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peterpparkrr · 2 years

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Unwritten - Ch. 7: The Lady of the Lake | A Bridgerton Series

Series: Unwritten

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!Reader

Summary: Benedict crashes a wedding. A proposal is made.

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: n/a

A/N: Wowza! This is the last official chapter of Unwritten! There will be an epilogue but in many ways, this is the end of this story, and boy what a journey it has been!! Thank you so much for all the love this series has been getting, your comments make my days.

previous chapter // epilogue

Benedict had never been one to think that he was a hero. But as he raced through the English countryside towards the woman he loved for at least a moment he felt like he was about to be the knight in one of those children's books he sometimes read to Hyacinth and Gregory.

He found the image of you as a princess prick up in his mind and despite himself, he laughed. You were beautiful and wonderful but just about as far from a princess as he could imagine with your wild hair and your ink-stained fingers. You carried yourself with a grace and confidence that was regal, but your sharp tongue and wit were just about as far from princess-like as one could get.

Benedict had made it to your small village without too much strife. And the first woman he saw washing her laundry in the early morning sunlight was more than happy to give him directions to the town parish.

As he rode up to the church he found himself jumping from his horse before he’d come to a complete stop and was running towards the building before he had fully tied the reins to a nearby post.

Time was of the essence and he needed to be sure that he could get there and put a stop to this before it was too late.

“Stop! Stop!” Benedict shouted wildly as he ran into the church.

Until he froze halfway up the aisle when he realized there was no wedding taking place. Instead just a group of men standing in a cluster in the chancel all staring back at him with a mixture of confusion and perhaps mild amusement.

“There is nothing to stop, the bride disappeared from her bed this morning,” The vicar finally replied as Benedict looked around in confusion.

“What?” Ben breathed out.

“Where is she?” A man asked as he stepped toward Benedict.

“What?” Benedict repeated dumbly as he turned to see what he only assumed was your supposed fiancé making his way towards him.

Ben wasn’t surprised in the slightest by the appearance and general disposition of the man. Dowdy was not a descriptor used for men, but it seemed apt in Benedict’s mind. The infamous Mr. Townsend was clearly quick to anger, and his leering gaze felt uncomfortable even to Ben as the man glared at him.

“Where. Is. She.” The man in front of him ground out.

“Well obviously I do not know either, or else I would not be here,” Benedict shot back before he could stop himself.

Mr. Townsend huffed but turned away from Ben, giving up on him as he turned back to the others, pinching his brow tightly.

“That damned woman, we should have known she would run away,” Mr. Townsend muttered angrily.

“Be careful how you speak of my daughter,” The older gentleman replied carefully as he stared Mr. Townsend down with a quiet challenge.

After a few moments of painful silence, the older gentleman, your father, turned to Benedict with curiosity.

“Who are you?” He asked.

“Benedict Bridgerton,” He replied. “I uh, I met your daughter in London.”

“And why are you here now?” He asked.

Benedict floundered for a moment as he tried to come up with some sort of excuse or justification for barging through the doors of a church.

“To stop the wedding,” Ben admitted. “This might not be the time or place to say this, but I would like to marry your daughter, sir, if she’ll have me.”

The older man nodded thoughtfully as he took in Benedict’s strange proclamation. “If she agrees you have my consent,” Your father told him. “Now go find her.”

Benedict nodded to your father with a small smile as he turned to walk out of the church, now wracking his brain in a panic, trying to figure out where you would have gone, and how he could find you.

What had you written in your letter, maybe there was a clue? A hint so that he would know where to find you? There had been something about a river or a lake or something. Benedict rifled through his pockets to pull the letter out and find the line he was thinking of.

The brooks and meadows sing for me. I shall answer their call.

It was a wild guess, but Benedict vaguely recalled crossing a creek on this way to the church.

Forgoing his horse, Benedict took off towards the stream.

You may be many things, But a quitter is not one of them.

You would not marry Mr. Townsend. You’d die before you married him. Well, maybe not die-die, that seemed a bit too Shakespearean even for you, but you weren’t going to just give up without a fight. You would not go gently into this sham marriage that your uncle had concocted for you.

So you decided to devise a plan. To be fair there really wasn’t much of a plan to it, it was actually rather straightforward. But you spend the entire carriage ride walking through the steps in your mind.

When you’d finally arrived home late last night your siblings had been asleep. Your father had barely been able to look at you as you had silently entered the house and followed your mother upstairs to your bedroom.

Once you were inside, as she helped you out of your traveling clothes, your mother quietly told you that the wedding would take place first thing in the morning.

“I’m sorry,” You told her quietly as you sat down on your bed, sagging down along with the mattress as your shoulders pulled in.

“Don’t ever be sorry,” Your mother replied gently as she sat down beside you and pulled you into her side. “Not when you did nothing wrong.”

“But I did, I upset him over and over again,” You tell her. “And he’ll cut you all off if I don’t marry Mr. Townsend.”

Your mother sighs.

“My brother is a complicated, cold man. And he will never understand why I married your father, but we were happy, we were so happy for so long. If it weren’t for you, for your brothers, I wouldn’t have a single regret in my life. I’m only sorry that you haven’t been afforded the ability to make your own choices the way I did.”

You hadn’t know what to say to that.

And so once your mother had left you to sleep, you redressed, gathered a few of your belongings, and tied your bedsheets together before descending from your second-story window and absconding into the night.

In books when a hero or heroine makes a daring escape it’s incredibly tense and dramatic. In reality, it was just cold.

And damp.

And dark.

You’d lost count of how many times you’d stumbled or nearly tripped over a tree root or rock that you couldn’t make out in the darkness as you meandered your way through the fields and then the woods to the brook.

By the time you’d arrived at your old treehouse you were simultaneously cold and hot, and sweating more than you wanted to be. You climbed up the ladder into the treehouse and wrapped the blanket you’d brought with you around your shoulders before all but collapsed to the floor in exhaustion.

You were suddenly jolted awake by the sound of someone calling your name.

“Benedict?” You called out as you sat up and peered over the ledge of the treehouse to see Benedict Bridgerton standing beneath your tree, staring up at you.

You scramble to your feet and quickly descend the ladder to land on the ground.

“What are you doing here? How did you…?” You ask as you stare at Benedict in disbelief. You’d sent him his letter with the intention of reassuring him that you were okay, so that he’d know what happened to you. You never expected him to follow you here. If anything the letter was supposed to ensure that he would not.

“Your letter, The brooks and meadows sing for me. I shall answer their call.” He quotes. As if he had memorized your letter. He had memorized your words.

“And there were really only so many places to look, it’s not like you could have gotten very far on foot,” He adds.

You nod mutely as you still struggle to take in the fact that he’s really here, and that he’s standing right in front of you.

“Don’t marry him,” He tells you as he reaches out his hands to take hold of your own.

“I wasn’t going to,” You reply.

“Marry me,” He says plainly, squeezing your hands.

“I-what?”

“Marry me instead,” He repeats. As if that was the part you were having difficulties understanding.

“Benedict,” You start to say.

“No, I was going to come to ask you to marry me back in London, that's how I received your letter so quickly,” He tells you, trying to explain. “I love you.”

“No, you don’t have to,” You tell him quickly, shaking your head.

“I don’t have to love you?” He asks with an amused smile. “I don’t really think that’s something that you get to have a say in.”

“I’m asking you to marry me,” He emphasizes as he takes another step towards you, before his expression falters slightly and you can see himself beginning to doubt his actions. “Do you… do you not want to marry me?”

“Of course, I would want to marry you,” You tell him with a humorless laugh. “But not because it’s your way of helping me escape a different marriage. I can’t let you throw away your life because you have a sense of responsibility towards me. Because you think you love me. I want you to be happy.”

“I’m not doing this out of obligation,” Ben tells you quietly. Surprised that you’d even see it that way. “You already proved you didn’t need to be rescued when I arrived at the church and found your supposed fiancé standing there alone. I just want to be with you.”

“If you’ll have me,” He adds.

You look up at him through your lashes. “Are you certain?”

“Of course I’m certain,” He tells you with a chuckle. “I love you, and I want to marry you, I’m not quite sure how much more clear I can be.”

“I love you too,” You tell him after a beat. “I just never thought…”

He nods, silently encouraging you to finish your thought. Now that he knew you loved him he could be patient. You’d have all the time in the world.

“You were just supposed to be my fantasy. It wasn’t ever meant to become real,” You admit. “I never dared hope it would be real.”

“What do you mean?” He asks.

“My rewrites. For my novel it uh, it was good, before, but I’d always felt it was missing something, there was supposed to be a love story but the truth wasn’t there. Because I’d never felt these feelings before you. I’ve been reworking it ever since we met,” You tell him. “I think you’re my muse.”

“You are my muse, too,” Ben admits in turn. “My paintings, they’ve never been good enough, not to me,” He continues. “But once I started painting with you in my mind… everything seemed to fit.”

“Ben, the other thing,” You tell him. “My family…”

Ben shakes his head. “We will take care of them. You can continue to write, you can continue to do whatever you want or need to to support your family, but I want us to do it together,” He tells you.

“Together?” You ask with a hopeful smile.

“Your soul is the companion to mine,” Ben tells you. “I want us to be partners in everything.”

Then you can’t help yourself from laughing in disbelief. Disbelief at how lucky you are to have found him.

“Then yes, of course I will marry you!”

Benedict grinned at your exclamation before he reached his hands up to hold your cheek. His other hand falls to your waist and pulls you towards him, pressing his lips to yours.

You had thought your first kiss with Benedict had been special. Borderline magical. But Benedict was kissing you. Benedict wanted to marry you. And as his hand pressed into the small of your back, pressing your body against his, any rational thoughts you’d been having, even the irrational ones disappeared.

It was a storybook ending.

The marriage took place shortly after you returned to London. The ceremony was small, private, Lady Bridgerton had claimed. And the most scandalous part of the whole affair seemed to be your very brief engagement rather than anything to do with your family. It seemed the news of Benedict trying to stop your failed wedding hadn’t made it back to the city. Thank God.

The morning after your wedding night the two of you were sitting in your marriage bed, blissfully happy, despite your lack of sleep. You’d been discussing your future when the topic of your uncle came up.

“You never have to see him again, if people knew how he treated you-” Benedict told you quickly.

God. He would do anything to wipe that look, the pained expression that appeared whenever your uncle was mentioned, off your face. He’d stop at nothing to see the hurt your uncle had caused you erased.

“Would they really care?” You reply with a defeated shrug. “I was his children’s governess, he may be my uncle but my parents are not rich, and my father has no title. He has power and I do not.”

“Besides,” You continued, giving him a small smile as you tried to lighten the mood. “You don’t need to run him out of town to protect me, as much as I adore London, being a member of high society is never something I’ve desired.”

“Neither one of us even enjoys those events, we can go to galleries and exhibits, and to your art friends' parties, all the places he’d never dare set foot,” You tell Ben with a grin. “He can partake in all the stuffy dinners and predictable balls he wants. We can have all the fun. We’ll never cross paths.”

“You are perfect,” Ben replies as he presses a kiss to your forehead and pulls you from your sitting position back against his chest.

“No, I am not,” You disagree. “But I am yours.”

“I love you,” He tells you as he wraps his arms tightly around your middle as you hum happily.

“I love you, too.”

“I have a cottage,” Benedict said suddenly. “Out in the country. How do you feel about spending our honeymoon there?”

“Is there much to do?” You ask as you turn your head to look at him.

“I imagine there will be ever so much to do,” He replies very seriously. “Very little of which will require us to leave our bedroom,” He adds, his voice lowering as he wiggles his eyebrows at you suggestively.

“Oh,” You reply as your cheeks begin to feel warm and your lips begin to quirk up slightly at the thought of all of the things you might have the chance to do with Ben.

“Have I piqued your interest?” He teases as he squeezes you gently.

“You are very wicked when you want to be,” You tell him with a look.

“I always want to be wicked when I am with you,” He mutters as his hands begin to trail down your sides yet again as Ben plans to prove those words to you very literally.

Benedict was very pleased to say that he had hardly left the bedroom since you had arrived at My Cottage. Neither had you, until a few minutes ago when Mr. Crabtree arrived with the post and you’d scampered out of bed with eagerness at the shout from Mrs. Crabtree that there were several letters for you, along with a mysterious package with your name on it.

Benedict was more than content to lay in bed whilst you read your mail and wait for your return. He had decided to use the time productively, thinking of all the devious things he could do to you once you were back in his arms.

Until he heard a scream from the kitchen.

Before Benedict had realized what he was doing he was racing down the stairs at the sound of his wife’s shout. Only to stop at the bottom of the stairs when he saw you clutching a package of papers to your chest whilst you stared up at him with wide eyes and a massive grin.

“Ben,” You called him over to you breathlessly. “They want to publish my novel!”

“Oh my God!” Benedict shouted as he swooped you into his arms, hugging you tightly as he peppered your face with kisses.

“This is wonderful! I thought the publisher you talked to in London didn’t seem interested? What changed?” He asked as he carefully placed you back on the ground whilst Mr. and Mrs. Crabtree watched on with quiet amusement, fully aware that they were a forgotten audience.

“This is a different man,” You explain to him. “Penelope gave me his name. Since she’s Lady Whistledown I guess she knew who would be willing to publish a woman.”

“Wait, what?” Benedict asked as he managed a double-take.

“I was going to just keep sending it to different publishers, hoping someone would finally take it up, I’m not exactly one to just give up,” You reply.

Benedict huffs with annoyance as you try not to smile. “Not that part-”

“Oh, Penelope Featherington is Lady Whistledown. I thought it was obvious.”

“It is most certainly not obvious,” Benedict argues.

“She doesn’t work particularly hard to hide it,” You point out. “She’s at all the events, standing along the wall where she can overhear all the best gossip, and haven’t you ever noticed that Lady Whistledown is incredibly complimentary of your brother Colin?”

“Well,” Benedict says as he ponders it. “Huh.”

You nod as he realizes you’re right. “I didn’t know at first, but after she gave me the publishing contact I put it all together.”

“Of course you did, my brilliant wife,” Benedict replies with a grin as he presses another kiss to your cheek as he squeezes you tightly.

“My wife is going to be a published author,” He says out loud, the pride evident in his voice, a fact that causes tears to begin to well in your eyes. “I am so proud of you,” He whispers softly in your ear.

“I love you,” You reply as you tuck your head under his chin, burying your face in his chest.

Becoming a published author is a great accomplishment, but your shining glory in life is always going to be being the woman that Benedict Bridgerton loves. And being the woman that gets to love him in return.

You can feel Ben laugh quietly as his chest rumbles against your cheek.

“I love you, too.”

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thenationaltreasuregazette · 4 months

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Happy Masonic Bonus Christmas!

Okay, so that's a bit of an exaggeration. But it is The Feast if St. John the Evangelist, one of two feast days traditionally celebrate by the Freemasons.

The two patron saints of the Masonic order are St. John the Baptist, whose feast day is June 24th, and St. John the Evangelist, whose feast day is December 27th.

In 18th century Virginia, it was "customary for the Masons (dressed in full Masonic regalia) to hold a procession from their lodge building to the local parish church on Saint Johns Day," where they would hear a special sermon from one of their reverend brothers, that "invoked the blessings of love, unity, fraternity, wisdom, and brotherhood" associated with St. John.

Then it was off to the local tavern or one of the mason's homes for a dinner and a ball, wives and friends included.

I don't know if we've established whether any of the Gates men are actually Freemasons—Ben never suggests that he is, and Patrick certainly knows a lot about "Freemason teachings" but that doesn't mean he is one himself. The only confirmed Mason in the present-day story is Agent Sadusky.

In any case, I imagine that even if Patrick isn't a Mason he's something of a fixture at the local lodge (especially once he stopped hunting for the treasure.) The Feast of St. John is probably significant for him, if only because it reminds him of his father and the Gates family legacy. I like to think he's invited to the ball. Perhaps Sadusky even invites the whole gang the first year after the treasure is found.

I came across this completely by accident while looking at 18th century Christmas decorations for the Holiday Hijinx articles, but I love the idea that the Masons, and by extension Team Treasure, have this special extra celebration to enjoy together.

Maybe their tradition becomes that all of them do their own family celebrations on the Christmas holiday, then Team Treasure reunites for their own private festivities on the 27th, as a nod to the Freemason legacy that brought them together.

#Obviously this is a real thing so happy Feast of St. John to any actual Freemasons out there on tumblr dot com #national treasure #the national treasure gazette #team treasure #freemasons #feast of st john

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hereandnowlife · 8 months

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William Shakespeare, Shakespeare also spelled Shakspere, byname Bard of Avon or Swan of Avon, (baptized April 26, 1564, Stratford-upon-Avon, Warwickshire, England—died April 23, 1616, Stratford-upon-Avon), English poet, dramatist, and actor often called the English national poet and considered by many to be the greatest dramatist of all time.

Shakespeare occupies a position unique in world literature. Other poets, such as Homer and Dante, and novelists, such as Leo Tolstoy and Charles Dickens, have transcended national barriers, but no writer’s living reputation can compare to that of Shakespeare, whose plays, written in the late 16th and early 17th centuries for a small repertory theatre, are now performed and read more often and in more countries than ever before. The prophecy of his great contemporary, the poet and dramatist Ben Jonson, that Shakespeare “was not of an age, but for all time,” has been fulfilled.

William Shakespeare

Category: Arts & Culture

Baptized: April 26, 1564 Stratford-upon-Avon England

Died: April 23, 1616 Stratford-upon-Avon England

Notable Works: “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” “All’s Well That Ends Well” “Antony and Cleopatra” “As You Like It” “Coriolanus” “Cymbeline” First Folio “Hamlet” “Henry IV, Part 1” “Henry IV, Part 2” “Henry V” “Henry VI, Part 1” “Henry VI, Part 2” “Henry VI, Part 3” “Henry VIII” “Julius Caesar” “King John” “King Lear” “Love’s Labour’s Lost” “Macbeth” “Measure for Measure” “Much Ado About Nothing” “Othello” “Pericles” “Richard III” “The Comedy of Errors” “The Merchant of Venice” “The Merry Wives of Windsor” “The Taming of the Shrew” “The Tempest” “Timon of Athens”

Movement / Style: Jacobean age

Notable Family Members: spouse Anne Hathaway

It may be audacious even to attempt a definition of his greatness, but it is not so difficult to describe the gifts that enabled him to create imaginative visions of pathos and mirth that, whether read or witnessed in the theatre, fill the mind and linger there. He is a writer of great intellectual rapidity, perceptiveness, and poetic power. Other writers have had these qualities, but with Shakespeare the keenness of mind was applied not to abstruse or remote subjects but to human beings and their complete range of emotions and conflicts. Other writers have applied their keenness of mind in this way, but Shakespeare is astonishingly clever with words and images, so that his mental energy, when applied to intelligible human situations, finds full and memorable expression, convincing and imaginatively stimulating. As if this were not enough, the art form into which his creative energies went was not remote and bookish but involved the vivid stage impersonation of human beings, commanding sympathy and inviting vicarious participation. Thus, Shakespeare’s merits can survive translation into other languages and into cultures remote from that of Elizabethan England.

Shakespeare the man

Life

Although the amount of factual knowledge available about Shakespeare is surprisingly large for one of his station in life, many find it a little disappointing, for it is mostly gleaned from documents of an official character. Dates of baptisms, marriages, deaths, and burials; wills, conveyances, legal processes, and payments by the court—these are the dusty details. There are, however, many contemporary allusions to him as a writer, and these add a reasonable amount of flesh and blood to the biographical skeleton.

Shakespeare Reading, oil on canvas by William Page, 1873-74; in the collection of the Smithsonian American Museum of Art, Washington, D.C. (William Shakespeare)

Shakespeare's birthplace

The parish register of Holy Trinity Church in Stratford-upon-Avon, Warwickshire, shows that he was baptized there on April 26, 1564; his birthday is traditionally celebrated on April 23. His father, John Shakespeare, was a burgess of the borough, who in 1565 was chosen an alderman and in 1568 bailiff (the position corresponding to mayor, before the grant of a further charter to Stratford in 1664). He was engaged in various kinds of trade and appears to have suffered some fluctuations in prosperity. His wife, Mary Arden, of Wilmcote, Warwickshire, came from an ancient family and was the heiress to some land. (Given the somewhat rigid social distinctions of the 16th century, this marriage must have been a step up the social scale for John Shakespeare.)

Stratford enjoyed a grammar school of good quality, and the education there was free, the schoolmaster’s salary being paid by the borough. No lists of the pupils who were at the school in the 16th century have survived, but it would be absurd to suppose the bailiff of the town did not send his son there. The boy’s education would consist mostly of Latin studies—learning to read, write, and speak the language fairly well and studying some of the Classical historians, moralists, and poets. Shakespeare did not go on to the university, and indeed it is unlikely that the scholarly round of logic, rhetoric, and other studies then followed there would have interested him.

Instead, at age 18 he married. Where and exactly when are not known, but the episcopal registry at Worcester preserves a bond dated November 28, 1582, and executed by two yeomen of Stratford, named Sandells and Richardson, as a security to the bishop for the issue of a license for the marriage of William Shakespeare and “Anne Hathaway of Stratford,” upon the consent of her friends and upon once asking of the banns. (Anne died in 1623, seven years after Shakespeare. There is good evidence to associate her with a family of Hathaways who inhabited a beautiful farmhouse, now much visited, 2 miles [3.2 km] from Stratford.) The next date of interest is found in the records of the Stratford church, where a daughter, named Susanna, born to William Shakespeare, was baptized on May 26, 1583. On February 2, 1585, twins were baptized, Hamnet and Judith. (Hamnet, Shakespeare’s only son, died 11 years later.)

How Shakespeare spent the next eight years or so, until his name begins to appear in London theatre records, is not known. There are stories—given currency long after his death—of stealing deer and getting into trouble with a local magnate, Sir Thomas Lucy of Charlecote, near Stratford; of earning his living as a schoolmaster in the country; of going to London and gaining entry to the world of theatre by minding the horses of theatregoers. It has also been conjectured that Shakespeare spent some time as a member of a great household and that he was a soldier, perhaps in the Low Countries. In lieu of external evidence, such extrapolations about Shakespeare’s life have often been made from the internal “evidence” of his writings. But this method is unsatisfactory: one cannot conclude, for example, from his allusions to the law that Shakespeare was a lawyer, for he was clearly a writer who without difficulty could get whatever knowledge he needed for the composition of his plays.

Career in the theatre of William Shakespeare

The first reference to Shakespeare in the literary world of London comes in 1592, when a fellow dramatist, Robert Greene, declared in a pamphlet written on his deathbed:

There is an upstart crow, beautified with our feathers, that with his Tygers heart wrapt in a Players hide supposes he is as well able to bombast out a blank verse as the best of you; and, being an absolute Johannes Factotum, is in his own conceit the only Shake-scene in a country.

What these words mean is difficult to determine, but clearly they are insulting, and clearly Shakespeare is the object of the sarcasms. When the book in which they appear (Greenes, groats-worth of witte, bought with a million of Repentance, 1592) was published after Greene’s death, a mutual acquaintance wrote a preface offering an apology to Shakespeare and testifying to his worth. This preface also indicates that Shakespeare was by then making important friends. For, although the puritanical city of London was generally hostile to the theatre, many of the nobility were good patrons of the drama and friends of the actors. Shakespeare seems to have attracted the attention of the young Henry Wriothesley, the 3rd earl of Southampton, and to this nobleman were dedicated his first published poems, Venus and Adonis and The Rape of Lucrece.

One striking piece of evidence that Shakespeare began to prosper early and tried to retrieve the family’s fortunes and establish its gentility is the fact that a coat of arms was granted to John Shakespeare in 1596. Rough drafts of this grant have been preserved in the College of Arms, London, though the final document, which must have been handed to the Shakespeares, has not survived. Almost certainly William himself took the initiative and paid the fees. The coat of arms appears on Shakespeare’s monument (constructed before 1623) in the Stratford church. Equally interesting as evidence of Shakespeare’s worldly success was his purchase in 1597 of New Place, a large house in Stratford, which he as a boy must have passed every day in walking to school.

Globe Theatre

How his career in the theatre began is unclear, but from roughly 1594 onward he was an important member of the Lord Chamberlain’s company of players (called the King’s Men after the accession of James I in 1603). They had the best actor, Richard Burbage; they had the best theatre, the Globe (finished by the autumn of 1599); they had the best dramatist, Shakespeare. It is no wonder that the company prospered. Shakespeare became a full-time professional man of his own theatre, sharing in a cooperative enterprise and intimately concerned with the financial success of the plays he wrote.

Unfortunately, written records give little indication of the way in which Shakespeare’s professional life molded his marvelous artistry. All that can be deduced is that for 20 years Shakespeare devoted himself assiduously to his art, writing more than a million words of poetic drama of the highest quality.

Private life

Shakespeare's house in Stratford-upon-Avon

Shakespeare had little contact with officialdom, apart from walking—dressed in the royal livery as a member of the King’s Men—at the coronation of King James I in 1604. He continued to look after his financial interests. He bought properties in London and in Stratford. In 1605 he purchased a share (about one-fifth) of the Stratford tithes—a fact that explains why he was eventually buried in the chancel of its parish church. For some time he lodged with a French Huguenot family called Mountjoy, who lived near St. Olave’s Church in Cripplegate, London. The records of a lawsuit in May 1612, resulting from a Mountjoy family quarrel, show Shakespeare as giving evidence in a genial way (though unable to remember certain important facts that would have decided the case) and as interesting himself generally in the family’s affairs.

No letters written by Shakespeare have survived, but a private letter to him happened to get caught up with some official transactions of the town of Stratford and so has been preserved in the borough archives. It was written by one Richard Quiney and addressed by him from the Bell Inn in Carter Lane, London, whither he had gone from Stratford on business. On one side of the paper is inscribed: “To my loving good friend and countryman, Mr. Wm. Shakespeare, deliver these.” Apparently Quiney thought his fellow Stratfordian a person to whom he could apply for the loan of £30—a large sum in Elizabethan times. Nothing further is known about the transaction, but, because so few opportunities of seeing into Shakespeare’s private life present themselves, this begging letter becomes a touching document. It is of some interest, moreover, that 18 years later Quiney’s son Thomas became the husband of Judith, Shakespeare’s second daughter.

Shakespeare’s will (made on March 25, 1616) is a long and detailed document. It entailed his quite ample property on the male heirs of his elder daughter, Susanna. (Both his daughters were then married, one to the aforementioned Thomas Quiney and the other to John Hall, a respected physician of Stratford.) As an afterthought, he bequeathed his “second-best bed” to his wife; no one can be certain what this notorious legacy means. The testator’s signatures to the will are apparently in a shaky hand. Perhaps Shakespeare was already ill. He died on April 23, 1616. No name was inscribed on his gravestone in the chancel of the parish church of Stratford-upon-Avon. Instead these lines, possibly his own, appeared:

Sexuality of William Shakespeare

Like so many circumstances of Shakespeare’s personal life, the question of his sexual nature is shrouded in uncertainty. At age 18, in 1582, he married Anne Hathaway, a woman who was eight years older than he. Their first child, Susanna, was born on May 26, 1583, about six months after the marriage ceremony. A license had been issued for the marriage on November 27, 1582, with only one reading (instead of the usual three) of the banns, or announcement of the intent to marry in order to give any party the opportunity to raise any potential legal objections. This procedure and the swift arrival of the couple’s first child suggest that the pregnancy was unplanned, as it was certainly premarital. The marriage thus appears to have been a “shotgun” wedding. Anne gave birth some 21 months after the arrival of Susanna to twins, named Hamnet and Judith, who were christened on February 2, 1585. Thereafter William and Anne had no more children. They remained married until his death in 1616.

Were they compatible, or did William prefer to live apart from Anne for most of this time? When he moved to London at some point between 1585 and 1592, he did not take his family with him. Divorce was nearly impossible in this era. Were there medical or other reasons for the absence of any more children? Was he present in Stratford when Hamnet, his only son, died in 1596 at age 11? He bought a fine house for his family in Stratford and acquired real estate in the vicinity. He was eventually buried in Holy Trinity Church in Stratford, where Anne joined him in 1623. He seems to have retired to Stratford from London about 1612. He had lived apart from his wife and children, except presumably for occasional visits in the course of a very busy professional life, for at least two decades. His bequeathing in his last will and testament of his “second best bed” to Anne, with no further mention of her name in that document, has suggested to many scholars that the marriage was a disappointment necessitated by an unplanned pregnancy.

What was Shakespeare’s love life like during those decades in London, apart from his family? Knowledge on this subject is uncertain at best. According to an entry dated March 13, 1602, in the commonplace book of a law student named John Manningham, Shakespeare had a brief affair after he happened to overhear a female citizen at a performance of Richard III making an assignation with Richard Burbage, the leading actor of the acting company to which Shakespeare also belonged. Taking advantage of having overheard their conversation, Shakespeare allegedly hastened to the place where the assignation had been arranged, was “entertained” by the woman, and was “at his game” when Burbage showed up. When a message was brought that “Richard the Third” had arrived, Shakespeare is supposed to have “caused return to be made that William the Conqueror was before Richard the Third. Shakespeare’s name William.” This diary entry of Manningham’s must be regarded with much skepticism, since it is verified by no other evidence and since it may simply speak to the timeless truth that actors are regarded as free spirits and bohemians. Indeed, the story was so amusing that it was retold, embellished, and printed in Thomas Likes’s A General View of the Stage (1759) well before Manningham’s diary was discovered. It does at least suggest, at any rate, that Manningham imagined it to be true that Shakespeare was heterosexual and not averse to an occasional infidelity to his marriage vows. The film Shakespeare in Love (1998) plays amusedly with this idea in its purely fictional presentation of Shakespeare’s torchy affair with a young woman named Viola De Lesseps, who was eager to become a player in a professional acting company and who inspired Shakespeare in his writing of Romeo and Juliet—indeed, giving him some of his best lines.

Apart from these intriguing circumstances, little evidence survives other than the poems and plays that Shakespeare wrote. Can anything be learned from them? The sonnets, written perhaps over an extended period from the early 1590s into the 1600s, chronicle a deeply loving relationship between the speaker of the sonnets and a well-born young man. At times the poet-speaker is greatly sustained and comforted by a love that seems reciprocal. More often, the relationship is one that is troubled by painful absences, by jealousies, by the poet’s perception that other writers are winning the young man’s affection, and finally by the deep unhappiness of an outright desertion in which the young man takes away from the poet-speaker the dark-haired beauty whose sexual favours the poet-speaker has enjoyed (though not without some revulsion at his own unbridled lust, as in Sonnet 129). This narrative would seem to posit heterosexual desire in the poet-speaker, even if of a troubled and guilty sort; but do the earlier sonnets suggest also a desire for the young man? The relationship is portrayed as indeed deeply emotional and dependent; the poet-speaker cannot live without his friend and that friend’s returning the love that the poet-speaker so ardently feels. Yet readers today cannot easily tell whether that love is aimed at physical completion. Indeed, Sonnet 20 seems to deny that possibility by insisting that Nature’s having equipped the friend with “one thing to my purpose nothing”—that is, a penis—means that physical sex must be regarded as solely in the province of the friend’s relationship with women: “But since she [Nature] pricked thee out for women’s pleasure, / Mine be thy love and thy love’s use their treasure.” The bawdy pun on “pricked” underscores the sexual meaning of the sonnet’s concluding couplet. Critic Joseph Pequigney has argued at length that the sonnets nonetheless do commemorate a consummated physical relationship between the poet-speaker and the friend, but most commentators have backed away from such a bold assertion.

A significant difficulty is that one cannot be sure that the sonnets are autobiographical. Shakespeare is such a masterful dramatist that one can easily imagine him creating such an intriguing story line as the basis for his sonnet sequence. Then, too, are the sonnets printed in the order that Shakespeare would have intended? He seems not to have been involved in their publication in 1609, long after most of them had been written. Even so, one can perhaps ask why such a story would have appealed to Shakespeare. Is there a level at which fantasy and dreamwork may be involved?

The plays and other poems lend themselves uncertainly to such speculation. Loving relationships between two men are sometimes portrayed as extraordinarily deep. Antonio in Twelfth Night protests to Sebastian that he needs to accompany Sebastian on his adventures even at great personal risk: “If you will not murder me for my love, let me be your servant” (Act II, scene 1, lines 33–34). That is to say, I will die if you leave me behind. Another Antonio, in The Merchant of Venice, risks his life for his loving friend Bassanio. Actors in today’s theatre regularly portray these relationships as homosexual, and indeed actors are often incredulous toward anyone who doubts that to be the case. In Troilus and Cressida, Patroclus is rumoured to be Achilles’ “masculine whore” (V, 1, line 17), as is suggested in Homer, and certainly the two are very close in friendship, though Patroclus does admonish Achilles to engage in battle by saying,

Again, on the modern stage this relationship is often portrayed as obviously, even flagrantly, sexual; but whether Shakespeare saw it as such, or the play valorizes homosexuality or bisexuality, is another matter.

A woman impudent and mannish grown

Certainly his plays contain many warmly positive depictions of heterosexuality, in the loves of Romeo and Juliet, Orlando and Rosalind, and Henry V and Katharine of France, among many others. At the same time, Shakespeare is astute in his representations of sexual ambiguity. Viola—in disguise as a young man, Cesario, in Twelfth Night—wins the love of Duke Orsino in such a delicate way that what appears to be the love between two men morphs into the heterosexual mating of Orsino and Viola. The ambiguity is reinforced by the audience’s knowledge that in Shakespeare’s theatre Viola/Cesario was portrayed by a boy actor of perhaps 16. All the cross-dressing situations in the comedies, involving Portia in The Merchant of Venice, Rosalind/Ganymede in As You Like It, Imogen in Cymbeline, and many others, playfully explore the uncertain boundaries between the genders. Rosalind’s male disguise name in As You Like It, Ganymede, is that of the cupbearer to Zeus with whom the god was enamoured; the ancient legends assume that Ganymede was Zeus’s catamite. Shakespeare is characteristically delicate on that score, but he does seem to delight in the frisson of sexual suggestion.

#entrepreneur #poems on tumblr #poetry #spilled thoughts #william shakespeare #shakespeare #bookish #books #literature

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mxsmwndr · 4 years

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Imagine...

You're the reason Ben's squad leader

The echo of a body thudding against a mat bounced off walls, followed by snickering.

"Next time--" Ringer teased.

Ben cut her off by wrapping his legs around her own. He pushed her back, and she fell with a sudden crash. Ben held in a laugh. Ringer groaned, and got up. She held her hands in front of her face, now in fists.

"Again," She said.

Ben sighed, and helped himself up to mirror Ringer's position.

Ringer brought her fist forward, but Ben blocked it with his fist. He brought his leg under Ringer's, and let gravity take its toll. Before he knew it, he was straddling Ringer's torso, with his forearm resting on her throat.

Ringer chuckled at Ben. "Where'd you learn to fight like that?" She asked. Ben got off, and helped his friend up. Like you would.

"A friend," He said. He didn't want to say much. He didn't want to tell her it was you that taught him to fight. He didn't want to tell her that you were the reason he was so kind to Nugget and the other little ones. That you were the reason he was squad leader.

Ben tore his gaze from Ringers', who took it as a hint that this 'friend' was a touchy topic. She pushed him onward, though. She needed to know more.

"They died," Ringer said. She meant it as a question, but it came out as a statement. Like usual.

Ben visibly flinched, and reluctantly nodded his head to confirm Ringer's guess.

"You guys must have been pretty tight, then." Ringer added. Once again, Ben nodded. He didn't know what to say.

He didn't want to speak.

"Do you miss them?"

Ben looked up to Ringer, "With all of my heart," he eventually said. It was true. And yet, Ben felt guilty for your death. He felt like those five words were an understatement, and that he'd never be able to express his grief towards you.

Ringer forced a smile, an attempt to brighten the mood, and found a spot on the mat below her. "Tell me more," She said, patting her hand down. Ben looked to her, his dark eyebrows furrowed, but took his spot across from Ringer.

"They... they meant the world," Ben said. His voice cracked with the last word. Ben cleared his throat, and tried again. "They..." He laughed. "I loved them. So, so much. More than you could believe, but..."

"But the waves got them," Ringer guessed. Ben pressed his lips together and pushed his tongue against the roof of his mouth--something you used to do to stop yourself from crying.

"Yeah," He forced. "The waves..."

#ben parish fanfic #ben parish #ben #ben parish x reader #ringer #zombie #zombie x reader #the 5th wave x reader #the 5th wave fanfic #the 5th wave #ben parish imagine #the 5th wave imagine #zombie imagine

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petertingle-yipyip · 6 years

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2018 Prompt Series

Prompt 25: Peter Parker Prompt 24: Stiles Stilinski Prompt 23: Brett Talbot Prompt 22: Klaus Mikaelson Prompt 21: Stiles Stilinski Prompt 20: Kol Mikaelson Prompt 19: Brett Talbot Prompt 18: Peter Parker Prompt 17: Peter Parker Prompt 16: Kol Mikaelson Prompt 15: Scott McCall Prompt 14: Brett Talbot Prompt 13: Ben Parish Prompt 12: Stiles Stilinski Prompt 11: Klaus Mikaelson Prompt 10: Kai Parker Prompt 9: Theo Raeken Prompt 8: Peter Parker Prompt 7: Liam Dunbar Prompt 6: Stiles Stilinski Prompt 5: Kol Mikaelson Prompt 4: Ben Parish Prompt 3: Klaus Mikaelson Prompt 2: Kol Mikaelson Prompt 1: Stefan Salvatore

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ohmylanes · 6 years

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Interview ( A Nick Robinson Imagine)

“Here I am with the beautiful Y/N how are you today?” The interviewer asked. “I’m great thank you for having me. How are you?” I asked smiling her. “I’m doing great. This is your first Teen Choice Awards right? And your nominated for 5 awards that’s pretty impressive. I feel like a proud mom.” She said making me laugh.

“Yes this is my first one and i’m so excited this is a dream come true. I’ve been watching these awards since I was a kid and I would always pretend I was here winning and giving speeches. I am so blessed to have such amazing fans i’d be nowhere without them. And thank you you’re so sweet.” I told her happily.

“You’re so cute. You also have a new movie coming out while filming your new season of your show can you tell us anything about it?” She asked nudging me and winking. “I do have a new movie coming out sometime in May they have not chosen a day yet. It’s actually really good and i’m sorry I can’t say anything about the movie.” I told her pouting trying not to reveal too much.

“It’s looks really good from what i’ve seen from the trailer. You and Zac Efron look pretty close.” She said winking at me. There it is another guy I am dating. “Not at all he’s a great friend of mine and we have been working extremely hard on the movie and that’s all.” I told her.

Everytime I talk to any guy i’m automatically linked to dating them. The only one I actually have a thing for is Nick Robinson. We’ve been talking for a couple of months through social media and facetime.

“Speaking of close I’ve been told you and Nick Robinson are close. Him or Zac Y/N?” She said making me uncomfortable. God when is this interview going to be over I kept thinking.

“Hello ladies.” I heard his voice causing me to look up. There he is looking beautiful. This is the first time i’ve seen him in person since we’ve been talking. Because of our busy schedules with our movies and my show we have not been able to meet.

“Nick we were actually just talking about you.” The interviewer said making me embarassed. “Only nice things I hope.” He said looking at me and smiling.

“How are you Y/N it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” He said hugging me then letting go. I don’t know how my heart didn’t rip out of my chest from how close we just were. “I know finally who would’ve thought we’d meet on an interview.” I told him composing myself trying to seem human.

“Well that’s all I have for you two. I’ll leeave you two love birds to get caught up.” She said walking away making me let out a breath of release. Well thank god for that.

“You’re welcome for that. I saw how she was making you uncomfortable and came over.” He told me making me shoot my head up again. Oh god I hope he didn’t hear all of that. “Thank you.” I told him embarrassed.

“Want to get dinner after the show?” He asked me nervously. “Yes of course.” I told him quickly. “Okay we’ll meet right here.” He told me before walking away. Smooth Y/N.

By the end of the show I won all the awards I was nominated for and so did Nick. I was standing where we were before and couldn’t find him. He’s so tall it shouldn’t be that hard to find him. That’s when i felt someone come up from behind me and scared me.

“Are you kidding me you’re such a loser.” I said hitting him making him laugh. I shook my head at him and he took my hand and started walking towards an uber. He did not let my hand go the entire car ride.

Once we got to the restaurant and we were seated he started talking. “So who would you choose? Me or Zac?” He asked smirking. Great so he did hear the interview.

“Zac definitely.” I answered and winked at him. “Wow i’m hurt here I was thinking maybe I had a chance with you.” He said pretending to be hurt putting his hand on his heart causing causing me to laugh. If only you knew I thought.

He looked at me seriously and then started talking. “Y/N I actually do really like you. I’m sorry if this is going to ruin our friendship but seeing you in person makes me realize how much I like you even more. I’m no Zac Efron but I really wish you’d give me a chance.” He said itching the back of his neck nervously. I leaned over and kissed him to shut him up. “First off I like you a lot and you are way better than Zac.” I told him kissing him again.

Who knew that awful interview would turn into something amazing. Thank you Teen Choise Awards.

———

i know this is shit this is my first imagine and i love nick so why not do him. thank you for reading and if you have a request send it in :)

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mxltifandom-imagines · 6 years

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Ben: “You know, I like you actually. You’re very optimistic and you actually keep me sane. You keep my mind from going mad.” You: “I like you too. You’re a real leader. I’m glad we were in the same bus and now in the same squad.” Ben: “I’m gonna keep you safe, alright. We’re gonna get through this together. Us and the others in the group. We’re gonna survive this.”

requested by anon.

#nick robinson #ben parish #ben parish imagine #ben parish imagines #ben imagine #ben imagines #ben #parish #the 5th wave #the fifth wave #the 5th wave imagine

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imaginesjustforfun · 7 years

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I’ll make your dreams come true (smut)

Please give me feedback on this! it’s my second smut ever and i don’t know what to think about it.

Warnings : smut, oral (both receiving)

2090 words

« Please » you moaned, squirming around the bed, « Please ». He was teasing you, barely touching you, wanting to turn you into a writhing mess. « What do you want from me? » he asked, his voice deep and raspy. « Ben I want you, please » You whined and he chuckled, his hands sliding up your thighs, stopping when he reached the hem of your tight shorts. He tugged them down along your panties. He spread your legs and his face got closer and closer to where you needed him the most-

A hand lightly shaking your shoulder woke you up. Your eyes met Ben’s and you cursed under your breath. Hopefully you didn’t moan out loud.

« Hey, you okay? » He asked with a hint of concern in his eyes.

« Um yeah, I’m… um… good » you muttered, trying to focus on his eyes so your eyes wouldn’t drift down to his toned arms and chest. « What’s up? », you tried to play it off as if you weren’t moaning his name in your sleep a minute ago.

« I don’t know, you were tossing around and-»

« I guess I was having a nightmare » you nervously chuckled and you saw a flash of realization in his eyes. You were fucked.

« Do you moan a lot in your nightmares? » he smirked, crossing his arms on your bed and placing his head on his folded arms, watching you intensely.

You guys shared a bunk bed, you were sleeping in the one at the top and he slept under you, so of course he heard everything.

« I don’t know what you’re talking about » you nervously chuckled as his fingers running up and down your arms.

« Don’t you? » he raised an eyebrow and you shook your head. « Maybe you don’t remember the part where you moaned my name then? » he asked in a smirk and you blushed instantly.

« I don’t- I didn’t… » you stuttered but he cut you. « Don’t lie to me, how about you tell me what I was doing to you instead? » he tilted his head to the side, his face getting closer to yours. « Come on, don’t be shy. Who knows, I could make your dreams come true », he whispered and you let out an almost inaudible moan.

« You were about to go down on me » you mumbled quickly under your breath.

« What was that? » he asked with a cocky smile, he heard you very well but he still wanted you to say it again.

« You were about to go down on me » you repeated, a little louder.

« If that’s what you wanted, why not just ask? » he said, walking to the end of the bed and yanking you by the ankles so your legs would be dangling off the bed. His face was on your thighs’ level and his hands slowly went up to take your pajama shorts off. “I’ll make your dreams come true". He kissed your inner thighs, one after the other, slowly going up to your panties. You let out a moan but he hushed you, remembering you that you weren’t alone in the room, but sharing it with yours and Ben’s squad, which meant ten other people were sleeping around you peacefully, and the high risk of being caught just made you even more aroused.

« Please », you muttered in a moan, and he quickly ripped your panties off, pulling your thighs so your core would meet his mouth. You slapped your hand on your mouth to muffle your moans as his lips met your heat, his tongue slipping between your folds to spread your arousal. His hands pinned your hips down to stop you from writhing around as his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking on it as his tongue flicked at the swollen nub. Your squirmed around at every soft flick of his tongue, his grip on your hips tightening to keep you steady.

His mouth left your clit, his tongue circling your entrance before he pushed it in. Your back arched and your hands flew to his hair, trying to make him go deeper. His tongue brushed your sensitive walls and you squealed, his mouth quickly leaving your core, making you feel empty.

« You need to be quiet, or I’ll stop » he warned and you mumbled a quick « yes ».

He gripped your thighs again but instead of using his tongue, he shoved two fingers into you and you had to put the pillow over your face to keep yourself from moaning out too loudly.

He pumped his fingers at a fast pace and his lips wrapped around your clit for a second time, sucking harshly. Your legs clamped shut around his head but he used his free hand to open them again. His fingers curled inside of you, brushing against your walls and prodding your g-spot continuously.

Ben grinned against your clit, his fingers speeding up, shoving them in until he was knuckles deep. « You like that? » You squealed in response, Ben chuckling. His breath hit your clit, causing you to shake violently. « You should cum for me then. » He sucked on your clit again, his tongue writing his name on your nub. You were losing all motor functions, your body shaking heavily. « Come on. Cum for me baby ». It’s all it took for you to let out a filthy moan and come all over his fingers, his tongue cleaning up the mess you’ve made.

« Oh my god » you sighed as you came down from your earth shattering high as his hands were rubbing your inner thighs in a soothing motion, but it just made you even more aroused. You needed him.

You sat up and got your panties back on, jumping off your bed and landing on your feet in front of him. As soon as you faced him he gripped your hips and yanked you toward him, your body crashing on his. Your lips collided with great force, the kiss full of need and lust. He bit your lower lip and you moaned, and he slipped his tongue between your parted lips. He hoisted you up and you wrapped your legs around his hips, arms wrapped tightly around his neck as he started walking towards the bathroom without breaking the kiss. He stopped next to his bed to grab something in his bag before walking to the bathroom you shared with the other members of your squads.

He let you reach the floor and interrupted the kiss to take off his shirt while you yanked his sweatpants off his legs and he kicked them off his feet. You could see his hardened length creating a bulge in his boxers, begging to be set free.

You dropped on your knees in front of him, his jaw clenching in realization of what was to come. You looked up at him innocently, your finger pulling at the hem of the boxers and let them snap back against his hot skin. He hissed in pleasure, his hand going to caress your face. You caught his thumb between your lips and you swirled your tongue around it, his hand gripping your jaw. You sucked on his thumb for a few seconds before he retreated his hand.

« How about you show me the full potential of that pretty little mouth of yours huh? » he groaned and you nodded before sliding his boxers down his legs. His hard length slapped his stomach, and you gripped him in your hands, pumping slowly. Your mouth met his tip, tongue slipping out to collect the precum that was already leaking from his slit. You wrapped your lips around his swollen tip and sucked on it harshly before letting it go with a “pop” to run your tongue on the vein of the underside of his cock. You took him back in your mouth, going deeper this time. Once he tapped the back of your throat you hollowed your cheeks and started bobbing your head up and down.

Ben was letting out the sexiest moans, and you clamped your legs shut to try to relieve the pressure that was rising in your core. His hands went to your hair, creating a ponytail. He pushed your head so you could take him a little deeper, and with his hands he set the pace, a bit rougher and faster than the pace you were going at.

With a particularly rough thrust, he triggered your gag reflex and the tightening of your throat made him groan loudly, thrusting again and again until his cock twitched and his salty release shot to the back of your throat.

You kept sucking until his length was too sensitive before getting back up and pecking his lips. He cupped your cheeks and deepened the kiss, the lust quickly coming back as you felt him harden again against your hip.

He tapped the back of your thighs and you jumped, wrapping your legs around his waist once more. He slammed your back against a wall, slipping your panties to the side. He swiped a finger between your folds, noticing how wet you were.

« All for me? » he asked and you nodded and whined. « Such a good girl, so needy and desperate. I got you off once, wasn’t it enough? »

He grabbed a condom that was on the counter nearby, probably what he grabbed in his bag earlier, and rolled it on his thick length.

« Please, Ben please » you threw your head back. « I want you ». As soon as the three words escaped your lips, he entered you with one deep thrust, filling you to the hilt. He clamped a hand on your mouth to keep you from moaning out loud as he set a fast pace. His hand slid from your mouth to your throat, and tightened a little. « I want you to be quiet, can you be quiet for me? » he asked against your lips, eyes staring deep into yours. You nodded quickly before crashing your lips on his and he started thrusting again.

You choked on your own moans, letting out quiet whines. Your noises turned him on, urging him to an ever faster speed: he was now basically pounding you into the wall, the hand around your throat constricting your airflow.

A cry escaped your lips as he hit your g-spot, smirking as soon as he heard you. Ben’s grip tightened around your ass, his pace quickening and the tip of his cock hitting your sweet spot at every thrust. The pain of your back being rubbed raw against the wall was quickly forgotten as your high approached, your vision filling with white dots.

« I can feel you clenching around me » he groaned. « You like that? Are you gonna come? » he continued and all you could do was whine in response. One particularly deep thrust had you coming all over his length, your walls clenching around his tightly, making him moan and come into the condom. He kept thrusting lazily for a few, riding off your highs, until you were both too sensitive to keep going.

He let your feet reach the floor, holding you by the waist to keep you steady as your legs wobbled, threatening to buckle under you.

He helped you put your clothes back on and carried you to bed.

« Who would’ve thought Ben Parish was so rough in bed! »

« Ben Parish is dead » he simply replied, lifting you up to your bed and helping you get under the covers. He was about to go back to his own bed to sleep for the little bit of time you have left before training, but you grabbed his face and pulled him close to yours.

« Well I like the new you a lot » you grinned, before pecking him on the lips and letting him go, turning around to face the opposite side. He chuckled and got into bed. After a few minutes of silence, the light snores of our squad members filling the room, he spoke. « Now that I fucked you so hard that you can’t walk, maybe tomorrow I’ll be able to finally kick your ass at training » he chuckled and you laughed, almost too loudly.

« Shut the fuck up »

#smut #nick robinson #nick robinson imagines #nick robinson smut #fanfic #fiction #imagine #ben parish #ben parish imagine #ben parish imagines #ben parish smut

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adorkablepeter · 7 years

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Summary:

Y/N, the unpopular girl, gets Ben as her partner for an Biology assignment. She is annoyed because of his flirting but can’t help but falling for him.

Words: ~ 1800

Y/N: This one is about Ben Parish/Zombie from the 5th Wave. I wrote it month ago... I hope you like it!

×××

It was actually a quite normal day until Biology class. That’s exactly where my day turned into the worst day of my life. Don’t get me wrong. I love biology. Yeah, I’m kind of the nerd in school but I’m fine with that. I like being alone. Especially in school, where I’m surrounded by jerks. I just don’t like the people of my generation. They are so…

Okay, I’m drifting off. Back to the topic. The whole lesson was fine until the end. My biology teacher came up with the great *cough* idea to do partner assignments… “So, each of you will get a partner and then you will hand me the finished project the week after next.”, while Mr. Easten started to talk, I looked around in the classroom. Who would be the less worst partner…?

“Y/N, you will work with…”, I looked up as my teacher called out my name. “Ben.” What? I mean what? Why did he have to pair me up with the worst while I was hoping for the less worst. Fucking irony…

“Since you both are the best in class you will take the explanation of the process of how energy is transformed into muscular movement.”, Mr. Easten continued and I felt eyes staring at me. Without looking I knew those eyes belonged to the jealous girls that would pay for a partner assignment with Ben Parish.

I couldn’t blame them, he’s indeed the most handsome… Wait. Stop. No, I totally blame them. He’s not handsome, he’s annoying.

Mr Easten was interrupted by the bells and I quickly shoved my things in my bag pack. Several minutes later I stood at my locker, when Ben Parish appeared next to me, leaning against the lockers and giving me his famous smile.

“I won’t do all the work, Parish.”, I said, as I turned to face him. “So forget that smile. It won’t work on me.” My expression was calm while he tilted his head. He doesn’t look cute at all when he tilts his head… “You sure?”, he wanted to know. He bit his lower lip, looking really… trying to look irresistible. “Yeah, I am.”, I replied firmly, concentrating not to get lost in his eyes. Wow, am I this weak?

“Okay. Oh, and trust me, I don’t want you to do all the work. We don’t want you to hurt yourself and I want to get a good grade.”, he said perking his eyebrows up. “Me, too, asshole.”, I responded, smiling sweetly. “I thought you were the innocent, quite girl.”, he stated after rolling his eyes. “Hmm. Surprise.”, I closed my locker, wanting to go away but he grabbed my arm. His hand was warm against my cold skin and his warmth spread from my lower arm through my body. I looked at his hand for a second before I broke free from his grib.

“What?” “So you’re coming over today?”, he questioned not really amused to say that to me. “Oh, I forgot that I still have to spend time with you after this horrible conversation.”, I smiled -again- and he rolled his eyes -again. Smiling after a sarcastic comment seemed to annoy him. I like that.

Hours later I stood on his porch, knocking twice on the door, before a woman opened the door and smiled. “You must be Y/N. Ben told me a lot about you.” I was slightly confused about her comment. “Maybe you mistake me. I’m just his project partner.”, I explained, as she let me in and leaded me to Ben’s room. “Yes, I know. He might be still in the shower, but he should be ready pretty soon.”

I entered his room, after smiling at his mother as a response, and sat down on the chair next to the desk. I started to read the text concerning our topic to pass the time before Ben entered his room.

“You changed your clothes.”, he mentioned, pacing though his room to let himself fall onto the bed. “You, too. But is it worth to talk about?”, I asked rolling my eyes. “It is. You look great in this shirt.”, he grinned. Did he really think that… Wait. I don’t care what he thinks about me. “Shut up. I don’t wanna waste to much time. Let’s start.”

“Okay, you wanna sit next to me?”, he wanted to know, patting next to him on the bed. “You serious?”, I laughed. “I don’t know what has already happened there.” “Oh, sometimes…” “Did I say anything like ‘Please, tell me!’?”, I interrupted, perking my eyebrows up. “We can sit on the floor.”, he suggested and I sighed an ‘okay’, before sitting next to him on the carpet.

The next two hours were surprisingly okay. None of his grinning, well, not a lot of his grinning. No flirty comments. We were concentrated on our work and explained each other if the other had problems. But since we didn’t finish it that day we decided to meet when we both had a free period.

The next day I was sitting at my usual seat at lunch, when Ben was heading to me. He greeted me and sat down in front of me. “Hey, ehm, I’m kinda exhausted from last period. Is it possible that we work later?”, I asked him, backing my head on my arm. “Yeah, sure.”, he nodded and took his lunch out of his bagpack. “What are you doing?”, I wanted to know and gave him a confused look. “Do I need permission to spend my time with you?”, he smiled at me, taking a bite of his sandwich. What the hell? I looked around searching for anything. I didn’t know. Was he trying to embarras me, or…?

His soft laugher brought me back to reality. “Uh, no, you don’t. But why exactly are you doing this?”, I questioned, still looking very confused. He let out a laugh again. “Because I like you and you’re much more interesting than the people I’m sitting with.”, he said as if it was the most normal thing to say to the nerdy girl of the school.

“You mean, your friends.”, I avoided his compliments because I didn’t know yet if he was serious or this was a prank. “I just have people around me. I wouldn’t define them as friends. So, I don’t have friends.”, he explained and I nodded. “Neither do I.”

“We could be friends.”, he suggested, smiling his famous smile again. Irresistible again… “Maybe.”, I bit my lower lip, trying to hide my oncoming smile. But he probably saw the excitement in my eyes, as he leaned in and laughed again.

The following week we spent many free periods together and I even sat with him and his non-friends at lunch despite I wasn’t a fan of company. Most of the time we were discussing over our project, but in a friendly way. Okay, we were fighting all the time.

The problem was not the fighting, but that all the fights contained him leaning in, staring down at me firmly and our faces only inches apart.

So, our friendship developed into one these friendships with the you-are-so-in-love comments.

But we were not in love! Well, I was certainly not in love with him. Yeah, hmm. But hey! How should I resist his everything-he-is-doing? And here comes the other problem: Since he’s the most gorgeous boy in school, and probably on earth, falling in love with him was pretty painful and hopeless.

The day we finished our project, we met at his house and worked long after the sun set. Ben insisted to bring me home not without a flirty comment but I was okay with it. I mean I just didn’t want to go alone that far by night.

When reached the front door, after going through the yard, I turned around to thank him. And that, was the exact moment when Ben Parish gently crashed his lips onto mine.

I froze while his warm lips embraced mine and I pushed him away from me, slightly, still not being able to think properly.

“You just stole my first kiss, asshole.” were the first words that left my mouth. He just looked to the ground and started to grin and then looked up to me again. Directly into my eyes. “I’m sorry, ehm, but when I told you that I liked you, I was serious. And I…. I still mean it, you know. And, uh, this might sound a bit weird but in our discussions I always brought my head towards you to-”

“To make me go crazy, like you do with all the girls.”, I interrupted, because I actually thought at this moment that I could finish this sentence correctly. “No! God… no. I just… listen, I wanted to kiss you everytime, okay?! And I hoped I would if I-”

I interrupted him again but this time not with words. I tugged him down by the collar of his sweater and kissed him. He hummed and then kissed me back slowly, before his hands found their way to my hips. It felt like my whole body was tickling and I tried to concentrate on not doing something wrong.

He wrapped his arms around me before breaking the kiss, holding me near him. “This was not bad at all.”, he chuckled into my ear. “You don’t need to lie to make me feel better.”, I said, pressing my cheeks against his shoulder. “You’re right.”, he mumbled, loosening the hug, “Maybe we need to improve your kissing.”

He grinned and took my face in his hands, warming me up again. And there were maybe a couple of millimeters between our lips, as my dad interrupted us by opening the door. “Hi, Dad, uhm, Ben was just leaving.”, I said awkwardly, going into the house.

“I bet he is.”, he glared at Ben, who was obviously intimidated by my father. I restrained a smile as I watched this scenario. “Oh, yes, I am, sir. Uh, see you tomorrow, Y/N.”, Ben mumbled, before leaving quickly.

As soon as door was closed, my father chuckled. “Finally, I can play the wicked but protective father.” I let out a laugh while took off my shoes. “Congrats, dad.”, I cheered, but rolled my eyes then. “And thanks for the totally unawkward interruption.” “Anytime, my dear.”, he shouted after me as I ran up the stairs into my room.

I got a text from Ben the moment I closed the door. ‘Will your dad kill me if you were my girlfriend?’

“Only if our project won’t be lower than B+’

‘So, you will be my girlfriend if we get an A?’

‘Maybe.’

#ben parish #the 5th wave #the fifth wave #the 5th wave zombie #the 5th wave ben parish #ben parish imagine #nick robinson #nick robinson imagine #nick robinson x reader #nick robinson gif #nick robinson oneshot #nick robinson fanfiction

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thranduilsperkybutt · 7 years

Photo

Gif source: Here

Imagine Ben Parish and Evan Walker both trying to win your affection.

--------- Request for anon ---------

“Hey,” Ben stops Evan from following you as you walk away, “give her some space.”

Evan frowns, glancing from Ben to where you continued walking until you were further from the group than he liked, “She shouldn’t be alone.” They both watch as you sit down on the dirt, pulling your knees up as you let your head fall into your hands. You were obviously worried about your family, and weren’t taking the unknown well.

Ben shakes his head, “Actually, I think that’s exactly what she needs right now. We can keep an eye on her from here.”

Evan looks at Ben, “I don’t think it takes the both of us to keep an eye on her.”

#the 5th wave imagine #imagines by me #gif not mine #ben parish imagine #evan walker imagine #the fifth wave imagine

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mxsmwndr · 4 years

Text

꓄ꃬꏂ 5꓄ꃬ ꅐꋬ꒦ꏂ ꂵꋬꑄ꓄ꏂꋪ꒒꒐ꑄ꓄

Most of this is Ben, but who can blame me? Requests are open for all characters!! Enjoy though!

MASTERLIST

“ means fan favorite

‘ means personal favorite

! means possible trigger warning

* means request

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

D R A B B L E S / I M A G I N E S

Imagine you're the reason Ben's squad leader

O N E - S H O T S

Pillow Fights Solve Everything - You and Ben are secretly dating, but neither of you are good at keeping secrets. (Ben Parish x Reader)

#the 5th wave imagine #the 5th wave x reader #the 5th wave fanfic #the 5th wave #ben parish imagine #ben parish fanfic #ben parish #ben parish x reader #zombie #ringer #nugget #tea cup

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pandaexpress-tae · 7 years

Text

I’ve waited a long time for this

Pairing: Nick Robinson x Reader (Bookstore!AU)

Warning: Fluff, angst (kinda) and me just being a sucker for Nick Robinson

A/N: so this wasn't requested but I wrote this for my english essay and my teacher enjoyed it so I thought "Priyanka just go out on a limb here with your teacher with a stone cold heart and hope they like it." I promise to get my requests out as soon as possible, everything is just unfinished requests.

I waited my whole life for this day. No movie, book or "pep-talk" could prepare me for this moment. As I stand in front of my mirror and get ready for this special day. Every moment we ever shared plays like a never ending black and white 80s movie in my mind.

The first day we met was unexpected. If God had sent me a message saying that I was going to meet my soulmate today I would have most probably laughed in his face and told him to tell me another joke. Nothing could have prepared me for the day we met, just like today. I felt as though I was having the worst day of my mundane life. As if the gods above decided when they woke up "oh y/n has been having a good few days, lets make her feel like shit today." Firstly my hair curler broke, some dumbass (my roommate who I adore) used the last of my anti-frizz conditioner, my dog, Athena, peed on my favourite shoes, someone (*cough* roommate *cough*) finished my cereal and you know what? To top it all off, there was NO COFFEE! So I basically looked like one of those witches from a Ronald Dahl novel.

I came to the conclusion that the world was against me today, so I decided to ride my bicycle to my favourite bookstore, my safe haven, and just get lost in another world. That's when I met him, well actually collided into him when I got the heavenly scent of fresh coffee. I apologized without giving him a second glance and continued my trek to my one true love, iced coffee. I had my iced coffee and found a really good book to purchase after what felt like forever. I was on my way to the cashier desk, and there he was again, behind the desk looking like a Greek god, sculptured to perfection, and I was convinced from all my reading that he was not human. As I approached him and gave him my book, he smiled at me and oh if only smiles could bring world peace… I guess I was too distracted by him that I failed to notice him write his name and number in my book.

Nick (bookstore guy)

079 352 5866

Pls call me, I want to see you again xx

The first night Nick visited me was the most unforgettable night of my life. As I sat and studied the play Hamlet, I noticed things being thrown at my window. I grabbed my baseball bat in fear that someone was trying to break in (thank you Stiles Stilinski), but when I opened my balcony door, my balcony was filled with socks! As I looked down, there he was, my Romeo.

"Nick what on Earth are you doing?" you asked him whisper shouting so that you wouldn't wake your parents.

"I'm throwing socks at your window at midnight because rocks would break it and I can't pay for that." He said casually and then skillfully climbed a nearby tree with pizza and decided that we were going to star gaze and eat pizza at midnight.

You couldn't help but have a wide smile grace your face as you watched him, thinking how lucky you were to have been having that horrible day the day you met him.

Our first fight was like one straight out of a movie and happened 6 and a half months after we started dating. The difference was that we didn't make up like couples in movies, we didn't run into each others arms and apologize or have make up sex. The day it happened I decided to visit him at the bookstore before my next lecture. As I walked in his co-worker notified me that he was around the back, knowing from my many visits that I was here to see Nick. What I saw when I got to the back was not something one expects to see from their partner. When I saw him, a smile graced my face but that same smile vanished as fast as it appeared. There was the man that I loved with another girl's hands all over his body and he was doing nothing to stop her. I couldn't move my feet and my lips seemed to have been glued together. That was until he laid his beautiful brown eyes on me and suddenly the ground was done holding me hostage and I ran. I heard him calling out for me but I didn't stop running, I didn't turn around, I didn't attend my lecture. I ran straight to my apartment thanking god my roommate wasn't home yet. You remember all those times your parents would shout at you and you would cry and after a while you would still be crying but it wasn't for whatever they were shouting at you for, it was just you letting out all these other emotions you've contained as well. Well yeah, that's what was happening to me right now and it fucking sucked.

It wasn't long until I heard my phone ring and then when that stopped the landline rang and stopped after 9 calls. I had been pathetically sobbing now for a good 2 hours when I heard the knocking at my door and his voice begging me to open the door so he could explain himself, more like give me some bullshit lie he had enough time to formulate. You lost track of how long Nick had been knocking at your door and apologizing until it all went quiet. Not too long after the silence did your roommate come home.

"honey I'm hooommme! Firstly question, why is Nick sitting outside our door looking worse than Leo DeCap in Titanic when he was dying? And secondly, he's just letting himself in although I'm getting the feeling you didn't want him here so sorry. And thirdly, I feel like shits about to go down so I'll be in my room, oh and let me know if you're gonna kill him so I can leave because I kinda don't wanna be a witness. Kay bye! May the big G have mercy on your soul for whatever you did Nick" y/r/n said hurriedly excusing herself before all hell broke loose.

As soon as you walked out of your room Nick rushed to you apologizing before you could even get the chance to tell him to leave.

"baby I'm so sorry. I promise it wasn't what it looked like. Nothing happened, she was coming onto me, I didn't do anything."

You chuckled sarcastically, "that's exactly the problem here Nick, you could see that she was flirting with you and coming onto you and yet you did nothing!" you said, your voice rising at the end. Confronting him made you want to cry even more, which surprised you considering you didn't think you had anymore tears to shed over him.

"baby, y/n please, if I knew she was flirting I would have stopped it, I genuinely thought she was being friendly."

The way your name slipped off his lips gave you butterflies but you stopped the feeling knowing that this was not the time for that.

"Nick don't be so foolish please, she was undressing you with her eyes. Who knows what would have happened if I had not come to the store, would you have let her kiss you? Would you have kissed back? Would you have done more than just that? Nick I love you with my whole being and to have seen that showed me how easy it is for you to just push me to the back of your mind and be unfaithful"

"No no no no I love you more than the Moon loves the Sun, baby you have to believe me. I'm not gonna let you give up on us because of this, because of my stupidity and blindness. Baby I'll make it up to you, it'll never happen again." Nick pleaded coming to stand a few inches away from you, placing his hand on your cheek and you instinctively leaning into his touch.

"Nick you need to leave please, I may be blowing this out of proportion but I just need some time to think everything over between us." You said just above a whisper, pulling away from his touch, your tears threatening to run down your cheeks and have him wipe them away like he has many times before.

"I-I, okay." he stammered wanting to say more but then sighing respecting your decision, appreciative that you weren't ending things.

"I love you, don't ever forget that or question it." Nick said coming to you kissing your temple.

"Goodnight Nick. Uh- just text me when you get home so I know you're safe okay?" you could see the hurt in his eyes when you didn't say you loved him back, but as much as you wanted to say those words back to him, you just couldn't do it. With a nod of his head, he left taking a part of you with him.

You were a mess, you hadn't spoken to him for 10 days. You hated yourself knowing it was you who told him to give you time. You saw him whenever you went to the bookstore, always making eye contact and wanting nothing more than to run into his arms, kiss him and tell him you forgive him.

y/r/n had enough of you moping around the apartment that day and decided it was up to her to fix things. She had texted Nick telling him to come over for dinner and that you were okay with him being there. Lets just say that when you opened the door and saw him standing there, you felt like it was the first time you met again. You let him in rushing into y/r/n's room.

"what the hell is Nick doing here?" you asked her whisper shouting

"I'm done seeing you mope around and having him text me everyday asking about you sooo you two are going to sit in this apartment, eat dinner and fix your shit because you still love him that’s not gonna change and I know if you end things with him you're gonna feel even worse than you have for the past week and a half." y/r/n said calmly. You had to admit that she was right so you agreed walking out of her room informing Nick that it was just gonna be you and him for dinner. Everything was silent except the sound of cutlery on the plate, until you decided to speak.

And the rest was history…

Now here you stand, 4 years later behind closed doors in a white gown with a bouquet in your hands waiting to marry this stranger, who became your best friend, your partner, your soulmate…

#nick robinson #nick robinson x reader #nick robinson imagine #olly bright #ryder scanlon #everything everything #melissa and joey #zach mitchell #jurassic world #ben parish #5th wave #kings of summer #love simon #simon spier

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