes you happy doesn’t it?”

“The hell it does. I may wanna work ya both to the bone, but if ya work yourselves to death, then I just lose out when ya both die of exhaustion.”

The entire point of inviting her to tag along on this trip was to get her away from Crown for a while. Yes, while it was her choice to be a part of it’s darkness, and by extension, the darkness of his world due to the enemies he’s accumulated along the way of growing a successful business. But, Jude still felt disgusted at himself for grabbing hold of her and keeping her in his clutches when she offered herself and her love to him.

Poor lil’ bird. He’d often think this since she had no one who could save her from him now, but every once in a while, he simply wanted her to experience a somewhat normal life - one she would’ve had if she hadn’t chose him and Crown. And this business trip for his first overseas venture afford the perfect opportunity to do just that.

After a short while, Jude felt her wrap her arms around him from behind, and looking up at her as she looked down at him, he watched her hair dance wildly in the wind.

“So, how much longer before we get there?” she asked him.

Jude grabbed her face with his hand and slightly shook it, “What are ya, five? Get off me.”

“No.” she snapped back playfully while sticking her tongue out at him.

“Careful princess, I’ll clip that tongue off if ya get too sassy with me.”

She laughed at him and shifted her head around the head rest to place her face closer to his, and asked him, “Really? Ya promise? Remember, contract’s a contract, even if it’s just a verbal agreement.”

Imitating his accent and snarky attitude, she kissed his cheek and chuckled at him. The sweetness of her kiss spreads over his skin, prompting him to return her love with his own by pinching her cheek hard.

“Owww!”

Jude snickers evilly at her pain, “There’s more where that came from princess. Keep it up.”

She pulls her face back and rubs her cheek when Ellis speaks up, “Kate, it’s not safe to be moving around without your seatbelt on. Jude would be unhappy if something happened to you, please put it on, or do I need to hand the wheel over to Jude to go back there and restrain you myself?”

A pair of twilight eyes teasingly peek at her through his sunglasses with a slightly mean smile, and before she could even be attracted to drown in their wicked sweetness, Jude shoved Ellis’ face away.

“Quit makin’ eyes at my woman, ya nutcase and keep ‘em on the damn road instead.”

“Yea, okay,” Ellis smiled and turned his attention ahead of himself.

Turning her attention back to Jude she asked again, “No, but really, why did you have to rent a mansion in the middle of the desert, hours from the city when there’s a perfectly suitable hotel 10 minutes from the business meeting?”

He let an exasperated sigh, “’Cause I can afford to, that’s why. Now, sit back ‘n get some sleep. I don’t want my woman lookin’ haggard for our meetin’.”

Jude puts another cigarette in his mouth, but she grabs it from his mouth and puts it in her own as she goes back to her seat with a triumphant grin on her face.

“I’m not tired, and I’ve rested plenty. Oh! We should pick up some items from the market after the meeting….let’s see….we’ll need a cooler for the cold items, bags of ice, meat, vegetables, fruits…..”

No sooner had she lay back down on her seat had she started making lists and researching local markets.

“Oh, Jude, can you please confirm the tasks that I sent you while you were sleeping? I need to coordinate them with your schedule when we return to London, and - Oh, Victor just sent us more missions that require intelligence gathering, and Ellis there is another scheduled assassination for yourself….”

Growing weary of his love’s constant prattle about work and irritated that she stole his cigarette, Jude climbed into the back seat.

“Hey, Jude! That’s not safe!”

“Can it, Ellis.”

Jude steps into the back seat, grabs his love’s arm to pull her off the seat, and seats her on top his lap.

“Woah, Jude!” The unlit cigarette that she chewed between her teeth fell to the floorboard.

“What? Don’t trust me? ‘Fraid I’ll toss ya out the car?”

“No! But you scared me. What did you miss me that much?”

“Ha!” Jude pinched her thigh through shorts.

“Ouch! Stop pinching me!” She wrapped her arms around his neck and put her forehead to his.

She looks so tired. The silvery, thin bags under her eyes were worse than he thought, and all of a sudden he felt a pang of guilt for falling asleep while she stayed awake. How was that protecting her well-being? Feeling frustrated at his self-proclaimed failure, Jude determined that he was going to kill that guilt right now.

“C’mon princess, we both know ya love a little pain. Like when I do this….”

His lips caress her earlobe sending a tingly spark through her as he slowly sucked on it for the some time before he bit down on it hard.

“Nngh…”

“That’s for stealin’ my cigarette and droppin’ it on the floor.”

“S-sorry..”

Hearing her soft moan-filled apology blend into the wind, Jude gently kisses her all over her face, the tip of her nose, her eyelids, and brow bone. Saving her forehead for last he planted the most tender kiss there.

His eyes found her smiling at the shower of love he had just poured onto her, and when she opened her eyes, he said, “’Night, princess.”

Poking her on the forehead, Jude caught his beloved and laid her head to rest in his lap, rolling his eyes that he had to go to such lengths in the first place, but at least now she’s resting.

“That was mean, Jude.”

“Hah? Do ya not see the bags under her eyes? She’s been actin’ like a hyper-active lemur since we left Crown, and now she looks like she damned exhausted panda with circle under eyes!”

“That’s not what I meant….I meant the lie you told her. Aren’t you going to tell her the real reason why we’re staying in the desert? You know about toni-”

“Shuddup, or I’ll shove tumble weed down your throat, ya idiot!” Jude kicked Ellis’ seat as if she would over hear their conversation, though that wouldn’t happen due to the strength of Jude’s ability.

“Sorry…..”

Jude’s nerves chaffed when he thought of the real reason why they were staying in the middle of nowhere, so he tried to distract himself from that any way he could. Jude stared down at his other half, both stroking her cheek and pinching it to his satisfaction now that she couldn’t protest. Noticing her fly away hairs whipping around, he decided to braid her hair to prevent them from hitting her face, and he did just that. In the heat of this quiet desert, he carefully separated and twisted her hair until everything was neatly in place.

She truly was like the Sleeping Beauty of his cursed fairytale, the only good thing about it, the blessing that offset his curse. Lifting her hand to lips for a kiss, he gently mumbled against her warm skin, “Love ya, helpless princess.”

Tag List: @judejazza @ichigostellaglynn @atelierquinn @mrslelouch Please let me know if you want to be added to my tags list.

#invitation2crownCC #Jude Jazza #Ikevil Jude #Jude Jazza Fanfiction #Jude Jazza Fanfic #Fanfiction #ikevil fanfiction #ikevil fanfic #ikemen villains #Ikevil Jude fluff #Jude Jazza Fluff

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hiatuswhore · 10 months

Text

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝑀𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽𝓎 𝒪𝓃𝑒 𝐼𝒱 — 𝐵𝓇𝒾𝒹𝑔𝑒𝓇𝓉𝑜𝓃

♕ A/N: I am so sorry for just disappearing on this fic. I love this fic but I’ve been struggling with writers block BADLY. My think tank is broken or something. So since I disappeared for so long the word count is double the usual. Thanks for your patience. Feedback please!

♕ SUMMARY: Oh, the most scandalous season of the year has come to pass. After quite the successful year for the Bridgerton’s the eldest son plans to throw his hat in the ring. Concurrently the Sharma sisters do just the same. One a spinster, the other hopeful romantic, and the middle daughter? What can be said about such a force that is not said when she enters the room. Good luck to all who pursue her.

♕ WORD COUNT: 17.6K

♕ WARNINGS: None

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THE NIGHT SKY SITS HIGH UP WITH A COOL BREEZE THROUGH THE WINDOW. Sitting alone in front of a vanity worth more than most of your things combined, you sit in the mirror, brushing your hair, toying with the idea of a marriage to William. It’s ideal—more than ideal, it comes with everything you want in life. An out from society, the means to do as you please, but still, it burdens you with a new level of expectations and responsibilities. No matter how much the choice glitters, it’s not gold. You cannot bring yourself to give him an answer.

Opening your room door slowly, you poke your head out quietly, scanning the corridor. At the sight of no one and the low hum of everyone to their own devices, you move cautiously through the hall. The stairs proved to be their own obstacle, with every creak threatening to reveal your scheming. Your end goal? The back porch, certain a moment beneath the stars.

“—you cannot be serious!” Stopping short, the back door sits in view a mere few steps away, but William’s voice halts your movement. The closed-door staring back at you, the persistent padding of the floor matching the faint shadow beneath hastily moving back and forth.

“Spare me, William! You speak on speculation alone!” Anthony seethes, his attempts to whisper clashing with his own frustration. A scandal? You want to listen, to cling to any information the private conversation offers, but the foyer lacks any semblance of coverage. It would only take one person opening the door to reveal your highly inappropriate snooping. As a guest of the Bridgertons, no good would come from this kind of trouble. You cast the moment to the back of your mind, acknowledging that you have more complicated matters than two Englishmen in a row.

Rising early the following day. Typically the beaming sun through the curtains and the loud chirping of birds result in dramatic whines and huffs. Not today. Before your mother or even Lady Danbury can rise to object, you ask Lady Violet to use the driver to see some of the countryside. Her nescience to your troublesome nature granting you jovial approval.

In the carriage, you rest your arms on the open window, the cool air blowing across your skin. The sun warms your face as you melt into the calm that comes with endless farmland.

“Excuse me, sir. Can you pull over, please?” You call out. The vibrant green shines with a sea of endless flowers, assuring John, the driver, that you will soon return while entering the open field. Walking through the grass, you march without a destination. Occasionally swatting away a fly or bug, your smile remains.

“Appa, look at this,” You whisper, eyes shining at the flowers around you. John’s no longer in sight. You are not positive about how far you have journeyed when you turn around. Without a worry, you continue back straight from the direction you came. After a long while, the lack of the familiar carriage comes with a wave of ambivalence. The silence continues on as a frown settles on your face, the terrain on a continuous loop.

Scolding your inability to follow any directions ever given to you. You drag your feet huffing at the uncomfortable rub of your boots. The concept of time now an illusion. Your mind says it’s been hours as your feet cry days. You thank the heavens above at the sound of a horse until you see who rides toward you with a pointed look.

“Must you always be so erratic? William and I have been searching for you for hours! Do tell, how does one get lost with no turns?” Anthony exclaims, stopping expertly at your side. You wipe the discomfort from your face as you cross your arms in front of your chest.

“First, I’ll have you know that I am not lost. Secondly, no one asked you to come searching for me!” Anthony points out the ways off you are from where the carriage let you out. Falling silent, you roll your eyes before holding out your hand to join Anthony on the horse.

“You can’t be seen riding on the back of my horse. It would be improper,” He says, keeping your hand out; you narrow your eyes at his words, “So, to be clear, you journeyed out here with no alternative of getting me to the estate? Have you come only to chastise me, Mother?”

“If you put it like that, then, of course, it sounds foolish,” Anthony grumbles, your right eye twitching as you fight the urge to push him off the horse, “Because it is foolish! Now spare me your silly formalities and help me up!”

His nose scrunches as a sigh leaves him. Taking your hand and pulling you up, he utilizes the opportunity to lecture you on every worst-case scenario. You secure your arms around his lower back and lean your head on his shoulder. He drones about the dangers of the particular area and how fortunate nothing occurred. While he continues listing every action of yours he deems a nuisance, you soak in the release of the tensions on your legs and feet. Before you know it, his words and the smooth trot of the horse lull you away.

“—are you even listening? Of course, you are not. Why would (Y/n) Sharma listen to anyone else other than herself?” Anthony says, glancing on his shoulder to find your eyes closed.

“Don’t be such a boorish oaf. It’s been a phenomenal day,” Yawning, you find yourself nuzzling further into the back of his shoulder as if nothing else matters. Anthony lets out a dry chuckle, keeping his focus ahead as his mind pushes William’s confession to the back of his thoughts.

Before you know it, Aubrey Hall stands in view like your saving grace. Daphne steps through the doors as Anthony helps you down from the horse. Her eyebrows furrow as she carefully eyes the two of you, “No matter how painfully dull I find you, I must say thank you for coming to get me. Repeat that to anyone and I’ll deny it to my dying breath.”

“I expect nothing less from you, Miss Sharma,” Anthony nods his head at your thank you as Daphne lingers by the steps. Her eyebrows furrow at the two of you as her mind generates connections she previously presumed to be false.

“(Y/n) Sharma! Have you gone mad? I was worried sick, my child,” Your mother rushes down the stairs pulling you into a tight hug. While relief fills her, it subsides as she pulls back from the hug with a pointed stare. “What have you done?”

“If I may, Lady Mary? It appears our driver just made haste. Miss Sharma was only a little ways off of the path. Indeed partaking in a breathtaking but safe area of the countryside,” You turn to Anthony as he speaks with a charming smile. His easygoing nature saves you from a long lecture you would have inevitably received from your mother.

“Well, then, my apologies, dearest. Lord Bridgerton, please accept my utmost gratitude for ensuring my daughters' safe return,” Lady Mary says as she takes your arms. She excuses the two of you with a polite smile before dragging you toward the house. You look back at Anthony with narrowed eyes, but he only offers a sardonic smile with a mocking wave. You are certain his help does not come without cost.

“Though Lord Bridgerton vouches for the safety of your insolence, you know better (Y/n)!” Your mother sighs with her back on the door.

“Mama, I did not wish to upset anyone. I just wanted to explore the countryside. You should have seen it. It was beautiful!” You sit on the edge of the bed as your mind fills with the flowers splintering in your memory. The reds, blues, and purples blending in your mind, the ache of your feet long gone.

“My darling, can we please just focus on ensuring tonight’s dinner goes without shenanigans?” Mary sighs, holding her composure she stares at you with patient eyes. “I need your word that while we are here as guests, you will do everything possible to ensure this visit goes smoothly. For Edwina’s sake.”

“Mama, it was only—“ You huff, but as she shakes her head, asking only for your word. “Of course, Mama. I want to make clear I would never do anything to jeopardize our family or Edwina’s happiness. I need to know you know that?”

Mary’s shoulders fall as she takes in your glassy-eyed gaze. She joins you on the edge of the bed, taking both your cheeks in her hand. “(Y/n) I know you believe that, but you fail to remember your actions have consequences. When it is just us, I am more than okay with your adventurousness. But here, my wildflower child is a different world than you know. One wrong move, and it can ruin us all.”

The heaviness of her words does not come without consequence. Even long after your mother leaves you, her words do not. The arrival of dinner does not allow you to dwell on the implications of your mothers' words. You sit between Colin and Benedict, with Kate and Eloise across from you.

“This room is exceptionally well-lit. Have you noticed, Col? How bout you, Lady (Y/n)? The twinkles of the candles, it’s as if—we sit among the stars,” Benedict speaks in awe that exceeds the contents of his words—amusement dances across your face as Colin's eyes continuously bounce to his mother and back to Benedict.

“What is wrong with you?” Eloise questions, mirroring your expression as she eyes her elder brother.

“I was just telling Benedict how brilliant the stars were in Greece,” Colin says as if his mind formulates his sentence as it leaves him.

“No, you weren—“ You raise an eyebrow as Colin lightly kicks your shin. The rest of the table watches the pause between the two of you. Colin offers you a pleading smile as you shake your head, shielding your lips with your glass. “You should know that I weaponize my silence. The cost is simple. Why is Benedict acting odd?”

“I gave him a powder that I acquired from my travels. He took far too much of it,” Colin says, earning a loud laugh that draws the attention of the rest of the table. You quickly recover by bringing your glass to your lips again; meeting William’s gaze, he raises an eyebrow. Shrugging your shoulders, you tilt your head toward Benedict until William’s eyes move to the left of you. The longer you stare at the Bridgerton, the more apparent his altered state appears.

“Are you enjoying your time here, Miss Edwina?” Daphne asks, diverting the attention to the opposite end of the table. Edwina sits with Colin to her right and Anthony to her left. Daphne sits across from her with Anthony to her left and William to her right.

“I am, very much. The buzz of the city is thrilling indeed, but I quite enjoy the peace of the country,” Edwina smiles brightly as most of the table watches her. Your attention more on Benedict, who continues quietly in your ear about the room's beauty. Lady Danbury watches you quietly with Kate at her left and Lady Violet at her right. You silently thank whoever made the seating arrangements as your mother sits beside Benedict, unable to eye you the entire night.

“As do I. Though I dare say. It is not quite so peaceful with my entire family in residence,” Anthony points out. Rolling your eyes, you find William chuckling softly, his eyes on you.

“Certainly, I cannot compare my family to your seven brothers and sisters, but you have all become familiar with my wonderfully chaotic sister (Y/n). Kate and I were known to be a handful growing up, but Mama always had her hands full with (Y/n),” Edwina says, leaning forward to catch her gaze; you offer a playful wink. Kate does not miss the opportunity to share when you decided you no longer desired the hair on your head.

“Not this again,�� You whine, shaking your head as Kate details how you excitedly carried your hair in your hand.

“I had never seen Mama become so flustered so rapidly. She was endlessly chasing (Y/n) throughout our home,” Edwina details as a chorus of laughter fills the table. Daphne's giggles cease as William huffs to the right of her. She follows his gaze to her left. A smile ghosts on Anthony’s lips as he watches how you laugh sheepishly. Anthony’s eyes focus on you, a nostalgic glint in his eyes,

“(Y/n) was such a fast child I could rarely catch her when she was determined to not be caught,” Your mother smiles, her eyes glazing over as if she leaves the dinner table to relive that memory. The story lacks the part where your father caught you. Despite your upset mother, he only laughed. Not a simple laugh, one without end—he laughed so hard the rest of you could not help but follow suit.

“In seriousness, both Kate and (Y/n) bear heavy responsibilities for our family. (Y/n) has never allowed any moment, no matter how hard in our lives to go without some silver lining. If anyone can help you through a tough time, it’s her. We’d have never survived the tough days without her,” Edwina continues as you look to find her gaze, only to find Anthony’s. It lasts seconds as you roll your eyes at him before looking at your sister. A chuckle leaves his lips as he fails to hear Edwina talk about Kate. Daphne watches warily as William silently watches his oblivious best friend.

“That sounds remarkably similar to you, Anthony,” Daphne says, watching as her brother snaps back into the conversation, “Much familial responsibility to bear, indeed.”

Kate catches Daphne's knowing gaze, and the two watch each other silently for several seconds. You sit watching Colin fail to keep Benedict in check, knocking over his glass and covering his face. When he removes his hand, it reveals a child-like grin, sheer contentment.

“Benedict dear, you alarm our guests,” Lady Violet says with the grace of a seasoned noble. A perfect blend of warmth and patronization. You know that tone all too well.

“Not at all,” Kate says as you offer a giant smile to Lady Violet. The sound of Lady Danbury’s fork against her glass commands the room's attention.

“It is time for a toast,” Lady Danbury says. A smooth distraction, chuckling, you glance at Benedict.

“A good idea. To cheer our guests,” Lady Violet says as your mother beams happily at the idea. It’s clear what they hope to achieve at this dinner, and you find it rather nauseating how they puppeteer it all.

“Or to tend to other pressing matters,” Lady Danbury's words are everything short of subtle. The attention turns to Anthony and Edwina quickly. Kate makes eye contact with Daphne, then with you. While you look unfazed by the inevitable purpose of this invitation, it’s clear Kate seeks a haste exit.

“My—I believe my sisters and I have grown weary,” Kate says. A sharp kick to your shin blocks your attempts to deny her words as you hiss quietly.

“Whatever you gave Benedict, you might need to give it to Kate,” You whisper to Colin, who turns to your sister. She holds her wine close to her lips as her fingers drum against the glass. Her posture’s stiff as she looks at Anthony as if her eyes can strike him dead.

“A toast. Yes,” Anthony rises from the head of the table as you all raise your glasses. “My sincere gratitude to the Sharmas for joining us. It has been splendid having you here to witness what is now my second annual loss at Pall-Mall. Not to be repeated, I assure you. And my special gratitude to Miss Edwina. It has certainly been a privilege to truly make your acquaintance these past few days. In fact, I believe there is a question I would like to ask you.”

You watch as most of the table sits at the very edge of their seats as Anthony pauses. Your eyes cut to Daphne, your eyebrows furrowing at the sight. Daphne steals glances at William, whose lips press tight as he stares at Anthony with—confusion? Kate shares Daphne’s weary expression, and you furrow your eyebrows as something does not quite click. Anthony now stands with his hands clasped behind his back, scanning the room. His eyes find your own, furthering your confusion as he pauses for a second. Anthony moves his gaze to William, and the two appear to speak to one another without saying a single word.

“I should like to uh—I should like to ask you please refrain from telling anyone back in London about yesterday's loss. I fear the harm to my reputation would simply be too great,” Awkward chuckles chorus through the room, but you glare daggers at the Viscount. You may not know classic literature well or Latin, but you know your sisters. The fall of Edwina’s face appears subtle, but the sting of Anthony’s words are unmistakable. Daphne and Kate let out sighs of relief as William stares at you. You cannot decipher what he contemplates, but you are sure it has something to do with Kate, Daphne, and Anthony. Dinner continues, and the end cannot come fast enough.

Finally, just your sisters and yourself. Kate rubs Edwina’s head as you sit without words. Deep frown lines crease Edwina’s forehead, her eyes misty, and you are confident that her self-scrutiny eats away at her insides.

“You must know you did nothing wrong,” Kate dares to say, but Edwina’s words are sharp as she speaks almost instantly, “I must have done something. The rest of the ton are now set to join us in the country. Surely, if the Viscount were to propose, he’d have done it by now. Yes?”

“Edwina, you are putting far too much pressure on yourself. You are wonderful, and they know it,” You take her hand in both your own, bringing it up to your lips.

“That is easy for you to say. People always love you, no matter where you go. You were proposed to by a man in line for the throne of England, Lady Violet dotes on you, and you charmed the Queen. You don’t even try and have done far better than I am. What if I missed my chance? Perhaps I should’ve found out more about the Bridgertons. I should’ve known more about their interests. I should’ve been better,” Edwina does not allow either of you to get a word in as a tear escapes her eyes. You place a chaste kiss on the back of her hand as your chest aches at her words.

“Edwina, do not fool yourself. How am I doing better, and yet you are the diamond of the season? You are amazing and do not need to study a man's family to prove your worthiness. If a proposal is what you want, I will beat it out of the Viscount myself if you so wish it,” Earning a chuckle from Edwina and Kate, the tension eases as a small smile plays on Edwina’s lips. It does not reach her eyes, but you do not expect to expel her fears so quickly.

A soft cry leaves her lips in one shaky breath, “I have bungled this entire affair, and now I feel like a fool.”

“Never say such a thing, Bon. I knew he would only end up hurting you. Come here,” Kate says, wrapping Edwina in her arms. You join the other side closing your youngest sister in. Your heads touch as you focus on the sound of Edwina's quiet sobs. “I hate seeing you like this.”

“I thought he liked me,” Edwina cries, her hand squeezing you both a little tighter. You meet Kate's gaze, nudging your head, telling her it was now her turn to give a pep talk.

“(Y/n) is right, Bon. You are the diamond of the season. There is nary a gentleman back in London who does not wish for your hand. You have choices, Bon. I assure you that all will be well despite this disappointment with the Viscount. Plus, do you truly wish to marry someone our sister might murder?” A loud laugh leaves Edwina’s lips as you nod in agreement with Kate. Despite the heaviness of the conversation, a warmth lingers in the air.

The following day you wake to Kate rushing into your room, sitting up; you grumble as she mutters apologies. She moves to your things, removing the cream you have used on many cuts over the years.

“Are you alright?” You ask as she applies it near her collarbone. She assures you everything’s fine. “What happened to your chest?”

“I got a bee sting while near the gardens—“ You frown as she trails off, her eyebrows furrowing as your presence seems no longer relevant. “While I am not fond of the Viscount, you could help him.”

“Why am I helping him?” You ask. Initially, you do not believe her tale of being stung in the gardens and the Viscounts' familiar reaction.

“I do not know his history, Bon. What I do know is there is something with him and bees. I think he shares your ailment. It appeared like he could not breathe. He looked so afraid—his hands were shaking. Bon, I fear I will never understand your ailment, but for the first time, there is someone who can. Please talk to him, not for him—for you.” Kate crouches at your bedside, brushing your hair with her fingers much like she would after one of your episodes. You do not say a word during the entirety of her explanation. Rarely do any of you talk about your ailment. Kate caught it during the announcement of the season’s diamond, but beyond that, it had been relatively dormant.

“I will not seek him out, but if we happen to cross each other paths, I will inquire if he is indeed alright,” You say. Kate smiles, kissing your forehead before leaving your room. It only takes you mere minutes to get ready, not bothered by doing your hair in some precious way. Your mother, Lady Violet, Lady Danbury, and Daphne appear busy planning the lunch. The Bridgerton siblings scatter amongst the large estate to their own devices, and your sister appears nowhere in sight.

While you said you would not seek him out, you find yourself in the gardens. The flowers bloom beautifully with a significant number of hyacinths in view. You marvel at the simplicity.

“Miss Sharma,” Anthony joins your side, but his gaze stays on the flowers. You watch him carefully as he eyes them not in awe but with a cloudy disposition.

“Lord Bridgerton,” You say, turning to the flowers. Anthony's expression does not change, leaving you wondering if he even heard you. Uncertainty plagues you as you are sure what you want to say but not when to say it. “I will not dawdle any longer. I fear I am familiar with where you are now in this ailment. After the horrifying feeling as if all the air will leave your body at once comes that strange calm, where you feel as though you cannot feel anything.”

Anthony’s head whips in your direction, but you do not move your eyes from the flowers. The look on his face tells you that you are on the right track, but it does not confirm your assumptions, “Kate told me what occurred earlier. Correct me if I am wrong, but typically it comes randomly, right? Often in the most inopportune times but typically from certain settings.”

“I—you are mistaken, Miss Sharma. I, the Viscount, suffer no ailment, just temporary lapses,” He does not offer you much as he turns his attention back to the flowers, and you both share similar frowns.

“There is no shame in it, Lord Bridgerton. My father used to say we all have something, if not an ailment—an insecurity. A lot of my insecurities trigger my ailment, if I am quite honest. I have a lot to live up to with two great sisters. I am a lousy shot and not as cognizant as Kate. I lack resilience. I just bury my troubles with humor. Then there’s Edwina, whom you would be a fool to not marry. She checks every box of those silly questions of yours—excelling in modern and classical literature. Which are without a doubt boring,” Anthony chuckles as he listens intently. You let out a huff as you look up and meet his gaze. He appears in awe almost.

“Miss Sharma, I think you are undoubtedly your own harshest critic. You need not be like Kate because you find and elevate the room's most exciting part. Who cares if you are a lousy shot? My younger brothers excelled in shooting before I. You have voiced your distaste for classic literature, and it does edify the mind, but one has to enjoy it to sharpen their wit,” He clasps his hands in front of him, offering a sheepish smile as you look at him. A small smile threatens to break the frown on your lips. While you look off at nothing in particular, you miss how he looks at you. At ease, he appears unusually calm, not stressing the ball or his search for a wife.

“I—I must admit that I was wrong about you, Lord Bridgerton,” You say. A chuckle left his lips while correcting you.

“Anthony,” He says. You nod your head as a smirk tugs at your lips before mocking him.

“You suddenly think we are friends?” He looks incredulously at your sardonic tone, “Oh, do not look at me as if you are unfamiliar with who I am? You can call me by my name if you like. Last I checked, I lack a title and am not a man.”

He scrunched his nose before chuckling as your personality shined through. “With much regret (Y/n), I do agree with you to a point. You lack a title, but I am a gentleman.”

“Spare me your self-righteousness, Lord Bridgerton. I guess I should congratulate you. You have finally acquired the favor of one Sharma sister, now only one more to go, and you can wed Edwina,” Anthony’s face falls at your words. Looking past the garden, William walks toward you both. He ignores your playful smile as his eyes focus on Anthony to your right.

“Miss Sharma, we require a moment alone,” William says, glaring daggers in Anthony’s direction. He does not spare you a single glance as he waits for your departure.

“Miss Sharma?” You scoff at the formality, waiting for him to look at you. After a few seconds, William’s pointed gaze turns toward you.

“Your presence is likely needed elsewhere, and if I am not mistaken, it is highly inappropriate to be with Viscount Bridgerton unchaperoned,” He sounds like your mother, and you do nothing to cover your scowl.

“I know not of your issue, and I do not like whoever this is before me. When you find the time to pull your head out of your arse, then and only then will I happily enjoy your presence. Good day Lord Beauregard,” Your mocking curtsy’s evident before you stomp from the gardens into Aubrey Hall. The rest of the day continues in a blur of your mother preparing you and Edwina for lunch. In the middle of your mother doing your hair, a tap on the door becomes the room's focal point. Mary calls out enter, to which a maid reveals a letter for you from the Duke.

Lady (Y/n),

My apologies for my demeanor earlier. I am cross with my very best friend, and I fear I took it out on you. I will not be in attendance for lunch, for I fear tensions run far too high between Anthony and I. I will be in attendance at the ball. Until then.

Lord Beauregard

“Why is the Duke cross with the Viscount? They are dear friends,” Your mother says, reading over your shoulder, shrugging lazily at the neat cursive you toss it aside.

“Lord Beauregard is upset with Lord Bridgerton? Maybe that is why he did not propose?” Edwina says. You say nothing as Kate observes you as Edwina and your mother continue theorizing. Newton nuzzles at your feet as you hold your tongue. Your mother excuses herself, leaving the three of you alone. Kate still urges Edwina to recognize that she has no shortage of options in terms of suitors. This reality matters little, Edwina speaks passionately, and you cannot discredit her logic. Anthony can indeed provide her with the life she wants—deserves. Kate sighs, looking toward you. Shrugging your shoulders, you scratch the top of Newton’s head. Edwina keeps her gaze low as she speaks cautiously, “Sisters, I’ve been thinking.”

“Clearly,” You mutter under your breath, earning a pointed stare from Kate. Edwina’s shoulders fall as she glances between the two of you. “Apologies, bon, continue.”

Edwina straightens her posture lifting her chin. Raising your eyebrow, you cannot help the faint quirk of your lips. The anticipation of Edwina’s following words nearly comical, far too dramatic for your liking, “I am now quite certain I know why he has not yet made his declaration.”

Kate stiffens, glancing at you briefly before looking back at Edwina. The action terse, earning a furrow in your eyebrows at her. Edwina looks between the two of you with this confidence that you are certain has the strength of wet tissue paper. Her features too frail, and her voice far too delicate, “It's because of the two of you. (Y/n) you push too harshly at him and Kate; you hate one another.”

Edwina crosses the room crossing her arms, contemplating the situation. You eye Kate, her posture loosens, and a long breath leaves her. She looks back at you, and the pause lasts far longer than it should. Kate shakes her gently while turning to Edwina, “Uh, hate is probably too strong a word.”

“And quite frankly, I have been going rather easy on the Viscount,” You say, leaning back in your seat, taking note to later ask Kate what’s going on. Edwina's eyes widen, a glint flashing across her irises. “Oh no, whatever it is you’re thinking, I already hate it.”

“It is clear from your exchanges with the Viscount that he shares the feelings you each have for him. (Y/n) the two of you often banter, but the line between friendship and disdain is far too blurry. Kate, the two of you simply bicker, the line is very clear, and you are on the wrong side of it. All of this time, I thought I needed help getting him to fall in love with me. But I now realize I neeapparentting him to fall in love with both of you,” Edwina speaks softly, joining you on the couch. You can feel Kate’s gaze searing into your skin as she frowns at Edwina.

“Well, I don’t know about love, but the Viscount and I have recently found some common ground. I actually gave him my blessing earlier today,” You speak casually, watching Edwina squeal excitedly. She quickly pecks your cheek before turning to Kate with a soft smile. Kate’s sharp stare does not leave you even as Edwina urges Kate to try harder.

“I have not given up, I will not give up,” Edwina says with a dreamy look in her eyes. She rests her head on your shoulder, failing to see the tense stare between the two of you. Kate wastes no time in asking Edwina to go retrieve your mother.

At the closing of the door, the room still, you both stare each other waiting for the other to speak. Newton whines softly from the floor, the tension all-consuming in the sunlit room. You scoff, crossing your arms, “If you have something to say, just say it. The shared looks with Daphne and William and looks of scrutiny are becoming rather irritating.”

Kate huffs as her shoulders fall. She glances around the room before her eyes come back to you. The second she speaks, you do nothing to hide the grimace that takes your features, her tones gentle. Too gentle, you know it all too well, “Have you lost your mind? Why would you give Anthony your blessing? This will only further complicate things.”

“Do not patronize me, Kate. What are you even on about? We do not have to like him, Kate, but we cannot deny that he can give Edwina the life she wants. A large family, simple affections, dutiful husband,” You stand up with an incredulous glint in your eyes.

“A life where her husband and sister have feelings for each other?” Kate’s words rip through you. The weight of her allegation thinning the air around you. You blink several times as though if you do it enough, it will reset time, virtually ending this conversation.

“I would never hurt Edwina like that. That is a vile accusation,” You seethe, stepping closer to Kate, the breeze from the window cooling the fury that burns your skin. Kate places her hands cautiously on your shoulders. She knows how to anger you just as easily as soothe you.

“I know, bon, but we cannot ignore the truth of the matter,” Kate says, biting the inside of your cheek; you shake her hand off your shoulder. At the window, you peer out at nothing, in particular, swallowing thickly.

“He is courting Edwina, that is all,” You do not look at her as you speak, busying yourself with the many who prepare the backyard of Aubrey Hall with tables and umbrellas.

“I confronted him during Pall Mall about this subject matter. He, too, dismissed me. Neither of you even deny your feelings, only emphasize the inappropriate nature to which your relationship treks dangerously close,” Kate says, being greeted with your silence as you focus as though the workers perform for you. A long sigh fills the silence, “I do not wish to upset you, sister. We swim in precarious waters. If not careful, we’ll drown.”

You turn to Kate, your eyes glassy. Neither of you move, and Edwina’s jubilant voice sounds in the corridor. Before the door opens, you speak barely above a whisper, “We’re friends, that is all.”

Edwina rushes into the room ahead of your mother. She runs to the clothing, insistent on picking her best dress. Your mother glances between you and Kate. It seems she catches all that Edwina misses, and still, no one speaks a word of it.

Though not customary, you wear a sleeveless apricot dress that your mother forces you to pair with a sheer shawl. You walk without a destination with Kate through the backyard, the sea of faces, unfamiliar--the people, uninteresting.

“Sisters!” You can recognize Edwina’s light tone anywhere, her voice lacking the faint bass of your tone. Edwina sits with Anthony. Kate glances your way as Anthony meets your gaze. The pause brief. You glance at Kate before both of you look back to Edwina, her smile beaming. If she notices the hesitancy, she does not show it. “Come sit with us!”

Anthony rises as you both approach. As you approach the seat across from Anthony, Kate stands by the chair across from Edwina. Your eyebrows pinch as you look at Anthony, now questioning every little detail about his demeanor—every little detail about your own.

“Miss Sharma,” Anthony stands with his hands behind his back, dutifully nodding at both of you. You fight every urge to call him Serg.

“Lord Bridgerton,” Kate says. You nod your head fighting your better nature. The boundary between yourself and your potential brother-in-law now hazy. You like his disdain, maybe even prefer it. Contempt can be understood, but anything else resembles putting together a puzzle with missing pieces. You always did like to hide away parts of the puzzles to avoid finishing them.

The three of you sit down, sharing awkward glances as Edwina smiles, sticking out amongst the polite smiles. Anthony clears his throat, momentarily filling the silence. You fidget with a string hanging from your dress as Edwina looks at Kate.

“Did you tell the Viscount about your bee sting?” Your eyes cut to Kate, then Anthony as the question seemingly stills the table further. Kate chuckles softly. She looks at Anthony, speaking plainly. He offers a mock ah that earns an eye roll as you fiddle with your dress string. Edwina’s gaze turns to you, “Sister, you are quiet. Are you alright?”

“Tired perhaps,” Shrugging, Edwina huffs softly but maintains her chipper smile. The table conversation relies focally on Edwina bouncing between the three of you. Edwina suggests that Anthony give you and Kate a tour before you can decline; both Anthony and Kate speak over each other.

“I’ll be shooting with the other gentlemen. The party is to leave quite soon, I’m afraid,” Anthony offers a charming smile toward Edwina. Your younger sister perks up, not missing the opportunity to announce your adept skills in tracking and Kate’s excellent shot. Kate scoffs as Anthony laughs, seemingly dismissing the revelation.

“Do you not think it true?” Kate says. Benedict approaches, reminding Anthony it’s almost time to go. You cannot fight the grin off your lips at the sight of Kate. She has that look on her face. The one where she gets crazy competitive and enables your shenanigans.

Anthony chuckles, glancing at you just as you roll your eyes and laugh, “Perhaps your sister excels in fields with straight aim and level ground, but surely they would have some trouble managing—“

“Well, that certainly wasn’t condescending at all,” You murmur very clearly, raising an eyebrow as you look at him. Kate follows with her own question as Anthony steps further into it. Benedict smiles largely as his oldest brother crashes and burns rather quickly.

“I only mean to say—“ Anthony's slow drawl fuels your amusement. He meets your gaze, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly.

“Because we are women?” Kate says.

“No. I did not say that.” Anthony's gaze swiftly turns to Kate. At this point, he fumbles to clarify his point, merely shoving his foot farther into his mouth.

“But you implied it,” You point out, glancing at Benedict, whose grin falls as Anthony looks at him. Anthony then chuckles, speaking with a newfound diction, “Ladies, do not hunt.”

Kate quickly distinguishes between what ladies are and are not allowed to do. You bite your bottom lip, mirroring Benedict’s grin as Edwina redirects the conversation. Before you know it, you chuckle while changing in your room as Kate grumbles about Anthony, her irritation of the smug Bridgerton allowing you reprieve from her hefty assumptions. You push her accusation and William's proposal to the back of your mind. The fresh country air pulls a large smile to your lips. The glances from the other men barely reach you as Kate glares at them. Your and Kate's chaperone struggling like a fool on her horse behind the two of you. You sit on the back of Kate’s horse, your eyes taking in all the greenery, specifically the dirt that sits just faintly visible beneath it. The untrained eye would miss the faint but present signs of life in the area. One of the gentlemen up ahead calls the hunting party to the right.

“To the right?” You mutter, your eyebrows pinching as you glance over Kate’s shoulder. Several men steer their horses right as your eyes lock on Anthony’s back, the mocking tone leaving you with ease, “Viscount Bridgerton, do we intend to merely gaze at nature this day?”

“I do like your riddles, Miss Sharma, but I would love it if you spoke plainly,” Anthony says, his overly saccharine smile matching his mocking tone. Kate supplants Benedict spot riding next to Anthony, putting the two of you in clear view of the other.

“My sister's, right. Look, tracks are going off to the left. You can see the cloven shape in the moss,” Kate says. You spot her find, nodding your head as you gesture to the closest tree to the tracks, “The markings of the tree, deer like to rub their antlers against them.”

“Let’s stay with the group. If we find nothing, I shall offer myself up for both your target practice,” Anthony says, rolling your eyes as you scoff.

“You shall most likely come out unscathed as my target but rest assured, Kate won’t miss,” You taunt, tilting your head mockingly. Anthony narrows his eyes at you, a smile ghosting upon his lips. Kate glances between the two of you, sighing as she clears her throat, ending the moment as swiftly as it arrives. Silence blankets the three of you. You rest your head on the back of Kate’s shoulder, huffing quietly. The silence lives for only a few seconds as you perk up, “Lord Bridgerton, do you know why Lord Beauregard departed so abruptly?”

“He likely made haste once he realized you are more vexing than you are charming,” Anthony says with a matter-of-fact tone as you roll your eyes.

“I knew you thought me charming. The rest of your family certainly finds me to be so,” You fire back instantly, a smirk on your lips as you hold your chin up high. Anthony mimics your eye roll while looking ahead, your moment short-lived as William’s proposal lingers in your mind. You continue with half-hearted amusement while drumming against the saddle, “It’s unlikely William runs from me given his desire to make me his bride.”

Your eyes fog over as you presently leave the moment, Anthony’s locked stare failing to garner your attention. His voice lacks the condescension it has carried throughout the entirety of the day. He ignores Kate’s stare as he looks at you, asking, “You are engaged?”

The drop of your stomach at his question makes you sit straight as a pencil, a distant ringing in your ear faint and nagging. If Kate notices, she does not show or voice it. It seems that minutes—no perhaps hours pass since the question leaves Anthony’s lips, and yet his brother calls after him mere seconds after. Yet the question still lingers. You find yourself considering the possibilities. Will you marry him? You should have an answer. At least that’s what you believe.

Uncertain. Unbecoming. Unworthy.

A foolish—Kate’s voice pulls you back to the present. The horse comes to a stop as the masses dismount and scatters amongst the woods, “Sister, are you alright?”

“Always,” You say, climbing down with a grin. Kate eyes you carefully, and you wonder if she can see how you bury the anxiety, smothering its fire and leaving mere smoke in its wake.

Marching through the woods, you put your focus on your surroundings. You ignore how Kate challenges the others on how to go about the hunt. Kate and Anthony, too consumed bickering to notice how you veer off further and further from each of them. The lean, long-legged ruminant mammal greets your gaze with glowing reddish-brown fur with a cream-colored underbelly. A quiet chuckle leaves your lips, placing your gun down. You watch it in awe.

“Good find, bon!” Kate whispers. She joins your side, meeting your amazed expression with a proud smile. Anthony joins the two of you quite loudly, both of you shushing him as he thankfully did not manage to rouse the deer.

“Are you two quite serious? You cannot just go off like that,” Anthony scolds. Rolling your eyes, you scoff.

“If I wished to just see the trees and shrubbery, I would’ve gladly stayed and followed your very skilled guide,” Your sardonic tone earns a mocking smile, the two of you appearing like squabbling children.

“Lord Bridgerton, would you please be quiet. Bon, it’s your find. You should take the shot,” Kate says. All eyes fall on you, a chuckle leaving your parted lips as you stammer before the words escape you. Your sentences do not form or leave you as you glance at your gun.

Anthony purses his lips as Kate holds her gun out to you. You stare at the gun for several seconds, swallowing thickly. Just as you go to refuse, your blood boils as Anthony’s words reach your ears, “Miss Sharma, cowardice looks good on no one.”

“Takes a craven to know one,” You grumble. Taking the gun from Kate’s hand, you crouch down on the fallen tree. The barrel, at a comfortable place below your shoulder against your armpit, you inhale deeply, controlling the subtle tremble of your hands. Your palms glide against the gun faintly, coating it in a light sheen of sweat. You squeeze the trigger, closing your eyes, the sound scurrying away, telling you the verdict of your shot. Standing up, the sound of the hunting party rushing overfills your ears. Biting the inside of your cheek, your mind scrambles to prepare quick comebacks at the inevitable teasing that heads your way from the Viscount Bridgerton.

Just as the first few faces arrive, Anthony’s voice fills the silence, “It headed that way. It appears I am a bit rusty, but both Miss Kate and Miss (Y/n) are to be credited for finding the deer.“

Kate meets your gaze with a knowing look, but it does not matter as neither of you says a word to the other. The bout of confusion silencing, Kate does not push the subject any further than earlier, and you are grateful.

As the sky bleeds orange, it soon blackens, leaving you to lie awake with the pattering of rain outside your window to keep you company. Like most nights, you slip out of your room to your favorite part of Aubrey Hall, the steps. Sheltered by the house without being in the place. You rest your legs on your elbows on your knees, your chin against your palms like a patient child. The rain falls in heavy droplets, and light splashes mist up, just barely reaching you. It’s constant and unwavering. Approaching steps lull as soft as the pouring rain. You glance at the cup placed at your side.

“I like to have tea on my restless nights. It’s soothing,” Anthony sits at your side, staring out at the rain as he speaks. He takes a cautious sip of his own tea, glancing over at you when silence greets him. You stare at him with a raised brow glancing between him and the cup sitting next to you.

“I prefer—“

“Coffee. Perhaps if you take the time to look at the cup, you will recognize it,” Anthony says casually, taking another sip of his tea. You look at the light brown drink, steam wafting from it to your nose. The sweet smell leaves your mouth salivating in anticipation.

“Is your plot to assassinate me, Viscount Bridgerton? Presenting as a dutiful potential future brother-in-law with a cup of arsenic in hand?” You ask. Taking the handle of your cup, you bring it to your lips while holding Anthony’s gaze, amusement dancing in your eyes.

“Why, of course, my lady. Name a better pass time. I’ll wait,” He says, earning a chuckle as you wipe the remnant of the coffee from your lips. It lacks the nutmeg and cardamom you are used to. The bittersweet taste familiar but all the more different.

“Very funny, Viscount Bridgerton,” You chuckle softly, taking another sip as you peer back out at the rain. The muggy air and warm drinks flush your skin, a faint tint of reddish pink covering you. It’s serene but not perfect with the uncomfortable temperature, poor visibility, and loud silence. Yet it works. Neither you nor he moves to break this solitude. It lasts for seemingly a lifetime in mere minutes.

“William asked you to marry him?” Anthony says. You sigh, placing down your cup of coffee. You can see Anthony’s watching you from the corner of your eye.

“I presumed he would tell his best friend,” You are quick but not fast enough.

“Do you love him?” Anthony asks. You stare out at the rain with an unreadable expression. Your silence does not paint your truth to its full scope.

“I love William, I do. But I’m not in love with William,” You swallow thickly, your fingers fidgeting in your lap, “He wishes for me to be happy. Yet he does not understand what love does.”

“And what is that?” Anthony murmurs. He looks away from you, tracing the rim of his cup.

“It—“ You open your mouth just as your thoughts jumble in your mind. Taking a deep breath, Anthony glances over at you, a curious glint in his eyes. You cannot help but notice how you hold his full attention, “Love is like an anchor. It drags down to the sea. Further and further from reality, the reality is that marriage is an economic proposition. I do not wish to delve into detail, but the fantasy of love and marriage have long been sullied for me. I do not desire it nor require it. I know that may sound harsh, but it is my truth.”

“Not harsh at all. Refreshing perhaps,” Anthony says quietly. You nearly do not hear him. He takes a sip of his tea before clearing his throat, “After, uh, after my father passed, it took such a heavy toll on my mother. They shared a great love which showed all the good, but once you’ve seen the bad, it’s near—near—“

“Irreversible,” You say softly, finishing his sentence and meeting his eyes. The rain rages on, the soothing white noise all-consuming. You flinch as the sky brightens with the strike of purple lightning that flashes across the sky. The loud following booms rumbling the ancestral home.

“Perhaps it is time to retire to our rooms. Allow me to escort you,” Anthony says. You raise an eyebrow at him with a teasing grin. He rolls his eyes taking a taunting tone, “To ensure the arsenic takes, of course.”

Chuckling softly, you reach for your cup, cut off as Anthony takes it before you. You offer a mock surrender raising your hands in defeat earning a chuckle. Anthony walks you to your room door. Pausing before entering, speaking just barely above a whisper, “Tell anyone of this, and I will deny it. You are not as dreadful as you present yourself to be.”

“Great final words, my lady,” Anthony jokes, earning an eye roll as you bid him goodnight before disappearing into your room. Inside you choose not to dwell on the conversation too long, finding sleep at the touch of your face to your pillow.

You stand with Lady Danbury flittering with the uncomfortable corset rather than pay attention to all in attendance. Lady Danbury glances at you, vocalizing the arrival of Lord Beauregard. Your eyes dart across the room, considering blending into the sea of ambitious ladies and their slithering mothers.

“Miss Sharma,” William offers a warm smile while holding out a glass of wine. He apologizes for his absence, suggesting they dance.

“Mhm, do I let you off the hook so easily?” You sip your wine with a tilt of your head, a playful glint dazzling your eyes. William lets out a hearty laugh, his own sparkle shining with mischief.

“Please, oh beautiful Miss Sharma. Please forgive me, for I cannot continue without your forgiveness,” William clutches his chest, throwing his head back dramatically. The laugh that leaves your lips rises from deep in your stomach. Your cheeks grow sore as you ignore the looks of others. It’s almost easy to forget the frivolity of being in William’s company.

“Shut up and dance with me,” You chuckle. Discarding your cup, you take William’s hand, leading him to the dance floor. He bows as you curtsy, the two of you taking your uniform positions. Step back. Chin up high. Lift your hand. Turn. Each step visibly graceful and painfully robotic, controlled.

“I don’t wish to pressure you, but I cannot help but wonder where your thoughts are on my proposition of sorts,” William says. He makes the dance look easy. Each move carried out as though instinctive.

“Mhm, binding myself to the royal family who currently lacks an heir puts me dangerously close to being wed to a man who could be king someday. You offer not a simple proposition but a hefty proposal that cannot be taken lightly,” Your matter-of-fact tone impedes your count. William shifts right, covering your stumble with a light lift as he turns the both of you. When your feet touch the ground, you grumble a thank you continuing the dance, “I am too uncoordinated.”

“Some could say unique,” William counters. Taking your hand, he spins you gently.

“Unfit,” You fire back, continuing your count, step back. Hand on his shoulder, the other in his hand.

As expected of the dance, William steps forward following your step back. His nose brushes your own as his gaze does not falter, “Perfect. Absolutely perfect. Without a doubt.”

Your voice catches in your throat, William looking at you as imagine man did upon discovering fire. While your decision remains unclear, you are certain of one thing. The security and companionship of William’s offer. Your eyes glaze over, thoughts flooding your mind all at once. William chuckles softly, pulling away, continuing a simple sway. “I do not aim to make you uncomfortable or pressure you. Only for you to see you as I do.

“It appears Eloise is enjoying this night just as much as you,” William looks over at Eloise. She dances a few paces to your left. Her eyebrows pinched as her eyes narrowed at Lord…you cannot put a name to his face. In seconds the gentleman walks away as Lady Bridgerton follows Eloise to the stairs. Her exchange with her mother does not reach you, but the looks are all too familiar. Lady Violet's unable to understand her daughter but proceeds with gentle patience, Eloise’s frustration. Neither understands the other. You find yourself glancing across the room at your own mother.

She smiles encouragingly, blissfully unaware of your plight. Unable to see the world through your eyes.

“You should go after her,” William says, pulling away from the simple box step you’ve both resigned to. Your eyebrows furrow as William bows, with a fond smile as he speaks, “Eloise Bridgerton. A comely lady of the ton going against the norms of the system set upon them. Sound familiar?”

You cannot stop the smile that spreads across your face. William nudges his head toward the direction Eloise disappeared. Nodding your head, you follow the stairs, passing Penelope on your way. She quickly calls out where to find Eloise. It does not take you long to find her door. You offer two light knocks, turning your head to listen in.

“I wish to be alone!”

“Might I join you? I certainly wish for a reprieve from the farce that occurs in your family home,” Chuckling, you lean on the door frame. Shuffling behind the door greeting you with the distant music of the ball continuing on down the hall. After a few seconds, you are sure she will ignore you, but the opening of the door welcomes you. Eloise sits on the floor a few feet from the door. She pulls at the string of her dress, watching as a piece of hem gently unravels. You take a seat next to her, drumming your fingers against your thighs, “do you wish to talk about it?”

“Being my mothers' disappointment? Not particularly,” Eloise says with a matter-of-fact tone.

“I get it. The feeling is rather draining. Focus on it too much, and you’ll find yourself scrutinizing every detail about yourself,” You say, resting your head back against the wall. The laxness of your tone contrasts her furrowed eyebrows.

“You feel like your mothers' disappointment?” Her incredulous tone earns a chuckle as you nod with a gentle smile. “Not a chance. You’re pretty and charismatic, every mother's dream.”

“Many find me argumentative and blunt. Kate is more reserved. She has mastered proper etiquette. Edwina is the comely charismatic one. Most days, I can’t tell if Mother fears what I might do or what I might say,” Your words leave you quickly, shrugging as you near ramble. Wetting your lips, you chuckle as Eloise continues your rambling, “And even when you say something outside of the norm as they’re expecting, they act as though it surprises them. As if they don’t know our natures.”

“Ah, so my Mom isn’t special. It just comes with the having a mother package, I see,” You jest, chuckling softly as Eloise does as well. Only little shards of the prior remains. A reminder in the music that plays from downstairs as the ball continues. The fancy dresses you both wear that itch at the neckline and constrict your midsection. Reminders in your stations amongst society, “Eloise, we are the second daughters. The middle children, like shadows not clearly seen but fairly visible. Existing behind the first and last born daughters. It may sound like a sad reality, but there’s something rather amazing about us.”

“Being ignored and forced to conform?” Eloise’s eyebrows pinch as she stares at your chuffed stupor.

After a few seconds of staring off with the grin of a fool, you speak. Your voice much like velvet, appearing as though nothing in the world could hurt you, “We get to be whomever we wish, not what our mothers molded us to be for society.”

“Are you certain you don’t want to marry any of my brothers?” Eloise smiles, sliding closer. She rests her head on your shoulder. You kiss the crown of her head before resting your own head on hers. Eloise yawns as her words leave her, resembling a sleepy child as she says, “I do not wish for you to leave. My sisters don’t get me.”

“It’s okay. Sisters aren’t supposed to. It keeps things interesting that way,” You joke, earning a weak chuckle. Eloise does not say a word. She continues resting her head on your shoulder. A few minutes pass before Benedict pokes his head in, and you do your best to help get Eloise to bed. You both walk back to the main room together, where the party continues.

“Eloise seems to really like you,” Benedict says with a big grin. You furrow your eyebrows, looking at him.

“And just what exactly are you implying, Lord Bridgerton?” Your playful and straightened posture earns a laugh.

“Just that whether we become in-laws through our siblings or not, you, Miss Sharma, are always welcome back here. Especially for Pall-Mall,” Benedict says. His smile spreads across his face, even his eyes smiling.

“I will remember this invitation and hold you to it,” You tease, grinning as Benedict assures you his word is his bond. As you both walk, he cuts right at the dance floor. You cut left, following the outskirts of the dance floor. Edwina’s smile shines on the opposite side, the light of a young girl in her eyes. Reaching Edwina’s side, she clings to your arm with a giddy smile.

“Oh, sister! Lord Bridgerton and I have danced twice tonight. Twice!” Edwina exclaims, her smile shining up at you as she interlaces her fingers in yours. She gestures to the dance floor where Kate and Anthony dance. Your eyes stay on them as Edwina speaks, her words not fully registering as Anthony’s eyebrow furrow at something Kate says. Edwina gives your hand a light squeeze, “Oh, Didi, I’m certain he’d not have asked me for two if he did not have intentions for the evening. Kate should be giving her blessing as we speak. Oh, isn’t it all so exciting, sister? We shall both be wed before the season's end!”

“Yeah,” Chuckling softly, your eyes stay on Kate and Anthony. Anthony’s eyes widen before scanning around the room. His search halts as he captures your gaze. Edwina still speaks, oblivious to your lack of attention or how Kate looks between you and your staring partner. Anthony glances at the door and back at you; arching your brow, you turn to Edwina. Your pensive stare eludes her as she rambles with a large smile, painting the vision she sees of your future. Anthony politely bows to Kate before leaving the room as Kate joins you and Edwina. If she notices how your eyes follow Anthony out of the room, she does not give any inkling of it as she nods along to Edwina’s excitement. Your ears ring as the various colored gowns of the room muddle, and your vision splinters. You swallow dryly, the ringing in your ears growing louder. Pulling at the edge of your short-sleeved dress brings a faint cool to your flushed skin.

“Sister, are you alright?” Edwina’s voice snaps you back into the present, looking at her with a weak smile.

“Just a bit warm. I think I shall take a moment to get some air,” The words leave you quickly, almost incoherently. You do not look at Kate, her gaze burning a hole into the side of your head. The corridor outside of the ball greets you with low light and a cool breeze from the open back door. Anthony stands on the porch pacing back and forth. You look at him and then glance back at the doors that lead into the ball. You should go back inside, of this you are sure. Despite this, you take a few steps forward, your light efforts capturing his attention. You tilt your head toward the library doors before entering without a word. The room is far more lit than the hall, with many candles and closed windows drying your mouth. You eye the pitcher and cup on the desk, undoubtedly some form of alcohol—hopefully far stronger than wine.

Anthony slams the door behind him, his fists clenching as he paces. You roll your eyes, crossing your arms, your mocking tone filling the silence, “Please just share what I have done this time. The suspense is killing me.”

“When will you leave? Huh?” He asks, furrowing your eyebrows; he gives you no time to speak. A mirthless chuckle leaves his lips, “Oh, Miss Sharma, now you are one for silence?”

“What are you going on about?” You scoff, narrowing your eyes at his condescension.

“Your sister speaks of your plans to depart back to India, so when shall you leave?” Anthony grits his teeth, hissing his words as he steps closer to you. Your eyebrows quirk up, staring into his eyes, quickly identifying what lies across his face—utter betrayal. Anthony shakes his head, scoffing, “Of course, you grow silent when one desires you to speak. You live to get under my skin. I’m almost certain god has sent you to punish me.”

“Lord Bridgerton, I fear we have found ourselves in a conundrum that if it ever came to light, I fear my family would never forgive me. We mustn’t confuse our understanding and friendly nature for something entirely different. Yes, I can be infuriating and insolent, but it's a part of my charm, I think. We are just confused. A line is blurring between us,” A weak chuckle leaves your lips. How can one want to punch and kiss someone all at once? You shake your head as though to rid yourself of the thought and feeling. Internally scolding yourself for ignoring Kate’s warnings, you clear your throat, “You seek a wife of perfection, which my sister can provide. That is simply where we must stand.”

“I am a man of honor and of certainty. I have been certain of what I seek of what I want from start to finish in all things. Especially matters of my family, and yet—“ He pauses, inhaling sharply as he looks at you. The look in his eyes that was not there before that you have not seen before.

“Here, in your quick wit and inability to listen to reason, you challenge all I stand on—all my certainty. Your sister and I share understanding, but there is no shroud for what we share,” Anthony stands before you with a look of utter desperation, of devotion. His eyes reflect all you feel. The confusion, the frustration, the desire.

“Lord Bridgerton—” Straightening your posture, you clear your throat. It falls on deaf ears as Anthony steps closer, his hand ghosting over your cheek. The heat of his palm spreads across your face like wildfire that never quite touches. He speaks quietly as though coveting his words “(Y/n). Tell me you feel nothing. Tell me, your mind does not feel the temptation of this dalliance? Do you have no comprehension of how you plague me?”

Your voice sits in your throat. Every muscle in your body tense as though you await something cataclysmic. Neither of you takes your eyes off the other. His hand still cradles the air centimeters from your cheek. The crackling of the fireplace fills the silence.

It all implodes with the faintest tilt of your head into his palm. You both pull forward sharply. His hands cradle your face as your foreheads touch. You place a hand on his shoulder. The proximity dizzying. The feel of him all-consuming. You squeeze your eyes shut, the consequences be damned.

“This is wrong,” You whisper, gripping his shoulder and taking long deep breaths through your nose. His breath tickles your lips as the space between you further closes.

“Oh!” You flinch back, Daphne’s eyes looking from you to her brother. Her eyes are wide as Anthony steps toward her. She looks back at you, speaking softly as your glassy eyes stare back at her like a fearful child, “I’m sorry.”

Daphne leaves the room hastily, with Anthony chasing behind her. You walk to the desk, pouring a quick glass of the drink. The drink makes you grimace as you swallow it down in one go. You do not look up as the door opens again, crying out desperately, “I require something stronger, please!”

“Oh, Bon,” Kate says softly. You rest your hands flat on the desk letting your head hang as your tears fall beneath you. She pulls you into a tight hug, letting you sob into her shoulder. You refuse to share the source of your despair, your thoughts haunting you. Kate was right. Even William was aware, “Oh (Y/n).”

“Didi, it’s all wrong. It’s all wrong! ” You cry out, looking up at her. She cradles your face. All red and puffy.

“Bon, we will get through this, I promise you. Wipe your tears and show me the fearsome (Y/n) I know.” Kate says, kissing your forehead. She takes you up to bed, tucking you in, even brushing her fingers through your hair as you quietly cry with your back toward her. When Edwina stops in, she offers well wishes before bed. It only fuels the fire of your despair.

The following day, you rise early, bathing before hastily packing your things. You thank the heavens that Kate makes no mention of the night prior, nor does Daphne. Your goodbyes? Almost robotic as you anxiously await packing away into the carriage and leaving Aubrey Hall behind. Kate holds your hand, offering occasional light squeezes as the three of you stand by the carriage. Edwina glances at your interlaced hands and says nothing as she takes your free hand in her own, kissing the top of your hand.

The slight chill of the morning breeze does nothing to cool the warmth that holds you captive. Your palms are sweaty as your stomach wrestles itself. You look at Edwina on the brink of tears, her eyebrows furrowing at the sight.

“Sister, are you alright?” Edwina’s head tilts as she gently squeezes your hand. Your throat drying just before you can find your words.

“Um, I need to—“ You speak quietly, the calling of wait making you tense as you all turn toward the front door of Aubrey Hall. Anthony marches down the stairs with unwavering confidence, squeezing Kate’s hand tight; you swallow dryly.

“May I speak with you?” He says. You fail to notice how Edwina slips her hand out of yours as well as how Anthony's eyes do not meet your own. Your ears ring so loud you do not hear the words that leave Anthony’s lips, only registering the knee he takes as he holds a ring out to Edwina. Kate whispers in your ear, coaching you to keep it together as your nails dig into her palms. Edwina’s eyes are large and shining. She looks at you and Kate. The smokescreen of pending nuptials blinds her to the mournful look that holds your face. Your mother focuses too intently on Edwina and Anthony to notice but Lady Danbury? Lady Danbury eyes you with a knowing look, but still, she says nothing. As the seconds pass like hours, your expression sharpens as though the despair never existed. You look at Kate, offering a curt nod.

“I do wonder about the trim. Is it too much?” Edwina asks, standing up on the podium as your mother beams up at her. You are certain the last you saw her so happy was when your father was still alive. Sitting by the window, you lazily peer out at nothing in particular. No one comments on your icy demeanor, but you know they have noticed it.

“Nothing is too much now that the Queen is hosting,” Your mother smiles, looking from Edwina to the Modiste. As your mother continues to look over different fabrics, Edwina may like the room grows silent in her absence. Kate steals glances at you as Edwina takes in the view of her gown.

“Did I mention we will be married by the archbishop himself?” Edwina says gleefully. Kate's smile does not reach her eyes as she nods and watches you. The bride-to-be glances over at you with a frown, “Sister, did something happen between you and the Duke? You’ve been unwell since the last night before we left Aubrey Hall.”

“We are fine,” Your flat tone barely audible as you continue eyeing the bustling road outside.

“Sister, you should accept his proposal. Then we would both have royal weddings, and you would be a royal! The Queen already adores you, and I’ve seen the way Lord Beauregard looks at you,” Edwina says, her smile large and tone encouraging. You purse your lips looking over at Kate. She holds your gaze before you turn back to the window. Edwina frowns, observing the brief moment, but she says nothing. Instead, she maintains her smile, “We must get you both dresses as well. Special ones. This wedding is as much both for your triumphs as it is for mine. Both of you clearly said something that swayed him to declare himself.”

“We cannot claim credit, Bon,” Kate says, chuckling slowly while shaking her head, but Edwina insists. You chew on your bottom lip, ignoring the burn of your throat, blinking continuously. Kate reminds Edwina that you both plan to leave after the wedding if you have not accepted William’s proposal.

Back at Lady Danbury’s, you hide away in your shared room, sitting by the window lazily drumming your fingers against your leg. You let out a frustrated huff, your sulking growing utterly dull. Biting the inside of your cheek, you glance at your room door, perhaps a venture outside. You stick your head out of the door, looking down both sides of the corridor before stepping lightly out. Where your mother is currently is not to your knowledge, but you know she will prevent wandering if she catches wind of it. You move carefully past the tearoom, freezing in your tracks.

“—nothing appropriate about what you’re doing proceeding with your engagement,” Kate seethes. Frowning, you press your ear to the door.

“On the contrary, I believe it is the most proper outcome for all,” Anthony says, rolling your eyes as you glare at the door as though he stands before you.

“Oh, and what of everything that has happened between you and my sister at Aubrey Hall?” Kate says. The silence tenses every muscle in your body as you await his answer.

“Nothing passed between Miss (Y/n) and I,” Anthony says cooly, a blatant lie. You bawl your fists. How dare he! Opening your eyes to something you could have easily continued oblivious to, only to shut you out completely. You march off to the stairs, stopping at the sight of your mother and sister at the bottom of them.

“Is that so? If I recall correctly, you appeared angrier than hornets at the prospect of her departure,” Kate says, “I can recall the way your eyes find her in every room. The way you look at her, far more than a prospective brother-in-law. If she accepts Lord Beauregard’s proposal, you will be bound to each other in a tortuous way forever. ”

“Would Miss (Y/n) and I being the ones to marry after all my public courting of Miss Edwina, be the outcome you desire?” Anthony asks. You greet them with a large smile stalling as you scratch the back of your neck.

“No, but I’m certain it’s yours,” Kate says. You make certain to enter the room first, giving Lord Bridgerton and Kate a moment to step away from each other. Anthony greets your sister and mother with a polite smile. It falters as he meets your gaze. You roll your eyes quickly, averting your gaze to your mother.

“I will return in seconds. You lot can begin without me,” You sputter, leaving the room before your mother can protest. She calls out to you, but you are already out of the door and halfway down the stairs. A pair of hands steadying you at your waist as you crash into a chest.

“Easy there. Are you always so spritely?” William chuckles, offering a warm grin as you recollect yourself. He frowns, taking a good look at you, “(Y/n) are you—?”

“If we were to wed, would you consider coming to India?” You ask. It’s selfish and wrong, complicating your situation even further if possible.

“I uh—well, I could, but once my grandfather leaves us, I will have to return. His responsibilities shall fall to me,” William says, his eyebrows furrowing as he looks at you, “(Y/n) I only want you to consider this if you truly see it in your future.”

“Let’s not fret over it now. Mother will wish to see you. Come,” You take his arm, pulling him along with you to the tearoom. Your mother and Edwina smile happily at William’s presence in the room. Anthony stares at the two of you, his eyes locked on your intertwined arms.

“Well, now that you are all here. I have news. Lord and Lady Sheffield sent word they are in London,” Lady Danbury says. You do not hide your grimace, looking up at Lady Danbury in pure disgust. Kate looks at your mother as Edwina smiles.

“Our grandparents?” Edwina says, looking at you. You look down at the door, counting each line you can see in the wood.

“Indeed. It seems they read the engagement announcement and wish to make your acquaintance and, uh, that of your future husband, of course,” Lady Danbury ignores the lack of reaction from all of you except Edwina. You scoff quietly, muttering to yourself, “Of course they do.”

“They are already in town?” Kate asks. William glances between you and your family, and so does Anthony. The best friends look at each other before Anthony addresses the elephant in the room. You glance at your mother, the way she controls her shallow breathing—looking around as though seeking an escape. Her mannerisms are familiar, too familiar.

Anthony escorts Edwina to the promenade as William escorts you. Your disposition even lower than before somehow. William stops in his tracks, crossing his arms. You stop not looking up, just waiting for him to rejoin you. When he does not, you look up with a frown.

“I’ve never seen you so, so gloomy. There must be some form of an insult or jest just charging up in there,” William smiles gently, watching as you shake your head, lowering your gaze. “Do you wish to talk about it?”

You sigh as the two of you walk again, nodding your head slowly, “My grandparents are just awful. Overcritical and impossible to please. I’m in no mood for them presently.”

“Well then, before the impending doom that comes from your grandparents' presence, perhaps you shall humor me?” William asks, standing on the ports and gesturing to the secured rowboat. “If I become insufferable, I will happily allow you to throw me overboard.”

“Promise?” You say quietly, fighting the grin that takes your lips as William smirks.

“You have my word,” He says, offering his hand out to her. She takes it, allowing him to help her into the board. He then gets in himself, untying the rope and pushing off the port. “In the colder season, this freezes over. It’s rather fun to step on the top of the ice and glide around. I tend to fall a lot doing it, but it’s all in good fun, I swear it.”

“Really?” The laugh that leaves your lips appears foreign, replacing your petulant stares. You look over the side of the water, picturing William struggling to stay atop the frozen terrain.

“Careful, you’re tilting the boat,” William says, raising an eyebrow. You smirk. Your eyes shine with a glint of mischief.

“What, like this?” You say, shifting your weight from one side to the other William gives grips the edge of the boat, giving you a hard stare. After a few seconds, it melts into a grin as he dips his hand in the water, splashing it up at you. You squeal, shielding your face as you splash water up at him. The two of you laugh like giddy children, gaining the attention of the many who walk around the promenade.

Kate chaperones Edwina and Anthony. They watch the two of you. Anthony’s gaze does not leave your form. Edwina’s words fall on deaf ears as he locks onto your laughter. Your younger sister gasping, pulls Anthony back into the present as the boat overturns, sending both you and William into the water. Both you and William resurface, laughing infectiously, not caring how everyone watches the two of you.

“You tipped the boat over, not me!” You exclaim, helping William push the boat toward the port.

“Says the one who insisted on rocking the boat,” William playfully scoffs as the two of you near the port flipping the boat right side up. You look up, grinning as Kate shakes her head at you, and Edwina happily points out your better mood.

“It seems you always know how to lift her spirits, Lord Beauregard,” Edwina says with a smile. William smiles at your sister, giving her a polite nod, his smile lessening as his gaze moves to Anthony.

“Miss Sharma, please allow me,” Anthony says, offering his hand out to you as he bends down. You stare at it, set on ignoring it, but Kate gives you a look as she gestures to the wandering eyes around you all. Accepting his hand begrudgingly, you quickly pull away from him, standing next to Kate. Your dress clings to you, dripping water down your entire body. William climbs onto the pier turning to fasten the boat back to the log, but Anthony’s already tying it tight.

“Fret not, friend. You always did struggle with tying knots,” The dig’s not lost on you nor Kate. You glare at Anthony, chewing on the inside of your cheek. Anthony and William stare at each other, the tension high as you look around, noticing the other onlookers growing. You narrow your eyes, stepping forward and pushing your palm against Anthony’s side. He stumbles forward into William, the two crashing into the lake.

Your jaw drops as they hurdle into the water, Edwina exclaiming your name as you fail to fight back your laughter. The water splashing up at the three of you, only fueling your amusement. Kate's eyes widen as her gaze bounces between you and the two lords in the water.

Anthony plants his hands flat on the pier glaring up at you as he lifts himself up first. His soaking-wet shirt now sheer, leaving nothing to the imagination. Kate nudges your side, reminding both you and Edwina of the inappropriate nature of staring. Even as the words leave her lips, the three of you shamelessly watch him. The show not ending as William pulls himself up. It’s wrong, oh so wrong, but every passing thought in your mind bubbles, leaving a warmth at your core.

“That was fun,” Smiling, you look between your sisters, who both shake their heads at you. Kate suggests it’s time to head back in worry of you getting sick. Your dress still drips water as you casually bounce on the balls of your feet. In the carriage, you sit next to Kate, resting your head on her shoulder while gently kicking Edwina’s feet.

“Bon, your hair is still wet,” Kate sighs, failing to shrug you off. Edwina giggles softly, moving her feet as you follow hers.

“Quite observant, Miss Sharma,” You chuckle, rubbing your hair against her side, earning a groan as she pushes you away. Edwina covers her soft chuckles with her hand as she watches the two of you. The carriage ride’s mostly quiet beyond a few snickers and Kate’s annoyance with your persistence.

Back at Lady Danbury’s, you openly gape at the sight of an indisputable fact—you are indeed your mothers' child. For hours your mother rushes around like a mad woman. She rushes about the house between making sure you all wear the perfect dress to the intricate styles of your hair and the jewelry you accessorize with. Not a single thing out of place, snarkily reminding you that today’s not the day for nonsense, as she calls it.

Kate offers you a weak smile as you roll your eyes grumbling beneath your breath. If either your mother or Kate dislikes the Sheffields more than you, they hide it well. The last time you can recall seeing them at the ripe age of five, you glared at them for the entirety of your visit. Their interest only stemming from the gossip about your exciting personality, to later deem you unruly. You never did understand why your mother even sent you there. The damage—irreversible.

“It’s just one dinner,” Kate says, fiddling gently with your hair smoothing out every little menial imperfection.

“Yes, one dinner of those people we have to call family scrutinizing every little detail about us. About mother. About you,” You take a deep breath, your expression hardening as you swallow dryly. Edwina enters the room doing a light twirl, her smile large. There’s a clear difference between who can remember meeting the Sheffields and who does not. Edwina’s smile falters at the sight of your pensive stare. She walks, placing her hands on your shoulders with an encouraging smile.

“There is still time to take a small nap if you need didi. I can distract Mama,” Edwina says, chuckling softly as you shake your head, leaning your head onto her hand.

“I appreciate it, bon, but I know a nap will do nothing but agitate me further,” You glance at the door watching your mother jet past. A chuckle leaves your lips, “And quite frankly, Mama as well.”

“Edwina dear, I need to speak with your sister alone,” Your mother enters the room, taking a deep breath as she softly pants. Edwina smiles, nodding her head and leaving the room without a further word. Lady Mary looks at you with her lips pursed.

“I know, Mother. I do not require further instructions for dinner tonight. Be punctual, proper, and pleasant,” You huff, crossing your arms. Lady Mary sighs, walking over. She takes your hands.

“Oh, my wildflower child, you are all those things. I’ve come not to lecture you but to check on you. I know you carry strong feelings about my parents, and if at any point this dinner is too much, you do not have to stay for the entirety of it,” She says softly. You know her words are untrue. To leave dinner so abruptly would only further their thoughts of you.

“Right, so they can nod their heads and look down on me as the defective one of their bloodline. I will not,” Your words are sharp and tense. You stand with perfect posture. Lady Mary shakes her head, but her protests mean nothing, do nothing. You stand, appearing the complete antithesis of the girl everyone knows. “If I could get through two weeks of your parents as a child, then I can get through one dinner. I no longer wish to continue discussing this topic, Mother.”

She takes a half step back from you, keeping your hands in hers. The glint in her eyes as familiar as the one all those years ago when you returned home, guilt. She does not say another word. Nodding her head, she kisses the tops of your hands softly before leaving the room. You fan yourself with your hands, the room uncomfortably hot. The faint tremble of your hands clear as you clasp them in front of you, taking a long deep breath.

After a few minutes, you leave the room in search of your sisters. Lady Danbury smiles, walking with her cane as she calls out to you. She compliments your appearance, the rich red gown complimenting your skin tone. Lady Danbury wears her knowing smirk with a present glint in her eyes, seemingly always present. The two of you enter the room together, clearly interrupting your sisters. Lady Danbury smiles as you appear ready to walk the plank.

“Our guests have arrived,” Lady Danbury announces with a large smile. Her eyes solely on Edwina, who giggles with a giddy smile, leaving the room hastily. Before either of you can follow, Lady Danbury's hand shoots out, halting you as she sidesteps Kate. Her smile falls as eyes look between the two of you.

“You may spare us the instruction, Lady Danbury. We know we are to be on our best behavior,” Kate says with a polite smile. You bite the inside of your cheek, staring off with a blank expression.

“You think me an unfeeling harridan,” She says to Kate before turning to look at you, “and you hide from me as though I see right through you. Well, ladies, I am hosting this dinner for both your sakes.”

“You know nothing of my relationship with those people,” You scoff, glaring up at her.

“And yet I do,” Lady Danbury says, her gaze softening just a tad. Mother told her. You look away from her crossing your arms as you shift on the balls of your feet. “Going forward, Edwina’s betrothal may be the end of certain hopes you’ve harbored regarding the Viscount but access to the Sheffield fortune.”

“I want nothing to do with those people or the Viscount. I will take a lifetime of struggle before I am under the Sheffields' control or ruin this for Edwina. You speak so far out of place,” You narrow your eyes at her, but she merely chuckles.

“Oh dear, you can do better than that. Dear, the life of independence you seek is close, Kate. And you (Y/n)? You have been presented with an opportunity of a lifetime. A marriage to a royal. Security for the rest of your life and full independence from your grandparents. I implore you both to think of the reward of the coming events. Think of your futures. Deny the feelings and passions as you please, but once it cools. You dear have an abundant future ahead of you, where you and your sisters are happy,” Lady Danbury stands in front of both of you. Nostalgia dances in her eyes as she smiles with a bittersweetness to her expression. You blink away the heat in your eyes, taking a deep breath to will away the bundle of nerves that dance in your stomach. When neither of you says a word, Lady Danbury smiles once more, “Come along, girls, it’s time for dinner.”

In the hallway, Edwina follows closely behind Lady Danbury. Her light pink dress sparkling in the warm candlelight. You walk with your arm folded into Kate’s, your jewel-tone gowns matching just as much as your forced polite smiles.

“Ah, Lord and Lady Sheffield, it has been too long,” Lady Danbury’s jubilant demeanor easing the suffocating tension. Not long enough, in any other circumstance, these words leave your lips, but now? Now you keep your head high and posture statue-like, “May I present Miss Sharma, Miss (Y/n), and Miss Edwina Sharma.”

You and Edwina stand before your grandparents with differing expressions as Lady and Lord Sheffield take you both in.

“Oh, my dears, look at the two of you. Aren’t they lovely?” Lady Sheffield gushes, looking between the two of you. You meet Lord Sheffield's gaze, both of you eyeing the other with similar scrutiny. Edwina voices pleasantries for the both of you. Their questions and invitations flowed quickly, evidently aimed at Edwina. They remember you just as vividly as you remember them. Still, you keep your head high, posture perfect, and expression neutral.

“Mother. Father,” Your mother greets them, leaving a chilling silence in her wake.

“I do enjoy the opera. My sister Kate is the one who introduced me to it,” Edwina says, maintaining her high spirits as she smiles over at Kate. Your jaw clenches at the forced smile Lady Sheffield sends Kate’s way, her disapproval coated in honey. Another painstakingly loud silence follows before Lady Danbury recommends they all head to the dinner table. Her diversion from the simmering tension was swift, temporarily successful.

You meet Anthony’s gaze, offering a mocking smile before following behind the others. His eyes follow you into the room, a soft sigh leaving his lips as you join Kate’s side. Edwina walks hand in hand with Lady Sheffield, who dotes upon her.

At the table, Kate sits to your right, with Lady Sheffield to your left. To your further misfortune, Anthony sits in front of you. You ignore the hole he stares into your head at the start of dinner.

“And, of course, you must be our guests at the Sheffield Manor. It is nothing compared to the estates at Aubrey Hall, to be sure, but I think it a most pretty part of Hertfordshire,” You stare at the place setting as though it’s the most incredible thing you have ever seen. Analyzing every minuscule detail of the fall colors as a better alternative to the active conversation. If you notice the glances from Kate and Anthony, you do not show it.

“Do you shoot? We a have a fine stock of birds, and you're always welcome,” Lord Sheffield says, his voice booming through the dining room. Anthony’s gaze flicks from you to your grandfather. He thanks Lord Sheffield for the invitation, expressing his enjoyment in shooting.

“Kate and (Y/n) do as well. (Y/n) is an excellent tracker, and Kate, a great shot. A most efficient duo. All three of them nearly bagged a stag on our trip to the country,” Edwina looks at you, smiling. You mirror her smile before lowering your gaze once more. The cold food and untouched table setting sit staring back at you. Lady Sheffield's mirthless chuckle fills your ears as she looks over at you. Her faux saccharine smile and words pointed, “How unusual. Do they teach young ladies to hunt and shoot in India?”

“Only the fortunate ones,” Kate mutters, snickering; you bite the inside of your cheek. It’s the first real smile on your lips all night. You catch your mothers' smirk at Kate, her gaze shifting to you. She wears a soft smile.

“Uh, Lord and Lady Sheffield, how long do you plan to stay in town?” Kate asks politely. You reach for your cup of wine, taking a long sip. Say in the morning, preferably in the hour.

“Oh, we shall stay for the wedding. And of course, for (Y/n)’s when she weds the Queen’s nephew,” Lady Sheffield speaks definitely with merriment to her tone. She speaks as though she’s boasting of something she’s accomplished as if she knows you—any of you truly.

“I have yet to decide if I will accept his proposal,” Your neutral facade wavers, your jaw clenching once more. The grip on your glass so tight that the brown of your knuckles shines white.

“Oh nonsense dear, you shall not let such a generous offer pass you,” Lady Sheffield chuckles as though she shares a beautiful joke. Only Lord Sheffield laughs. You take a deep breath covering your grimace with another long sip of wine. The bounce of your leg beneath the tablecloth gently rattles the glass atop the table. To your disdain, Lady Sheffield continues, “Imagine. The Queen herself overseeing my granddaughter's nuptials and welcoming my other granddaughter into her own family, with all things considered. Her majesty is kind to be so forgiving after everything that has happened.”

“Now, now. We are all family here,” Lord Sheffield says. You finish your wine, letting out a long shaky sigh. To your surprise, your grandfather tries and fails to deter his wife.

“An earl, no less than twelve thousand acres. Any other young lady would’ve fallen to her knees in gratitude that her parents were showing such care,” Lady Sheffield says. You glance at your mother, your patience thinning by the second. She shakes her head slightly. Lady Violet's attempts to switch the topic falls on ears, your deep breaths growing louder. Even Lady Danbury tries to engage Lady Sheffield in pleasant conversation, but it’s clear the elephant in the room will not be ignored. “And all for what? A mere clerk, was he? And with a child from a previous marriage to God-knows-who.”

“My mother has a name,” Kate maintains an even tone, her shoulders squaring as you now openly glare at your grandmother. The wine warms your skin, shoving you closer to your wit's end.

“We could not show our faces in society for years. Not that she should care. She simply sailed away from all of us with that man,” Lady Sheffields says, your fist hitting the table with a loud bang. Reveling in how she flinches, her eyes widen at your nerve. The room stills, all eyes on you.

“That man is my father, and you do well to speak of him with reverence. You cry about appearance in society when you ignore your beautiful family in favor of acrimonious feelings toward the glue that holds the three of us together. Kate may not share our mother, but she is the very best of us. So you will not sit here and speak ill of her before me,” You practically hiss your words as you stare at your grandmother. There’s so much more that you must say that you want to say, but as always, you are never truly heard.

“Dear, we do not aim to hurt you or your half-sister. It is your mother who sailed away with that man robbing us of our two grandchildren.” Lady Sheffield ignores your comment about your father, omitting him entirely. The tenderness in her words like poison in your ears.

“Three. Your three grandchildren. I have three daughters with whom you have had every opportunity to form a connection. Like a fool, I sent one of them in hopes of you all fostering a connection only for her to return, unlike herself. But at the end of it all, the choice to shun us was yours alone,” Your mother speaks with an impressive blend of being stern and soft-spoken. “And do not think I took it lightly being cast out by the only family I had ever known. I was heartbroken, indeed. But in time, I came to see that, in your cruelty, you did us all a great service.”

“Mother, you require no explanation for these people,” You say, earning a warm smile from your mother as she looks at you.

“I have always admired your warrior spirit, my sweet girl, but this is not your fight,” Lady Mary says. You nod your head swallowing thickly as Lord Sheffield tries to dissuade you all from continuing. Your mother stares at her own, “When you cast me out, you set me free. Free to raise my daughters far from your constant judgment and craven demands that they should chase wealth and titles above all else!”

You smile to yourself. Never had you seen your mother so defiant. Never had you felt so close to her, so like her. Lady Sheffield scoffs, “You are a fine one to talk. You turn your nose up at my parenting but look at your children. The child not of this family is a spinster who muddles the very integrity and reputation of your own daughters. (Y/n) shoots and speaks with volatility unbecoming of a young lady. It’s a miracle she has the prospect of securing English nobility? It is clear Edwina will succeed, and I will always question the very foundation of how with such influences.”

Unbecoming. Unfit. Unworthy.

The words ring loudly in your ears, inhaling sharply, the table squabble no longer reaches you. Your shoulders drop as your stomach turns. Lady Sheffield rehashing the terms of yours and Edwina’s trust fund barely reaching you. You swallow the burn in your throat, struggling to blink away the water that wells in your eyes. Gaze low; the high-pitched ringing in your ears—disorienting.

“That is enough!” Anthony’s voice rips you from your own head. He looks from your grandmother to meet your teary-eyed gaze. His own only softens for a second at the sight of you before turning back to your grandparents, his expression one of frustration, “I can only think you’ve been exiled from good society because of your deficient manners rather than any other sin. Since the moment you arrived, you have failed to show the proper respect for the Sharma family and I will not stand for it.”

“I declare—“ Lord Sheffield says.

“I will not stand for it. Lady Mary has done admirably in raising her daughters. They are intelligent, kind, and loyal women. A credit to both their parents. And since you clearly do not wish to jeopardize your social standing by associating with such company, I suggest you do not. You may leave at once!” Anthony declares, staring at him. Your head spins as it did that night in Aubrey Hall. The weight of your reality harrowing as you glance at Edwina. Anthony rises from his chair. Your grandmother voices her disbelief as he walks away from the table. Standing by the door, he calls out, “Please send for Lord and Lady Sheffield’s carriage. They can wait outside. And do not trouble yourself waiting for an invitation to the wedding, for you shall not receive one.”

Your mother’s the first to apologize, but Anthony sternly announces he and his mother will be departing immediately. The tension in the air far more thick than it began. Your mother and Kate run after Edwina leaving you and Lady Danbury alone. After a few seconds, you exit the room without a further word, ignoring her knowing stare. You do not realize where your feet carry you through the corridors until you see the back of Lady Violet and Anthony.

“Lord Bridgerton, a word,” You call out, narrowing your eyes as he disregards you, “I have spent this night being insulted and humiliated. All I’m asking for is a moment of your time.”

“I owe you nothing,” Anthony huffs, looking back at you. You tilt your head, not needing to say, but you do with actual words. He pauses, sighing before telling his mother he will meet her at their home. You walk him to one of the many side rooms, your words leaving you quickly as you assure him Edwina did not know.

“It is clear she was as much in the dark as I. I am not upset with your sister. Is there something further you wish to discuss?” Anthony speaks sternly, his hands behind his back as he glowers at you.

Your eyebrows furrow, his understanding words not matching his expression. You continue cautiously, “No, uh, I just wanted to thank you for what you did back in there.”

“That is of no import. I take it there’ll be no dowry. Now that the Sheffields have withdrawn their support,” He speaks mechanically, like a cog in the machine of English nobility. You open your mouth, but no words leave you, “I’ll take your silence as confirmation. Clearly, both Miss Edwina and I have been misled, and it is best to call off this doomed engagement.”

“Oh, now you suddenly lack the desire to wed my sister,” You scoff, shaking your head, narrowing your eyes at him, “I am many things, but a fool is not one. Something is happening between us, and you’re using this lapse as an out for the mess you put us in.”

“Says the one who weaponizes her disdain for marriage as a tool against her grandparents,” He counters his accusatory tone and steps forward, doing little to faze you.

“The resentment of my grandparents and my resulting outlook on marriage is of no consequence to our dilemma. You are to wed Edwina, and I am to return to India with Kate,” You watch as his jaw clenches at the mention of India. Rolling your eyes, you huff, “Why do you insist upon casting Edwina aside?”

“You are the very source of all my strenuous relationships. I jeopardize my longest and dearest friendship due to your very presence. Your sister, Kathani, battles me daily not against my union with Miss Edwina but how I look upon you. Now you wish me to bind myself to you for all eternity, doomed to never have you in the light to which I desire. I am a gentleman. My father raised me to act with honor, but that honor thins and weakens with every interaction we share. Vanquishing you from my mind proves to be futile, as you plague my being without endless.” You move away from pacing faintly as you shake your head. His eyes stay on you, longing—pleading for a response.

“No, Lord Bridgerton. I cannot—I will not take part in this dalliance any longer. You confuse your feelings. Edwina is who you seek,” You speak barely above a whisper, your voice catching in your throat as he steps closer again. His hand on your cheek.

“Yet you are who I found. You challenge my feelings, yet you make no objection to my close proximity. You told your sister you intend to bend my nerves till they break. Miss Sharma, they have broken. Give me your love, hate, disgust. I want it all as long as it comes from you, only from you. You are infectious and come without a cure,” He whispers, his lips ghosting over your own. Shamelessly allowing him to drink you in, and as fast as the moment comes, it goes. He pulls away, walking hastily to the door, his words low, “I must take my leave.”

You let out a breath you had not been aware of holding. Your hand comes to cover your lips as your tears flow. The door opens once more, but you do not look up, uncaring of who has found you.

“Oh, Bon,” Kate says at your side. She pulls you into her arms. She knows the looks, the pauses, the warnings—Kate’s known all along.

“Didi, I fear you have been right. The Viscount and I dance around feelings I cannot explain nor reveal to Bon. I have ruined everything. I will ruin everything.” Kate shushes you softly, cradling you in her arms like an injured animal. When she finally coaxes you to walk with her to your shared room, you cannot meet Edwina’s eye inside.

“Oh, Didi,” Edwina gasps, taking your hands as she leans down, attempting to meet your gaze. You squeeze your eyes shut, taking a deep breath in as you build your courage.

“Bon, I fear you will hate me, but you must know I carried no intention to keep this from you so—” Your voice wavers as you still fail to meet her eye. Once the words are out, you cannot hide them. Not from Edwina, not from yourself.

“Didi, I could never hate you. I understand your disdain against marriage now, and once I am married to the Viscount, there will be ample funds to provide for all of us,” Her words strike you quickly. You say her name softly, but she shakes her head, “I want nothing more than to be his wife. His Viscountess. But first, he must forgive us. Do you think he will?”

Kate glances at you, your teary-eyed expression hardening. Before your sister's eyes, you bury it. You bury it so deep that not even looking in the mirror will show you signs of it. You clear your throat nodding your head, “He will. I will make certain of it, Bon.”

You lay with Edwina in her bed, rubbing her scalp as you soothe her to bed. As sleep captures her, you look at Kate. Mouthing your words, ending the previous conversation for good.

“He must marry Edwina.”

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