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oceansblvds · 10 months

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around the fur ; aegon targaryen

pairing ; aegon targaryen ii x reader

words ; 2k ish

about ; an in depth understanding into the relationship between you and aegon targaryen. you had known each other since you were children; you wanted each other, lusted for one another . . . a tumultuous pattern that went around and around like a wheel.

warning(s) ; very little fluff, swearing, sexual themes, mentions of smut but not explicit smut?, it's not yandere but it's definitely not a healthy relationship, angst?, targaryen realness, my professor says i write too many words so that's a warning in itself.

authors note ; okay okay so i kinda wrote this as more of a word dump? i'm quite obsessed with aegon right now and definitely taking requests for aegon and aemond and possibly other hotd characters!

The confines of the Red Keep was something that you had grown accustomed to whilst growing up. You were soon coming to learn every staircase, where to find the best view of the sky at night, where to go when you wanted to be alone . . . everything. A part of that was of your own curiosity, though most of it had to do with your longtime childhood friend — Aegon Targaryen.

"My father will have me hanged if I am late for dinner again, Aegon," You whined, hands gripping your skirts as the two of you ran through the gardens. The hour was growing late, sun setting in pale hues of pinks and oranges. That was the sign that you should return to your chambers and wait for your father to come join you, or the other way around. But lately you had forgotten the time, leading to your father's angered words.

He was a lesser lord, but a lord nonetheless, and your home was originally in the southwest part of Westeros near Highgarden. Though, your father often was demanded at court, and it became easier to just move there for the time being. You couldn't remember much of your childhood before Kings Landing, this was your home.

"You will be back in time for supper, I promise," Aegon said, not even glancing in your direction as he slowed down. The two of you were far enough away from the keep that you knew he was giving false hope, but you believed him anyways. He was your best friend, the closest person you had here except for Helaena and sometimes Daeron, but both siblings tended to want alone time. Aegon was always the person you went to, he would say yes to playing no matter what. "Besides, if he eats without you, I can ask for something to be brought up to your chambers."

"I can do that myself," You said, laughing at him thinking that you could be so helpless.

Aegon stopped in his tracks, finally turning to look at you. "But, I would want to."

You smiled, a pale blush coming to your cheeks. You were both only one and two, the world was still so new. Things were bright and shiny, a world that was filled with many wondrous things for you to see. You didn't understand concepts like love, only that it was what others were supposed to have for their spouses.

You walked up closer to him now, able to see his face painted with the colors of the sunset. You quite liked the lighting like this, you thought to yourself, it made Aegon's pale hair have a glow, accenting his pale violet eyes. He wasn't quite taller than you, but he was always very quick to saying he would grow to be as tall as his father someday. You chose not to mention it, only granting him another smile and pressing your ankles off the ground, reaching to give a quick peck on his cheek.

Before he could say anything, you turned on your heel and made a beeline for the gates. You had to get to dinner, after all.

That was where it all started.

You were older now, one and seven, and it had been somewhat of an eventful year. You were to think about marrying now, multiple lords coming to your father and mother with hopes that they would grant your hand. They were stalling, almost as if they were keeping inventory of all the men that wanted you. It made you sick to your stomach, especially when your head and heart led you elsewhere.

You could swear he was doing it to you on purpose. The sickly sweet spell that Aegon had put you under hadn't let up, relentlessly bringing you back to him whenever you attempted to do otherwise.

His silver locks had grown out into a wavy pattern that you found yourself staring at, wondering what it felt like to run your hands through it. Hands gripped firmly on the gauntlet, which kissed his lips every time he yearned for a sip of the honeyed wine he had sent up for the two of you. It was a dreary day outside, meaning that your usual escapades would have to resume indoors. There wasn't much to do, and you were aware he was trying to get away from his mother's meddling. You watched, almost a little too intently, at the way his tongue pressed in between his teeth as he tasted the fine wine, licked it from his lips and set the gauntlet down, returning to laying down on the cushion between you and him.

In order to try and avoid watching his every move, which you found yourself attempting to do a lot these days, you fancied yourself a book. It was something about the War on Dorne, how the Targaryen's had failed to conquer the land of the south. To be truthful, you were trying your hardest to pay attention, but you couldn't. He was doing something to you.

"Are you okay?" Aegon asked, snapping you out of your thoughts and bringing you to reality once again. His eyes were focused on you, his vision looking upside down as he stayed laying down on the cushion.

Your eyes narrowed. "Yes?"

"You've been staring," He stated bluntly, seemingly unbothered as he reached to take another sip of his wine. This time, however, he stayed upright, bringing his attention to you. His arms held himself up, turning his body to face you as he said, "You do that a lot."

"No I don't," You said, your first instinct to grow defensive.

Instead of being defensive back, Aegon only laughed, an almost comical grin taking over his face. Your eyebrow rose, wondering what in the seven hells he was thinking. Like Aegon did every day, he spoke bluntly. "Have you ever been kissed?" Almost as if he was mocking you.

The question threw you off guard, unable to give him an answer right away. You were hesitant to shake your head, because the answer was no, you hadn't been kissed. While it was normal for Aegon to go about and do what he wanted with various women (something that you spent a considerable time worrying about as of late), you were not allowed to do such things. You were meant to stay as pure as you could, virginal, untouched. Of course you hadn't been kissed, he should know that, but instead he held the same stupid quizzical look on his face.

"No," You confessed, closing the book in your lap. "Would you like to elaborate as to why you felt the need to ask?"

Aegon leaned forward and kissed you. His scent enveloped you as much as his body did, it was such a brash action that you were unaware if you were dreaming or this was real life. After a few moments passed, his lips still working against yours, slowly, as if he was trying to teach you the motion, you were sure this was real life.

You didn't stop him.

His hands gripped your sides, sending sparks of electricity in their wake as he touched you there, and there, and there. His kisses were all consuming, leaving you entrenched in the feeling of only him, only Aegon. If you were to pull away, he would only pull you closer, a constant push and pull, both of you wanting for something that seemingly was unattainable. Neither of you wanted to stop.

A wave of satisfaction spilled forward in your soul, your heart intertwining into his with every touch, every sigh that passed your parted lips. At some point his kiss broke and he sent his mouth going lower and lower, against the soft skin of your collarbone, casually nipping at the skin that was exposed.

You wondered how you got here, pressed into the darkened corner of a hallway, on the outskirts of the Red Keep, hoping that no one would pass by and witness the outright sinful actions that you were partaking in. It wasn't the first time, and it surely wouldn't be the last. You learned quickly that once Aegon set his eyes on something, he wouldn't let it out of his sight until he had it. And when he looked at you, you supposed he saw a challenge. You were so virtuous, so pure, innocent, something fragile that he felt the need to break. He felt the need to take.

And you let him, with not many thoughts opposed. Ever since he had kissed you, all you could think about was the next time that you would be kissed. It was strange at first, meeting with him and wondering if he had forgotten what had happened, or it wouldn't happen again. But it did, it happened many times that you had to change locations. After all, who would marry you if you were caught?

You let out a breathy sigh, closing your eyes and thrusting your head back, allowing for him to have more access to your neck. As you opened your eyes, the soft dim light of the sun beginning the set blinded you, mixing with the embellished strands of his hair. He came up to face you, nipping at your lips, violet eyes staring intently into your own. It was his way of asking if you were okay, even though he knew the answer.

"What is it?" You asked, your hand brushing against his cheek.

He shook his head, it wasn't important. Instead his hands reached under the skirts of your dress, skin grazing against the soft skin of your thigh. You gasped, rather loudly, making him capture your lips in another kiss to silence you.

His kisses were soft despite his tough exterior, but they were not without intention. Every time his lips made contact with a piece of your skin you could feel his want, his desire, like he couldn’t get enough of you no matter how hard he tried. It was like you were his church and he was on his knees, praying for forgiveness for his sins, praying to your body that he worshipped unlike all the faceless gods in the world. Your hands collided with his hair, intertwining the soft locks of silver and pulling on it, pulling him closer.

Eventually more clothes came off, more skin against skin. He found solace again in your tiny sighs and moans that left your lips when he kissed there and there . . . and especially there.

You found yourself lost in it, lost in the fire that he created around you. You were certain that you were always meant to burn together. To love him was to love the hot embers of a forest fire, pressing your hands farther and farther into the flames no matter how much your body screamed to let go. It was all consuming, a love that suffocated you like smoke and left you burning for days. He was always burning, and sometimes you wondered if you just got caught up in the flames.

#aegon ii fic #aegon ii fanfic #aegon x you #aegon the usurper #aegon targaryen #aegon x y/n #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen x you #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen x you #hotd fic #house of the dragon #aegon x fem!reader #aegon targaryen smut #aegon ii targaryen smut #aegon ii targaryen fic

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kitkatopinions · 5 months

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"Blake's TRUE color is purple, the black was only ever because of Adam" Friend, if that was the case her name wouldn't literally mean black. You guys were watching the color show originally centered around color where the color oriented team rwby who had names with the first initial of their color made by someone who was so particular about color that he almost made all dust red just so he didn’t throw off Weiss's color scheme. You really think that if Blake's TRUE color was always meant to be purple, she'd be named Blake?

Also, people only ever offer Blake 'breaking away from Adam' and 'getting healthy and confident' as reasons why the writers are acting like she's purple now, but like... Blake hasn't been with Adam at all during the course of the main show. She was completely disillusioned with him, she was against the things he did, she was standing up to him, she was calmly articulating the way she felt about him, she was making friends, learning to trust, went on a date for God's sake, all within the first three seasons. And the backsliding that happened because of the fall of beacon was dealt with and left her more confident than ever, reunited with her parents and Ilia, 'reclaiming the White Fang' from him even though that was a badly done mess, etc, all prior to reuniting with Team RWBY by the way. Killing Adam in volume six was completely unnecessary to Blake's journey of healing and actually logically would've made her backslide again, and as I've said before, Blake turning into a meek flinching passive person trying to manage her partner's temper and hiding behind said partner when her seventeen year old teammate raises her voice makes it seem like Blake is actively LESS healthy than ever before.

People literally only say that about "purple is really Blake's color, the black is just Adam" because they're unable to see Blake outside of Bumbleby and use Adam as a fallback hatesink for anything she once was that contradicts it. Also I want these people to stop calling their ship bumbleby and find something purple and yellow to call their ship, like LarryBoy or something. Also Also I want them to stop singing Red Like Roses, because "Black the beast descends from shadow-" Oh ADAM that must mean ADAM because Blake's color isn't black! /s

Also the same can be said for Weiss. "White was the Jacques color, blue is really what Weiss's color really is" A. Her name means white. B. You’re telling me that in V4 at the height of when the writers want you to think Jacques is so cruelly controlling her, she's wearing that dull gray-ish blue dress and absolutely no white, and that wasn’t meant to be symbolic at all? And when she leaves she puts on the wide white belt, and you thought that... What, meant that Jacques still had a hold on her or something? Also, C. I could be wrong, but doesn't Nicholas Schnee who the writers are billionaire simps for and Weiss admires and calls a hero ALSO wear tons of white? If Weiss is shedding Jacques (represented by white) and embracing the True Blueblooded GOOD Billionaire Schnee name (blue) then wouldn't old Nick Schnee be decked out in blue?

And legitimately, the writers might've randomly decided while writing V6 that Weiss's color should be blue and Blake's color should be purple and THEY might have come up with those same dumb excuses, but they're not good excuses and I absolutely DO NOT believe that Blake's color being black and Weiss's color being white was originally meant to 'show us they weren't being their true selves' or that they were 'getting held back' and so on and so forth. Every time I see people say that, I roll my eyes so hard.

#rwde

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yourjughead · 2 months

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Begin Again

Sweet Pea X Reader Oneshot

Synopsis: Sweet Pea is longing to have you be his again after a drunken mistake he made a few years ago.

A/N: Short-ish, fluffy.

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“Pea, do we have to do this every day?”

“Only until you say yes YNN” the tall Serpent practically towered over you as he leaned across the Whyte Wyrm bar top where you polished glasses.

“SP, give it a break, you're sounding desperate” Fangs smirked at his best friends daily ritual, sliding onto a barstool next to him.

“I'm just looking for another chance is all”

“Pea one of these days I'm gonna roll my eyes so hard at you I'm gonna go blind” you gently patted his shoulder smilingly before moving down the bar to take another Serpents drink order. Jugheads birthday party getting into the full swing of things.

“You've worked so hard to get back to this place SP, are you sure you want to risk losing it all again”

“Fangs, I just know we're supposed to be more but maybe it's time to just call it” Sweet Pea watched your outline drift into the sea of Serpents as you moved from behind the bar with a tray of drinks. You had known one another for over two decades, raised in the shadow of this very bar. Partners in crime with a healthy dose of one-sided outwards pining but mutual feelings. The two of you had dated before, it crashing and burning almost two years ago.

Sweet Pea scanned the room, his gaze landing on Veronica Lodge, laughing with her Riverdale counterparts.

“Ugh I know that look” Fangs followed his glance before taking a swig from his drink.

“What?”

“That's the, let me jump on the next thing that moves and pretend it's yn because that's who I really want but can't have, look”

“Sounds like it needs a rebrand” Sweet Pea chuckled in return before pushing off the bar and strolling over to reacquaint himself with the raven haired girl boss. He squished into the booth alongside the Northsiders and began to work his magic on Veronica as you rejoined Fangs at the bar, apron and drink in hand.

“Finished for the night YNN?”

“Yeah, right on time to watch that trainwreck” you plastered a smile across your face that didn't quite reach your eyes as you took a deep drink from your glass and threw the apron around the other side of the bar.

“I know you want him back and you're scared what happened…will happen again”

“Woah Dr. Fogarty when's the daytime advice show airing?” you laughed as Fangs joined you. Fangs passed his drink from his hand to yours, taking your empty glass. You tore your eyes from the booth and landed them on Archie Andrews, back fresh from active duty. He moved through the crowd heading back to his friends from the bathroom.

“Oh god, not that look”

“What?”

“That's the, let me jump on the next thing that moves and distract myself from the deep unresolved feelings I have towards Sweet Pea, look”

“A rebrand should be considered” he laughed at you and your similarities to Sweet Pea. He considered a career in behavioural psychology as you sprung from your chair with a fresh drink and swanned over to Archie.

The night took a very drunk turn from there, for all parties involved. Dancing and drinking and shameless flirting were heavy themes of the night. You felt Archie's hands trace your hips as you both swayed to the music growing in volume. Throwing your head back laughing at whatever Archie said, his mouth quickly attached to your neck. Your surprise turned to rising pleasure and then very quickly to shock as the red head was suddenly pulled back from you.

“Hey!”

“Hey yourself Andrews!” Sweet Pea stepped between the both of you, pushing Archie backwards by the chest.

“Sweet Pea leave it” you tried to pull him by the shoulder back only to have him shrug you off and whip around back to you.

“You're being stupid YN” you scoffed at him as Archie began to give out again. Sweet Pea whirled around, his bare fist meeting the side of Archie's jaw. Fangs launched himself from the bar, Jughead following suit, attempting to separate the two of them as they began to brawl. Your head started to swirl from the alcohol, fed up with the boys in front of you, you separated from them, and out the door.

You made it a little way along the road up from the bar as Sweet Peas drunken gait met you.

“YN, where are you going!?”

“Away from you!” You shouted back, matching his tone. He reached you quickly, catching your wrist and turning you to face him.

“Let go of me!”

“YN when are we going to stop pretending you don't still have feelings for me!” His wild eyes searched yours for answers, wishing to not hear what you said next.

“When are you going to stop pretending you didn't hurt me!” You snatched back your wrist and stomped in the direction of home again.

“YN, that was a mistake, a stupid, drunken mistake, she didn't mean anything to me-”

“-then why'd you do it?” You suddenly turned again, bumping into his chest. The street lights cut through the night as you bite back alcohol induced tears.

“I… I don't have any excuses. I've said I'm sorry but I'll say it again, I'll never stop saying it. I made out with that girl. I did and I have never not regretted it, I'm sorry” you looked into his genuine eyes as they dampened with tears. He caught hold of your shoulders and stepped in closer.

“YN, I am sorry. I'm so sorry. I know I said I'd be happy to have you in my life even just as a friend, that I'd make peace with whatever scraps you'd give me but….I need you. I need you to be mine again and I need you to need me” he gulped at the end of his confession and then leaned in to meet your lips. A flush of memories enveloped both of you, warm and comforting, familiar and pure. You separated again, dismay painting your face but not as much as Sweet Pea’s when the palm of your hand sailed across his face.

“That…That was for drunkenly kissing that girl the first night we went long distance” you then shoved him backwards, tears now streaming down your face as you gritted out “That…that was for once again getting behind the walls I built to keep you away” you grabbed the collar of his shirt then, hauling him back to you again. He went willingly, too dumbfounded to put up a fight. You pulled him down to meet your lips again prior to pushing him back, still holding his collar.

“And that…that was for making me want to try again” he gently lowered down your hands, keeping them in his. You rested your head off his chest, he dropped your hands and draped his arms over you, pulling you in. You both stood there for a long time in the glow of the street lights above you.

“Fangs owes me 100$”

“Why?” you laughed into him, reaching for his hand and pulling him into a walk again, not really sure what direction you were heading in.

“He said I'd never wear you down again, bet 100$ two years ago when we started being friends again”

“You owe me half of that” you smiled.

“I owe you everything

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murdockparker · 11 months

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Foolish Endeavor - Part 7

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: Anthony confronts Reader and Benedict in his study. Benedict has a proposal for his beloved.

Word Count: 7.1k

Rating: 18+ MINORS DNI (I will haunt you)

Warnings: SMUT, mentions of pregnancy, soft tooth-rotting fluff per usual

A/N: I’m back with an update!! The smut is... well it is what it is. It’s what I was so caught up on this chapter and gave me the worst writers block. Anyway, enjoy the long(ish) chapter!

first part - previous part - next part

“Well?”

It was the first time Anthony had spoken in the twenty minutes they had spent in his study, his arms crossed and body leaned up against his desk. After a seemingly uneventful dinner—to the rest of the group, anyway—Anthony called upon Benedict and (Y/N) to meet with him privately to discuss certain… revelations he had made that evening. The nerves wracked her to her core, trying to convince herself that there was little to no way that Anthony Bridgerton could have put all of the pieces together—she was courting an artist, after all, it was only natural that paint would adorn her clothing too, no?

“Brother, I thought we were to have a night cap, yet you pull Lady (Y/N) into this—”

“Oh, trust that I will be drinking, Benedict,” Anthony said quickly, turning to his glass decanter and pouring a rather healthy glass. “I would offer you a glass, but I have the strongest feeling I’ll be needing most of this.”

“Well, now you’re just being dramatic,” Benedict scoffed as he grabbed a spare glass, holding it out for Anthony to fill. His brother only glanced at the empty crystal cup before setting the decanter back down onto his desk.

“If you were planning to have a chat, I can retire for the evening,” she offered quietly. Both Bridgerton brothers turned their attention onto the girl, each staring at her with a different velocity; Anthony in a way that said ‘no chance in hell you’re getting out of this’, Benedict’s gaze more telling of ‘don’t you leave me here alone with him’. So, she stayed, her toes digging into the ornate carpet.

“I must say Lady (Y/N),” Anthony swirled his glass, “you’re hardly the messy type.”

“I’ve been known to be clumsy from time to time,” she countered, “mess usually accompanies such a thing.”

“This is true,” Anthony nodded, “why, for instance, Benedict was rather clumsy today. Spilled paint all over himself and had to take a rather long bath to get the mess off, did you not, Benedict?”

Benedict moved his head a fraction of an inch, a hardly noticeable nod to his brother’s question. He knew exactly where this conversation was headed.

“Oh? Is that so?” She tried to play dumb, hoping that it would stick. “Is that why you weren’t there to greet me when I arrived today?”

Again, Benedict nodded mutely, taking a small sip of the whiskey he had poured for himself—no thanks to Anthony.

“You two should never apply yourselves to the theatre,” Anthony groaned, downing his glass in one go, “both terrible actors, the lot of you.”

“I… I don’t think I understand what you’re implying Anthony?”

“You’re a bright lady,” he mused, setting the now empty glass onto his desk, “you surely cannot be that thick, to not know what I’m alluding to, no?”

“No,” (Y/N) crossed her arms, “I want you to say it.”

“I—what?”

“Say it,” she repeated, “surely if you’re going to accuse Benedict and I of anything improper you have the courage to admit it yourself instead of hoping one of us will loosen our lips and spill something you dread to hear—if that is to be the case, of course.”

“Fine,” Anthony huffed. His posture stiffened, nearly growing an inch from his straight back—he needed to look intimidating and imposing. “You have paint on your dress—a new one apparently, the countess admitted—seemingly the same paint as our lovely Benedict was dressed in earlier this afternoon.”

“I’ve been known to wear paint from time to time, especially since Benedict and I have begun our courtship—”

“Which would normally be the case,” Anthony rose his free hand, silencing the girl in lilac, “but I must say, Benedict, when we had our chat earlier, I had noticed something… odd.”

“Odd? Other than the fact you decided to have the chat whilst I was in the tub?” He crossed his arms decidedly, trying to have a leg up in the conversation. By the look of Anthony’s steely demeanor, it wasn’t working.

“Now, I have no proof of such an accusation,” Anthony began, softening the blow of sorts, “but I could have sworn I heard something else—someone else—in the washroom with us. A breath, perhaps, behind the door. Not to mention a peculiar water trail leading to the very spot.”

“The estate is old, brother,” Benedict sighed, “the house settles, floorboards creak, honestly it’s a wonder that you even came to such a conclusion—”

“Whatever the case might have been,” Anthony held his hand up, “I know the two of you were alone in some capacity today, washroom or not, the two of you are courting now. I know that the both of you are wise enough to know that being without a chaperone is highly improper and if you were alone in the washroom—”

“Anthony, you must take a breath, you look akin to a tomato,” she gently suggested. He listened, gently following her words. “Now, as you said, you have no proof of such an accusation?”

Anthony nodded hesitantly, his nostrils flaring. He obviously had no intention of admitting such a thing, but the liquor clouded his judgment.

“So there is no ground to accuse Benedict or I on such a matter,” she said simply. “Even if we were together alone, it couldn’t be the most improper thing to come of this family, would it?”

The viscount opened his mouth quickly, hoping to get a word in before Benedict cut him off. “She makes an excellent point, brother,” he hummed, “why must you meddle in our courtship? Don’t you have the Sharmas to woo this week?”

“My plans for this week are none of your concern, brother.”

“I would highly disagree, considering the lovely Miss Edwina is rightly whom you plan to make the next viscountess, leading her to be the next woman of the house, is that not right?”

“I feel now as if I am intruding on a conversation that does not warrant my involvement—”

“A disagreement to that too,” Benedict nodded at the woman beside him. “Considering you are very well likely to be a part of this family someday.”

She could feel the heat creep up her neck, the color evidently rising to the tips of her ears, too. “O-oh, well,” she mumbled, clearly taken aback, “I don’t think that—even if that were the case to be made—Benedict—”

“Christ, Benedict, you’ve nearly melted the poor girl’s brain—being so brazen about your intentions,” Anthony rolled his eyes. “Do you have no shame?”

“At least I am fixed on my feelings for Lady (Y/N),” Benedict said, his demeanor still and unwavering. He looked akin to a painting in this manner, in this lighting, only the few candles that lit up the rather spacious study illuminated his features. If she had any artistic bone in her body, she’d try her hand at sketching the sight—to document this moment into something greater than a memory. “She is very well aware of my intent to marry her, if she wasn’t…I suppose she is now.”

“Are you saying I do not feel such an inkling for Miss Sharma?”

“Take it for what it is, brother,” Benedict said solemnly, “the truth.”

“But,” (Y/N) nearly squeaked, gathering the attention of both Bridgertons, “that is not to say that you cannot garner that sort of affection for her in the upcoming week, or even lifetime, is that not true?”

“There is no need for me to gather any feelings or fool myself into loving Miss Sharma,” Anthony said simply, “love is not a requirement in my marriage—in fact, I would greatly prefer it to be without.”

“That’s…” she was at a loss for words. Lady (Y/N) knew of the viscount’s barbaric view on marriage—on not needing a love match to find a bride—but to hear it herself? To really chew on his words? “Anthony.”

“Well,” Anthony stood from his desk, his hands shuffling a stack of papers to the side, “I feel as if we’ve talked about as much as I’d wish to this evening—as unhelpful or untruthful as some of it may have been.”

“Oh, come now, Anthony,” Benedict scoffed, “you can’t be getting offended of the truth—”

“There is no offense,” he assured soundly. “The spirits have simply done what they needed to and I find myself in desperate need of sleep.” With a quick tug of his coat sleeves, readjusting their length, he turned to the lady in lilac. “In the sake of what the truth may be or might have been this afternoon, do use your best judgment going forward—I do not wish to know of any scandal between the two of you, Daphne’s season was quite enough.”

“Of course, Lord Bridgerton,” she curtsied, tipping her head down, “I wouldn’t wish soiling your great family name, nor my own.” Benedict bit back a grin, his laughter kept neatly at bay—Anthony seemingly too tired to gather her rather obvious sarcasm.

“And Benedict,” he turned to his younger brother, “If you are so keen on a proposal to Lady (Y/N), I suggest making that formality sooner than later, lest any word gets out before such a matter can occur.”

“Of course.”

“Now, I suggest we all retire for the evening,” Anthony nearly yawned, “Lady (Y/N), I’d be pleased to have our staff escort you to your room.”

“Oh, I know my way to the guest chambers, there’s no need—”

“I insist,” he nearly seethed.

“Well,” she turned to Benedict slowly, “I bid you a goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he nodded, glancing back to his brother, “I think I’ll enjoy another drink before retiring for the eve—should you let me, of course.”

“Yes, very well, I’ll insure it is replaced it in the morning.” Both Anthony and (Y/N) left the study, turning separate ways down the hall, leaving Benedict to contemplate silently in the oak room, nearly mulling over the options set before him.

—

“Lady (Y/N), you look rather exhausted,” Agnes, her lady’s maid noted quietly as she undid the loops of the lilac fabric. “Should I run you a bath?”

“No, Agnes, I don’t think that’s necessary,” she hummed as she watched the gown drop to the floor. “I think I am just in need of a good sleep, the traveling really drained me.”

“Did your afternoon nap not suffice your exhaustion, my lady?”

(Y/N)’s lips pulled into a tight line. “No, I’m afraid not.” Pin by pin, Agnes pulled her hair down from its skilled design, put in by the very same woman earlier that day before the travel out to the country. The maid simply kept her mouth shut and on the fact her hair seemed untouched by sleep, nearly still perfect from the morn. “I find that naps really don’t serve me well as of late, it seems.”

“Perhaps some tea will help?” Agnes offered, placing the pins in a bowl beside her. “I can go fetch a pot if it will suit your needs.”

“No,” (Y/N) yawned, “that is quite alright.” Her lady’s maid placed a simple nightgown on the chair next to the vanity, one of many that had been packed for the trip to Aubrey Hall. “I can dress myself for bed at this time, thank you Agnes.”

Agnes nodded, bowing lightly. “Of course, my lady. Have a restful sleep, I’ll awake you in the morning.”

Not even a moment after her lady’s maid exited her chambers, (Y/N) pulled on the night frock haphazardly—she was never skilled at finding the arm holes in such a manner—and practically ran over to the candle on the vanity. It was a rather impractical shape, she couldn’t walk through the dark halls of Aubrey Hall with this particular candle, she’d have to find a different candlestick. Beside her bed, she could’ve recalled, was a rather ornate brass holder—with a convenient loop for her walking needs.

“I could probably forego a candle,” she muttered quietly. “Make my way back without…”

Her eyes met her own in the mirror on the vanity—she did look exhausted, dark and purpling circles making their presence faintly aware under her eyes. Was she mad in trying to find Benedict again? With how she abruptly left the study—with how he decided to stay behind—he was expecting her to come back, right? She could always feign innocence if she were caught by the staff, claim she needed a midnight snack or something of the sort.

Lady (Y/N) thought it best to leave the candle after all, the halls couldn’t have been darker than the ones at their Tonbridge estate—hardly any windows lined the walls. She would be fine and make do, allowing and trusting her eyes to adjust properly. With a nervous rake of her hand through her hair, she allowed herself to take a deep breath before pushing open the ornate door to the hall.

An immediate right, a left at the vase with painted roses, three doors down to the stairs, a right and another left.

She quietly repeated the pattern as she went—afraid she’d miss the vase or possibly take a wrong turn. But, the insistence paid off, she made it to the viscount’s study—candle light still visible from under the door. A soft knock was all it took for Benedict to answer, his posture softening at the sight of the lady in the hall.

“I knew you’d make your way back,” he murmured, ushering her into the study.

“And leave you to drink on your own?” (Y/N) smiled, walking over to the desk and eyeing the decanter. “May I?”

“By all means,” he nearly laughed, pointing to the empty glass. “Though, I do wish you’re here for more than just a free drink.”

“Well,” she filled her glass hesitantly, “your brother does have a fantastic taste in his liquor. But, you’d be right. I thought it would be best if we were to chat about… well, everything?”

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

“I do not think we have enough hours in a day to discuss everything,” Benedict smirked. “But, if you wish to discuss the events of this afternoon—”

“This afternoon, yes,” she nodded quickly. “That would be a good place to start. Are you sure Anthony has gone to bed?”

“We shouldn’t have anyone bothering us,” Benedict assured her. “But, just for good measure…”

He locked the door—the only way into the study.

“It would be a shame if he were to intrude yet again,” she hummed in thought, enjoying yet another sip of the brown drink in her hand. “The viscount is awfully good at that, so it seems.”

“Always has been,” Benedict nodded, “even in our youth.”

“I can imagine…” she trailed off, her attention focused solely on the bookshelves that lined the walls behind him. Ledgers and texts on the estate, mostly. “Did you mean it?”

“Did I mean—”

“What you said to Anthony,” she clarified, coughing lightly. “Earlier… in here.”

“About...?” he inhaled sharply, nostrils flaring ever so slightly. “Oh. Of course you’d want clarification—”

“No clarification,” she held up her hand, “you were clearer than crystal with your words. I just wish to know if you meant them—if you were honest and truthful to your brother about your intentions with me. Us.”

“Am I usually taken as a man who is untruthful?” Benedict mused, finally finishing his drink. He chose not to pour another. “I would’ve preferred to have had a conversation with you privately on the matter—I was planning to do such on a promenade tomorrow—but Anthony forced my hand. I hope it wasn’t an unwelcome thought.”

“Benedict,” she nearly melted with her words, “we are courting—the intent usually is to wed—I wouldn’t expect you to think anything less of our courtship.”

“So it is suffice to say you feel the same?”

She took another swig of the liquor in her glass—it was likely whiskey, she only guessed, having little expertise in different liquor types. “I never wished to be married,” she said honestly, “but as an only child—only daughter—it’s my duty to do such a thing.”

“So you would only marry out of duty?” Benedict nearly felt his heart shatter. “For no other reason at all?”

“You’ve known me for a long time, Benedict,” she sighed, “we’ve frequently discussed my distaste for marriage, touching on your similar feelings on the matter.”

“Feelings change,” he said bluntly.

“They do,” she agreed, finishing her glass. “However, I don’t believe you allowed me to finish my thought—”

“Do you not wish to be wed?” Benedict stood up from the desk, tall and proud. “From my understanding of this conversation, it’s clear to me that you don’t foresee a marriage between us—not one deriving from anything but a duty you have to your family, is that not correct?”

“Christ, Benedict,” (Y/N) laughed humorlessly, “how much have you had to drink before I arrived?”

They both looked at the decanter—it had been suspiciously more drained than she expected it to be.

“I’m not a drunkard,” he pointed. “I simply enjoyed a few drinks on my brother’s behalf—”

“Did I call you a drunkard?”

“You implied.”

“No,” she spat, “I was merely trying to find a reason to why you’ve been rudely cutting me off. You’ve been jumping to wild conclusions without even allowing me the decency to explain myself. I care little about your drinking habits.”

“Oh,” he slumped, “I didn’t realize—”

“Now,” she took a step closer to him, “if you wouldn’t mind.” She waited a moment, allowing the silence to fill the room entirely before continuing her thought.

“You have to understand that I have gone practically my entire life wishing to live a life of solitude, not to have a husband to own my every waking moment the rest of my days,” she paused, looking down at her nightgown. The disappointment was practically radiating from him across the small space—it was almost drowning. “But, you also have to understand that I have been the happiest I have ever been since our courtship begun, Benedict. While I’m still hesitant on the idea of marriage, if we were to wed, it would not be a marriage of duty.”

She took a deep breath.

“It would be one of love,” she nearly stood beneath him, staring at him intensely. The three damning words were hanging on the tip of her tongue—daring to spill, but never escaping.

“You… love me.”

“I do,” she nodded, “I think I always have, really—loved you, I mean.”

The grand clock in the study ticked away.

“I-I don’t know what to say—”

“One usually says it back, should it be reciprocated, of course,” she teased, her voice shaking ever so slightly. He couldn’t have noticed, not even if he tried.

“Darling,” he grabbed her hands, “I don’t believe there are even words in the English language that exist to express just how deeply I feel for you. If I were a poet, I wouldn’t be able to scribe a sonnet nor haiku, if I were a musician, I couldn’t bring myself to string any symphony to even remotely compare to just how much I love you.”

He nearly believed she didn’t hear him with how still she stood. “I love you,” he repeated, hoping it to stick.

She blinked back tears. “I-I heard you,” she sniffled, “you say all of that as if you are no poet.”

“Well, it certainly was no sonnet,” a wet chuckle escaped his lips—when had he teared up?

“Better than Byron, then.”

“You wound me, my love,” he scoffed, “my bum can make better poetry than Byron.”

“Benedict?”

“Yes?”

“Kiss me.”

He hadn’t the need to be asked twice.

Benedict reached down to grab her face, gently, oh-so-gently bringing his lips to hers. She tasted of the same whiskey he had been remedying for the better part of the evening, the sour twinge of alcohol only adding to his passion. (Y/N) had moved her hands to his chest, gripping his shirt with everything she had—he was everything she had—afraid to even part for a fraction of a second.

“God, I love you,” he mumbled into the kiss, pulling his arms around her tightly. She gasped at his grip around her waist, the breath nearly escaping her lungs—their lips never fully parting from one another. “I love this dress.”

“It is nothing extraordinary,” she nearly groaned, reluctant to pull away from him, “a rather simple nightgown.”

“Oh but this is far from simple,” he mused, peppering kisses on her face—down to her neck. “Why,” another kiss, “I rather love this neckline.”

“It’s a bit risqué, is it not?” She moved her head to the side, allowing Benedict better access to the skin that resided there. “Mother always said it was a bit much.”

“No,” he determined, paying close attention to her exposed collarbone, “it is quite enough for my needs.”

“Is it?”

“Now that you mention it,” Benedict stopped his ministrations on her neck, looking deeply into her eyes—his own blown out with lust, “it might be too much.”

“T-too much?”

“Too much,” he agreed, fingers dancing up her back, “fabric.”

Her breath hitched.

“I love you, (Y/N),” he said seriously, “and I would never want to do anything to you without your explicit consent—but you’ve made it terribly difficult to keep my wits about me.”

“If,” she swallowed hesitantly, “you believe it is too much fabric… perhaps you are correct.”

“(Y/N)—”

“I want this, Benedict,” she placed a hand on his chest—right above his heart, “I want you, Benedict.”

“You have had me, my love,” he smiled brightly, placing a kiss to the corner of her mouth, “you have had me for as long as you’ve known me—I’m yours.”

“Please, Benedict,” she mewled.

A low chuckle emanated from his chest, eyes checking the door once more, to insure it was locked. “You do understand what you are asking of me—if anyone were to find out—”

“I don’t care,” she pulled him in and closed the gap once more, hungrily clashing her lips against his own. With a quick spin Benedict had her pinned to the edge of the oak desk, a hand on her waist and another on her jaw—kissing her as if his life depended on it. In a way, it did. Her hands made quick work of his shirt, undoing the few ties it had. Her fingers were quickly met with a dusting of dark hair—she couldn’t decide if it was merely the low lighting or a trick of her eyes, but the hair on his chest seemed darker than the hair on his head.

“I suppose,” he popped, licking her bottom lip, “you did not get a chance to see my chest in earnest earlier today?”

(Y/N) shook her head.

“Well,” Benedict shrugged his shirt off, “take all the time you need, my love.”

“That,” she pressed another kiss to his jaw, “won’t be necessary. I was merely admiring you for the moment.”

“Is that right?”

She hummed in response, her lips not leaving his skin—not if she could help it. Her own shoulders rolled hesitantly, almost afraid to ask for what she truly wanted. Benedict, being ever observant, gently tugged the ribbon on the front of her frock, loosening the fabric from her skin. Not entirely, but just enough to keep her satiated.

“Do you not wish to admire me more?”

(Y/N) looked up at him through her lashes. “I wish to do all that and more, Benedict Bridgerton. I plan to admire you for as long as you’d allow.”

“Funny,” a low chuckle escaped him, “I was about to say the same thing.”

With a wordless nod, Benedict slowly pushed the nightgown off of her shoulder, allowing the creme fabric hang from her form—the top of her breast peeking out of the opening. Her skin looked softer than the finest of silks, it looked practically kissable.

“What’re you—oh!”

He really didn’t plan on startling her in such a way, but he had admitted that his wits were going to be hard to keep about himself this evening. Suckling on the newly exposed skin on her chest wasn’t what he exactly imagined the night would turn to, but with the way she moaned—Christ how she moaned—it was seemingly just as pleasurable to her as it was to him, so it wasn’t a terrible turn of events.

“That feels…” her hand wriggled itself into his hair, feeling his lips capture more of her skin on her breast—he was sucking lightly, enough to where it didn’t feel painful, but the sensation alone lit a fire in her body.

“If you think,” Benedict looked up at her through the curls that fell in his face, “that feels good, just you wait, my love.”

He palmed her breast through her dress—as thin as the material was, he knew it would be even better if he were able to just… rip it off. But, he was still a gentleman, so he had to hold himself to a better standard—that, and the thought of her trying to explain to her lady’s maid how exactly her nightgown came to such a state was just too horrifying. So, he had to settle for the ribbon on the front to loosen the fabric. Like a waterfall, the dress accumulated onto the ornate rug beneath them, pooling at her feet. What once felt like a burning heat, the air of the room suddenly chilled her to the bone—her state of undress becoming more apparent.

“You are…” He managed to pull himself away, just for the moment, to fully drink her form in. “Simply exquisite.”

If her body hadn’t been on fire before, the simple act of his hands on her lit a flame inside, one only his touch could extinguish. She nearly expected to feel bashful for him to see her this way, her entire top exposed for the world to see—exposed for her world to see, anyway.

“I’m no more exquisite than the models at the academy,” she said breathlessly.

“You’re right,” Benedict hummed, pressing kisses from her jaw to her collarbone, “you’re unequivocally more so.”

She gasped at his lips on her breast, finally reaching the destination he had in mind. It was a strange feeling, the suckling on her hardened nipple, but the warmth that bubbled from the source to her core was intoxicating. “I didn’t…” Another gasp. “I didn’t realize one could—besides nursing babes, that is…”

Benedict released the skin from his lips, grinning like a cat upwards at his lover. “I think you’ll find nearly everything this evening to be just as surprising, my dear.”

And his words rang true. With a fell swoop, he hoisted her up onto his brother’s desk, her behind was like coals against ice on the countertop. It was a feat, to try and not make a mess of Anthony’s things, but in the end, the couple simply couldn’t have given it a second thought, especially when Benedict’s mouth was at her core. A forbidden kiss, he had mumbled.

“Oh Benedict,” she moaned quietly, suddenly remembering where they were at. The kitten licks against her dripping wet cunt was nearly too much to bear.

Benedict slurped up her wetness, licking his glistening lips before responding. “No need to be quiet, my dear. If my family hears us, it is all the more reason for us to be wed.” The idea alone nearly sent her over the edge. It seemed that this evening was a true awakening of quite a few things for the earl’s daughter.

“There has to be more than this,” (Y/N) said, pulling her love upwards from her legs, stealing a searing kiss from his lips. “I know there’s to be more than this.”

He laughed lightly, pressing another kiss against her hot mouth. “In my many nights dreaming of this moment, I don’t think the thought of taking you for the first time on my brother’s desk was one of the fantasies.”

“You’ve thought of this?”

“Of course,” he purred, pressing his forehead against her own. “They normally happened in my studio, during a portrait session. I dreamed of the day you’d commission one from me and, well…” His face grew red at the memory, many a night had he spent himself into his hand at the idea of having her—taking her for the first time. “I’m afraid if I think too terribly much of it again I may not last very long.”

“Last?” Her brow quirked up in confusion. “Can you not continue to go as long as you’d like?”

Benedict barked out a laugh before realizing she was dead serious. He had to remember that she was new to all of this, a virgin to such an act. “Trust that you will be satisfied, my love, but no, most men cannot last as long as they’d like to, especially in the presence of the most alluring of women.”

“And the women? Do they last as long as they’d like?”

He huffed, trying to find the words to describe exactly what the experience was like. “My love, rest assured that you’ll last as long—if not longer—than you’d like while I’m with you. I will continue to please you until I take my last breath.”

“How chivalrous,” she teased, feeling his hand snake back down to her dripping cunt. His fingers danced across her entrance, feather-light touches tickling the center. “You don’t think that they’ll…?”

“Fit?” Benedict snickered lovingly, gently pressing a digit into her core. The tightness nearly sent him over the edge—the idea of her warmth wrapped around him like this was nearly too much. “I think you’ll adjust fine, my love. Though, it may be a bit painful the first time.”

She gasped for air, feeling him wriggle his finger in a hooking motion, touching a spot she hardly knew existed. “Painful? I can’t imagine anything like this to be—”

It was in that moment that Benedict Bridgerton snuck a second finger inside of her, working them both up to a leisurely and pleasurable pace. He didn’t want to overwhelm her, nor jump into the main event without thoroughly working her up to it—it was simply a barbaric thing to even think about. He knew that if he were to sheath himself inside of her in this moment, she’d be ready, but something inside of him was nagging him to finish her off before he did such a thing. “My love, would you like my mouth on you again?”

Her eyes shot open—when did she shut them? “And stop what you’re doing?”

He kissed her gently, smirking at her genuine response. “I never said that, my dear.”

Benedict sunk back down to her core, only removing his fingers for a moment to readjust himself. He licked his lips hungrily before diving back into the wetness, slurping up any dripping he could find. Idly, he wondered if any of his brother’s paperwork would need to be burned, having his love make a mess over most of his counter. “You taste so sweet, my sun.”

She bit back a scream when his fingers re-entered her at a frivolous pace. He was working towards something, and she knew it, with the unrelenting movements he was making? The suckling and little swipes on her clit? He was merely a carpenter, building and building to completion. The joined sensations of his fingers hooking inside of her, reaching that spongey spot and his tongue against her hardened nub was nearly too much. A blinding hot feeling grew exponentially in her core, threatening to spill out. “Benedict, you must stop, I feel—”

He didn’t stop, not with the way her words were cut off with a delicious moan. “You’re nearly there, my love. Cum for me, let yourself go.”

The blinding heat turned to white, her vision growing bleary with pleasure. She felt it, the snapping of a band, the release he was begging for, it felt like the practical energy from her body was being drawn out in a single moment. Coming down from her high, she felt like she had been running for hours, her heart nearly pounding out of her chest. “That… what was that?”

“Something you’ll get to know very well with me, my sun,” Benedict smirked, rising up to kiss her sweetly. He thought she’d be revolted by her own slick against his lips, most women he had the pleasure of being with were, but she fervently kissed him back. “What do you say we work together for another one?”

“Another… you can do that again?”

“And again,” Benedict kissed her lips. “And again.”

“Do you ever get to feel that? That release?”

He only nodded, knowing how serious of a question it was. “I do. I’d like to feel that with you, if you’d let me.”

“Please,” she smiled softly. “Show me.” His hands snaked to his trousers, pulling the fabric down enough for his hard cock to spring forward. It was daunting, to see such a thing for the first time. Of course, she had seen at least the idea of what it would look like in oil paintings and sculptures by the greats—nothing quite similar in size or shape, however. “Oh… wow.”

Benedict tried to not let her comment go right to his head, but he knew the effect his cock had on women—usually stunned speechless—so this was hardly any different. No, it was different. This was the woman of his affections, the woman who he will have the pleasure of bedding for the rest of his days, should she agree to it. “Don’t worry about it, my love,” Benedict said, nearly reading her mind. “As I said before it may hurt for only a moment or two, but you’ll certainly be begging for more.”

“A bit full of yourself, are we?” (Y/N) teased, trying to feel more grounded.

Benedict chuckled. “Usually am, my dearest.” He moved between her legs, feeling them open voluntarily against him. He wanted to make this perfect for her, to insure she’d have a pleasant experience to look forward to the next time they join together. Tentatively, he stroked his cock against her slick folds, feeling the way she shuddered against him.

“Oh!” (Y/N) yelped, feeling him enter her slowly. The sensation wasn’t as unpleasant as Benedict made it out to be, but when he pushed only a fraction deeper, she felt the sting. True to his word, it only lasted for a moment.

“I know we have,” Benedict groaned, feeling her tight around him. “Joked, in the past about me ruining you. But I’m afraid for it now to be true.”

“I was always yours to ruin, Benedict.”

He couldn’t help himself from moving, not after her declaration. She yelped again, feeling the pain melt and shape itself into the pleasure she had been yearning for. Benedicts movements were slow to start, he was nearly beside himself at the restraint he had in the moment, to not completely overwhelm her right away. Within an instant, her arms wrapped around his neck, allowing her to hold herself up closer to him. She could practically feel his shallow breaths against her skin, he was having a hard time keeping his wits about him.

“You feel,” Benedict breathed deeply, “enchanting, my sun.”

“And you feel—” she groaned, the pain only now subsiding.

Benedict shushed her with a kiss, passionately meeting in the middle of his paced thrusts. He kept a steady tempo, waning and waxing with the small movements from his beloved, urging him to continue on—for as long as he could anyway. “My love, I’m afraid you make me feel like a green sixteen, I don’t know how much longer I can last.”

“I make you feel that way?”

“I’m afraid so,” Benedict laughed. “Christ, you’re so tight.”

A part of her should be flattered, she assumed, by Benedict’s comment. Another part of her felt nearly disappointed that this tryst would be over before either of them would like. It was only then Benedict pressed his fingers carefully against her still-sensitive clit, gently massaging it into precious circles. Her vision went hazy, her legs nearly becoming marmalade.

“If I am to finish, I promised I’d take you with me,” he huffed, rutting into her harder. “And I never go back on a promise.”

She nodded in agreement, mind lost to the pleasure of it all. Idly, (Y/N) wondered why she had heard whispers from wives and her maids on how uncomfortable the marital act was, seeing as it was nearly not even close to the sort. Not in her experience anyway. Perhaps it was dependent on the person? The passion between the couple? She knew in her heart of hearts that Benedict and her shared a deep understanding, trust and love. Perhaps that is what truly mattered after all.

“Benedict, if you keep doing that—oh!”

“Yes my love, get closer for me, I’m nearly there,” he grunted, angling his hips up just a fraction more—his beloved moaned at the new contact. Her legs instinctually wrapped around his waist, caging him in and keeping him close. Whatever was to happen next, she wanted him as close to her as possible, to share their combined release together. “I think, Christ, I’m going to cum, my sun.”

“C-cum for me,” (Y/N) cried, feeling that same white pleasure take over her body, the source coming right from her core. He hadn’t the need to be asked twice, Benedict began to cum directly inside of her—something he hadn’t had the plan on doing, but it thrilled him all the same. Had he thought about it too long, he may just rise to the occasion and be ready to go yet again.

“I—my love, I am sorry,” Benedict began, finally cooling down from his high. “I didn’t mean to… inside.”

(Y/N) blinked up at him, trying to fight the daze she was currently in. “Are you not supposed to? It felt good enough.”

Benedict reluctantly pulled out of her, pressing a kiss to her temple. “It’s not that I am not supposed to, quite frankly that is the whole point of this, but I’m afraid it is something I was trying to avoid.”

“How do you mean?”

“Do you know how a woman becomes with child, (Y/N)?”

“Of course,” she laughed nervously. “I’m not as green as you—oh. So, if you didn’t cum inside of me…?”

“Because I did I fear you have the chance of becoming pregnant, yes,” Benedict sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It is not… the most unsavory thought.”

“No,” she hummed in agreement. “I suppose it’s not. Though I’m sure if I were to be with child, it would be best if we were wed, a plan I’m sure you already have in place, no?”

Benedict chuckled at her honesty. “Of course I do. I would not have taken you on my brother’s desk had I no plan for such matters. In the end, I reckon it doesn’t matter, permitting your agreement to the engagement.”

She sighed happily, still coming down from her post-sex high. “Of course I agree, you simply need to ask properly.”

“I will get right on that,” Benedict smiled.

“Your brother’s desk…” (Y/N) pointed, pulling her discarded dress back onto her shoulders. She looked and felt disheveled, something she had a feeling she’d get used to, having a life with Benedict Bridgerton.

“We can burn whatever we may have… soiled,” Benedict snickered, pulling his own clothes back on and in a mostly proper manner. “I’m sure he did not leave anything of great importance just out and about.”

(Y/N) nodded, trying to read the dirtied papers she had sat on—most of the sheets were old ledgers or testing blots from Anthony’s quill. She made quick movement to throw them into the dwindling fire across the room. It was nearly just to the coals, not having been stoked in quite some time, but the papers caught the heat quickly and disappeared into the cinders. “Benedict?”

“I’m sure they weren’t important,” he waved, trying to pull his trousers back up. “Anthony won’t miss them.”

“No, it’s not that,” (Y/N) shook her head, something clearly on her mind. “Earlier, when you… well, when we were together, you called me your sun.”

Benedict paused, turning to look at his beloved, a halo of warmth radiated from the dying fire behind her. She looked ethereal. “Yes,” he said simply. “You are, in the simplest of ideas, the very center of my world, the thing I cannot fathom to function without. In a way, I have always rotated around you, my love, around your life to be near you and with you. For you are my sun,” he grabbed her hands lightly, “the light and love of my life.”

Tears dotted her eyes. “I should’ve known you’d say something beautiful,” she sniffled. “Now I seem a fool for not having a term of endearment as lovely for you.”

“‘Love’ works just for me,” he chuckled.

She thought for a moment, feeling his hand smoothing her hair against her head lovingly. “Well, if I am to be your sun, you must be my moon.”

“Your moon,” he repeated.

“Lighting the way in the darkest of hours, gentle, constant,” she said thoughtfully. “A-and because I think it’s rather endearing to have matching… endearments.”

His face practically glowed with joy, a smile rivaling the very moonlight she had mentioned grew across his lips. “You, Lady (Y/N) are my sun and I am your moon. I simply cannot think of anything more perfect.”

“Neither can I,” she smiled, leaning into his touch. He took the opportunity to guide her lips to his own in a featherlight kiss, an ending note to leave the night on. “I should sneak back to my quarters before anyone notices, I suppose.”

Benedict groaned softly. “I suppose you must.”

“Do not fret, my moon,” she said, the term flowing easily from her tongue, “we have tomorrow and a world of tomorrows awaiting us.”

“A world of tomorrows… yes, I think you’re quite right.”

She smiled sweetly. “Should I be expecting your company tomorrow?” Benedict nodded once, his grin not wavering from his face. “Goodnight,” she said quietly, curtsying teasingly before opening the door. Benedict quickly made is way behind her, his breath hot against her ear.

“Do wear your best dress, my love, I suspect tomorrow’s events will call for only the finest.”

She nearly ran up the stairs to wish for sleep to come over her—bringing tomorrow faster to today.

TAGLIST

@nikkisilassheep, @cavghtbythewind, @chaotic-onigiri, @440mxs-wife , @mymyma , @perdynerd , @wotcherboo , @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake , @babyhoneystvles , @korol-lantsov , @riddlerloveb0t

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton smut #reader insert #children DNI i will haunt you #thanks for the patience i know it's been a while folks #i hope to finish this story sooner than later!

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gareleia · 2 months

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THE KNITTING SAGA CONTINUES

a continuation of this post, because I have no impulse control and am in dire need of more Aeolus content

first of all, let's establish one thing - and I think we can all agree on that - Aeolus loves to fuck with people. they are a benevolent(-ish?) trickster deity, and they revel in harmless pranks

as a consequence, they are on pretty good terms with Hermes. while Hermes doesn't care much for the 'small fry' and doesn't pay that much attention to the wind god most of the time, Aeolus has their winions follow the messenger god religiously (pun intended), because? where Hermes goes, shenanigans always follow.

so when they get the tea that he's apparently hanging out on that one random Greek island, playing nanny? oh, they know it's gotta be good. so naturally, they go to check it out.

well, turns out that Athena is also there, and both of them are sooo bad with babies, it's hilarious

Athena, holding baby!Telemachus: Ehhh, shouldn't it be eating more meat? it's body is so weak, it can't even hold a spear! Hermes, exasperated: oh my me, 'thena, that's not how humans work!! babies eat liquids first!! how can you not know that!! here you go, champ, drink some wine!! Aeolus, hiding in the leaves: holy shit these guys are dumb

so now they can't just leave Telemachus alone with Athena and Hermes! they might not be an expert on child rearing, but surely they can do better than those two dorks! and the baby is adorable.

so they decide to stick around. just for a little bit. a week tops.

fast forward a few years, and they have been raising the prince of Ithaca

Aeolus: *shocked pikachu face*

and Aeolus is the much needed chaotic good influence to Hermes' chaotic neutral and Athena's lawful neutral.

the thing is, Aeolus is really good at hiding. so good, in fact, that no one but Telemachus had even realized they are here. everyone else just thinks that the prince has an invisible friend which, well… they're not wrong?.. and it's not like other kids are exactly lining up to be his friends anyway, cause everyone thinks he's weird (or their parents don't want to catch the attention of the suitors)

and the gods think that it's because they hang around too much and Telemachus can't make friends because of them. so maybe they try to spend less time in Ithaca, for his own good. which only makes things worse, because now the boy is upset, and Aeolus and winions have to try extra hard to cheer him up, which pisses them off.

Athena & Hermes: oh, goodness us, we shall try not to interfere too much with the mortal affairs, so that the young prince grows up healthy and happy ¯_(ツ)_/¯ Telemachus: (T⌓T) Aeolus: ヾ( ･`⌓´･)ﾉﾞ

and then they have to subtle bully the two dumb fucks to come back.

on a less serious note, Aeolus also has a sweet tooth, especially for marshmallows (idgaf there weren't any marshmallows in Mycenaean Greece, they're a god. they can make all the damn marshmallows they want)

and of course, since they are sooo generous, they always share with Telemachus.

what they don't know(?) is that winions, who all get their own treats, also collectively share them with the baby, because they are secretly evil adorable little freaks.

which results in a very hyper prince sugar rushing seemingly out of nowhere.

Telemachus, running all around the palace and crackling madly: I AM SPEED- Penelope, unimpressed: and who, pray tell, had given my son sweets right before dinner? Athena, equally unimpressed: yes, I would also like to know. Hermes, sweating nervously: heyyyy, why are you all looking at me like that???? ( ಠ‿ಠ ) Aeolus, from behind a tree, unseen by anyone: (｡•̀U-)┘

Hermes always gets blamed.

It's the only time he doesn't do the thing

and he's seething, because nobody believes him.

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johnlennonswifey · 11 months

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Can you do a fic with John in 1965 ish maybe earlier where he just needs a little comfort or something fluffy but also a bit angsty. Love your work so far!

Thank you!! Idk how to feel about this one but I hope you enjoy!! 🙌🙌

‘I love you the way you are.’

John Lennon x Reader

Summary: John has been oddly quiet, so you pay him a visit to cheer him up.

Warnings: John being sad

—————————————

John had been quiet recently. He had started distancing himself from the band, and you. Which everyone found strange. Every time you approached him he would simply shrug his shoulders. You, along with everyone else, began to worry. His usual upbeat funny attitude was gone. You needed to talk to him.

Which is where you find yourself now, standing nervously by the door to his flat.

“John?” You called out. No answer. You had already knocked four times. Running low on patience, you eyed the doorbell before deciding to ring it.

Relief washed over you when the door locks began to make noises. The door swung open, revealing a disheveled John in a pair of sweats and an old T-shirt. You smiled.

“Mind if I come in?” You hesitantly asked. “I’ve been wanting to speak to you.” John hummed and moved aside. You walked in staying at the entrance as he closed to door. “You can have a seat on the couch.” He said. You nodded, following him over to his little living area.

You sat down opposite from him. He remained facing forward while you turned to look at him.

“John,” you started “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” He sat there, motionless and quiet. “John-“

“Do you think I’m fat?” He asked suddenly. You have him a confused look. “What- why would you think something like that?” He reached for a newspaper sitting on the side table before tossing it to you. It was flipped to a page in which the header read, ‘The fat Beatle?’. The entire article was people criticizing John's weight in comparison to the others.

You looked up sadly. “John, you’re not fat.” You stated quietly. He finally turned to look at you, his eyes sad. “You have to admit I’ve put on a little weight. Haven’t I?” He questioned. You frowned. “So? Even if you have that doesn’t make you fat. You’re perfectly healthy John.”

He stared at you. Quiet again. “And handsome.” You added after a surge of courage washed through you. His cheeks faintly turned pink and he turned away. You two sat in silence for what felt like hours. Deciding your visit was up, you stood, heading for the door. Before you could leave though, you felt something grab your wrist. You turned to see John, his eyes wide as he stared at you. He let go and straightened his posture.

“Do you actually think I’m handsome?” He asked. His voice now back to its normal volume. It was your turn to blush now as you nodded. He smiled. “Well, I think you’re very pretty.” He said matter-of-factly. The blush on your cheeks darkened as you took a step closer to John. “Yeah?” You asked. “Yeah.” He smiled. You gently pressed a kiss to his cheek. You finally turned to the door, opened it, and stepped out. “Feel free to visit anytime!” John called after you.

You smiled as you shut the door. “I will.” You said to yourself.

—————————

I have been waiting for a John request I love writing for him 🙌🙌 just an fyi I might close my requests soon so I can work on some longer works of my own 🙌🙌

#john lennon #john lennon x reader #the beatles imagine #the beatles #the beatles x reader

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slexenskee · 2 months

Text

Nest (Oneshot)

Someone, at some point, somewhere in one of my inboxes, asked me something about Hawks's more bird-like traits. I wish I could remember... literally anything else about it so I could track it down and answer it properly, but I can't so here's Gojo being sick and Hawks building a nest about it

[link] (or read below)

Getting sick is a normal and uncommon fact of life— unless your name is Gojo Satoru.

This is his reasoning for how he idiotically misses the signs of his own incoming misery until it’s too late to avoid it. He’d had a sickly early childhood, mainly due to a premature birth and a finicky eating schedule, but by the time his Six Eyes and his memories had awakened he’d gotten through the worst of it. There was still the usual gamut of runny noses pervasive in the public school system, but eventually he’d learned to filter out the worst of the pathogens. Some common viruses, like the cold or the flu, changed too quickly each year for him to do it reliably, but as he got older he just learned to keep a healthy(ish) diet and a decent(ish) sleep schedule and avoid them.

In hindsight, that it took him this long into his parenting adventures to finally catch something from Eri was actually rather impressive. Kids were the penultimate vector of diseases; sticky hands, constantly touching everything and everyone, and spending notable amounts of time around other small human-shaped vectors of diseases made catching an illness an inevitable outcome for any parent. As it turns out, Gojo Satoru and his invincible barrier was no exception.

Anyway, so finally getting sick wasn’t that surprising, even if he wasn’t thrilled with the experience.

But Hawks’s reaction to it… well… okay maybe that shouldn’t have been surprising either, but it sure was a bewildering thing to wake up to.

He wakes from a groggy, disorienting sleep with a head that feels stuffed full of cotton (or maybe just congestion) and only a vague recollection of how he ended up back in his bed. He thinks he actually fell asleep on the couch with Eri on his chest, but at some point he remembers being carried off somewhere.

Eri had gotten some kind of bad head cold from her daycare. Nothing life threatening, or even warranting a trip to the pediatrician, but painful to deal with nonetheless. He hates to see her so obviously unwell and unhappy, and especially hates how little he can do for her when she’s like this. He’d stayed up with her through her miserable coughing fits, gave her steam baths when he could, and made sure to keep her on a steady clip of simple foods and fluids. In the process, he’d slept poorly himself, and spent most of his time stressing out about her and forgetting to eat or drink fluids himself.

At first, he just assumed his poor constitution could be blamed on a criminal lack of sleep. Then he tries to take a breath through his nose and ends up in a coughing fit instead, and realizes not only is he still sleep deprived, but now also sick.

Gojo collapses back onto the bed, sighing as he resigns himself to a pretty unfortunate next few days.

He rolls over onto his side, hoping to clear out his lungs that way, and ends up with a nose full of Eri’s hair and a cat yowling in protest.

This isn’t particularly unusual. Eri still sleeps with him on occasion, and when she does she sometimes forgets to close the door behind her and the cat prowls in at some point and makes a nuisance of himself by curling up right where Gojo wants to put his legs.

But when Gojo opens his eyes to swat the cat off the bed, he’s met with a peculiar sight.

He blinks bleary eyes out at the scene, a bit bewildered, and wondering if his head cold is making him hallucinate.

The bed is… full of junk.

Well, not junk exactly, but a strange and random collection of various household items that, at first, make no sense to Gojo. Every throw pillow in the house seems to have made its way into a vague circle around the perimeter of the bed, and draped across them are all the spare sheets, random pillowcases, a few sweaters, a pair of fuzzy socks he thinks might belong to Yui, the throw blanket that lives on the couch downstairs, and even a few throw blankets he doesn’t even recognize.

He reaches for the nearest one, a plaid thing he’s very certain he’s never seen before in his life. It’s silky soft, and also still has a tag on it. He rubs his fingers across the smooth fabric, then moves to the sweater that’s bunched up next to it. It’s also quite soft. Everything on the bed is soft, he realizes. It’s not just an arbitrary assortment of all the fabric items in the house— it’s an assortment of all the softest fabrics in the house, laid out in a conspicuously circular arrangement around him.

Gojo’s not entirely certain, but he thinks this is supposed to be some kind of nest. And he appears to be in the center of it.

For a long moment, head still fuzzy with sleep, he just stares out into it incredulously. Then he shrugs and grabs one of the random blankets and throws it over him and Eri, snuggles back up to her, and falls back asleep.

Hawks returns to the room when the light is low, so quiet Gojo almost doesn’t stir even as the other man moves about the bed. He reaches out blindly in the direction of the noise, catching the Hawks’s sleeve.

“Oh,” Hawks says softly. “You’re awake? How are you feeling?”

Gojo gives an unintelligible grunt in response. Hawks just chuckles, moving closer to push the hair off Gojo’s forehead. “Yeah, I figured as much. I’ve got water and medicine, if you’re up for it.”

Gojo eventually summons up the energy to open his eyes. At some point, Eri and Meow have disappeared, leaving him rather lonely in this crowded bed.

He blinks up at Hawks. “... You made me a nest.”

He made a nest, and then put Eri, all the softest things in the house, and even the cat in it with him. If he wasn’t so out of it right now, he’d be dying from the adorableness of it all.

Hawks looks a bit abashed as he looks down at his arms. Gojo realizes he’s got a collection of sheets and pillowcases in his arms that had formerly been strewn around the edges of his the bed. “Ah… yeah. Sorry about that— I kind of made a mess! I’ll clean it up and put these in the wash.”

Gojo frowns up at him, blaming his wretched sinuses for the way it takes him so long to realize Hawks doesn’t just look bashful, but perhaps even a bit self-conscious. He tugs a little harder on the man’s sleeve, wishing he felt a little more coherent so he could properly explain himself.

“Don’t clean it up,” he says, voice rough with sleep. “I like it.”

“Oh,” Hawks looks surprised, and a little pleased. “... You don’t mind?”

Gojo shakes his head, which from the way his head starts swimming in dizziness after, was probably not the best idea. He has to close his eyes to stave off the nausea, and Hawks immediately starts fussing over him and urging him to sit up and take his medicine. As he does that the hero walks over to the blinds and slides them shut, dousing the room in blissful darkness. He gives a sigh of relief; he’d forgotten how sensitive he gets to light when he’s sick.

“Better?” Hawks asks.

Gojo makes a noise of acknowledgement, setting down the empty glass as he smiles up at him. “Yeah, thanks.”

“Of course,” Hawks replies easily, returning to his side. He settles at the edge of the bed, careful not to dislodge all his hard work, gaze worried. “Do you need anything else?”

He’s about to say no, before he thinks better of it. He makes a show of looking around the bed. “You know, it’s a pretty nice nest,” he starts, slowly. “But I think it’s missing something.”

It’s cute how Hawks sits up at attention, suddenly very alert, looking both eager to please but also a bit offended. “Missing what?”

Gojo grins at him. “You.”

Hawks rolls his eyes. “That was embarrassing for both of us,” he mutters, but nonetheless slides in next to him without protest.

Yeah, his game’s usually better than that, but whatever, he’s sick and he still got what he wanted.

Back to Masterposts

#fic may death never stop you #mdnsy oneshots

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stoukadraws · 10 months

Text

Happy 3rd Anniversary Chromatale, and Goodnight.

So its about time I say this: I won't be making any content about this AU anymore, so that unfortunately puts it into the discontinued undertale comics category xd

I just really lost the spark I had 2 years ago when making it, so the "little hiatus" that I thought was only going to be a few months turned into more than a year.

I'm sorry to those who were waiting and wanted to see more, but there is another reason why I'm doing this-

It's not gonna be an AU anymore, it's going to be an original story.

I really thought about it for a while and I decided that making it into an original story would give me more creative freedom and I wouldn't have to always stick to one storyline, I wanted to expand the world more as well as the characters, but since its all based on a game with a pretty much solid story, it was hard for me to insert some things that would be out of place or wouldn't make sense.

So, I hope you understand, this AU was truly a learning experience for both my art and my writing since I made it when I was really young and not very experienced, but I'm glad I was able to improve along the way.

Thank you for supporting this AU since the beginning and stuck around!

I plan to make more works surrounding this new story later on, so I look forward to it! And I hope some of you are excited for what's to come. (*^▽^*)

More in-depth explanation + some questions (near the end) :

This is gonna be a bit long so if you really wanna read this whole thing be prepared xd

This whole thing doesn't mean I'm quitting Undertale altogether, I'm still continuing the Strays Au, and I want that AU to be my main Undertale AU now since I've always intended on making it Undertale related and I'm already satisfied with it right now, so I don't intend on making it original or anything.

When I started Chromatale I was still a kid-ish, and I was at the toilet with my phone and idk how it started but I decided to doodle a Sans on my phone and thought "I can make an Undertale AU!".

And so I did. Chromatale back then was reallyyy different, it was a post-genocide story with Sans and Frisk trying to bring everyone back -yeah real original younger me

There was a comic I did on my phone but now its lost in time unfortunately, it went though like 2 rewrites until I decided to make it a full AU with my own story. And so some brainstorming later and the comic you all know today was made!

Again, I was still new to the whole comic making thing and my writing was pretty sloppy, I'm still surprised it got a lot of attention- I was full of passion and really worked my butt off to make each pages, even with school going on (it was online so it wasn't much of a hassle tho) I was determined to finish it and already had a lot of the comic planned.

That is until I felt a bit worn out, my motivation was getting lower until I could barely produce a page, so that's when I decided to put the comic on hiatus, I initially planned for it to only be a few months but then time went on and I still didn't feel motivated to continue it.

During that time I was just doing my own thing, making some OC art and different stories, making another Undertale AU, going back to school and a shit ton of projects to do- I felt like a little weight was lifted from my back, the comic had turned into labor for me and constantly doing updates wasn't very healthy, since during some updates I had to force myself to finish it.

The story was also changing in the middle of it, I had to rewrite chapter 3 since the first version was literally full of "fanservice" that I only noticed when I re-read the chapter a few months later.

I just wasn't satisfied with it, the story that my younger self had in mind didn't fit what I wanted now since I had grown more mature as time went on, the whole AU really taught me what to do and what not to do.

Initially I actually wanted to reboot Chromatale again and focus more on the concepts and solidifying the plot before engaging in a comic, but after some thinking I thought it would be better to transition it into an original story. I really wanted to expand the story more and again gain more creative freedom than being limited to a pretty much complete-ish story.

I wanted to do what I wanted instead of forcing it to fit with the fandom's liking and preference.

Although its going to be an original story some things will sorta be the same but I won't go into too much detail about it.

I won't promise a comic though, mini comics sure but not anything official. Maybe in the far distant future, but I doubt, I still got a lot of other stories I wanna make into comics >>

Now some things I would like to clarify:

"Now that you're discontinuing Chromatale can it be mine?"

-Unfortunately as much as you want to claim it, no. Chromatale still belongs to me. Even if its going to be original now there's still a lot about it during its UTAU days. I still own it, but I don't want to be heavily associated with it. I'd rather have others focus on the new version than the AU version, and I don't want all my other works to be overshadowed by it. I hope you understand.

"Can I still make fanart?"

-Feel free to still make fanart, I won't restrict anyone from still making any. But I'd still like to see fanart of the new version 👀

"Can I still dub the comic?"

-Sure, make sure to still credit me but please specify to viewers that the comic is now discontinued and its become an original story, I don't wanna give the viewers false hope. If your dubbing for fun then go ahead!

Any dub of the comic that has been published has my permission to still be up in public, I won't force anyone to take it down. But please don't use it for any profiting or income.

Now that's been settled, I'm planning on posting some concepts from the AU that I still have since I don't think I'll use some anymore and now that its ok to show now that I discontinued the comic xd

Again, thank you for following me along this journey! See you in the next post ✨

#undertale #undertale au #chromatale #chroma!tale #frisk #chroma!frisk #eve #digital art #digital illustration #digital painting #my art #stoukaart

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ofstoriesandstardust · 1 year

Text

chapter 7 - discussions, decisions, and divorces (oh my!) (b.r.b.)

a/n: some of this was inspired by That Scene from little women and i’m just the tiniest bit nervous for this. i had to combine two chapters because neither of them were long enough on their own and this isn’t very long anyways please don’t be mean and i’m disappearing back into the void

summary: Rooster makes a decision.

main masterlist | top gun: maverick masterlist | flight risk masterlist | chapter 6 - hate to be lame but i might love you | chapter 8 - aftermath

folks who wanted to be tagged: @justanothermagicalsara @fangirl-316 @herladyshipxx @parker-natasha @myhomeworksnotdone @pulisvertz @lass-that-is-gone @frenchtoastix @coco-loco-nut @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @torresbarnes @supernaturaldawning @you-had-me-at-dead-welsh-kings @katiemcrae @gretagerwigsmuse @the-winter-marvel33 @some-lovely-day @unordinare @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @annedub @hope-love-equality2 @coyotesamachado @hopefulinlove @mak-32 @daisyhollyxox @loveforaugust @earth-to-lottie @sometimesanalice @cheezit-bradshawseresin @none-of-your-bullshit @jstarr86 @caatheeriinee07 @galacticstxrdust @anony1080 @sarcasm-n-insomnia @sammyrenae68

warnings: swearing, angst, these two don’t communicate in the most healthy manner, bradley’s timing is ass, this is written based off of my personal understandings of divorce in California

word count: 2,525

The front door shuts, signaling that Bradley is back as you sit in the living room, lights turned off. You had meant to collect yourself, go upstairs, and start packing ages ago, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

It’s been days since you and Bradley had spoken to each other, despite Bradley’s numerous attempts to try. You weren’t being very fair to him at the moment, that much you were aware of, but you were angry with him and that was unfamiliar territory for you and him.

He cautiously flips on one of the lamps before clearing his throat. The lamp barely illuminates the living room, bathing just a portion of the room in an orange-ish glow. “Sunshine, we should talk.”

Your heart clenches, wondering what Bradley might have to say to you now.

Hadn’t the silence been enough?

“Sunshine, I’m sorry. I- I really messed up here, didn’t I?” He let out a nervous laugh. “I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did the other night, at the Hard Deck. I- There’s a lot of things I should’ve done but that was one of them. You didn’t deserve that and I’m sorry.”

He waits for a moment as your eyes stay fixated on a stain in the carpet, one Bradley had told you was from when he spilled grape juice into the carpet as a kid and despite his Mom’s best efforts, had never been able to get it out.

“I shouldn’t have let you gone upstairs that night after the gala. I should’ve done this a long time ago. Sunshine, I-”

“Don’t.” The words are the first time you raise your head to meet Bradley’s eye. “Don’t you dare.”

“Sunshine?”

“Don’t call me that. Don’t-” You groan, standing up from the couch. “Just- don’t.”

“Why not?” He questions, stepping closer to you as irritation colors his tone. “Sunshine, you deserve to know that-”

“Stop it. You’re being mean.”

He lets out a chuckle, shaking his head as he runs a hand through his hair. The action sends a pang through your heart as you remember the wya he used to do that when he couldn’t figure out a stats problem at UVA. His hair had been a bit darker back then, curlier too.

“How am I being mean? I’m trying to tell you that-”

“Stop! I don’t- I don’t want to hear you say those words.”

“Why the hell not?” He demands. “You’re the only girl I think who wouldn’t.”

“You don’t get to do this. Not now. Not when I’ve been here for months, not when you’ve treated me the way you have.”

“And I was a fool for not telling you sooner, Sunshine.”

“No.” You say, shaking your head as tears begin to crawl up your throat. “No, don’t do this to me now Bradley. I’ve done everything you asked of me, please just do the one thing I’m asking of you.”

“Sunshine, I can’t.” He whispers, taking a step closer to you. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Why?” You ask, only to earn a shake of his head. “Why now?”

He sucks in a breath through his teeth, cautiously reaching out for your waist. His hand hovers, featherlight on your skin before he realizes you’re going to let him touch you. He leans his forehead down, meeting yours as the first tear spills over. “When Maverick and I were up in the sky in an F-14 that shouldn’t have even been able to leave the ground, when we were moments from death- you crossed my mind. For the briefest moment, you did. And I just- I just wondered.”

You scoff, pushing him away. “God, Bradley, you are such an asshole. I’m glad you wondered about me.” He stares at you, unable to say another word. “Go wonder about some other girl.”

“Sunshine, that not fair. You have no idea what it’s like up there, knowing you might die. What it’s like knowing you will die and every regret you have ever had crosses your mind.”

“What, are you telling me this just because you’re like, having some sort of existential crisis about almost dying and projecting it on to me?”

“No!” He protests which earns him another scoff. “Sunshine, no. I have always felt this way about you, I just- I didn’t realize it until I was up in that goddamn sky and realized what a fool I’d been. I hadn’t even wanted to admit it out loud, because I saw what this did to my parents. But I can't live with the ghosts of my past any more. I want-”

“Bradley, stop. Just stop. Please, I have done everything you have ever asked of me and it’s somehow not enough for you. I- What more do you want from me?”

“Please, just let me-”

“No. No, if you say those three words, everything changes. I would rather you let me go than change everything now after spending years knowing I wouldn’t ever be good enough for you. Please, just let me go.”

“Sunshine, I can’t. I can’t just let you go. You’re one of my favorite people in this whole world. You’re my home, Sunshine, even if it took me years to realize it. No one has ever felt like home like you do. I can’t let you go.”

You let out a frustrated laugh, watered down by your tears. “Bradley, this was your choice. We are signing the divorce papers tomorrow morning. Divorce papers for a divorce you wanted. Everything about this has been what you wanted. Please, can’t you just give me what I want, just this once?”

He shakes his head. “I can’t do that Sunshine.”

“Then we’re at an impasse here because I’m not- I’m not going to become your last resort because you’re having some mid-life crisis about being alone combined with your inability to deal with your trauma.”

“You’re not being fair to me Sunshine.” His voice is stern, the smallest hint of anger behind it.

“No, you’re not being fair Bradley. How in the world do you expect me to be normal about this after I spent years, decades actually, waiting around you? After I did everything you wanted from me? I lied to your godfather for you. I lied to your friends for you. I would’ve given up everything for you, Bradley. But not when you’re asking me to do so hours before we get a divorce, that may I remind you, was what you wanted.”

“Yes, I know it was my idea!” He exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air. “I know! I know, okay? You don’t have to keep reminding me.”

“Why did you really call me here Bradley?” You ask tiredly. “Divorce papers can be mailed. You didn’t need me here to divorce me.”

He sighs. “Because- Because Maverick wanted to meet you.”

“And that’s the only reason?”

He shrugs, unable to meet your eye.

To you, it feels like a slap in the face, confirmation that he’s never really cared all that much. That it was only once he realized he might lose you that he decided to change his mind about you. And you wanted someone, you wanted him, to want you all of the time, not just when it’s convenient or because the alternative is you walking away.

“I have nothing more to say to you Bradley.” You say with a shake of your head, desperately trying to blink back more tears that are threatening to fall down your face.

He doesn't say anything as you move past him and up the stairs to the guest room, the room that become yours over the last few months, the room that you’d be leaving just tomorrow.

He sighs, setting the coffee cups on the counter as he glances uneasily at the stairs. He’d gotten a shit night of sleep, tossing and turning endlessly as he thought about the morning and what would happen in the next 12 hours of his life.

He wanted to respect your boundaries, wanted to do what you asked of him. But the thought that he might have to move forward in a life without you, no thread tying him to you, killed him.

He was at fault here, knowing he’d had years to do what he had tried to do last night but the truth was, watching how the heartbreak had killed his mom slowly over the course of a decade was enough to make him refrain until it was too late.

He hears the sound of the guest room opening upstairs, signaling that you’re awake. He waits anxiously, staring at the spot of pizza sauce stain on the counter he probably should’ve cleaned as you walk downstairs and into the little kitchen.

“Hey.”

He looks up to meet your eyes, noting how tired you seem to be as well. But you’re dressed, meaning you’re probably ready to get out of here once the papers are signed. He suddenly feels silly, realizing he’s still in his flannel pajama bottoms and gray UVA t-shirt. He hadn’t had the energy to change.

“Tara here yet?”

He shakes his head as you slide into the chair across from him. “Made you coffee.” He syas, handing the cup over to you. “Just how you like it.”

“Thanks.” You say, taking a small sip of it.

He exhales, trying to steady himself as he rests his hands on the chair in front of him. “Your flight’s tonight, right?”

You nod.

He takes another deep breath. “Sunshine, I-”Another deep breath as he chances a look at you. “Sunshine, I don’t want it to end this way.”

You sigh, setting the mug down on the counter.

He realizes belatedly that it had been one you’d picked out, something handmade from a farmers market the two of you had gone to the first week you’d been here.

“Bradley, I-”

The doorbell rings.

He swears quietly under his breath, straightening up to get answer the door. His stomach turns as he opens the door, revealing the short girl who was serving as their notary for the signing of the divorce paper. She’d been recommended by Ice, the daughter of a friend he used to serve with.

“Hi, Bradley Bradshaw, right?” She asks, extending a hand. He nods, shaking it. “I’m Tara. I’m assume Mrs. Bradshaw is just inside?”

He nods, unable to help the wince at the title of Mrs. Bradshaw. Even though you’d never officially taken his last name, the name change (and subsequent paperwork) always feeling unnecessary, it cuts something open in him at the thought of what he’s about to lose.

She notices it, cringing. “Sorry.”

He shakes his head, waving her off. “Not your fault.”

Tara follows him through the house, sitting down on the chair closest to the kitchen door after she introduces herself to you.

“So, this should be a fairly simple process since the two of you don’t have any joint accounts or shares assets. The most difficult thing will be the military paperwork.” She pulls the stack of paperwork from her bag, separating it out for the two of you. She walks them through what is what, where to sign, and what it all means as he stares numbly at you. You’re nodding, pen already in hand, ready to sign.

His palms feel sweaty as he looks through the paperwork, lines blurring together.

His stomach curdles with the horrifying realization that once he signs these, he will lose you.

He glances back up at you. Your face is neutral, signing your name on all the highlighted portions.

He swallows, going cold as he folds the paperwork back to the original stack.

“I’m not signing them.”

You freeze, jaw clenching.

“What?”

It’s deadly quiet in the room. Tara’s eyes are wide.

“I’m not signing them. I won’t.”

“Mr. Bradshaw, you are aware that if you don’t sign these, it becomes a matter of you contesting their content and your divorce and this matter with have to go to court?”

He hadn’t, but he hardly cares.

“Yes.”

You scoff, finally meeting his eyes. “Bradley, are you fucking serious?”

“Sunshine, I’m doing what I should’ve done a long time ago. I should’ve fought for this, for you, from the very beginning and I didn’t and I’m sorry but this is the only way I know how to fight for you.”

You shake your head, tossing the pen onto the table. “Unbelievable.”

Tara clears her throat, scooping the papers off the table. “I recommend you both get in touch with your lawyers.”

She quietly excuses herself as you stare at him, anger written all over your face.

Fury might be a better word to describe it.

You wait until the sound of Tara leaving echoes through the home before you start in on him again. “I can not fucking believe you.”

He shrugs, unable to say anything to make it better for you right now.

“This is what you fucking wanted. You dragged me out here for the last, what, three months? For a divorce you wanted? And the morning we sign the papers for a divorce you wanted? You fucking contest it? Are you fucking kidding me? What the hell are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that I’m buying us more time!” He exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air. “I refuse to let this be the end of us Sunshine.”

“That’s not your decision to make!” You yell, standing up from your chair. It scrapes against the tile of the kitchen, making him wince. “And stop fucking calling me that!”

Your request almost makes him deflate. You’d always been Sunshine to him, the purest form of it one could find in a human.

But this wasn’t the sweet girl in front of him who he’d fallen in love with.

This girl is angry, furious, at him. Because of him.

But if he looks past the anger, he sees someone who is terrified.

And for the first time, he thinks he gets it.

Your parents didn’t spend more time in a room together than they had to. He remembers how you rarely went home, always spoke of how your parents hated each other. He remembers how Maverick had told him you’d been so nervous the first time he’d met you that you’d accidentally let it slip your parents had cheated each other. He remembers the way your parents had treated you at graduation all those years ago, the way they’d treated each other.

You’re terrified of being in love.

For as much much as he’s spent years being afraid to love you, knowing what happened to his parents, you’d been terrified of the fact that you loved him because of what had happened to your parents.

“Sunshine.” He tries, his voice soft. He stands up, moving closer to you.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” You whisper, eyes shiny.

He freezes.

“I can’t- I can’t even look at you right now.”

He’s frozen in place as he watches you shake your head and then turn, walking out of the kitchen.

The sound of the front door slamming behind you echoes in his ears.

#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw fic #top gun: maverick #top gun: maverick fic #flight risk

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gunilslaugh · 7 months

Note

hii first of all i would like to say that everyday when i wake up i open tumblr and see if you made anew post or not cause i love how you write stuff about the members. As my request i want a Gunil x reader where the reader and gunil were a happy couple then something bad happens (it could be anything) that affects the relationship so they think about taking a break. And then if you want you could add a happy ending where they apologize and forgive each other! 🌸🌸

Thank you! That's so nice to hear, I hope you enjoy your request :)

Goo Gunil

Summary: Yours and Gunil’s relationship was flourishing…until it wasn’t.

WC:~1.6k

Warning:grammar, angst (happy-ish ending)

photo not mine credits to owner.

A happy couple, a very happy couple. A couple so in love with one another that it was sickening. That’s the type of couple you and Gunil were. Everything about your relationship was healthy. “All Sunshine and Rainbows” that’s how Gunil’s members labeled your relationship. Yes, when they said it it had a bit of a mocking tone to it, but they were secretly glad that Gunil found himself in such a beautiful relationship.

Alas the saying “All good things must come to an end” seemed like it was gonna ring out to be true. Yours and Gunil’s relationship started to go downhill. The new hire at your work turned out to be your, “What could have been?”, “The one who got away”. Yes, you were happy to meet him again, but you no longer had any romantic feelings towards him. You were wholeheartedly in love with Gunil. When you told Gunil about this he was not so happy. How could he be? You just told him that you reunited with an old flame of yours. Ok, yes, he knows the guy is technically not an old fame since the two of you never dated. However if life didn’t get in the way, if things worked out, it very well could be him who you are dating right now and not Gunil. That brought out a deep sense of insecurity within Gunil. He started to fear that he could lose you to this guy. That you would fall out of love with him. To discover what your “What could have been” could be.

“Why do you have to have dinner with him?” Gunil snapped.

“Gunil I told you a bunch of my coworkers are having dinner together, it's a group thing,” you tiredly explained, again.

“He’s still gonna be there though?” Gunil stated bitterly.

“What’s your problem? Even if it was just me and him. It’d just be two friends having dinner. I can’t have dinner with my friends?” Your voice grew angrier with each sentence.

“Not when they have feelings for you!” he shouts.

“Guni it’s not like that. Yes we liked each other in the past but not now,” you say. Your heart began to feel heavy in your chest.

“Am I really supposed to believe that? You told me he was the one who got away. Now he’s back. You’re telling me that you feel nothing towards him? I don’t believe it. How could you not?” You could hear the insecurity in Gunil’s voice and he’s avoiding eye contact with you now.

“Because I love you.” You tried to reach for Gunil’s hands, but he pulled away from you and you felt your heart crack.

“Are you sure?” He finally looks at you again. There’s so many emotions in his eyes, but you can’t read them.

“I don’t know when you stop believing me, trusting me, but since you don't, maybe it’s best we take a break.” You had to fight the words out as your throat tightened up.

“Y/n that’s not- I didn’t I don’t,” he fumbled over his words.

“I do. I’ll stay at y/f/n’s in the meantime. I’ll come get my stuff when you’re at practice tomorrow,” you tell him, beginning to walk away.

“Y/n please don’t go,” Gunil begs you, latching onto your wrist.

“Gunil,” you try to pull his hand off, but he grips you tighter, not enough to hurt though. His hold is still gentle somehow. “We both need some time. All we do is fight about this whenever we’re together. I’m tired. Please.” Gunil’s hand loosens up and you slip out of his grasp. Then you walked out of the door, not knowing when or if you’ll come back.

Gunil slumps down on the floor. He was so scared about losing you to another man that he drove you away himself. He might have lost you for good and it was all his own doing. He has no one to blame, but himself. A part of him wants to run out that door after you and explain. That all this happened because he was scared of losing you. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe you or didn’t trust you. It was that he didn’t believe or trust that he was good enough. That he was better than your old flame. His own insecurity was the problem, not your what could have been lover. Although even if he wanted to run to you he doesn’t even know if he can feel his legs. Not over the shattering pain in his heart. He knows that you need time and space, so he’ll give it to you. He can only hope that you’ll come back to him. That the two of you can make-up. Gunil doesn’t move from his spot on the floor. Delusioning himself that this is all a dream and he’ll wake up in the morning with you beside him.

You arrived at your friend's house all shaken up. Trembling with anger and sadness. Your friend encased you in their arms, not asking any questions. They could easily tell that you were upset, so their main priority was comforting you. They will let you tell them about it in due time, whenever you are ready.

You didn’t tell them about it the next morning. Both of you are sitting on the couch, drinking tea.

“Gunil and I are taking a break,” you informed them. Your friend knew that the two of you had been fighting and what you were fighting about, so you didn’t really have to go into detail about why.

“Just taking a break or are you gonna breakup?” they asked slightly hesitant.

“I really don’t know right now,” you told them. Your chest hurts. You look down into your half empty tea mug as tears prick your eyes.

“Do you want to breakup?” they questioned. You sighed. It was a hard question, but the one that needed an answer. The one you need to find the answer too. The reason why you’re taking a break with Gunil.

“I love him, but if he doesn’t trust me….” you trailed off. Your friend nodded.

“Take a few days to clear your head, weeks even. I like having you hear. Like the old days.” They tried to lighten the mood a bit. Reminding you of your time as roommates before you moved in with Gunil.

After finishing your tea you went to pick up your things. You told your friend that they could wait in the car, that you’d just quickly pack your things into a bag and be right out. You did exactly that until a folder piece of paper lying on your pillow caught your attention. It had your name written on it. It was a letter from Gunil. You unfolded it, sitting down on the bed.

Y/n,

I know I messed up. Messed up horribly. I know you need time, so take as much time as you need. I just wanted to apologize and explain. I’m sorry for acting out. I’m sorry for causing all of our arguments. I’m sorry for making you think that I don’t trust or believe you. I do trust you. I do believe you. It was actually me who I don’t trust or believe. I didn’t believe that I could be better than him. I was sure that he was much better than me. So much better than me that you would fall in love with him and out of love with me. He’s your one that got away and I was hyper fixated on that. Hyper fixated to the point that I was sure I would lose you to him. I never even met him, but he managed to bring out so many insecurities in me. Everything that I feel inadequate about in our relationship came bubbling up the surface. Instead of communicating with you about it I lashed out. I can’t make any excuse about it except that I’m an idiot. An idiot that was so scared about losing you that I ended up hurting you. I’m really truly so sorry. I can only hope that you’ll forgive me and come back to me. I love you y/n. Love you so much. I don’t want to breakup, but if that’s the decision you come to I’ll accept it. Just know that I love you always.

Gunil

You didn’t realize you were crying till you saw the tear drops on the piece of paper. His letter helped to put things into perspective. What he did wasn’t right, but you know that he knows that too and he owns up to it. You wiped the remnants of your tears and grabbed your bag. You still wanted to take a few days to think over everything. A lot happened over the past month. You placed the letter into your bag and headed back out of the car. This time leaving felt different from the previous time. You didn’t feel unsure. There was no uncertainty, you knew that’d you’d come back.

When Gunil returned back from practice that day he returned to a note on his pillow, it was from you.

Keep my side of the bed warm, idiot

Y/n

The note was passive aggressive, but it brought much needed relief to Gunil. You’d come back to him. He didn’t lose you and when you return he was ready to do everything to make it up to you. Whatever he had to do to keep you by his side. He loves you and doesn’t want to risk losing you ever again.

#xdinary heroes #xdh #xdh imagines #xdh x reader #xdinary heroes imagines #xdinary heroes x reader #xh gunil #gunil x reader #goo gunil #koo gunil #gunil

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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 1 year

Text

𓅨 Your Fate is Sealed With Mine: Chapter Three

Your Fate is Sealed With Mine: Y/N Burgess is the granddaughter of Alex and Paul, and after having spent so many summers at their manor and always wondering why she was forbidden from entering the basement, she descends the steps into the world of the Order. She broke out the being that had been trapped in that glass cage, but what does he want with her now that he is free?

Warnings: Language, More Mind Fuckery.

To Note: Morpheus/Dream x Female!GranddaughterReader, based on Netflix’s ‘The Sandman’, Reader now has long-ish hair for plot reasons (Just so Morpheus can tug on it later).

Word Count: ~2.6k

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Dinner that night had been wonderful. You got to catch up with Paul on everything he and Alex had been up to as of late that he couldn’t add to his letters. Your conversation had gone the entire length of the dinner and then even though dessert which the Burgess cook was excited to make since you used to devour his confections at a far from healthy rate. Everything was as delicious as your vague memories would allow you to remember and as you and Paul continued to talk over after-dinner tea, Alex retired upstairs complaining of aching bones.

“Grandpapa, I’m really worried about him,” You spoke over the rim of your teacup. Your eyes trailed in the direction Alex had disappeared. “In fact, you both are worrying me. Grandpapa Alex... he seems so tormented. Whatever is going on?”

Paul sighed as he set his teacup back on its saucer. Then he reached for your hand and took it in his grasp, giving you a soft yet strained smile.

“Oh Darling, I wish I could tell you. I really do, but I’m afraid this is something Alex has been dealing with since he was a boy. Only he can end what bothers him, and only he can tell you.” Paul answered, his face full of strain and regret. Your eyebrows pinched together at Paul’s reaction. He seemed just as worried as you, if not more. But then again, he had been living with Alex nearly his entire life. He had been suffering from worry the most.

“I only hope he’ll tell me, it worries me so.” You murmured, sipping from your tea cup once more. Paul squeezed your hand once more and you sat through the rest of your tea in silence, both of you worrying about the same man. When Paul ultimately departed from the table to turn in for bed, you remained, having asked Herman for another pot of tea. You weren’t ready to sleep, far from it actually. You felt like you were wired with energy. After a long day of travel, you would have figured that you would be exhausted. But no, you felt like you had drunk a Red Bull. The very blood in your veins hummed.

“Are you alright Miss?” Herman questioned after you had been sitting quietly for a good while. You looked up at him and smiled faintly.

“Perfectly fine, Herman. I’ll be down here for a while, no need to stay up.” You told him.

“Are you sure, Miss? I’d hate to leave you by yourself at such a time.” You lightly waved off his concern.

“Oh don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine, I think I’ve just had one too many cups of coffee this morning trying to stay awake for my trains.” You told him with a slight chuckle. “I will see you in the morning.”

“Very well,” You watched as Herman lumbered off and then turned your attention back to the large window. Nightfall had long since turned the outside dark and it was hard to see out, but the low lighting in the room gave you just enough of a view to see the trees and fountain. The manor was quite beautiful at dusk when the sun just barely showed over the horizon. But when it descended and nightfall turned to reality, the manor was, well, scary. Paul and Alex had kept the antique decorations, Roderick, your great-grandfather was fond of, and in the dark, they weren’t the nicest of things to look at. Their shadows looked like monsters and shrouded in black, you flinched at every corner you turned.

Entirely pathetic on your part, monsters didn’t exist and you should very well not jump at every shadow you came across. You weren’t a child anymore and there was no reason to fear the dark, let alone your nightmares. You looked at your nearly empty tea cup. It did you no good trying to fight your fears with words. You pushed back from the table and rose to your feet. Spite filled your heart and gathering your teacup and saucer, you placed it on the tea tray and marched it to the butlers' pantry before heading for the servants' entrance at the back of the kitchen. Exiting the manor, you strode forwards with purpose, briskly walking along the worn stone trail that carved a path around the pond. The solar lanterns softly glowed, giving just enough light for you to see where you were stepping as you walked.

You had walked this path many a time as a child, so much that you could probably walk it with your eyes closed. But now it seemed foreign, dark, and unnerving. It was hard to believe that your mind had been so desperate to get away from that psychiatric hospital as a child that it had shut out so many memories of this place. Memories you had loved. Or at least you were fairly sure your child self loved. There were still a lot of blanks you needed to fill in your memories.

“Oh bollocks, what am I doing with my life?” You sighed, coming to a stop on the path. You pushed a hand through your hair and settled your eyes on the lit fountain. The sound of the water bubbling and splashing was pleasant and relaxing. Of course, your nerves still felt quite frayed, but maybe if you took a brief moment to just sit and have your brain realize that it was freaking out for absolutely no reason, perhaps you would feel better. Your eyes glanced around until you spotted the gazebo at the far end of the pond. That will do.

Your feet carried you over to the flower-framed gazebo and you took a seat on the bench, folding your hands in your lap neatly. A few pheasants were poking around the grounds, their dark forms slowly moving through the even-cut grass methodically. The night was cool and a fine layer of mist was slowly developing across the lawn, it made the solemn grounds a little more eery than they already were. How had child you been enamored with this place when it was so spooky? You were an odd child, clearly, whatever you had been up to here had captured your attention to the point where you must have ignored the frightful aspects. Eyes flittering over the dark water, your vision blurred for a moment. You blinked rapidly, trying to clear the blur. When you did, you stiffened in your seat and abruptly jerked yourself to your feet.

The grounds of Fawny Rig were gone, replaced by an endless world of swirling grey and black, completely devoid of life and color. The cloudy, smokey sky was dotted with an abundance of stars, but they seemed to be robbed of their brightness. Dull and lackluster. The pond, with its gurgling fountain, was replaced with an endless, vast ocean of black water that ever so gently moved. A nearly silent sea. Your eyes dropped to your feet. You were standing on an old wooden dock, and glancing behind you, it disappeared into the smog of black in a curve. Where the bloody hell were you?

Your head snapped back around and you stepped forwards, walking further down the dock. The water was dark and unyielding to what lay beneath and crouching down, you peered closer to try and see through the opaque water. Nothing. It was as black as eternal night and would give nothing to your wants and wishes. Venturing forwards to the end of the dock, you stared at your reflection and wondered if you were hallucinating again. No, not a hallucination. This was a place, a place you knew from your childhood… and yet it felt so foreign, so cold. How could something be so familiar yet entirely foreign and new? It didn’t use to look like this. Why had you thought that? You didn’t know.

Curiosity nipped at your heels and bending down, you looked at your reflection. Or what least what should have been your reflection. Your heart leaped in your chest and your blood hummed. Glowing silver eyes stared back at you of your dark-haired, silver-blue-eyed devil. His reflection boring into yours far more intense than ever. Reflections never lied, so why were you seeing him and not yourself? Or did these waters reflect the demons your mind had locked away? You reached out with a hand and watched in fascination as the reflection did the same. Your fingers drew near to each other, and while yours trembled, his stayed constant and strong. But before your fingertips made contact, you paused. Hesitated. Warnings were echoing in the back of your head that you should dare not test these waters, that they were dangerous and uncontrollable. You resisted the temptation and pulled back.

Even as you rose back to your feet, you held that glowing silver gaze, trying not to shiver and show the trembles running up your spine to your limbs. Once more your gaze blurred, but this time you were stumbling backward and nearly falling on your arse. You were standing in the pond! Somehow in that hallucination, you had walked yourself straight into the water, not feeling the chill of your jeans soaking through. You quickly backtracked, sloshing your way out of the pond and scrambling up the bank until you stood on the worn stone path once more. You felt slightly breathless, looking down at your body. From mid-thigh down you were soaked, your shoes covered in mud and pond scum. How long had you been standing in that pond, staring off into space while caught up in a hallucination?

Rubbing your palms against your unsoaked thighs, you turned towards the path that led back to the manor and started walking at a brisk pace. The chill from the water was quickly setting into your legs and traveling up the rest of your body. You’d better not catch a cold or you would have to explain how you had caught it. Rushing across the grass, you stumbled into the kitchen and locked the heavy door behind you before leaning against the cabinets and removing your soaked shoes and socks. Where were you going to put them so no one asked questions? You made a noise under your breath, realizing that you would probably have to explain it at some point, and decided to put them next to the stove where they would dry out from the morning cooking.

Skittering across the cold floor, you hurriedly strode through the manor, heading in the direction of the servants' staircase which was closest to your old room. Despite not having visited in so long, your feet carried you through the old building on muscle memory. Just as you passed a heavy, sturdy-looking door your steps faltered and paused. It was drop-dead quiet in the manor, your breathing the only thing your ears picked up. But something had caught your attention. Drawing back a step, you looked at the door and placed your hand on it. The door to the basement. You had passed it hundreds if not thousands of times in your life so far, never once stopping to investigate it. So why had it caught your attention this time? Your fingers curled against the old grainy wood, feeling its curves and ridges. Not original but it certainly looked the part. There was a keypad next to it, showing a red light indicating it was locked.

Even now, after all these years, the basement was still a guarded secret under lock, key, and guard. What was down there? Your body shivered once more, this time from the cold leeching into your bones. You turned away from the door and hurried on, wanting to change out of your pond-water-laden clothing and into nice warm, dry clothing as soon as possible. You slipped up the stairs and shuffled your way through the servants' door to the lavish upper level. From there you only had to go a few doors down to your old room where Herman had placed your luggage and your moving boxes waiting for you. Closing the door behind you, you wiggled yourself out of your jeans and tossed them aside before reaching for your shirt. As you changed into your pajamas, you took your hair down and ran your fingers through the strands. At least you hadn’t dived into the pond and tracked water all over the manor trying to get back to your room. Since you were still feeling a bit wired, you grabbed a book from your luggage and started reading on the bed, trying to take your mind off that black ocean.

Deep within the bowels of Fawny Rig, through the basement door and down the steps. Past the iron bars that separated a room from the rest of the house, sat two guards at a heavy metal desk, a clock ticking slowly and methodically. The female guard held a book in hand, reading the lines in boredom while the male absentmindedly read the morning's paper. The clock’s ticking was a white noise both had grown accustomed to hearing. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. It was a never-ending sound that faded into the cold, damp basement never to be given a second thought. Its only purpose was to signal when the guard change would occur, an event that both guards looked forwards to. Their mindless and boring task of guarding a being that never really moved or spoke was menial and inattentive. The being hardly ever moved and never spoke.

The man changed the page to his newspaper, letting out a heavy sigh as he flared the new page and shifted in his seat. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. One month, that’s all he had to wait before flying off for his vacation in Majorca, Spain. Sun, a nice beach, beautiful woman. A far cry from this dismal dungeon where nothing ever happened. Sighing again, his eyes searched for some article to read to take his mind off his job. Tick. Tick. Tick Tick. Tick Tick— It went dead quiet, the repetitive ticking disappearing into the silence like a crash of thunder. Violently. Both guards straightened up in their seats, peering at the clock. It was stuck at midnight exactly, all three hands perfectly aligned and rigid in movement.

“Oh don’t tell me the bloody things gone out,” The woman complained, thumping her book down on the metal tabletop and peering closer at the frozen clock. She flickered her nail against the glass, trying to see if it would start ticking again. Nothing.

“Probably out of battery, just like everything else here,” The man grunted, hardly sparing a glance at the clock.

“Should we tell Mr. Burgess?”

“Why bother, he said he ain’t comin’ down ‘ere anymore. No point in seein’ to it…”

While the two argued about what to do about the broken clock and questioned each other on whether or not to tell their employers, the being in the glass sphere, limbs elegantly draped across its prison, listened intently, hearing every word and syllable they spoke. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t shifted, hadn’t even twitched an eyebrow in years, always remaining silent to Alex Burgess’s questions and pleas, bargains, and offers. He hadn’t spoken a word in over a century, not to anyone that came to see him in his glass prison. He was an inhumanely beautiful statue confined by glass and steel, guarded by a magic circle.

His eyes flickered open.

Date Published: 8/22/22

Last Edit: 4/25/23

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#morpheus x reader #lord morpheus #morpheus #dream the endless x reader #dream x reader #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #dream the endless #the sandman netflix #sandman x reader #the sandman x reader #the sandman

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sugarushsuga · 2 years

Text

Grand Slam

Genre/Au's: Smut; Angst-ish – Idol!Verse

Paring: Jin x F!Reader

Words count: 4.248

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Jealous Jin; Imaginative violence; Smut – groping, fingering, multi-orgasms, breading kink, unprotected sex, cream pie, dripping cum, belly bulging;

Synopsis: A Tennis class leads your boyfriend’s fertile imagination into jealous mode. But you know what to say and do to calm him down.

Author note: Thanks Indiii @playmetheclassics for beta-ing this.

Masterlist

The door falls shut behind you. Resting your hand on the wall as support, you kick your dirty sneakers off, you need to clean them up, but that is something for later. Right now you need a cup of cold water. You walk past the bags that hold the tennis equipment, carelessly forgotten on the floor, as your boyfriend drops them and runs to the bathroom to relieve his bladder.

Resting against the beige marble of the counter, you wait for the water purifier to fill your cup. Once it's done, you drink the cold liquid, letting it relieve the dryness in your throat after the intense hour of exercise you just did. Pressing your cooled hand to your cheeks, you feel the coolness of the water spread through your chest, cooling off your insides. Your blood slows down as you hydrate yourself.

You are halfway through the cup when a large body presses itself on your back. Big hands wrapping around your waist, and something hard poke at your lower back.

“I don’t know if I want to keep going to the classes.” Your boyfriend sighs hot breath on your exposed neck, making you shiver.

“Why not?” You ask, looking at the handsome man over your shoulder.

“I think tennis is turning me into a violent person.” He rests his cheek on your loose ponytail.

“Only Jungkook makes you some sort of a violent person.” You laugh, almost choking on water. “Tennis helps you relieve stress and puts up some healthy exercise. You can’t play games all day.”

“Then why did I pray that every ball I hit would hit the teacher's face? Or that he’d step on a ball and fall?” His voice raises an octave.

“I don’t know, Jinnie. Why did you do that?” You ask, resting your head back on his chest.

“Because he wouldn’t stop looking at you. Because I hate how he looks at you, with hungry eyes, always finding a way to touch you, saying your stance is wrong, that you are holding the racquet wrong. He didn’t even realize I was doing everything wrong on purpose.” His arms tighten with more possessiveness in them.

“You sure you aren’t just jealous and making things up?” You laugh it off.

Seokjin is known to do that. Once, he tried to fight Yoongi just because, in his head, his bandmate was trying to touch you inappropriately. You were trying to help the man open the clasp of a bracelet that was too tight in his arm and making his hand go purple. You had his friend’s hand close to your chest as you worked on the clasp.

All that happened because You both had gone some time without being able to see each other. He had schedules and concerts, and you had your job to keep you occupied. On that day, it was the first time you saw each other in almost three months. Yoongi was single back then, he had always been gentle and nice to you, and he had your “extra” attention that day.

Everything got solved when after the concert you dropped to your knees and sucked all Seokjin’s anger out through his cock. He was the brightest and happiest man when you both walked out of the room where all the equipment boxes were being kept. He even joked and hugged Yoongi as if hours before he didn’t want to neck chop the man.

This time seems no different for you, not that you haven’t been able to see each other for so long. You have, but there’s quite some time you both took care of each other.

You’ve been working on a very important project that can land you a big promotion at work, so all your hours of the day have been spent on planning and executing or fixing problems found on the way. Jin has been busy with BTS promotions. He just finished them and has had free time alone at home, playing games all day.

To the point, his first meal would be dinner after you got home and dragged him with his gaming chair to eat. Afterwards, you’d open your laptop to work some more after a shower, and he’d go back to his games. Sometime during the night or early morning, he’d join you in bed. Still, be asleep when you get up and leave for work, and the routine would repeat itself the next day.

On top of your head, you can count almost five weeks with no sex. Both of you were too busy, tired, and stressed to think about it. But you submitted the final version of the project last night -Friday- that’s why today, Saturday, you went to tennis practice with him.

“I mean…” he hesitates. “Look at you! All sexy in this tennis skirt and polo shirt. He should’ve been more respectful of you, and you are his student that could’ve been harassment.” He complains pressing closer to your back. “Actually, it was! I should press charges against him!”

You caress your boyfriend’s hand on your stomach. “Jinnie, he only told me to make my stand wider and put my hand lower on the racquet handle. He didn’t even touch me.”

“Oh, but I know when a man has desire in their eyes.” His voice drops a few octaves. “When he wants more than what he can have, his eyes were on you for way too long, and he even bent over to look at you while you were playing. I wanted to hit him with my racquet.”

Seokjin whispers in your ear, his hard on pressing harder on your lower back. His fingers are grabbing at the fabric of your shirt.

“I won’t blame him. I’m sure I know all the thoughts that passed through his head. First one, I’m sure he wished you wore a white polo, with no sports bra underneath.” His large hand covers your right boob squeezing it, fondling with it. “That way he would be able to see them at their full glory, not squished up inside this torture device you wear.”

His hand slips down your stomach, past your shirt hem and back up, lifting your shirt past your boobs; he doesn’t take it off. His hand tugs your sports bra down until your boobs are out of it. Jin flicks one of your nipples, and you hum softly.

“To watch your boobs bouncing around as you run around the court, your hard nipples against the white fabric.” His hips buck against your ass. “Fuck, I bet he gets hard just imaging it.”

You press your head harder against his chest. Warm slickness pools in between your legs at the nonsense spilling from Seokjin’s lips and his fingers playing with your nipples, flicking and rolling them, pinching and tugging on them.

“That’s silly Jin.” You breathe out in a sigh.

“Oh, but that’s not all. Praying to see just one of your tiny lacy tongs.” he bent down trying to look up your skirt, hoping you’d forgotten to wear your safety shorts.

His lips brush over the shell of your ear. Your body melts against his large chest. Jin’s hand slips past your navy blue skirt waistband and touches your black safety shorts, his hand caressing over your covered crotch. Index poking the damp spot, he can feel through it. The exact place where your pussy lets your arousal slip off of you.

“Y/n, can you imagine going to a tennis practice, with your white clothes, no bra, no panties and no safety shorts?” “Or maybe he hopes you'll be panty-less. Go commando in a tennis class. Fuck” Seokjin thrusts again, against your ass.

Your eyes are long shut as you hear the crazy fantasies from your boyfriend’s head, shaking your head you struggle to let the word out. “N-no, ne-never.”

Seokjin’s warm and hard body against your back and the counter in front of you where your hands rest are the only things keeping you up. The sultry, lustful voice on your ear makes your thoughts hazy as if thick white fog filled your head and you can’t see through it. Even if he is just talking nonsense, his voice is enough to make you dripping wet.

His left hand is still giving your boobs the needed attention, alternating from one nipple to the other as he plays with them as if there were buttons on his video game controller. Pressing them down, rotating and flickering them.

His right hand teases you over your safety shorts, groping you, pressing his fingertip over your clothed slit up and down, sometimes putting a bit of pressure on the place where your clit is. But never enough or for too long. He is teasing you, melting you over, and pressing his hard long cock against your back. Making your mouth water for him, wanting to touch him, feel his velvet skin on your hands and mouth.

“I’m pretty sure he imagines you doing it, taking you to the changing room and kissing your neck, touching your boobs.” He grabs your boob with force, his calloused fingers and palm deliciously scratching your smooth skin as his lips brush your neck.

“J-Jin…” you moan in his arms, arching your chest, wanting him to take more of your boobs and feeling more of his long length against your lower back.

“I bet he doesn’t imagine your pussy as it is.” He slips his fingers over your shorts and panties waistband. “What color is your panties Y/n?”

Your response is a needy moan “Hm.”

“What color?” He asks again, and you try to remember it.

“I’m not sure,” you say, squirming, trying to get him to move his hand down and touch you. “Maybe it’s yellow.”

“Maybe?” “You don’t know?” you can hear when Jin licks his lips.

“No,” you shake your head. “I can’t remember when you are touching me like this.”

“Hm” he breathes on your neck again. “It doesn’t matter, I’m sure he doesn’t know you aren’t fully waxed.”

His fingers tug softly on the hairs over your pussy. Seokjin was the one who asked you to not fully shave or wax the hairs off, he was curious at how it’d feel to eat you out like that. And in the past weeks you didn’t have enough energy to shave or go waxing. Your boyfriend doesn’t mind, you know it, and seems like his fantasies enjoy it too.

His middle finger caresses your slit, parting your lower lips and circling your entrance. His groan makes his hard chest vibrate against your back, the noise makes a new wave of slickness come out of your pussy wetting his finger.

“Are you this wet for imagining what the teacher would do to you?” His voice has a hard hint to it.

First you shake your head but right after you nod it with strength.

“Do you, or do you not?”

“No.” You breathe, pressing your head back on his chest looking up, your lips brush his throat right under his Adam apple. “I’m imagining you, silly.”

Another groan and his middle finger start to push inside you. It’s a bit rough, his hand feels calloused from the number of hours he has been playing videogames and from the tennis practice. But his long finger is welcomed by your warm walls, it makes you gasp and arch your back. Your ass pressing harder on your boyfriend’s hard cock making you moan his name.

“Seokjin…”

“Hm honey?” He replies by pushing his finger in until he is knuckle deep. “You are so ready for me.”

In response you roll your hips on his hand and pressing on his hard cock, you feel it twitch on your back.

“I’m sure he’d want to fuck you on those wooden benches of the changing room. Hold your legs up over his shoulders and pound into you.” His index finger joins his middle finger inside you, the heel of his hand pressing on your clit, making sparks of pleasure run over you. “Fuck Y/n, I’m sure he’d want to cum over your bouncy boobs!”

Jin pinches and pulls your nipple hard, and you hiss, pushing him with your ass. Your boyfriend smirks and curls his fingers, caressing that spot inside you as he also presses your bundle of nerves. A strong shock makes your knees buckle and you have to hold yourself harder against the counter. The man behind you laughs enjoying your torture.

“I’m not jealous of him. He can try to undress and fuck you with his eyes all he wants, he can imagine you playing tennis naked if he wants. Imagine your juices running down your legs as you walk naked around the court with just your racquet in hand. He only has his imagination and a few grunts of yours to get himself off at night. I have the real deal.”

Rising to your tiptoes, pressing your body harder against his, chasing after your orgasm. The shocks of pleasure growing longer and stronger, Seokjin’s breath on your neck letting you know he is as worked up as you are. While his lips spill the crazy scenarios of his very fertile mind, he trusts his fingers in and out of you, rubbing your sweet spot on every move, the heel is his hand pressing and rubbing circles on your clit making you cry his name like a prayer.

The tightness on your lower stomach grows tighter pretty fast. The squelching sound coming from where his hand fills you is obscene but sounds like some background music to you as you can only focus on his voice. You don’t even know where his crazy jealous mind is taking him anymore. All you can focus on is on the feeling of his curled fingers inside you. His rough hand rubbing your clit and his delicious cock pressed on you.

The tightness snaps, and the pleasure that washes over you makes your whole body tremble and you are sure that if it isn’t for Seokjin’s arm around your waist holding you, you’ve collapsed on the floor. His fingers keep moving inside of your clenched pussy. His hand pressing your throbbing clit as you ride out your pleasure.

You whimper at the over sensitiveness, and he stops moving his hand, easing his fingers off of you. Who whimpers again at the emptiness. His lips kiss your neck, and shivers run over your skin.

“Fuck Y/n, you came so much.” He raises the hand that just fucked you, up and parts his fingers showing you how your come and slickness cling to his fingers like a membrane.

Jin takes his fingers into his mouth, sucking and licking them off. You feel the moan that comes out of his chest, the sound reverberating through your back, sending your blood rushing right back down to where it was concentrated just moments ago.

Using his distraction to your own advantage you push your safety shorts and ruined panties down your legs, the drenched fabric spreads some slickness on your skin. You kick the clothing to the side, leaning over the counter you raise your knee over it, bending forward.

Looking back, you find your boyfriend already watching you. His full lips pursed, sweaty messy hair is already drying up while yours is sticking to your neck and forehead. Reaching your hand behind you, you pull your ass cheek up, the cold air that runs through your parted pussy makes you shiver.

Looking over your shoulder you bite your lower lip. “Then you should breed me, fill me up with your cum, fuck me so hard and so good that I can’t ever think of anyone else but you.” You moan your words in the neediest and most innocent tone you can muster.

Seokjin knows you can’t think of anyone but him, but you still say the words that feed his wild imagination, which will make him fuck you so good you’ll be sore for the rest of the weekend.

And your words have an effect on him, his usual gentle and playful eyes turn darker, his pulpits blown out as he bites his lower lip, watching your drenched pussy so explicitly open for him. A hand rubs his length through his shorts before he pushes it and boxers down in a swift movement kicking it to the side, Jin strokes his bare cock a few times watching you watch him.

Your mouth waters at the sight of what was hiding, just the anticipation of what is to come has you getting wetter. You can feel the warm slick moistness of your pussy leaking out, Seokjin’s eyes follow, taking a step forward his body is once again pressed on yours. He guides his cock to your wet middle, the angry head is pressed up and down your middle, he caresses your pussy with it, pressing it to your clit before poking it at the place where you want him.

You moan calling his name. “Jin honey,” you beg him.

“Do you want me?” He quirks a brow at you.

Nodding, you pout your lips. “Please, Jinnie, I need you.”

Jin pushes his head in. You take a deep breath. His cock slides into you smoothly, after being fingered and getting so wet as you are, your walls welcome his thickness, fluttering and wrapping it in warmth. As if on cue your pussy flutters in need and anticipation, you arch a little more, trying to keep yourself steady on the position.

Seokjin is long, to the point that more often than not you believe he won’t fit you. He makes you feel so full that you wonder how have you ever felt any pleasure before him. And every time you are surprised just how you manage to do so.

His pelvis is pressed to yours, his chest hovering over your back. His breathing on the back of your neck and his sinful long moan makes you clench in desire for him.

“Fuck”, he curses “, you always fit me so well, just the right size. Did anyone ever fill you this well?” He bucks his hips against yours.

“N-no!” You moan, feeling his hands hold your waist.

“And no one else will ever be able to” another thrust of his hips, and you jolt in place.

“Fuck Jinnie,” you cry.

“Oh! I will, so good that you won’t be able to forget.” He rolls his hips against yours and you moan again.

Jin rolls his hips on yours, dragging it away from yours slowly and pushing back into you fast. He is teasing you. You know that, but you have no other way than to fall for it and beg him some more.

“Jinnie, please!” You arch a little more, pressing your ass against him, to get him deeper inside you.

“Y/n,” he says, breath ghosting your ear as one of his hands caresses up your body until it’s resting around your neck. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

A shiver runs down your body making more of your arousal leach out of your stuffed pussy while you clench on his cock. His breathy moan makes your clit tingle in need.

“I- I want you to breed me, fill me up with your cum until I can’t take it anymore and you need to cover me with it.” You cover Seokjin’s hand that is around your neck. “To fuck me silly until I can’t remember anything but you, how I’m yours and how there is no one else in this world who will ever fuck me so well like you do.”

The trust is hard and deep, it presses your hips hard against the counter, his hand around your neck tightens a little when he pulls you, so your back is pressed against his fancy sport shirt, making you stand on your tiptoes to be able to keep your leg up on the counter.

Jin is chasing after a goal, and he doesn’t measure his effort to reach it. His hips snap back and forth thrusting into your thighs pussy at a fast and hard pace, his moans groans and curses are all let out by your ear where his lips brush at every hard thrust.

The hold he has on your body grows stronger, he is not choking you, nowhere near it, but the pressure of his hand on your throat makes the air passage be a little bit harder, and surprisingly makes you more excited.

His body presses you against the counter allows you to feel every inch of his cock making its way in and out of you, making your lower belly bulge whenever he is inside of you. Just the thought of it has your legs shaking. Your clit is pressed against the cold edge, making waves of cold and warm pleasure run through your limbs.

“Jin, Jin, Jin, J-jiiin…” you call as your vision goes white and your body convulses on your second orgasm.

Pussy clenching so hard on his cock that it feels like we won’t be able to thrust inside of you anymore, even if he tries his best.

“Fuck Y/n, so tight! Squeezing my cock so good, is that how much you want my cum? Hm?”

Seokjin’s hot breath on your ear makes your body tremble as his movements prolong your orgasm, the shocks of pleasure making your body spasm as you feel the knot on your lower stomach tightening once again.

Your boyfriend’s plump lips caress your neck with kisses and love bites. You know it will be a pain to cover up with make-up, but that is a problem for later you. Right now you only want him to fill you with him until it makes a mess on the kitchen floor.

“Jin, please, honey, please!” You beg, not even knowing what you are begging for.

“Shit Y/n, you take me so good. Fuck!” His words are tight spilled between his teeth.

Thrust growing sloppy and erratic, Seokjin grabs at one of your boobs and the hold on your throat grows a bit tighter than what you are comfortable with when he comes making you come once again. Painting your insides white with his thick cum, your pussy squeezes every last form of cum out of him filling you until it starts to leak down your leg.

Jin’s hold on you starts to loosen when the high of the orgasm starts to fade and he tries to catch his breath. His chest heaving with breathing while he keeps holding you up against himself. Your head resting back on his shoulder as you take deep breaths hoping the cold air will help cool down your burning body.

It’s a few minutes before he moves, taking a step back and pulling out of you. Seokjin’s cock is already growing soft. He pulls his boxers and shorts up before he helps you pull your leg down from the counter. He holds you up when your knees forget to do their job and hold you. He chuckles and kisses your temple sweetly.

Turning you around to face him, Jin takes your cheeks on his hands and kisses you softly on the lips. Is a kiss of adoration and love, it instinctively you wrap your arms around his shoulders so you can keep on going.

“Jinnie,” you giggle against his lips. “Your cum is still running down my leg, and you are ready for more?”

“Well,” he kisses your forehead and caresses your cheeks. “You came three times, and I only did once, plus you did ask me to fuck you silly, and right now you are still very coherent.”

You laugh and he kisses you again.

“Honey, can we at least take a shower first? I want to take off this court dirt off my body.” You ask in between kisses.

“Hm” Seokjin hums while lifting you up and sitting you on the counter. “Hm, shower sex, I like this idea!”

His lips are on your neck tickling you with hot wet kisses.

“Jinnie, I’m making a mess on the counter, is going to get covered in cum.” You whine while your hand caresses his scalp.

“I don’t care, I’ll clean the whole house without a single pep if it’s because I’m cleaning our mixed comes from it.” He kisses your cheek.

“Hm, you really are full of energy today.” You caress the sweaty hair away from his forehead.

“We are going to drop off the tennis class, it’s decided.” He announces fixing your sports bra over your boobs and pulling your shirt down.

“We are?” You raise a brow, “so what am I going to do with all those outfits I got?”

“How many outfits do you have?” He asks after you jump out of the counter

You shrug. “I don’t know.”

“Y/n!” Jin calls following you to the bedroom “how many?”

“Why?” You ask teasingly.

“Are you imagining me with no safety shorts and panties or sports bra underneath every single one of them?” You pull your skirt down and use it to clean up the cum running down your leg.

Seokjin's blue shirt flies across the room when he takes it off, his shorts already have a tent to it. His eyes are dark and his voice raspy when he speaks again.

“I’m going to fuck you in every single combination they can make. There is no need for tennis when we can just exercise together.”

Feedback is always appreciated.

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itsgoghtime · 13 days

Text

World in Color

Chapter X

Words : 2587

CW : family life - so if ya don’t like kids in fics, this chapter ain’t for you - this is also technically an Epilogue, but it’s the very happy end. it makes me sad that we’re at the close or World In Color, but it’s been so special to write this story that’s been so close to my heart. 🫶

taglist : @valmare @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @horserad-ish

"Boys! Dinner!" Pumpkin called from the back porch, ringing the bell a few times.

It had been over five years since the MacPherson's had been married, and they were now well established in the ranching community in New Hope.

Will appeared out of the barn first, smiling as his eyes landed on his wife, her bump somehow more round than yesterday. It made his heart burst with pride.

A year and a half into their marriage, they had learned of her pregnancy - one that would result in fraternal twin boys. Will had practically been speechless at the first ultrasound.

"I didn't think I'd be nervous going in to see our baby. Maybe it's just because it's the first time." Pumpkin's fingers intertwined with Will's on her small bump as they waited to be called back.

"It's definitely a new experience. I don't envy you having to keep a full bladder though, that sounds uncomfortable."

"Oh, don't remind me. If I don't think about it too hard, I don't need to go as bad. But we've been waiting a while, and dang."

"MacPherson?" A tech appeared, and Pumpkin sighed in relief, standing from her chair gingerly.

"Sorry there was such a delay, we were running a bit behind." The young woman smiled, leading them down the hall.

"No worries, we don't mind waiting. Well, my bladder does, but the rest of me doesn't." She chuckled.

"That will make it so much easier to see everything! You are the best - that's part of the reason we were running behind, the last patient didn't have a full bladder and we had to do an alternate ultrasound route. Here we are." The tech opened the door for them to the ultrasound room.

It was dimly lit, but had a calm atmosphere about it.

"Well, my bladder is most definitely full." Pumpkin chuckled as she laid down on the table, lifting her shirt as the tech instructed.

"I'll make it as quick as I can - and it should go by fast, considering you followed the instructions. We should be able to find your baby in no time." The tech applied the gel, beginning to press down on Pumpkin's abdomen.

Will took his wife's hand in his, noticing her discomfort.

"When did you find out you were pregnant?" The tech asked.

"It's been four weeks since the positive test, and we're guessing she was about four weeks when she tested positive." Will responded.

The young woman nodded, moving her wand around. When she found what she was looking for, she smiled.

"Well, Mr. and Mrs. MacPherson, looks like you have two healthy babies."

"There's two?" Will's eyes widened.

"Yeah! Let me get some measurements while I'm in the right spot and then I'll show you the screen."

After a couple minutes, the nurse turned her screen to show the couple what she was talking about.

"We have twin A on the left, and twin B on the right. Both looking to be about the same size, which is a great sign in these early stages. We'll definitely want to keep a close eye on them as they develop though, so I'll add to your notes for your doctor that you'll want to come in for an ultrasound every other week, at least until we can see more. Twins can be high risk, so you'll just want to make sure you're taking extra good care of yourself to make sure they continue to grow."

After Pumpkin had wiped the gel off and the tech had handed them their pictures, the couple walked out into the hall in silence, taking in all the information they had just been given. Pumpkin went into the bathroom, and even their walk to the car once she was done was pretty quiet. Spooky finally seemed to wrap his mind around the fact that he not only had one baby on the way, but two, and turned to his wife with the widest smile.

"We're having twins. Two babies." He laughed, picking her up into his arms and spinning her, making her giggle. "We're having twins!!"

Despite their initial shock, they were elated that their family was growing by two. Nothing about those next seven months had been easy, and they'd had a couple scares - but even with everything they had to deal with, two healthy baby boys were delivered ten minutes apart and only had a NICU stay of twenty two days before they went home.

Raising their boys had been their pride and joy for the last four years, and Will was so proud of who they were becoming under their parent's guidance, even if they did get into mischief sometimes. They were his boys, he could expect nothing less.

"Wesley Miguel! Don't threaten the goat with the shovel. I know she head butted you, but you were chasing her. C'mere." Pumpkin chided, though somehow her tone was still filled with love - something Will adored about her parenting style.

"Theo!" She called, but as her second boy continued to giggle and chase one of the chickens, she chuckled. "Theodore William MacPherson, come here. It's time to get all the dirt off your hands and eat dinner."

"Come, boys. Let's get washed up." Will laughed, and both boys came running past them into the house, but not before taking their little work boots off at the door - just as their Mama had taught them.

"And as for you..." Pumpkin turned to Will, chuckling softly as he embraced her.

"Hey, beautiful." He whispered.

"Hey, handsome." She smiled as his thumb rubbed comforting circles on her belly. "How was working with the boys?"

"They've got a lot to learn, but they seem to understand most of it. Not that collecting eggs and shoveling dirt is very hard to understand." He nudged her nose with his. "How are my girls?"

"Good. She's been kicking away today, just letting me know she's there."

Just six months ago, they had discovered their third child was on the way.

Since the twins had turned two years old, Pumpkin had wanted another baby. The boys had come so easily, she was fairly confident that it wouldn't be too hard to have their third child. Will had plans for a house full of kids - and they weren't exactly getting any younger.

But time passed. Baby number three didn't come. Pumpkin miscarried twice, within the first few weeks each time. It broke Will's heart - not only to lose their babies, but that his sweet love had to endure such heartache each time she learned she had lost one.

After the second miscarriage, they had decided to take a break from actively trying, to take some time to focus on the boys. Their dream of the house full of children was still there, but Wesley and Theo kept them busy enough that they began to heal. Pumpkin made an extra effort to get her hormones balanced, to make sure she was doing everything she could to be able to have another baby.

One evening, after a long day teaching the boys how to manage their field crops, the dinner bell rang. He herded his tired twins towards the house, kissing Pumpkin softly before going into the kitchen to wash up. Spooky's smile grew as he caught the smell of her ravioli casserole - one of the family's favorites.

"How was your day, honey?" His tone was soft, carrying across the room to her as she set the table.

"It was good."

"Errands in town go well?"

"They did! I finally was able to get a hold of those melon seeds we've been waiting for. I want to see if we can get them planted within the next week or so, they'll be a little late but I think we'll be able to get some good profit off of them. The boys loved the melon jerky we freeze dried last year, maybe we could make some of that at the end of the season too."

After the last plate had been set, Will's arms came around her from behind, breathing in her scent.

"You're chipper today."

"Just have a lot of reasons to be happy, I guess." She chuckled. "And I picked up a surprise for you and the boys on my way out of town this afternoon."

"Oh?"

"Mhmm. Wrapped it and everything."

As if on cue, Wesley and Theo discovered the wrapped box on their way out of their bathroom.

"Mama! Is this a present for us?" Theo asked.

"It isn't even anyone's birthday!" Wesley giggled.

"Come here, my little loves, and open it with Daddy. It's for the three of you." Pumpkin smiled, and the boys sat on either side of Will on the couch.

"Yeah, boys only!" Wesley chuckled.

"Won't you help us, Mama? I don't think it should be boys only." Theo said softly.

"Of course. we can each grab a corner and pull. Ready, set, pull." She said softly, and the wrapping paper came clean off the box, in several pieces. Will opened the box, pulling out two folded t-shirts, evidently for the boys because of their size.

It all happened so quick after that. Will reached the bottom of the box, eyes widening at the two items that were left for him. The boys opened their shirts, a little confused.

"It says 'Big Brother'?" Wesley's little brow furrowed.

"That's what mine says too." Theo asks.

Will discarded the box, standing as he held the little printed picture and the stick in his hands.

"You... are you serious?" Spooky's voice shook, full of emotion.

"Found out today." Her lips met his nose, tears already on her cheeks.

"We're gonna have a baby?"

"We're gonna have a baby. Twelve weeks, and looking completely healthy. Sweetest little heartbeat."

"Is Mama having a baby?" Theo asked.

"A baby! Oh goodness! Mama's going to have a baby!" Wesley giggled, hugging his parent's legs tightly, Theo following suit.

"My little Dot." Will smiled.

"Dot Erin MacPherson. I love her name already. And she seems to as well, she's been kicking when I've mentioned it..."

Since the baby had begun to grow, Will had hoped for a girl. His heart wanted nothing more than a little copy of Pumpkin running around, as both of his boys seemed to take after him in most of their features.

"Mama, when do we get to see the baby?"

"Is the baby a boy or a girl?"

"Boys, come here." Will scooped his sons into his arms. "We've just got to wait. We'll get to see baby soon."

"MacPherson?" The tech came through the door.

Will stood with the boys on his hips, and smiled at Pumpkin as she went into the room first. She was radiant, even though she was only halfway through her pregnancy.

"What do you boys think your little sibling is?" The tech asked as the boys stood next to her to watch what she was doing.

"I think it's going to be a girl." Theo responded.

"Me too. But it could also be a boy." Wesley stated.

"If they're bugging you, let us know and we can wrangle them." Pumpkin chuckled, the gel cool on her bump.

"They're alright, it's fun to have older siblings want to be involved."

"Will we get to see the baby on that screen up there?" Theo pointed at the blank monitor.

"Is that the camera you use?" Wesley asked as the tech moved the wand.

"Boys, come here. Let the technician do her job." Will held his arms out, and the boy's little feet soon had them cuddled into his sides.

The technician chuckled, looking on the screen to begin her search.

"I can't quite see gender yet, but looking at measurements so far, baby is looking great."

"Is the baby shy?" Wesley's little voice was soft.

"Yeah, baby is being a little shy. Can you cheer them on a little bit to see if they'll turn for us?"

Will's boys clapped their hands, giggling as they cheered on for their baby sibling. The technician moved the wand a bit, trying to get a different angle and move the baby a little bit.

For a split second, the baby turned and stretched their legs wide, and the technician caught a glimpse before the baby's legs scrunched back up.

"You did such a good job cheering, friends! Your little sister moved just enough so I could see!"

Everyone went quiet, the twin's eyes went wide.

"A little sister?"

"Yeah! Baby MacPherson is a girl." The technician smiled. "Congratulations."

Will's smile grew wide, his gaze moving to his wife. "I'm so proud. We've been needing another girl in the house."

"Where did she go... come on, Dot, say hello to daddy." Pumpkin took his hand, placing it at the bottom of her belly, where the baby began to kick. "There she is."

"Three months, and the boys will have a little sister." Spooky kissed his wife's forehead.

"Sister! Sisterrr!" Wesley bounded into the room, Theo right on his heels.

"Is she kicking, Mama? Did she miss us?" Theo asked, and both sets of the boy's hands landed gently on her stomach, pleased to feel her moving around.

"I am certain Dot missed you both, very much. Did you get your hands all washed?" Pumpkin asked, and the boys showed her their hands. "Perfect. Thank you so much. Now, can you please set the table for us?"

"Yes, Mama!" Theo led his brother into the kitchen, pulling plates from the lower cupboard and silverware from the drawer. If there was one thing the MacPherson boys loved, it was being helpful.

"Oh, and one last thing for you, Daddy. Because you're the only one who will really understand it." She smiled, waddling back into their bedroom to retrieve something. It was not long before her feet padded into the living room once more. "I had this made for you. For us."

Will took the item from her hands, shaking his head with a smile as tears pored over his cheeks once more.

It was a little sunflower frame made from wood, the latest picture they'd had taken of their family in the middle. The top read "Our world is in color when we're together" and the bottom line was "MacPhersons, est 2009".

"Pumpkin..." Spooky chuckled, her fingers soft on his cheeks as she wiped his tears. "It's beautiful. We'll have to get another picture when Dot is born."

"Most definitely."

"Mama! Does Dot like the casserole like we do?" Wesley asked.

"Does she like ice cream too? Because we could make her ice cream after dinner!" Theo chimed in.

"I'm sure she does, boys. And if you eat all your dinner and help with dishes, we can have ice cream later." Will answered his boys before kissing Pumpkin.

"I hope they'll let us have the raspberry sauce from our raspberry bushes again. That was the best part." Theo whispered as he went to the table.

"Me too." Wesley sighed softly, following his brother.

Will carefully set the sunflower frame on the fridge, making sure the magnet was strong enough, before his hand came to rest on his wife's lower back as she brought the hot casserole dish to the table.

Things would come, and things would go. Seasons would change. The house would fill with children, and they'd grow up and move away. But one thing was certain.

As long as they were together, Spooky and Pumpkin's world would always be in color.

♡ ♡ ♡

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biggest thank you’s to @valmare and @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 for supporting this since the beginning - it’s been you, my friends, that have kept me excited to continue sharing every installment. Couldn’t have done this without you and I am so happy I got to share this piece of me with you. My heart is so full! 🫶

#world in color #val kilmer #will ‘spooky’ macpherson #william macpherson #will macpherson #spooky #spooky and pumpkin #conspiracy #conspiracy 2008 #spooky x pumpkin #spooky x reader

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