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tutselutse · 11 months

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A goodbye - Colin/Deli

(oops i wrote a thing) _____________________

”So, you’re renouncing your title?”

Deli’s question cuts through the silence. They’re sitting outside, it’s barely morning, and the Bulb hasn’t even begun to peak over the horizon.

Colin looks up at his companion. Deli’s gaze is curious. “Yeah. I don’t want it. I never wanted it, really. But even less now.”

“What are you going to do?” Deli asks.

“I am going to find all of them and make sure they don’t try anything like this again.” Colin says. Them meaning the Sanctus Putris of course. Colin can feel it in his bones, he can’t rest until he knows they won’t come back, until they are no more.

Deli is silent. Contemplating. He hasn’t been the same since Saprophus, since Karna, and now he looks even more thoughtful. “I am going back to the Meat Lands.”

“I thought you might,” Colin says. He wants to ask Deli to come with him on his quest. But Deli isn’t filled with purpose anymore. He probably needs a break from having a purpose to heal from it all. So, Colin doesn’t ask. Better to save himself from the heartbreak of hearing no.

They fall silent again. Neither of them has been sleeping well, so they have been spending these early hours together the past few mornings.

It’s not like when they first met. When Deli, young and excited, hired Colin and brought him along to everything. Eager to learn, eager to be taken seriously. Colin had taken the job, not knowing how much he would grow to care for his younger employer, and how much they would begin to rely on each other. He had been promoted to skáld and had watched in awe on the side as Deli grew stronger, more powerful and more prominent in the political landscape.

After splitting their ways, spending years apart and now losing both Raphaniel and Karna, their relationship is different. There is still a feeling of comfort, of belonging, deep in his stomach and in his spine when he is near Deli, but there is also an air of awkwardness. Of not knowing each other like they used to. Deli is covered in new scars that Colin doesn’t know the story behind and he hates that. He wants to ask for the story behind each of them, but he also knows most of them will involve Karna, and he isn’t ready to hear about that.

“I hope s– I hope they are at peace. Wherever they are,” Deli’s voice is soft, small. He’s talking about their fallen allies. Probably Karna more than Raphaniel.

“Yeah.”

Colin doesn’t know what else to say. He runs a hand through his hair, briefly distracted by how it’s thinning up there. He was never handsome, but this receeding hairline surely isn’t helping him. The thought almost makes him laugh. What a thing to worry about now, after Saprophus, after everything.

Deli’s hand land on his shoulder, warm and large. “I never thanked you for running back for me. Twice. Thank you, Colin.”

Deli has the softest look in his eye, Colin has ever seen. “Of course,” Colin says, his voice thick in his throat. What else could he have done?

They look at each other for a moment. Colin flexes his hand in his lap, a part of him wanting to lift it and place it on top of Deli’s. But he doesn’t. He is too frozen in this moment. Almost too vulnerable to move.

Something shifts in Deli’s eye, and he takes his hand back and gets up and walks into the lodging they’re staying in.

Colin watches him go. Something urgent and desperate is building in his chest, clawing at him to act, but he remains frozen. Despite his size, Deli seems almost small as he disappears through the doorframe. Colin could follow him, elaborate on how Deli is the only person he would run back after. Say that he’d rather kill Deli himself than know he choked on the poison down there. Tell him he-

His legs are shaking under him and realizes he has begun to get up. The thing he wants to say is clawing even more in his chest, but he doesn’t know what words to use. He feels dazed as he walks into the hall. Deli’s back is turned towards the door, towards Colin.

And suddenly Colin doesn’t feel frozen, suddenly all he can do is act.

He strides forward, not stopping when he reaches Deli, but swiftly moving him around to face him. Deli has no time to speak before Colin is lifting his hands to grab both sides of Deli’s face and they stumble backwards as Colin finally kisses Deli.

They hit the wall in the hallway and Deli seems frozen for a second, but then he comes alive with the ferocity Colin remembers and he kisses back.

They begin to move, to stumble into the nearest bedroom, tearing and clawing at each other to get closer.

It’s been this all along. The two of them admiring and needing each other and now they’re finally showing it in an unmistakable way. Colin wants and for once, he knows what he wants. For once, he can have it. Deli is as eager as he used to be, and he is strong and heavy and perfect. And he clearly doesn’t care about how Colin’s hair is thinning.

It’s desperate. It’s loving. It’s ridiculous that it took this long. Ridiculous that it’s happening after everything. Neither of them speak. But the Bulb rises in the sky outside and Deli smiles through it all.

They fall asleep after, holding onto each other, Deli’s head in the crook of Colin’s neck.

And when Colin wakes up several hours later to an empty bed and an empty safehouse, he isn’t surprised, even though it still hurts. Cuts deeply.

The only thing remaining of Deli’s is the cheese rind dagger on the dining table. Colin picks it up and looks at it for a long time. Finally, he smiles to himself, happy to have something of Deli with him for this, knowing he will use this dagger for the mission he has chosen himself.

He knows that wherever his travels will take him, he will look for Deli there. And he also knows he won’t find him. But he will look anyway.

#colindeli #the ravening war #thane delissandro katzon #colin provolone #sir colin provolone #d20 trw #getting slammed down big style as the bulb rises #i barely proof-read this so forgive me for any mistakes pls

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bravelink · 3 months

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About

Basic:

Name: Link Esmond Faoláin Age: Pregame under 17. Midgame 17-19. Post 19+. Gender: male Sexuality: hetrosexual Species: human Date of birth: December 7 Family: Cahir Faoláin (father - deceased), Ena Meara Faoláin (mother - deceased), Rusl Meara (uncle), Uli Caden Meara (aunt), Colin Meara (cousin), Ailis Meara (cousin) Height: 5'4"

Background:

Link was born and raised in Ordon. He had two loving parents hos mother, Ena, who was the older sister to Rusl and his father, Cahir, who was originally from Castle Town. Cahir was actually a soilder/guard in the town and met Rusl there when he was a guard himself. It was through Rusl that Cahir decided to visit Ordon Village and from there met his friend's older sister. From there it didn't take long for the Teo to fall in love, get married, and settle down in the small village. A year or two later Link was born and his story started.

Link's life was simple he grew, he learned, he made friends. It was very happy and as perfect as a childhood as anyone could ask for. That was until he turned eight years old. An illness spread through the village and took many. Link's parents, unfortunately, was in the handful that were ripped away. Along with Ilia's mother, Fado's parents, and many of the elderly. After this event Link was taken in by his Uncle Rusl and new wife Uli.

As with all things life keeps moving and so did the small village. Link acquired Epona shortly after Rusl explaining she was meant to be a present from his parents. But the foal hadn't been quite old enough for him. The horse became a comfort and a reminder of his parents. As the years passed and he started transitioning from child to young adult he took on more responsibilities. He started really learning how to be a ranch hand much as his mother has been. He welcomed and entertained little ones that entered the world. Soon enough by time he was sixteen he would wake nearly every morning with the village's children wanting to play. It made his days bright.

To shortly summarize Link had the help of a twilit being, Midna, to help him through his journey. He learned what exactly had happen from Princess Zelda that twilight had covered the land and the people became as spirits. He was to recover the light for each Light Spirit. In doing do he learned he would need to match the "King" of Twilight. To do so he would have to gather the pieces of the Fused Shadow which was never to be touched by light dwellers. Link started this quest getting to know the land, the people, and rescue those from his village that had been taken. His journey was full of hardships even after finding all of the fused shadow pieces.

There was much of his quest left until at last he entered the Twilight Realm to face Zant. After his defeat Zant his power all along had come from another. Ganondorf who was in Hyrule nearly all this time. It was then a race to the castle to save the princess and finally defeat the true threat this whole time. The fight was difficult but he had friends to help along the way. Ganondorf was defeated. Peace returned to the land and Midna, Link's companion through all of this, was to return home. However, before she did so she destroyed the only link between their worlds. Therefore making it impossible that they should ever interact again.

After Link's journey he returned to his home of Ordon got a short time. He was restless and shortly after set off away from his home. He would meet up with friends he had made, go on journeys. There was still much to learn and much to see and who knows what else the goddesses might have planned for their hero.

Personality:

Wholesome is a word that can easily describe Link. He has an amazing heart that is full of kindness and a willingness to help others. This can sometimes not always be such a great thing as is the case with many people who are kind to the core. This can be used for not so great reasons when people know about it. Even if someone has bad intentions Link is still willing to help in most instances. He is a strong willed individual and can defend himself as needed.

He also has a strong love and adoration for animals. This has been known to get in his way and distract him from his current task. But it's all good because he will get every task he is set out completed. He is good on his word.

He can also be a bit silly and playful. This side of him is usually reserved for friends and family. It is especially easy to see when he interacts with the children of his village. Though, get him excited or something that awes him you'll most definitely see his more dorky side.

Brave is also another word that would describe Link. It is as much of a good thing as it can be a bad thing. Sometimes he acts without thinking too much or at all. This could be considered brave or stupid sometimes it's hard to tell the difference. He also has a stubbornness about him. It might not always be easy to see, though, through his pure determination that's when it truly shines.

Abilities/Skills:

Ranch hand. Link was first a ranch hand before he became the chosen hero. This has given him extra skills that a lot of people may not have. Like hoe to care and handle animals. It's also aided in his physical strength since when he was just in Ordon he could stop a charging goat.

Craftsmanship. By no means is Link consider a great craftsman but he does have the skills. He has a variety of people around his village to thank fot what he has learned. He can make little projects like helping make a house, making decent furniture, fishing rods, things of this nature.

Green thumb. Link is very good at growing plants. Most of his time in his village is helping on the ranch but he does help out on the gardens. There is quote a bit of work needed so at the start of spring and end of summer and fall he's usually there.

Swordsmanship. He learned the very basics from his uncle, Rusl, so as a young man did have a decent understanding. But it wasn't really until the start of his journey as the chosen hero did his true mastery with the sword begin. He was taught from a past hero simply known as Hero's Shade. He taught him very specific skills that allowed him to progress until the defeat of Ganondorf. So by the end he is consider a master swordsman.

Archery. A skill he didn't pick up until he was in Goron Mines. The closest he has ever come was a slingshot. It was a talent he picked up easily almost as if he was made for it. He is completely self taught and has excellent aim. He probably isn't quite considered a master as there us a lot to learn. Even so, Link is very good at using the bow.

Wolf. A cursed form. During the events of his journey Link would transform into a wolf for one of two reasons. One if he touched twilight. This was very unique as most people turned into spirits it was only because he was the chosen hero he did not become a spirit. This was reversed only when he was able to restore light to a particular area. The second way is with a shadow crystal that Zant quite literally cursed him with. Similar to twilight all ot takes is for him to touch it to transform. He needs a twili, like Midna, to revert back to a human.

#▲ page #▲ headcanon

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littlestramp · 5 months

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meet colette 'coletti' tramp-deare !

21 — INFLUENCER

favorite song? miserable by the aces

sexuality: bisexual

pronouns?: she/her

big three? leo sun / gemini moon / capricorn rising

being the youngest of four children, there was a general disconnect between colette and her siblings. it's not that she couldn't relate to them to some extent but it was obvious there was a difference in the way she was raised. she'd really only know her parents as separate entities, any memories of them as one unit were either lost in early childhood or ruined as a whole thanks to their relationship's inevitable fate.

the custody agreement left colette to spend enough time with both parents, of course, she liked the one that gave her more things. she took after her favorite parent, a complete daddy's girl by design. be it that tristan saw her as the last thing he could have at convincing someone that he was a decent person, his efforts certainly worked. sure, the man made a couple of mistakes but time and time again he's tried to make things better. that's how he laid things out to her and she believed him entirely. he'd only ever treated her with the decency and regard that she could probably look for anywhere else but she never wanted it from anyone else, only him.

it's not that she didn't like her mother. that's her mom, after all, there had to be some love there even if it did feel out of obligation. colette just never felt like it was right that she had to stick around with her mother when she was perfectly fine under her dad's watch. that man loved colette, she was quite sure she was his favorite and she made a great deal of that whenever her siblings felt the need to criticize him for trying his best. it didn't really feel like anyone else was helping him. she was the one who picked him up from the bars, she made sure he was in bed every night, and she was the one who gave him his hangover cures in the morning. he had some faults but colette knew he could be better and she was willing to stick it out.

the news of her father's death hit hard, especially when she'd heard what happened that night, she couldn't believe any of it could be true. there was no way he shot scamp, no, she was certain it had to have been some plotted thing between her mom and her boyfriend. everyone knew colin hopper wasn't good news so why couldn't that be the case? the whole situation brought her further away from her mother, thinking she was just out to ruin the memory of her dad.

HC’s:

if it weren't more obvious that colette was tristan tramp's daughter than in the way she bragged about it, one could tell by her stubbornness and lack of propriety that she was indeed a tramp. she knew she was less than savory around others, it didn't bother her one bit. why should she hold herself back when people should just get used to her instead?

it's kinda hard to ignore your mom when you're under her roof so colette is trying to find anywhere else to stay, sometimes sleeping over at friends', sometimes it's with her uncle, and other times she sneaks back into her room just to sleep and leave before her mother could try and get her to stay.

in an attempt to find an escape from her family growing up, she turned to social media. her following has only grown over the years, now being able to provide income for her to pay for her own clothes and things without being held down by burden of reliance on anyone else. she's hoping with enough sponsors and ad revenue that she'll soon be able to move out and live on her own.

didn't really care for her brother running away, or so she says. in reality she really did miss him but the hatred for him grew and now doesn't really like that he suddenly wants to start acting like a brother/man of the house

#[ ♡ ] : 𝘪 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘪'𝘮 𝘢 𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓯𝓾𝓵 → about #psd by katzenx

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crownedinlight · 9 months

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𝒞𝓁𝒶𝓇𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝑅𝑒𝒾𝓃𝒶 ;; 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦

Heterosexual ⋆ She/Her ⋆ Forty ⋆ Fairy

Powers ;; Photokinesis, Flight, Supernatural Sensing, Fairy Magic

Occupation ;; Politician

♫ Currently Playing ♫ ;; Seven Wonders by Fleetwood Mac

☀ Virgo ☾ Virgo ↑ Libra

From the moment she was born, it was certain that was destined for something greater. Even then she had the brightest eyes and a determined spirit. Her parents hadn’t expected to have a child knowing that they were both supernatural creatures it meant that she was doomed to the same fate. Those like them were frowned upon and that was made known to her from a young age. She hated that they all had to hide the things that made them special, only to practice alone in the forest when no one else was around. Clarion, then known as Claire, could always sense the presence of another who possessed power but kept it hidden. She instead protected them as best she could, even as a child. As a child, she was protective of those she cared about and fought for the freedom of those like her. Of course that didn’t mean much besides manipulating light to shine into a bully’s eyes so that they’d run into a wall. That was only the beginning.

It started with one boy, Myles Hopper who never seemed to catch a break. The world turned against him and his own brother a raging bull. She’d known them at a very different time, before the Hopper family lead half of the isle and their mother still took up their free time. Clarion wasn’t sure if they were someone to be watchful of but she found herself befriending Myles before she knew it. Colin was a tougher nut to crack, though as the year passed she could tell he was more than everyone believed. He was a man haunted by his past, a sense of pride that stood as a brick wall before him. Even if he wanted to pretend as though he was heartless she saw his softness when it came to their mother and the loss of her truly changed them both. A darkness came over the blue eyes she used to swim in looking for the man she knew he was. He might not be a magic user but he was far more powerful than anyone knew. Then she was moved by her parents, rumors spreading that there were magic beings about and her family wanting to stay as far from the public eye as possible.

That never stopped Clarion though, always pushing the envelope when it came to meeting new people. Her parents wished she would keep to herself but that she never saw the good in it. After moving a few towns over for college, she truly flourished. It came easy to her, a craving for knowledge and an ora of wisdom far beyond her years. Clarion wasn’t sure why she had been the one that was born this way but she was certain she’d use it to help others. As she grew up she started to realize what she wanted from life which included finding herself in a place of power to start making the changes for equality across the isle. Politics had never called to her in the sense that she wanted control, instead, she wanted to bring peace. That’s what brought her back to the place she called home for so many years. The borders closing has been her latest focus and she wishes to work to get the opened. She believes if they are to ever truly overcome this they will need to unite. Though she has never revealed her powers and wishes to be respected in her position for her knowledge. As Hopper has been growing his empire she has been lying in wait, knowing she will need to face him again and that they will need resources off the isle if they are to survive. Clarion knows now is the time to work together and she's reached out to the Order. If believes if they combine forces there is a way to keep magic users safe while also allowing society to go on as normal. After the most recent hunter attacks, she is on high alert to protect those like her, taking a special liking to the other fairies that inhabit the isle.

#ʙᴏʀɴ ᴏꜰ ʟᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ ( about. )

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kalinara · 3 years

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As sympathetic as I am to Nate, there’s one idea that I immediately and categorically reject, which is that Ted is in any way at fault for Nate’s downward spiral or what Nate did to him.

I understand where Nate is coming from, in a sense. Initially, he had a lot of Ted’s warm and nurturing attention. Eventually, he didn’t have as much attention anymore and he felt abandoned.

Now of course, Ted had a lot of things occupying him in season two. Particularly his own mental health. But even if he hadn’t, Ted never “abandoned” Nate. Nate grew up.

Or at least, he was supposed to.

When Higgins talked to Keeley, he had that great line about “a good mentor hopes you will move on, a great mentor knows you will.”

And that’s true for Nate and Ted as well. As far as Ted knew, Nate HAD moved on. He became a coach rather than a kit man. He’s one of the folks in charge now. He’d grown. And even if Nate is a little more heavy handed than Ted is, (we saw Ted gently intervene to give Will the afternoon off, and his nonplussed reaction to “we could show him his paycheck”), that doesn’t mean that Nate is having a hard time. People are different. And well, as Make Rebecca Great Again showed us, sometimes Ted wants/needs Nate to be the hardass that Ted can’t be.

We talk about Ted’s “microaggressions” against Nate, and I think the show did a good job of showing how and why they got to Nate. But it’s important to remember that Ted doesn’t know what we know.

Ted’s laughter at Nate volunteering to be the “big dog” wasn’t meant maliciously. Ted would have laughed the same way if Nate had suggested Ted himself be the “big dog”. From Ted’s perspective, of course, there’s nothing wrong with not being a big dog. This is a guy who is very happy to be a panda among lions. He doesn’t know that Nate wants desperately to be a lion. And he looks like he feels terrible when he realizes.

The other microaggressions are simply normal things that people do. Sometimes thoughtlessly. Ted didn’t hug Beard when Jamie made that kick in the Signal either, because Roy was the one who made the call. (Nate probably WOULD have gotten a hug after park the bus, if Ted wasn’t in really bad shape.) And well, we KNOW where Nate’s picture is.

Ted never told anyone what he was going through. If he did, maybe they’d understand. But Nate never told anyone what HE was going through either. Keeley knew about the restaurant, but only as an isolated incident. Beard knew about the Colin situation, but again, only as an isolated incident. There was no reason for anyone to know how deeply Nate was spiralling.

Nate’s fall does not represent ANY kind of failure on Ted’s part, whether personally or philosophically. It happened because people are people, and they have their own issues and pain that unfortunately sometimes intersect in really awful ways.

I know we’re all kind of doomsaying Nate’s time as head coach of West Ham, but maybe it will be an opportunity for growth instead. Maybe without the constant reminder of having been weak, bullied and dismissed, he’ll actually shine. Maybe without that history, he can be the mentor and guide to his new players in the way he couldn’t at Richmond.

Either way, it’s still not Ted’s fault, damnit.

#ted lasso #theodore lasso #nate shelley #ted lasso spoilers

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rubysunnday · 3 years

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it’s a love story

a/n: this is a looonnnggg one, but i enjoyed writing it a lot. Thank you to @gryffindors-weasley who’s stories have inspired this one - if you want more sweet Colin please go read their stories!

words: 3,703

summary: Y/N has loved Colin since they were children but it was one-sided. She was content to stand aside and watch Colin move on without her. Until Marina.

Unrequited love hurt.

It was easy to lose yourself in night-time fantasies of a life with the one person you loved - dreaming of your wedding, your house and the day they confessed their feelings to you.

Y/N had loved Colin ever since she’d been a child. It’d started off as nothing more than platonic love - they’d been best friends since childhood, and they’d stayed close over the years as they both grew up and turned into something that vaguely resembled adults.

She’d never revealed how she felt to him. Y/N didn’t want to tell him and run the risk of ruining their friendship. She simply stood aside and watched him flirt with and at almost every woman in London. It never bothered her - it was how Colin was. He flirted and played around but never settled.

Until Marina.

Y/N hadn’t thought twice about how he flirted at Marina. Admittedly, it had hurt to see how close they’d been at Daphne’s wedding party and how besotted Colin seemed to be with her. But Y/N had just thought Marina was another passing fancy who would be married and vanished after the season ended.

But the garden party changed that.

She hadn’t wanted to go. Ever since Daphne’s wedding she’d been keeping her distance from Colin and the Bridgerton House in general, not wanting to set herself up for anymore heart ache and pain then what she was mentally prepared for.

As her carriage pulled up to the gardens, Y/N felt her hands begin to shake. It was ridiculous how nervous she was - nothing had even happened yet! She was just nervous to see Colin and have to disguise her feelings from him and Marina.

Before the wheels of her carriage had even stopped rolling, Eloise ran over and flung open the door, looking up at Y/N expectantly. Benedict reluctantly chased after his sister after his mother shoved him in Eloise’s vague, general direction.

Eloise squinted up at her, attempting to read Y/N’s mind. “Nope, you’re not running away,” she said, reaching up and grabbing her friends’ hand and practically pulling her out the carriage, sensing Y/N’s desire to be anywhere other than there.

“Oh, Eloise, don’t start,” Y/N complained, barely catching herself on Benedict’s outstretched arm as she missed the step entirely and lost her footing.

“If I have to suffer, you have to suffer,” Eloise replied, almost pouting.

Y/N sighed, still clutching Benedict’s arm as she regained her sense. “Eloise, I don’t want to be here. I can’t cope with... well, that,” she waved a hand in the vague general direction of where Colin was.

“And I can’t cope with my mother doing what she does best,” Eloise shot back, snatching Y/N’s hand and pulling her into the gardens. “Now, come along, dear Y/N.”

Not trusting her friend, Y/N grabbed Benedict’s hand and dragged the man along with her, ignoring his muttered complaints as he reluctantly followed after his sister.

Everything seemed to be going fine. Y/N hovered around Benedict and Anthony, making small talk with the two and strategically avoiding looking at or being in the vicinity of Colin and having to talk to him.

Every time she looked over at him, he was with Marina, smiling dumbly at something she’d said and looking stupidly doe-eyed at her.

Marina hadn’t done anything to Y/N and was probably a lovely person, but she still infuriated Y/N beyond belief for no reason at all. Her mere existence irritated her.

Benedict looked up, having asked Y/N a question that had been met with silence. He noticed her staring at Colin and nudged Y/N’s arm. “Stop staring.”

Y/N blinked and turned her head away from Colin, plucking an invisible thread off the cuff of her dress. “Thanks,” she muttered quietly. She hadn’t realised she’d been noticeably staring.

Despite never saying anything, both Eloise and Benedict - and presumably the rest of the Bridgerton household since neither sibling could keep their mouths shut - knew about Y/N’s unrequited love for Colin.

When they’d been children, Colin and Y/N had gotten ‘married’ in the back garden of Bridgerton House. It’d been a big event involving all the family and the staff and had ultimately ended in the two getting a ‘divorce’ that evening when Colin threw a carrot at Y/N. But it’d been obvious even then how perfect they were for the other.

Y/N looked up as someone gently knocked their knife against their glass. Her heart almost stopped when she realised it was Colin and that Marina was standing next to him looking very pleased.

“May I have everyone’s attention?” Colin asked as silence fell over the gathered party.

Y/N was trying not to think the worse. She could see the confusion on Anthony’s face at what his brother was about to do but Y/N knew, deep down, what was about to happen.

“I would like to make a small but important announcement,” Colin continued, practically beaming. “I have happy news to impart.”

Y/N could hear her heart beating. She knew what was coming. There was nothing else that Colin could say that would make sense and that would make Marina smile so much. She unconsciously reached out her hand and grabbed Anthony’s arm, squeezing it tightly.

“I have asked Miss Marina Thompson to be my wife, and she has accepted.”

Everyone around them gasped in delight. Benedict was smiling, Lady Featherington was beaming, and Anthony looked like he was about to throttle someone.

Y/N felt as if her entire life was falling apart in front of her. She’d lost the one thing that meant everything to her to someone else. Her grip on Anthony’s arm increased and he looked over at her.

“Smile,” Anthony whispered, despite his own surprise and anger. “And go congratulate them.”

It took a moment for Y/N’s mind to realise that Anthony had even spoken. But a moment later she nodded, plastered a smile to her face and approached Colin and Marina with false joy and gratitude despite the fact her heart was breaking apart inside her.

For the rest of the week, Y/N stayed at home. Despite the invitation being extended to her to join the Featherington’s and a few of the Bridgerton’s for dinner, she declined it, unable to bear the pain of seeing Colin and Marina stare lovingly at one another.

The seventh day of hiding dawned annoyingly early and Y/N, who felt as if she hadn’t slept in months, found herself pottering around her house with no purpose in mind.

“Miss Y/L/N.”

Y/N turned around to face her butler. “Yes, Simmons?”

“Miss Eloise Bridgerton is here to see you, ma’am. She’s refusing to leave.”

Y/N sighed and pursed her lips. “Of course, she is,” she muttered. “Where is she?”

Simmons gestured to the lounge and Y/N headed down the corridor towards the room.

“Eloise, I swear -” Y/N cut herself off abruptly at the pained yet excited look on Eloise’s face as the woman ran up to her and all but crashed into her.

“The engagement is off,” Eloise said all at once, her excitement overtaking her need to speak.

Y/N blinked. “I - what is off?”

“Colin and Marina Thompson’s engagement,” Eloise said again, elaborating a little more. Y/N blinked again. “What?”

Eloise grabbed Y/N’s hand and dragged her into the living room, thrusting the latest Lady Whistledown into her hands.

Y/N hadn't read it in the past week - every page being focused on Colin and Marina and how happy Daphne and the duke had seemed. Every description of anything related to love added insult to injury.

She scanned it quickly and stared at the words with wide eyes. The paper fell from her hands as she looked up at Eloise.

“She... she’s pregnant?” Y/N whispered, almost not daring to say it. “What, when, how - I mean, I know how but...”

“I didn’t know how,” Eloise admittedly sheepishly.

Y/N’s head shot up, Colin and Marina forgotten. “How did you not know? You grew up with three older brothers!”

Eloise shrugged. “It just... never came up. Anyway,” she fluttered the piece of paper in font of Y/N’s face, “Colin’s free.”

“Eloise -”

“What? Y/N, there is nothing standing between you and Colin.”

Y/N sighed and slowly sat down on the sofa. “Eloise, your family’s reputation is... in a treacherous position. If I’m seen flinging myself at Colin to try and benefit from this... I’m not that sort of person. Maybe in a few weeks when its all calmed down...”

Eloise looked her friend up and down. She sat down next to her and took her hand. “Okay. I don’t agree with it but, okay.”

Over the next few days, Y/N began spending more time around the Bridgerton’s, visiting their house like she had before Colin’s proposal.

All of the Bridgerton’s, bar Colin, knew why Y/N had vanished for a few days but said nothing of her sudden re-appearance. Y/N put it down to feeling ill - she tried not to fall apart when Colin asked after her with concern in his voice and worry in his eyes.

“I’m fine now,” Y/N told him, smiling. “Just a blip.”

“Good,” Colin replied, matching her smile.

Y/N sipped on her tea, casting her eyes down as she felt her stomach flutter at the sight of his smile - even if it didn’t reach his eyes. “Are you attending the Queen’s garden party tomorrow?” Y/N asked, setting her cup down on its saucer with a soft clink.

Colin nodded. “Daphne and the duke are back in town... so, yes, we’re all going to be attending. Are you...”

“Yes, I’ll be there,” Y/N replied, trying not to smile at the palpable relief that appeared on Colin’s face at her answer.

Despite everything that had happened over the past few days, Colin and Y/N’s relationship hadn’t changed. Yes, Y/N was still longing after someone she would likely never have but she’d missed her best friend too much to sulk in her own misery for much longer.

The day of the Queen’s Garden Party, Y/N joined the Bridgerton’s, walking in with the family, her arm in Colin’s.

“Isn’t this lovely?” Violet asked, smiling as she put her arm around Hyacinth. “All of us together again. And Y/N.”

Y/N laughed. “Thanks, Lady Bridgerton.”

“Yes, it’s lovely indeed. We should tempt scandal more often,” Colin muttered. He grunted lightly as Y/N elbowed him in the stomach. “Ow.”

“Hush,” Y/N replied. She was highly aware of everyone staring at them - a given considering the scandal that Marina had brought down upon the Bridgerton’s.

After a few minutes, and after the Queen had accosted Daphne and the duke, Y/N wandered off from the Bridgerton’s, mingling with the other guests and indulging herself in a glass of lemonade and a biscuit.

“Oh, Miss Y/L/N!”

Y/N closed her eyes at the shrill, grating voice of Cressida Cowper. She was the last person she’d wanted to see let along speak to. Y/N plastered a smile to her face and turned to face Cressida.

“Miss Cowper, how are you?” Y/N asked.

“I’m wonderful, thank you. I just wanted to know what you think you’re doing,” Cressida replied, her tone cheerful but the words sounded and felt forced.

Y/N frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, Cressida.”

“Mr Bridgerton - Colin, I mean. You’ve been fawning all over him since the news about Miss Thompson broke -”

“I haven’t been fawning, I’ve been trying to be a good friend,” Y/N replied slowly, her frown deepening.

Cressida waved a hand dismissively. “Yes, yes, but we all know that your ‘friendship’ is a disguise for your unrequited love for Mr Bridgerton.”

The empty glass in Y/N’s hand all most fell to the floor, but she kept a tight grip on it as she looked at Cressida. “Excuse me?”

“Well, it’s well known that you are in love with Colin and that he doesn’t know. And if he did, well, that would be your friendship over, wouldn’t! Perhaps you are even Lady Whistledown and wrote that article on Miss Thompson to have Colin all to yourself.”

“I don’t know what you’re implying here, Cressida -”

“Oh, I’m not implying anything, Y/N,” Cressida replied, smiling slyly. “We both know the truth about your relationship with Colin. I just can’t imagine how hurt he would be if Lady Whistledown turned out to be you. Besides, it’s not like you actually think he could possibly love you? You don’t deserve him.”

“Is everything alright, Y/N?” Colin asked, stepping into the conversation and putting a hand on the small of Y/N’s back.

Y/N turned her head away and, despite the tightness in her throat, swallowed and smiled. “Yes, Miss Cowper was just leaving,” she said firmly.

Cressida all but stamped her foot as she turned and flounced off. Colin watched her go and then turned back to Y/N, frowning in concern. He was no stranger to the stings Cressida and her mother often gave out to the Ton.

“What was that about?” Colin asked. “I didn’t really hear much -”

“Nothing,” Y/N cut in. Colin’s hand was still resting on her back and she could feel the heat of his hand seeping through the light pink silk of her dress. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t just be friends and pretend her feelings didn’t exist when they did. She took a shaky breath in, clenching her lace gloved hands tightly as they shook. “Excuse me.”

Ignoring Colin’s worried and hurt expression, Y/N stepped away from him and walked off towards the back of the gardens in search for some peace and quiet.

Y/N found a small side garden amongst the hedges and darted into it, kicking the small white picket fence gate shut behind her - forming a very pathetic barrier that Colin could probably climb over.

Cressida had always had the ability to get under her skin. Normally she would simply forget and move on with her day but everything Cressida had said - minus the Lady Whistledown accusation - was true.

She didn’t deserve Colin. That was partly why she’d been so content to let him marry Marina - because she didn’t deserve him. And why would he love her? Compared to Marina and every other women Colin had flirted at or with, she wasn’t much of anything.

“Y/N?”

Y/N closed her eyes at the sound of Colin’s voice, mentally wishing him away. She refused to turn around and face him - she could feel the emotions beginning to win over her and could feel her eyes burning.

“Y/N, what’s wrong? What did Cressida say?” Colin asked, walking up to her and putting a hand on her back where the fabric was nothing more than a sheer covering.

Y/N could feel the heat of his skin and the soft skin of his hand and suddenly wanted him to just go away and never speak to her again because it would make things so much easier.

“Nothing that wasn’t true,” Y/N said softly, a stray tear escaping her eye and dripping on to her cheek. She felt Colin still and knew he’d heard at least some of what Cressida had said. “You heard, didn’t you?” Y/N asked quietly.

Colin didn’t answer for a moment. “I... I heard the last few sentences.”

Y/N laughed humourlessly. “Of course, you did,” she said, her laugh mixing with sobs. She turned around to face her best friend with tears in her eyes.

Colin looked at her, stunned by the broken expression on her face. In the years he’d known her, the only time he’d seen her that broken had been when her mother had passed away and she’d sobbed into his arms all night. “Y/N/N...”

“No,” Y/N stepped to the side, away from Colin’s outstretched hand. “No, I’m sorry.” She inhaled sharply. “I can’t... I can’t do this. I know - I can’t.”

Colin lunged forward and grabbed Y/N’s wrist as she turned to go, yanking her to a halt and forcing her to look at him. “Y/N, wait.”

“What, Colin? So, you can make fun of the fact that I’ve been on love with my best friend since I was sixteen?”

“No, I just... I need an explanation - I need someone to explain because my head is spinning,” Colin replied. “I don’t understand.”

Y/N sniffed, looking down at the grass. “You own my heart, Colin,” she said simply. She looked up. “When I dream of my future it's with you. You are the person I want to spend the rest of my life with - the one I see myself loving until I die.”

Y/N paused, swallowing down the tears that wanted to fall. She had to say this now, to get it over with and make it clear. Even though it was physically hurting her. “And I know you don’t feel the same way so, we can just leave this here. Nothing else has to be said about it. I’ll leave and we don’t have to speak of this again - or even see each other if that’s what you want.”

Colin said nothing. He was too stunned and surprised by the sudden confession and the events of the past few days to form a sentence. Y/N nodded sadly, taking his silence as her answer, and left the gardens.

She tried to hide her tear-stained face and broken heart as she emerged back into the main party. She’d arrived with the Bridgerton’s and had no way of getting home without them. Y/N spotted Anthony near the entrance and quickly made her way over to him, desperate to leave before anyone cornered her or spoke to her.

“Anthony,” Y/N said softly, nudging his arm.

Anthony turned around as the people he had been talking to walked off. It took him all of thirty seconds to take in her teary eyes, her shaking hands and the broken look on her face. “Y/N...”

“I’d like to go home, please,” she said quietly, her voice breaking on the last few words.

Anthony, to his credit, didn’t ask why. He nodded and took her arm, steering her out the garden. He caught Benedict as they passed, the two sharing a quick and quiet conversation. She caught the pitying stare Benedict gave her, the simple action making her tears free fall once again.

The carriage they had arrived in wasn’t waiting out front for them. Anthony looked around for it but saw no sign.

“I’ll be back, are you alright to stay here?”

“I’ll be fine,” Y/N replied, nodding.

Anthony squeezed her shoulder and walked off with a determined stride to find their carriage.

“Y/N!”

Y/N closed her eyes and turned around. “Colin, don’t -”

Colin skidded to a halt in front of Y/N, scattering the pebbles of the driveway with his sudden stop. He was panting, as if he’d ran from the garden to the driveway without stopping.

“Just, listen,” he said, cutting her off. “I... I didn’t say anything because I didn’t know what to say.”

“I know, you don’t like me, it’s fine -”

“Will you,” Colin walked forward until he was inches away from her, “just listen?” He took her gloved hand and held it in his. “I didn’t say anything because you caught me entirely off guard. The past few days have been chaos and I need a moment to think. Because the last thing I expected was you to declare your love to me in a garden on a random Thursday. The truth is, Y/N, is that I have loved you ever since we had our wedding in the gardens of my house.”

Y/N let out a snort of laughter despite her tears. “I thought you didn’t want me,” she said softly, looking up at him. “Why would you? I don’t deserve you -”

“That,” Colin said, putting a hand on Y/N’s cheek and wiping away the tears with the pad of his thumb, “sounds suspiciously like the words of a Cowper. Y/N, I love you. I thought you didn’t want me!”

Y/N laughed tearfully and leant into Colin’s hand, still resting on her cheek. “We’re idiots.”

“That we are,” Colin agreed, nodding. “Y/N... the way I feel when I’m with you... there is nothing on this earth that is comparable. I’ve been waiting my entire life for you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I thought Marina would be the one to make me forget you but every time I looked at her... I thought of you. I thought about how much I want to kiss you -”

“Then kiss me,” Y/N said, her voice not much more than a whisper. “And make it a good one, Colin.”

And suddenly his lips were on hers and there was a hunger and a need as he kissed her. His hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her against his chest. Y/N’s hand went to the back of his head, her fingers combing through his curls. She could feel his heart pounding and could feel the warmth from his skin as his hand moved up her back.

It was years of waiting and pining and wanting the other. Y/N needed Colin like she needed to breathe, and Colin needed Y/N like he needed water to live.

Y/N reluctantly pulled away from Colin, her hand still in his hair. She rested her forehead against his. “I love you.”

Colin rested his forehead on hers. He closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them again, staring at her. His hand was on her waist and the other one was on the back of her neck, stroking the skin gently. “I love you too.”

“So... are we organising another wedding?”

Y/N dropped her head on to Colin’s shoulder at the sound of Anthony’s voice and groaned loudly. “Seriously, Anthony?!”

“You two kissed in the driveway,” Anthony pointed out, crossing his arms and attempting to look intimidating despite the stupid grin on his face. “Now, are we going or staying, because I’ve still yet to find our carriage.”

“We can stay,” Y/N replied, her hand entwined with Colin’s. “And when we walk back in there, we’re going to break the Ton.”

#bridgerton imagine #bridgerton imagines #colin bridgerton #colin bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x reader #imagine

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onlymexsarah · 3 years

Text

Prince Friedrich | Amore e Psiche

MAIN MASTERLIST

Request 1: “ i loved both jealousy and taste of sin so much!! 😍😍you literally made my day better. i would love to see more of them together. maybe how them courting or their first encounters? 😇🥲”

Request 2: “ I cant say i saw anything wrong with your prince friedrich imagine. I actually really fooocking loved it 🥰 💕!! It was so 🥰 cute!! I need more! Would you be willing to do a prequel of sorts where she met him and their walks in the park? Or even from his perspective of his first thoughts of the reader? “

Summary: (This is the prequel of “Prince Friedrich | Jealousy”) the behaviour of your sister Daphne brought you to meet Prince Friedrich at the ball with the Queen.

Pairing: Prince Friedrich x Bridgerton!reader

Warnings: my english :)

A/N: For this one I got inspired by the story of Cupid and Psyche, if you don’t know it I leave you there a summary because there will be many allusions at their story ;)

SEQUEL 1 - SEQUEL 2

“Do you think that he will speak german? Or maybe he knows english? Oh, do you recon if His Highness had ever travelled?” you asked excited at your brother, Benedict, while you entered at the ball.

“I do not know, sister. You can ask these question to him personally, tonight.” he said ironical smiling at the Lords who walked beside you.

“If he will have time for them, my dear brother. I am sure that if he’ll want peace he will have to disappear somewhere where the Ladies will be not able to find him.” you both laughed searching around the room your sister Daphne.

“Be careful with that tounge, Y/n. You know that I love you for that, but not many Lords will think the same.” he warned you kindly knowing that your temper wasn’t like the others Ladies.

“Fortunately I don’t want many Lords. I think that Lord de Bethencourt had hit the right string in me, and he likes me for who I am, Benedict.” you smiled thinking about your suitor, Lord de Bethencourt, that since the first ball had started courting you as a true gentleman without boring or offending you in any ways. “Look, there is my sister with...Simon.”

Benedict could hear your smirk even without looking at you, indeed his attention was captured by the opening of the large doors followed by the entrance of Queen Charlotte with her nephew, Prince Friedrich of Prussia.

“Oh, they are arri...ved....” your breating stopped for few seconds causing Benedict to look at you; however your gaze was fixed on the guy who’s arm was intertwined with the Queen’s. You would had sworn to have seen Cupid himself revealing his face for the first time as he did with Psyche after their marriage. When his eyes met yours, you were sure that Canova must had taked ispiration from him for Cupid’s sculpture, because never in your life you had ever seen such beauty as the Prince himself.

“I will be not surprise when you will drag Colin in Prussia at your next travel.” Benedict joked smirking looking the Prince who now was approaching your sister.

You woke up from your dreams blinking many times to understand what was happening. The Prince now was speaking with Daphne but at some point she laughed, and from his face you could see that he hadn’t say something funny. “Well, surely now he knows how the Bridgertons are.” you said shrugging slightly keeping your elegant posture. “One of us should go and apologies for her.”

You looked Benedict, he looked you. Both wanted to send the other because neither of you liked to speak with the Queen. “Look your Charming Prince is coming, I must let you to know him.”

“What! No you must stay here and intimidate him! It is what you brothers are made for.” you tried to keep his arm in your hands without looking clumsy, but obviously he was stronger than you.

“Trust me, sister, you can intimidate him perfectly by yourself.” he gave you one last smirk before slipping away among the people leaving you alone. You heard the heels of the Queen approaching, and with still your amused smile you turned around ready to meet them.

The Prince’s eyes were already on you making your cheeks turned into a soft pink. His smile suggested you that he had assist at the scene with your brother, even if he couldn’t hear what you said, and when the Queen spoke briefly about you he wasn’t surprise to know that you were also a Bridgerton. He noticed happily that you were a particular family.

“Miss Y/n Bridgerton, he is Your Highness Prince Friedrich of Prussia.” the cold voice of the Queen interrupted you from staring Prince’s eyes.

“Your Grace, it’s a pleasure meeting you.” you bowed slowly wanting to remember at the Queen that Daphne wasn’t the only one who could bow in a charming way.

“Please, my aunt loves the title, but Prince Friedrich is more than enough, Miss Bridgerton.” he smiled kindly at you when you stood up. He bowed too, kissing your hand over your glove charmed by your smile. He had the pleasure to see it long before approaching, when the smile had began more polite and less amused. He saw you interacting with your brother in such a natural way that he couldn’t not think that you were the only two people who didn’t hide behind a mask.

“I hope you enjoied the journey, Prince Friedrich. I heard that the English Channel is not always so kind with its sailors.” he appreciated that you didn’t say the same questions or senteces of the others Ladies he met, but instead you chose to make an indirect question adding a true fact and leaving him the word.

“I was lucky, the sky was blue and the sun had welcomed us with the warmest of its rays.” you were happy to hear the German accent in his voice while he kept speaking, like you had imagined since the news of his arrival.

“I am happy to hear that, and I wanted to apologies for the behaviour of my sister, few moments ago. We are a very...vivacious family.” you giggled at your last words thinking about all the time that you and your brothers had made your mother loosing her mind.

He could not hold a laugh at your comment, knowing perfectly what meant growing up in a big family with people you love. He ignored Queen’s eyes on him that was waiting to walk away; he just staied still admiring your features while with still your smile on you were looking the couples who were ending their dance.

“Have you had already the pleasure to dance, Lady Y/n?” he asked curious letting the Queen understand that he hadn’t the intention of going away.

“Unfortunately, not yet. I have arrived few minutes before you, Your Grace, and your arrival had shadowed my presence here, I think.” you raised an eyebrow turning your gaze on him. Benedict was right, you could intimidate people by your own and you had so much fun doing that, because it was beautiful seeing the men taken back by a woman.

He raised his hand offering it to you with shining eyes and a little bow. “Your beauty is too shiny to be shadowed; I beg you to let me repair at what I have done. Perhaps with a dance?”

The Queen looked him shocked while your smile grew bigger. “I do not think it will be appropriate, Friedrich.” she said worried.

“It is my fault that this beautiful Lady has not been invited to dance yet, I cannot let to this injustice to happen.” he felt his heart lighter when he heard your laugh.

You took his hand happily to have the power of doing something that the Queen didn’t approve; she had made the mistake to understimate you just because your vitality that a Lady shouldn’ t have, and now you were taking her nephew away under he own nose. “I suppose a dance can repair your damage, Prince Friedrich.”

You hadn’t realize that you were actually to be about to dance with a Prince, untile all the eyes were on you. You two were let alone at the centre of the room, standing in front of each other without looking away from the other’s eyes. Whispers could be heard around you, Benedict was looking the face of the mothers around him to make a laugh while Daphne was positively surprised with beside her Simon had a huge grin on his face.

After bowing you stepped closer to let one of his hand resting on your hips while with the other he took yours. You rested your left hand on his shoulder and the music began covering the whispers and leaving the only two of you to dance.

“It is a honor being your first dance of tonight, Lady Bridgerton.” he said breaking your silent.

“You flatter me, Your Grace.” he spinned you taking all the space you wanted since no one had yet joined you. “Although you stil haven’t meet my all family; you would find yourself less honored and more...longing to walk away and never meet us again.”

With your surprise he laughed lowering his head a little looking the ground for a moment. He felt attracted by your humor; it made him feel more relaxed and it brought him memories about his childhood with his cousins with who he was used play and laugh every day.

“I find it quite impossible, my Lady, but tell me something about you...I heard that you are a traveller; which place has the unattainable fortune to own your heart?” his voice was smooth and sweet but still with the firmness of a Prince. You wondered if the choice of wearing the same blue of his eyes had been his own choice or it was you that sometime observed too much.

“I’ve been in few places with my brother, Lord Colin Bridgerton, but I hope to see more.” he nodded understanding the feeling. “I found Scotland quite lovely, but if I have to be honest, my heart would like to take a little farm in Ireland and settle there among the green of its beautiful landscape.”

More you two spoke, and more he noticed how much things you had in common. You hadn’t problem to talk sincerely, you knew he was out of your league; in that room there were few Ladies who could be a future princess, and you were very aware that one of them was your sister. However the feeling that Cupid was in front of you in all his beauty was still in your chest; you couldn’t even decide which part of him you liked the most, because every thing of him matched perfectly together; his warm smile suggested the humility he had, his big blue eyes seemed belong to a baby who looked everywhere with wonder and his curly blonde hair looked like freshly cut wheat.

When the music ended you bowed at each other. He took your and kissing it without taking his eyes away from yours. Were butterflies those in your stomach? “You put me in a difficult position, my Lady. I cannot compliment with a part of you without mention the others.” his smile and his voice made you blush while he was still holding your hand. “You are a wonderful woman, Miss Y/n, and a divine dancer. I shall look to meet you again, if you allow me.”

You felt your heart beat fast in your chest, almost as it wanted to speak with Prince Friedrich personally. “Your words enchant me, Prince Friedrich. I would be more than delighted to talk with you again, maybe next time you could tell me about Prussia and suggest some place to visit for my next journey.”

“I will be not surprise when you will drag Colin in Prussia at your next travel.” you heard Benedict’s voice in your head laughing at you, but the Prince’s presence was like a drug to you.

“I will look forward to hear about your journeys, my Lady.” with a last smile, you walked in different directions still with all the eyes on you.

He found himself looking for you around the room more often than he were conscious; he learned fast that the gentleman with who you danced few times was Lord de Bethencourt, a French Lord who since your first debut had expresses the interest he had toward you in the most romantic way. He saw you two laughing, speaking and dancing with a chemistry he envied. When you would laugh due something that Lord de Bethencourt had whispered in your ear, he would ask himself what he had said to you and the same when you were commited in a deep conversation about God knew what.

The Queen had tried to make him dance with Daphne, but he wasn’t blind and he could see the affection that your sister shared with Simon, but at some point of the night Lady Cressida fainted in his arms catching the attention of everyone.

You saw with a smile that the two of them made a beautiful couple, and Cressida had always radiated royalty in everything she did. To be honest, it didn’t touch you at all; you had enjoied Prince’s company and the dance had made many gentlemen coming to you and ask for a dance so who you were to complain?

When you fell asleep you could not ask yourself why Cupid had decided to reveal his face at you so soon when with Psyche he tried to hide it everytime. You didn’t know there could exist such beauty in just a person, and still the Prince where there, in your same city and you had shared a dance together. You wished that just like Psyche, Cupid would come to you and take you away to live together, but this time Cupid was a Prince, and as a Prince he could not avoid his duty.

Dear readers,

I know you were waiting the edition of the morning, and after what happened last night at the ball I can understand you.

If you weren’t at the ball then you didn’t assist at the rivelation of the season. We all know that Daphne Bridgerton had been declared the Diamond of the season by the Queen herself, but it was another Lady who danced with Your Highness of Prussia. Indeed, Prince Friedrich and Lady Y/n Bridgerton had shared their first dance together under the disapproval look of the Queen.

Surely Lady Violet must be excited to have under her roof a future Duchess and a future Princess, and if you think that I am too fast to judge then you didn’t see Miss Y/n and Prince Friedrich at all. But Prince Friedrich must had seen that Lady Bridgerton had already a suitor, the handsome gentleman Lord de Bethencourt, I am sure we all are curious to see what will happen.

However the Prince seemed to have taked the attention of another suitable Lady, Miss Cressida Cowper. The young woman had fainted between the arm of Prince Friedrich and he helped her like a real Charming Prince, but if your eyes had fallen on Lady Y/n for a moment you could have seen that she was smiling, and not a polite one, but a true smile!

Is it possible that the charm of our Charming Prince didn’t charmed her at all? Maybe her heart is already living in France, but I would not be surprise if in few day the Prussia will reclaim her heart as its own.

If something happen, I will be the first to tell you.

Yours, Lady Whistledown.

“How was the Prince? Did he invite you at palace? Was he like the princes of the farytails?!” the shrill voice of Hyacinth filled the room in the exact moment you entered in the Living room the next morning.

“Let your sister breath, Hyacinth. Come sweatheart, sit here and tell us about last night.” your mother said making you sit on the couch beside her excited.

“Mama, I stop you here before you start to hyperventilate. We shared only one dance and it was beacuse I almost forced him to do so.” you giggled at the lovely memory of your dance.

“Although, he didn’t seem forced. I would say he quite enjoied your dance.” Benedict said slyly and you launched a pillow at him hitting his face.

“You were beautiful together, Y/n. Everyone couldn’t stop looking at you during the ball.” Daphne said smiling sweetly making you blush.

“Stop! All of you. It was only a dance and-”

You were interrupted by three servants who entered in the room with three baskets of flowers. “A gift for Miss Y/n Bridgerton.”

They put the flowers on the table leaving all of you Bridgerton looking at each other curious. It wasn’t unusual that someone sent you gifts, but no one had ever sent you so many flowers; usually it was enough just one baskets or few rose.

“Whoever send these must want your hand badly.” joked Colin while you walked toward the table.

“Maybe he will, look at this Lilies!” Lilies were your favourite flower, indeed there was a spot in the park full of them where you were used to go whenever you wanted to relax alone.

You took the ticket that was on the second baskets seeing that there was your name written with an elegant handwriting. “Make sure to read it out loud, sister.” said Anthony with a smirk.

“Lovely Miss Y/n,

the memory of our dance took the charge of my thoughs and the time we shared together seems a dream. My heart wish to hear more about your journeys and dreams, I hope my presence in the park these days will be accepted from you and perhaps we could talk again.

In the meantime, I thought about what you said of living in a little farm in Ireland, and I could not resist but imagine that these flowers would be perfect in your future garden.

Sincerely, Prince Friedrich.” your voice had become exciter after the first part of the letter, and now you didn’t know if it was a dream or it was all real.

“I didn’t know that in Prussia had such low standard:” Benedict.

“Our sister will become a Princess!” Colin.

“Yes, a Princess who will make all the Prussia crazy due her talkativeness .” Anthony.

“Y/n Bridgerton! Did you tell at the Prince that you want to live in a farm?!” Lady Violet yelled shocked by her own daughter actions.

“In my defence he liked it!” you said trying to hold a laugh. “And then...come on! Who would ever imagine that he was truly listening me?! I though, and still thing, that he is out of my league so why not being sincere?”

“Well, I would dare to say that he was truly listenting you.” said Benedict giggling earning a death glare from you.

“It is his fault!” you pointed at him looking your mother.

“Why mine?” he stood up suddenly confused.

“He left me alone when the Prince was approaching! I was unsupervised, and you know what happen when I am unsupervised.” you hoped that it would be a good excuse, but the look of your mother said otherwise. “Alright, when I’ll see him again I say that I’ve lied, my real dream is living in a huge castle full of jewerly, rules and boring stuff. Because we all know how much I love the boring stuff.”

Your drammatic tone made everyone laugh until the arrival of the first suitors for you and your sister.

You tried to stay focus on what they were saying, but every now and then your eyes felt on the baskets of flowers that were on the table worring about what the Prince was doing. Had he visisted some Lady? Maybe Lady Cressida? Or maybe he sent flowers to all the Ladies with who he had danced the last night...you wouldn’t be surprise since you had seen how much was big his kindness.

Waking up with the sight of his flowers in your bedroom made your next mornings starting in a good way. That afternoon you would meet Lord de Bethencourt at the park, and in a hidden place of your mind you were hoping to see Prince Friedrich there.

You had the beautiful idea to taking a walk with the horses so you had the opportunity to put on your new dark blue suit. The clouds were covering the sun colouring the air around you of a light shade of grey, indeed there weren’t many people out letting you two to enjoy the company of each other.

“And what was the thing that inspired a lovely lady like you to learn French?” Lord de Bethencourt asked you curious.

“You see, my Lord, with my passion for travelling the desire to know other languages came by itself. It wasn’t easy at the beginning, I must say, but I find it so romantic that I could not stay in my ignorance.” you looked over his shoulder for a moment seeing a blonde haired head sitting not far away from you.

“There is so many places in France that would be lucky to being seen by you, my Lady. Perhaps the next time shall I talk about them?” he asked taking firmly his reins ready to return at his home.

“You must, Lord de Bethencourt. I wish you a good night.” you smiled at him and after having wished you a good day he kicked his horse making him trot away.

Could you go home and relax with a good book and warm blankets? Yes.

Did you wanted to do so? Absolutely no.

So in a very natural way you turned around your horse and went towards the blonde haired man you had seen few moments before. The park was huge so you started to look around enjoing the green that was around you and looking the swan that was in the middle of the little lake at your right.

Few metres before the man, who you saw was sitting at a table admiring the lake, some guards stopped you and your waitress from going further. “I am sorry Miss, but you cannot get closer.”

“Then would you be so kind to guide me at home toward another street?” you replied with fake concern. You knew very well that there were plenty other street that would bring you home, but you wanted some fun earning his attention.

“I am really sorry Miss, but I cannot let you go further.” he looked truly sorry, but most of the men forget that a woman has more power than what they believe; indeed it was you favourite hobby making the Lords apologies with you for whatever and whenever you want.

“Then let me adjust this problem.” you cleared your throat holding the smirk that fought so hard to be free. “Your Highness! When you said that you would like to stay in my company again I didn’t expect that you would forbid me to go home.”

Prince Friedrich turned around looking surprised at you. The guard’s mouth felt open while you kept your sweet smile on your face rather amused by all the situation.

“Lady Bridgerton, for a moment I though to have seen a mirage...tell me, my guard had been unkind to you?” he walked closer to you, but you didn’t get off the horse kepping your back straight and looking him up down.

“There is not enough sun for a mirage, Prince Friedrich; unfortunately it’s just me.” you let out a giggle and a smile appeared on his face. “Although, no you guard didn’t do anything out of your orders, but I was unhappy when I found out that I couldn’t get back at home...”

“Your unhappiness bring me pain, my Lady.” he brought a hand to his heart bowing respecfully. “I cannot say that I am not pleased to see you again. Can I apologies for this misunderstanding wìth a cup of tea?”

You smiled with pride seeing that you made the Prince asking you sorry twice without even commit yourself too much. You looked behind you your brother Anthony that had been your silent chaperon for all day and after he gave you a nod smirking you turned your attention to the Prince again.

“How could I say no after the wonderful flowers you sent me?” he offered happily his hand to help you to get off the horse and you accepted it gladly. When a guard approached to take your horse you looked at him carefully. “Be careful with her. She is not fond with men due her...brutal childhood, so be kind and treat her as a Princess, because she is, right Cassidy?” you caressed your horse affectionately before giving the reins at the guard.

“What happened to Cassidy?” the Prince asked curious bringing you at the table and holding the chair for you.

“She was born to race. Her first owners used to do illegal races and it wasn’t unusual for them to beat her to make her run faster. My brother, Lord Anthony Bridgerton, found them and all the horses had been selt, but she was frightened by everything; so an afternoon I decided to visit Cassidy and day by day I took care of her.” you said lost in your memories with a little smile on your lips.

“She had been very lucky to find you, Miss Y/n, and do you like riding often?” he offered you a cup of tea that you took thanking him kindly.

“Oh yes. Mostly when I want to go in the countryside and take a walk among the green. I find horses beautiful animals.”

“I agree. So, I hope I had helped your immagination with those flowers.” he smiled with a little blush on his cheeks. If Cupid owned already such beauty, why he must own even the most melodious voice that your ear had ever heard? Wasn’t enought enchanting your eyes? What did he want from a normal human like you? Why didn’t he fly to his Psyche and let you live happily?

“These flowers made me dreams more vividly about my future garden, Prince Friedrich, and your words had been poesy for my eyes.” he must had done something to your tea, because with few words you were drunk of his presence. You didn’t dare to allow you to dream about a future with him, because you knew he was a dream to live day by day so that when you would wake up you would not have any regrets.

You talked and talked; he made you laugh and your spontaneity made him attracted to you even more. He watched your smile, your eyes, your pink cheeks and the beautiful light that turned on everytime you talked about something you loved. He found out that weren’t you only a strong woman, but you were also acculturated, clever and smart; this made him liking even more your power to stand up for yourself even with men.

“But if I will go to France, the first thing I desire to see if the sculpture of Cupid and Psyche, their story affascinate my since I was a kid.” you ended your speech about the place you wished to go in the future.

“Such a beautiful love story. I read it long time ago and still it is in my head so vividly that I could recite some part of it.” he agreed completely absorbed in your conversation.

“Indeed, I dare to say that is one of my favourite love story ever. He, the god of love find love in a human girl due his own mistake, and to protect her and himself from the mother he decided to hide his face. I mean, yes his love started because one of his own arrow hit him, by I think it was destiny.” your voice was music to his ear, he wished to be able to listen you all day.

For a moment he seemed to see cupid behind you with his arrow pointed at his chest and when his eyes felt on your face again he could feel a strange feeling in his chest, as if Cupid’s arrow had hitten him for real.

SEQUEL: Jealousy and The Sweet Taste Of Sin

#prince friedrich x reader #prince friedrich #prince fridrich bridgerton #bridgerton #bridgerton netflix #daphne bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #colin bridgerton #bridgerton x reader

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langdxn · 3 years

Note

OMGGG PLEASE WRITE FOR STAN ✨✨🖤🖤

well if you insist...

off the record | stan bowes x reporter!reader

WARNINGS: pretty graphic smut, fingering, vaginal sex, pet names errywhere, trump mentions, dom!stan

WORDS: 2.9k (excessive but necessary)

A/N: 110% not proofread yet so apologies for any errors which i’ll fix tomorrow.

The hustle and bustle of 5th Avenue spared Stan the embarrassment of leaving a torturous meeting at work. Tumbling out into the chaos of the New York streets offered him the anonymity he craved after a confrontation with Matt, the ability to blend in amongst the faces that couldn’t recognise him from the next suited, briefcase-toting businessman.

Bursting out of the doors to Trump Towers, Stan dropped his briefcase and rinsed his face with both hands, pressing his fingers to his eyes in a vain attempt to wipe away the day he’d just had. In that moment, no eyes were trained on him, no pressure on his shoulders, no demands of his time.

That is, until a sugary voice broke the crowd’s monotonous buzz.

“Trouble in economic paradise, honey?”

Stan’s hands dropped to his side as he searched for the source of his interruption, eyes intently scanning the street until they fell upon you, leaning against the building’s opulent marble pillars at the entrance.

“Sorta,” he mumbled under his breath, a grimace gently tapering his lips as he gazed down at his shoes. In an attempt to avoid your attentions, he trained his sights on a particularly worn paving slab. His distraction worked right up until your heels clacked toward him and planted right on his slab, the smoke from your cigarette swirling in his peripheral vision — there was no avoiding you, no matter how hard he tried. Stan’s head raised to meet your gaze, his deep brown eyes betraying a sadness and insecurity he may never put into words.

“I hear Mr Trump can be a harsh master,” you goaded your victim into spilling his guts, taking a deep puff of your cigarette before blowing it back to hover over his brown curls like a makeshift halo.

“I... I wouldn’t know, I barely see him,” Stan confessed, grabbing his suitcase and nodded toward the street. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Miss.”

Time for drastic action. The brunette stepped toward the street, ready to dismiss this exchange and continue his day.

“I smoke out here to drive your boss up the wall, you know,” you called after him, booming over the hubbub on 5th Avenue. “Admittedly he doesn’t come out much, but that jerk-off on the 41st floor certainly reads me for dirt every Friday night. What’s his name, Matt Bromley?”

Stan stopped in his tracks.

“Oh, so you know him too?” You pressed, pacing toward him with a staccato clack of your heels.

“He’s my superior, or at least he pretends to be,” Stan turned to face you, that same pained smirk dancing across his cheeks as his voice cracked between sentences. “Be careful around him, yeah? He’s not exactly one of the nice guys.”

“You’re telling me,” you scoffed, taking another swift drag while tipping your head to the side. “Luckily if he laid a finger on me, I’d put it front page of the Post and he’d never work in this overpriced dump again.”

“You’re a reporter?” Stan’s eyebrows quirked, intrigued but nonetheless concerned. Should he even be talking to a reporter like this? Will every word that passes his lips end up on tomorrow’s front page? He shook his head to dismiss any suspicious thoughts, he certainly didn’t have the headspace for that yet.

“For now,” you admitted with a pout and an eye-roll. “Your asshole ‘superior’ tries to rectify that on a regular basis. Keeps telling my boss I’m soliciting outside Trump Tower instead of reporting. Always digging through my personal life and not coming up with so much as an overdue rental VHS. Someday my editor will believe him, but I’m on my last warning as it is.”

“Seriously?” Stan’s smirk grew more sympathetic with the realisation one more life was being wrecked by the man he had the misfortune of sharing a floor with. “That’s pretty crazy.”

“That’s Manhattan, honey,” you smiled warmly at him. “Don’t worry, I’m not doorstepping you, I just happened to be here on a tip-off.”

“A tip-off? What sort of—.”

Stan cut himself off on hearing the approach of a familiar obnoxious voice on a cell phone booming in the golden foyer behind your exchange.

“Shit, that’s Bromley,” Stan panicked, suddenly grasping your arm and leading you away from the door, casting your half-smoked cigarette to the kerb. “Let’s get you outta here.”

“My nameless knight in shining armour,” you chuckled to yourself, somehow instincively following his lead on the street until you merged with the throngs of passers-by. “Where are we going, sweetie?”

“My name’s Stan Bowes, and I have absolutely no idea where we’re going.”

———

“You don’t look like a Stan,” you mused at the businessman seated across the table from you, tapping your chin with a finger as you contemplated alternative monikers. “More like a... Colin? Peter? Yeah, you’re a Peter—.”

“Can we just... rewind here?” Stan interrupted, eyes darting frantically at your surroundings, scanning the faces at the other tables. “D’ya mind explaining to me why we’re in a Five Guys right now?”

“You’ll thank me later, toots,” you quickly dismissed his objection as you swirled your soda cup in your other hand. “You think your psycho friend from the 41st floor’s gonna look for you in a diner? He’ll go straight to the Plaza... or even Indochine. Never a Five Guys. Plus, I needed somewhere I can afford to pay the bill so the Trump Organisation expense account doesn’t feel the burn.”

A wordless nod and raised eyebrow from your company suggested his silent approval, but his hands idly toying with the burger before him betrayed his confidence in your genius escape plan. Folding the lettuce edging out from beneath the bun, tugging at the rings of onion and nervously picking the sesame seeds from the top.

“You never told me what your tip-off was. What were you doing outside my work?” Stan raised his manhandled burger to his mouth, daring to undo all the strategic dismantling he’d just put into action.

“Somebody told the office that the blonde egomaniac at the top of your food chain is planning to run for president.”

Stan nearly choked on his first bite, resisting the temptation to spit it out in shock. “You’ve gotta be kidding me!”

“‘Fraid not.”

“That... that can’t be true, he’s too busy with the plans to buy the Plaza two blocks away.”

“The Plaza?!” Your inquisitive voice changed pitch.

“Yeah, didn’t you know?” Stan screwed up his face. “Wait— you’re not gonna print this, are you?”

“I’m not here to rat you out,” You raised both surrendering hands in the space between you. “See? No notebook, no tape recorder, no agenda. It’s just me and you, baby.”

The brown haired man smiled warmly, visibly releasing the tension in his shoulders, comforted that he wasn’t being examined.

“So if you’re not here for business, why is a beautiful girl like you talking to me? I’m nothing special, I’m just a guy in an overpriced suit.”

Caving into the temptation to look him up and down, your gaze wandered to Stan’s hands, gently trembling as he held his burger.

“Because I like you, Peter,” you grinned at the sound of your company’s new moniker. “You and that suit. But you’re so much more than that suit, you know.”

“Eh, I’m not so sure about that. Matt doesn’t seem to think so either.”

“Screw what Bromley the office bully thinks,” you slammed the table with your palm. “This is about you. The guy who stopped to talk to a girl who looked like she was hustling outside your building, the guy who’s not afraid to sit in a diner with a total stranger to save her from his coworker. Face it, Peter, you’re one of the good guys.”

His lips tapered into a warm smile. “Thank you, miss, for not jumping to conclusions about me.”

“Don’t get me wrong, the pinstripes suit you. They’d look better on my floor, but...”

Stan immediately looked up from his food to your eyes, scanning for any sign of humour or any chance you were just trying to make him feel better.

“Did you just—?”

“I think I did!” You giggled, a hint of disbelief in your own words. “Is that a problem?”

Frozen in the moment, Stan just stared at you for a minute. His next move was exhilaratingly unpredictable, leaving your heart rate thundering in your ears, but something about the shimmer in his eyes suggested you wouldn’t have to worry.

“Peter, what’s wrong, did I—?”

You were cut off by Stan’s lips crashing into yours, lunging over the table and hooking a hand around your neck to draw you in. His kiss deepened with every second, dipping his nose into your cheek and moaning softly into your mouth. As you parted, his ear-to-ear grin beamed back to mirror yours.

“Yuppies don’t kiss like that,” you joked.

“You should see me in the bedroom,” he retorted with a laugh.

“Deal.”

———

Hollywood movies were right about one thing: sex in the throes of passion often starts in the same way — bundling through your lover’s uptown hotel room with your legs wrapped around his waist while he juggles his keycard, both peppering sloppy open-mouthed kisses and showering each other with distracted affection until he drops you onto the satin sheets.

Stan, courteous as ever, gently placed you on the sprawling bed without his lips leaving yours, crawling between your thighs before thinking how to undress himself. With both his hands preoccupied passionately lacing into your hair, you grasped at the hem of your dress to take it off yourself.

“Hold on, princess,” he muttered into your mouth, immediately untangling a hand to trace down your figure and met your attempts to hitch your skirt. “Let me strip you.”

Stan thumbed at the edge of the fabric, savouring the moment before you became so much more than a beautiful stranger to him, before slowly rolling your dress up, passing your neck and whipping it over your head to limit the time before he could kiss you again.

“Peter, are you sure about this?” You queried out of respect while casting aside his evidently expensive belt, tearing his braces from his shoulders and laying waste to his shirt buttons.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” he hummed against your lips between hot and ragged breaths. “And my name’s not fucking Peter.”

Stan made light work of yanking your panties down to your knees around him, unhooking them from one leg for quicker access and throwing the bundle of lace across the room, soon followed by your bra. In the blur of clothes flying, you tackled his suit pants down to his knees and slipped his silk boxers to join them. The less you thought about those silk boxers, the better.

With no clothes left between you, Stan pressed his bare chest against yours, his heart racing so fast it could burst out of his rib cage.

A needy groan erupted in his throat as he tore his lips away from yours, journeying to pepper heated kisses down your throat, sucking gently as his lips reached your collarbone and followed south to your breasts. While his tongue expertly swirled around one nipple, his hand travelled to the other and kneaded hungrily, gently rolling the hardening bud between his thumb and forefinger.

Your soft moan as he sucked harder gave him the signal to trail his fingers down your frame, his palm traversing the plane of your hips before he reached your exposed clit, tracing lazy circles around your bundle of nerves. Your back arched wildly into his touch, reaching a hand to wind into his brown curls when your helpless, urgent moans grew in volume.

“Don’t worry baby girl, I won’t leave you hanging much longer,” Stan whispered through a satisfied smile against your breast. “I just need to taste you first.”

His circling finger journeyed south to track around your folds, swollen and pulsing in anticipation of his next move. Slowly dipping the tip of his finger through your soaking entrance, your hips bucked upwards and instinctively widened your legs beneath him.

“That’s my good girl, spread yourself wide for me.” Stan’s eyelids fluttered excitedly, adding another finger inside your aching cunt and hooking both to graze your soft walls. His lips left your nipple so he could gaze at your form writhing beneath him, completely at his mercy.

His curled fingers pressed urgently into your walls, building an uncontrollable pressure within you and forcing your eyes to roll to the ceiling. Stan noticed you nearing ecstasy and immediately withdrew his dripping fingers, raising them to his lips and pressing them to his tongue.

“I knew you’d taste like heaven,” he cooed gently, lifting up to dip his head into your neck placing searing hot kisses beneath your ear. “Cat got your tongue, Miss New York Post?”

“I... I...,” you stuttered weakly, your whole body alight with waves of heat and anticipation you’d never felt before. “I...”

“You’re not usually this quiet,” Stan whispered. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

“I... need... you...”

He hummed contentedly, trailing his hand south to line the head of his cock with your throbbing entrance.

“What’s that, princess? You want me to fuck you?” Stan questioned with false innocence, a devious smirk plumping his cheeks. “You’ve been such a good girl waiting for me, I think you’ve earned it.”

In one smooth rock of his hips, Stan’s length slipped through your folds and bottomed out inside you. Your eyes journeyed to the ceiling as he filled you, spine arching recklessly craving more friction. He drew his hips back slowly, but his next thrust slammed his cock inside you so hard, you let out a hollow gasp.

“I know baby, I know,” Stan comforted you, curling his hips to ensure every thrust brushed the tip of his length against your deepest points and revelling in your squirms under him. “You’re taking me so well.”

Lost for words in the stars emerging in the corners of your eyes, you remained speechless as Stan broke down every single one of your weaknesses and turned you into putty in his hands. Jerking uncontrollably and sinking your head back into the pillow with every devastating thrust, Stan kissed your exposed neck and moaned deeply. Seizing his opportunity, both hands flew to lightly grasp your throat, his thumbs calmly resting on your windpipe — his aim wasn’t to choke you, just to hold onto you enough to assert his ownership of you, claiming you as you writhed beneath him. He leaned back to admire his work of unravelling you, possessing you.

“Look at you,” he hummed through a grin, not missing a single beat of his determined thrusts. “You’re so, so beautiful.”

Chasing you to your height of ecstasy once more, Stan’s staccato rhythm jackhammered into you at the same rate as the tremors consuming your body beneath his. Your vision of his bouncing brown curls above you started to fade behind the glittering haze taking over your mind. Fighting for consciousness, you stuttered a hollow cry for release as you approached your climax.

“Stan, I— I need to... I’m gonna cu—.”

“It’s okay baby, I’ve got you,” Stan reassured, wrapping an arm around your neck and pulling you into his chest as his hips grew frantic and sloppy. “Let go for me.”

With a deep growl and a final erratic thrust, Stan spilled against your walls, flooding warmth inside you that sent your head dipping into the pillows. His lips gently pecked your throat again as he poured his length back to the depths of your pussy, pushing his load as far inside you as possible.

Emerging from the depths of the pillow as you regained control of your legs wrapped around his waist, Stan slowly drew his hips back and slipped his length out from your swollen folds, his gaze dropping to your entrance as if making sure his cum wouldn’t drip out. Content that he hadn’t left any suspicious stains on the hotel sheets, Stan returned to gaze into your eyes and beamed from ear to ear.

“You... you called me Stan?” He quizzed while tumbling down to the pillow beside you, a puzzled eyebrow quirking beneath beads of sweat.

“You called me princess,” you retaliated with a joking tap of his chest. “I think we’re equal here, don’t you?”

Stan chuckled to himself and turned to face you, propping his head up with an exhausted, trembling hand. A palpable silence fell as he composed his next sentence.

“Was this, er... would you... can you...,” He stumbled nervously over his words; his assertive alter ego must have left as soon as he came.

“Cat got your tongue, Mr Trump Organi—“

“Stay.”

Your gaze dropped to your chest as you laughed it off. “As much as I’d love to, I got the feeling this was just a one-off for you?”

“That’s what I thought you wanted, too,” Stan confirmed with a quirked eyebrow.

Chuckling to yourself, you shook your head to dismiss all the worries that the dapper businessman would make you do the walk of shame once he’d finished.

“Then I’ll stay, sugar,” you beamed, settling into Stan’s chest as he scooped his arm beneath your head.

“We’ll get room service to dry clean your dress and I’ll drive you to work in the morning, if that’s okay?” Stan’s courteous streak had definitely returned.

You smiled broadly, nodding against Stan’s chest and swooping an arm around his waist.

“Besides, now you can tell me all about that presidential tip-off you had,” he quizzed. “Trump may be an extremely powerful guy, but he’s never gonna be president…”

#stan bowes x reader #pose fanfiction #evan peters fanfiction #evan peters imagines

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zaina-xoxo · 3 years

Text

Harry Potter headcanons (sad)

That Hermione and Ron always wanted a huge family. Like, 5 children filling a burrow. However, they ended up with only two. Why? Hermione’s torture at the hands of Bellatrix left its marks, and she couldn’t have children after Hugo. Dark Magic always left marks.

That Dumbledore never really left limbo. He stayed there forever, unable to allow himself to move due to the blood he had on his hands, lives he sacrificed for the greater good.

That George dyed his hair blue after the battle in order to stop reminding himself of Fred every time he saw a mirror.

That Grindelwald never stopped loving Dumbledore, and during their final duel, he actually had an opportunity to kill him, but couldn’t gather the will. Dumbledore used that moment to win.

That during Snape’s death, those tears with the memories, were also a sacrifice. Those tears were the memories themselves. So, when he died and went to the afterlife … he didn’t remember the person most featured in those memories, the one they focused on. In death, he never remembered Lily.

After the battle of hogwarts, Dennis Creevey becomes a photographer …. which was what his brother, Colin, had wanted to become when he grew up.

That Sirius willingly fell into the veil, which only kills if you completely were thrown into it. What happened was that half of his body went to the other side, and he was immediately assaulted by whispers of his dead loved ones, especially lily and James. He died with a smile, as he jumped in to his next great adventure.

That for the first fifteen years of his life, what Tom Riddle saw in the Mirror of Erised was himself with his parents in a rich household, in a loving family. All he wanted was to be loved. All that changed when he made his first horcrux.

That Dumbledore’s boggart was himself. And, that it really was him who killed Ariana, something he found out in the afterlife.

When Ron was a little boy he overheard his aunt Muriel talking to her friend that how amazing Ron's elder brothers were. But she called Ron ‘Molly's failed attempt for a girl’. She also said that Ron was worthless and he was no one compared to his elder brothers. Ron had developed insecurities about not being good enough from that overheard conversation.

When Ron left in DH Hermione wrote a letter. Conveying EVERYTHING she felt for him. She was almost certain that she would never see him again. She would never be able to tell him how she felt for him. She kept that letter in her beaded bag. Years later Ron found out that letter. And he cried.

Once during an auror mission Ron was injured badly. He almost died. Hermione didn't leave his side for once. When he was slightly better, Hermione told him that she was pregnant. That was when Ron had decided to quit his job.

When Ron and Hermione were staying at the shell cottage Hermione had a long conversation with Fleur. Hermione told her that there was a huge chance that she wouldn't survive the battle of Hogwarts. She was a muggleborn afterall. So if something happened she wanted Ron to move on with his life. She wanted Fleur to promise her that she would help Ron to move on with his life.

When the flashing green light came rushing at James Potter's way he didn't see death, but was reminded of two pairs of vibrant green eyes staring lovingly at him.

Death works differently in the HPU. Once you die, you have the choice to stay in limbo for as long as you want, or to take the train. You could also become a ghost. However, along with that there’s also the choice of becoming a creature which is the embodiment of death - a thestral. This is why Luna has a favourite Thestral, and why there’s a huge influx of them in the forbidden forest after the battle of hogwarts.

Neville kept visiting his parents. With every milestone that he hit — graduating Hogwarts, marrying Hannah Abbott, being hired as a professor — he made it a tradition to see them. It was not until he visited with a baby girl in his arms, Alice Francesca Longbottom, that he saw a flash of recognition in his mother’s eyes.

The day Harry was born, all the marauders found themselves in St. Mungo’s. Hours later, Remus awoke in his chair just in time to see a black-haired man with a crooked nose regarding the new-born. With a last glance upon Lily he left, seemingly unseen.

As a child Teddy had a huge crush on his Aunt Hermione, and he would often give her flowers and ask her if they could get married someday. Once he grew up, he was commonly teased about his childhood crush on his aunt (not sad)

During the first few years that Severus was teaching at Hogwarts, all of the other teachers were very uncertain of him. They all thought that Dumbledore was mad for hiring him, as they all knew of his reputation as a Death Eater. But eventually he struck up a very playful rivalry with Minerva. They would sit together at Quidditch matches and pass snarky comments back and forth, both of them snorting in amusement. It also wasn’t uncommon to find them sat together in the evenings, having a cup of tea or a glass of firewhiskey. By the time Harry Potter came to Hogwarts, Minerva believed in him almost as much as Dumbledore did. (He often urged Severus to tell her the real reason he defected from the Death Eaters, but Severus always refused.) His hatred of the young Gryffindor was often a point of contention between the two unlikely friends, but their friendship remained strong. It withstood Voldemort’s return and the reformation of the Order of the Phoenix. But in the aftermath of the Battle of the Astronomy Tower and Dumbledore’s death, Minerva was completely shocked and outraged. She couldn’t believe she’d ever befriended him at all and swore she’d never forgive herself for trusting him. During the last year the two taught together she avoided him at all costs, talking to him only when it was absolutely necessary, and when she had to she did so rather stiffly. After the Battle of Hogwarts ended and he was dead, however, she learned the truth about his actions from Harry, who told her about his tragic tale. She cried on and off for days. And the first time she came face to face with his portrait she completely broke down.

Had Fred not died, the twins would have had an overly casual double wedding [and would probably switch places to mess with their brides]

When Remus woke up in Harry’s compartment in POA, he saw Harry giving him the same comforting and concerned look as James. For a moment he thought he was seeing James again. Then in sunk in that his dear friend was dead and it was James’ son.

Teddy saw Sirius’ picture once. He didn’t know who he was, so he changed himself to look like him. It was only when he grew up that he understood why Harry started crying when he saw him.

Once Professor McGonagall was made headmistress, she let Hagrid become a student. Harry saw Hagrid’s Patronus for the first time in his life three years after the war. It was Hedwig.

When Petunia and Lily were little, they would read Alice in Wonderland. Petunia would read Dudley the book, fully knowing he didn’t like it. She was reading it for Harry, who was listening from inside his cupboard. Petunia believed she owed this to Lily.

When Harry was a baby, he didn’t know his own name. Each of the marauders gave him a nickname. (James called him troublemaker.) When he lived with the Dursleys, and they called him a “troublemaker”, toddler Harry would get excited thinking that his dad was going to take him away from these horrible people.

During the Battle of Hogwarts, Nearly-Headless Nick’s head finally came off. Hence, he had to join the Headless Hunt. Thus, Gryffindor needed a new applicant. The new house ghost was a 17-year-old redheaded man and a large group of 12 students were excited to meet their beloved uncle.

When Teddy Lupin was a baby, his color turned into the person he wanted to hold him. Occasionally, it was Harry or Ginny or any other Weasley. But one day it turned pink and he could do nothing about it.

The Marauders used to take turns babysitting Harry, and it became a tradition to pass the baby and say, “You’re it. Good luck.” And the last thing Sirius saw as he fell through the veil was Remus holding Harry, and the last thought that went though his head was, “You’re it. Good luck.”

After Fred’s funeral, George does not return to the Burrow until about a year later. He refuses to go upstairs where his and Fred’s old room is and barely says a word. His hair is some wild outrageous color, cropped short and crooked, and Mrs. Weasley goes into a fit. She loudly asks why he would do that to himself, and is not prepared when he says, “I kept seeing him in the mirror.”

It’s the year after the Battle of Hogwarts. The school is still being repaired and the class size has dwindled down to pitiful numbers. And the Thestrals are so excited about the newfound attention they’d been getting.

Dobby wrote a will in which he sent Harry over 200 pairs of socks, Ron a pair of trainers, and a misshapen hat for Hermione.

No matter what he was doing or who he was with, Harry would always stop and pet any stray dog that he came across. If he could, he would give them any food he had. Eventually he became known as the man with the treats. Not Harry Potter or the Chosen One; just the quiet man with dogbones. When dogs would bound up to him, throwing their paws onto his chest and barking with glee at his arrival, he was reminded irresistibly of Sirius.

At Colin’s funeral, Harry didn’t say a word. He had been to so many funerals recently that pleasantries felt like a waste of breath, and how terrible would it be for him to waste his breath when he was so lucky to have it? He stood silent and watching, and as the last of the attendees left, Harry placed a tiny picture on Colin’s grave, taken by the late boy himself. It was the only autograph Harry Potter would ever give.

On May 2nd, 1998, Hogwarts held a moment of silence for the fallen. Not a single portrait stirred, not a single stair shifted. Even Peeves ducked into a corner and went silent. Then, when the silence ended, millions of different colored sparks took off into the sky.

Tonks is easily excitable and loved entertaining Hermione and Ginny with her Metamorphosis abilities. One day, she found a picture of Harry in Sirius’ room to turn herself into, and ran downstairs to show Remus and Sirius. And it wasn’t until Tonks watched their hearts break that she realized Harry’s eyes were the wrong color.

Harry kept each and every one of the sweaters that Mrs. Weasley had knitted him. One day while cleaning, she saw them folded with so much care in his drawer. She turned to see Harry wearing his newest Christmas Sweater proudly, like it was the greatest honor he could have been given, and she burst into tears.

One day, Harry accidentally calls Mrs. Weasley “Mum” instead of Molly. His face goes bright red, fumbling with apologies, and she (once again) burst into tears.

The first thing Draco Malfoy did after the war was Apparate into Muggle London and march straight into a tattoo parlor. He emerges, his face still bloody and burned, with an arm void of a black skull. Instead, he looks down at the skin covered in flowers and the skull changed into a silhouette of the castle, and smiles for the first time in two years.

George pulls Harry aside:

(“Harry, you’ve died, haven’t you?”

Harry looked up at George and regarded him, careful not to let any incredulousness show in his eyes — he knew all too well of the torment George must be feeling, of the weight in what he was visibly preparing himself to say.

“I have,” said Harry carefully.

George dipped his head; as he did, Harry caught something in his eyes that pained him so deeply, he was grateful George had tried to hide it from him.

“Does it...” George spoke to his shoes, and his voice sounded much older than Harry remembered. “Did... Did dying hurt, Harry? D’you think… that Freddie was in pain when...”

But George did not need to specify. Like he had been smacked right across the face with the words left unspoken, Harry knew, and it was a long time before he answered.

“It didn’t hurt,” said Harry resolutely, like he was deciding it right then and there.“It didn’t?”

“Quicker and easier than falling asleep.”)

When Remus Lupin took the Map from Harry, he sat there for hours, opening and reopening it wrong on purpose just to see the clever insults sprout on the paper. It was almost like his friends, alive and well, were talking to him for the first time in 12 years.

The day Molly Weasley dies, the first thing she sees is a girl with red hair sprinting toward her. She panics, thinking it might be Ginny, but she sees startling green eyes and knows who it is immediately. Lily Potter pulls Mrs. Weasley into a hug and in a choked voice, whispers, “Thank you.”

Harry memorized every name of the 50 Fallen after the war ends. The day he dies, old and surrounded by his children, he repeats their names in his head like a mantra and begs for their forgiveness.

Eleven years later, at Hogwarts, students fill a corridor filled with portraits of those who died in the Battle of Hogwarts. They look for Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and other famous faces, but there’s a blue-haired first year in their midst, trying desperately to remember what his parents had looked like.

James Potter lost both of his parents at once. The news was delivered to him by Professor McGonagall with Sirius by his side, but James was in denial. He kept insisting that she was lying, and it wasn’t until Sirius broke down into tears that James knew, and it broke him.

Crookshanks was the Potters family cat mentioned in sirius' letter and escaped godrics hollow after Halloween and managed to find the magical menagerie. He found hermione and stayed with her because harry was only allowed hedwig and Ron already had scabbers. This is why he was especially angry towards Ron, due to smelling his masters betrayer on him, and didn't run away from sirius’ grim form.

Hedwig was a guardian angel. Hedwig is smarter than most owls and other animals in the magical world, often appearing to harry when he needs to write a letter. Female snow owls like hedwig are mostly white but they have grey marks and spots on their back wings, hedwig is portrayed as a white male snowy owl. White as an angelic being perhaps Perhaps? Perhaps hedwig was sent by his parents as a guard and friend to him, its why hedwig didn't want anyone else adopting her.

Dementors come from the death eater who were thrown into the Veil. Ever wonder why the veil of death is barley used? After the souls escape to the after life the bodies of those who enter become husks of their former selves, hungry for souls. Unmasked before thrown in with only the cloaks on their backs.

Four years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Molly Weasley was busy preparing food for Ron’s birthday. She mistakenly barked to George, “Get that chicken out of the oven, Fred!” George silently whispered, “Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother?”

JK Rowling has revealed that Lily Potter was pregnant was her second child when she was killed. Even worse, she had convinced James to make Snape the godfather of the child.

At Luna’s wedding, the whole of the front seats were reserved. Harry went up to her at the end of service and asked, “Luna, who’s sitting there?” Luna smiled her usual smile and said, “Right. They did sit here in a spiritual way I suppose.” She pointed the seats one by one, “Right, that’s for my mother, those are for your parents, that one is for Sirius, that one is for Professor Lupin, that one is for Tonks, then Mad-Eye, then Fred Weasley, then Professor Dumbledore, and then Professor Snape. Right then, bye!” Harry had never felt so touched before.

The reason Bellatrix was so wretchedly insane and slavishly devoted to Voldemort was that she lived for the promise that one day, if she did enough, someone might say “I love you” back. I know that she doesn’t deserve this but for love… wow Bellatrix.

When Harry and Ginny went to search for a house to live in they found an apparently perfect house, Ginny loves it, but Harry rejects with a clear excuse about it being too big for them. Ginny doesn’t notice Harry’s fixed look on the Cupboard under the stairs.

Before the Horcrux hunt, Ron and Hermione decided, that if either of them had to choose between saving each other's lives or Harry’s, they had to choose Harry for the sake of the world. No matter how painful it would be for them to let go of each other.

Sirius and Remus saved memories for Harry. Remus left them for Harry in his will, when Harry got a hold of them he got to see a part of James he never got to see in Snape's memory.

After the battle of Hogwarts, Neville went to visit his parents to tell them about it. After he finished, his mother, who normally spoke nonsense, smiled and said one word: “Proud”

On November 3rd 1981, Sirius Black sat alone in a cell in Azkaban softly singing: “Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday dear Sirius...” whilst tears streamed down his face, wishing he could go back in time.

Mr. and Mrs. Potter, James and Sirius were out in public together one sunny afternoon. The elderly couple was talking to someone with that someone asking, “Oh, are these your sons?” Sirius turned beet red and becoming utterly flustered. Mr. Potter simply smiled and says, “Yes, they are.” With Mrs. Potter nodding proudly in agreement. Never once did they think to reply in any other way.

Harry as a preschooler drew two blond blots and a big black blot with a little black one standing a bit further away beside them with “My Family” scratched over the top and presented it to Uncle Vernon who ripped it apart and threw it away right in front of him.

When Harry and Ginny were married they moved to a house in Godric’s Hollow. After Lily was born and got older, she would visit her grandmother and namesake's grave everyday and leave lilies.

Harry Potter died at the ripe age of 101 surrounded by his loved ones, when he opened his eyes again he returned to the place he parted from his old mentor many years ago, but it wasn't Albus Dumbledore who greeted him at the station this time around. Standing a few feet away from him where a young couple patiently waiting for the son they were ripped away from so long ago to take him home and Harry Potter, the boy who lived, went gladly.

After the war, Minerva McGonagall went into a spiral of depression. It was brought on by watching so many students grow and die before her eyes.

At Ginny’s wedding she danced with George twice so it would feel like she was dancing with Fred.

After the second Wizarding War, everyone who died was given a chocolate frog card. When Teddy Lupin was on the train going to his first year of Hogwarts, he got the cards that had his parents on them, and it was like they were sending him off themselves.

These made me cry when I read them, I just can't :(

#marauders #harry potter #james potter #remus lupin #sirius orion black #lily x james #james potter x lily evans #headcanons #harry potter headcanon #sad #emotional

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tricksters-captain · 3 years

Text

Benedict Bridgerton / Anthony Bridgerton Imagines - Best Man Wins Part 2

AN: Am I going to hurt myself with this fic? Yes.

(🎶🎶🎶) = Link to song

Overall Summary: Entering a society you thought you had left behind, you find yourself in a tricky triangle with two gentleman you never thought you’d fall for.

PART ONE HERE

This Chapter: The courting starts...

Pairing(s): Anthony Bridgerton x fem!Reader, Benedict Bridgerton x fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,752

Warnings: None

Dear readers, it was a surprise to see a face we’d long forgot about make her debut at last nights dashing ball at Danbury house.

Miss (Y/n) (Y/l/n) shook the social season within the first night by making her first appearance in almost 11 years. Word is that Lady (Y/l/n) remarried Lord Winslow and this has sparked her only daughters debut into society. After spending the previous 11 years off the coast of Kent, doing whatever it is widows do, Lady Winslow met Lord Winslow after a foolish incident left Lady Winslow in a ditch. Fortunate for her Lord Winslow passed by in his carriage and swept the widow off her feet.

However, Miss (Y/l/n)’s appearance wasn’t the only surprising event last night but the fact the young girl had secured the attention of not one but two Bridgerton Bachelors. Bear in mind that the youngest Bachelor, Colin Bridgerton, is currently off travelling Europe and so didn’t have the chance for his head to be turned by our fresh faced debutant.

Will Miss (Y/l/n) receive the pleasure of a call from the two well sought after gentleman? We will only find out over the coming days, dear readers.

“Mama?” You entered the breakfast room with Lady Whistledown’s paper in your hand.

Your mother was sat at the head of the table with a bowl of fresh fruit and a pot of tea.

Lord Winslow had been called out to his estate in the country for an emergency just as you had returned last night with your mother. He said he would only be gone a couple days but it had not even been 12 hours and your mother already looked lonely as ever.

You were lucky that Lord Winslow was a kind man. He really did love your mother and your mother loved him. Your mother had never loved your father, that you knew for certain and so it was wonderful to see your mother so happy with Lord Winslow.

You knew he didn’t particularly like you but he was a kind and fair man who had paid for all of your new clothes, shoes and settled you with a fair sum of a dowery.

“Mama, have you seen this?” You handed her the paper. “Lady Whistledown has dedicated a whole page just to us. She’s gone from reminding everyone of father’s scandal to how you met Lord Winslow and reporting of my arrival at the ball last night.”

Your mother picked up the paper and started to read it.

You sat beside her at the breakfast table and thanked the servants for bringing you over some hot oats. You sprinkled some fruit on top before pouring yourself an orange juice, all the while, your mother read.

“Of course she should mention the Bridgerton men. If you could catch one of them then I'd never have to worry about funds ever again.” Your mother put the paper down and took another sip of her tea.

“Mother, you have Lord Winslow who will always make sure you live comfortably. You don’t need me to go off and marry some Baron––”

“––But a viscount would be nice.” You mother quickly added.

“The Viscount Bridgerton is very well known for being a rake. I doubt he’ll be proposing anytime soon to anyone. I’m sure he only danced with me last night because his mother probably asked as she did recognise me.” You dismissed your mothers high hopes.

“Ah yes. Violet told me that she had invited you for tea. She invited me over, of course, but I’d rather not be too social this season with everyone asking questions about our situation before Lord Winslow.”

Your mother hadn’t worked before she met Lord Winslow. You brought in any extra funds by being a lady’s companion and your mother budgeted as she could the small amount of money her brother in law had given you both after the death of his brother/your father.

Your mother had never been the most friendly socialite of the ton even before your father’s death. More often than not she rejected invitations for tea or musicales and only showed up to the larger events the ton threw.

Your mother wasn’t particular friendly to anyone except Lord Winslow. Even you had a strange relationship.

Your mother was one of the eldest Mama’s amongst the girls your age. She had struggled to produce children for years and then eventually she stopped trying until one day on one anniversary she fell pregnant and it held.

She had prayed for a son to give your father an heir but she was blessed with you instead.

She had never been cruel or negligent but she never had that particular spark for maternal love.

Your father loved gambling more than he loved anyone or anything so paternal love was something you lacked during your childhood.

Nonetheless, you were glad your mother was happy now.

“There’s gifts for you in the drawing room before I forget to tell you.”

“Gifts?” You felt your heart flutter in excitement and before your mother could say anymore, you were already rushing to the drawing room.

You opened the door to see the room full of flowers.

Roses, hyacinths, camellias, carnations, peonies, sweet peas.... and more.

“My goodness.” You barely breathed the words as your hand shot to your mouth in delight.

“They’ve all come for you this morning, Miss.” Lottie, your lady’s maid, beamed at you.

“There’s so many.” You whispered to her with a bright smile.

“Lady Whistledown did name you the seasons incomparable, Miss!” Lottie reminded you. It was something you didn’t say aloud to your mother but Whistledown did write that after mentioning the Bridgerton brothers.

“May I be left to myself, Lottie, so I can read the notes.” You asked her politely to which she replied with a smile and a servants nod.

“I already told cook to prepare some biscuits but would you like anything else before I go?” Lottie asked.

“Biscuits?” You furrowed your eyebrows at the maid.

“For your callers.” Lottie blushed a little as she smiled at you.

“Callers! I’d forgotten! Oh Lottie, I need you to run upstairs and get my pearl earrings instead of these and I’d love some tea as well.” You had a sudden panic to want to look perfect. Lottie took the earrings you had taken out and bowed out of the room at your request.

You started around the room, smiling at each cheesy note from different suitors. Some you had danced with last night but most you hadn’t even spoken to.

You stopped when you spotted a beautiful bouquet of white roses with several pickings of wisteria.

‘You used to love the flowers at the front of the horse in spring time. I had to include them to remind you.

Yours, Benedict.’

You cradled the purple flower in your hand and breathed in the scent of the roses and wisteria.

You had no idea Benedict knew of that.

Lottie returned with your earrings and your tea.

“That’s a lovely bunch, Miss.” Lottie commented as you stood beside Benedict’s bouquet.

“Isn’t it?” You found yourself wishing to visit the house sooner than later but you knew you’d probably have callers and your trip would have to wait.

Your mother soon retired to the drawing room to act as chaperone as she expected callers sooner than later.

She scolded you for taking too long to read the notes on the flowers and soon you found yourself sat on the settee with a book of poetry and your embroidery beside you in case your mother looked up from her own stitch work.

It wasn’t long until the first caller arrived.

And then another.

And another.

Your whole morning was filled with short meetings of many suitors. More than you had expected.

The flower collection grew as more suitors came with their own bouquets rather than deliveries.

There was chocolates from Belgium and macaroons from France.

Your mother seemed happy with some of the more wealthy men and slightly less welcoming with the less fortunate. Her side glances to you said more than words ever could.

The morning all together was exhausting.... But no Bridgertons...

“Where are you off to?” Violet peered up from her cup of tea as she caught Anthony passing the door.

“Is it really any of your business mother?” Anthony questioned as he took several steps back so he was in the doorway. A bouquet of flowers hidden behind his back.

“If it’s off to see Miss (Y/l/n), I’d hold off.” Violet’s eyes met her sons and he could sense a fraction of worry there. “Your brother just left to do the same thing.”

“Benedict.” Anthony didn’t question whether it was Benedict but rather stated his name in a knowing voice.

“Miss (Y/l/n) may be new to society but she isn’t some play doll for the men of the ton to use and set aside like her mother had been.” Violet couldn’t help but feel an anger grow inside of her. She had cared for the girl when she was at a young age and she felt a sudden protectiveness grow over her now.

“I do not intend to corrupt her if that’s what you think, Mother.” Anthony said flatly. Slightly hurt that his mother had insinuated it.

“Then what do you intend to do? Marry her?” Violet’s question lingered in the air as Anthony clenched his jaw.

Anthony didn’t really know why he was going to call on the girl. Was he really. interested in courting her or did he just want to be near her for some reason?

“Good afternoon, Mother.” Anthony excused himself and left Bridgerton house.

He decided to walk so that he would miss Benedict by the time he’d arrive if he took the long route through the park. It was a sunny day after all.

“Mr Bridgerton to see Miss (Y/l/n).” The butler, Killian, had announced.

You rose from your seat and smiled politely as you watched Benedict enter behind him.

“Miss (Y/l/n).” Benedict took hold of your fingers and brushed a light kiss on top. “You look lovely this morning.”

“Thank you, Lord Bridgeton.” You greeted him back with a short curtsy. “I also must thank you for your bouquet!” You suddenly remember, walking over to them and lightly brushing your fingers under the wisteria.

“Mothers tip if I’m being honest.” Benedict told you as he held his hands behind his back.

You looked up at the man with bright eyes that he couldn’t help but look back into.

“Please tell Lady Bridgerton I will be round for tea as soon as possible.” You pushed down your excitement to remain as ladylike as you could.

“I’m sure Daphne will be glad to see you looking so well too.” Benedict let his eyes drop down your dress momentarily. You caught him doing so and felt your cheeks go pink under his gaze.

“I am looking forward to seeing my old playmate.” You spoke, hoping your voce wouldn't fail you and crack.

“I was hoping, Miss (Y/l/n), if you would do me the honour in promenading with me tomorrow morning through Hyde park?” Benedict inquired with hopeful eyes.

You looked back to your Mama who nodded in reply.

“Yes, that would be very agreeable.” You couldn’t help but let your smile grow when Benedict’s lips spread into one of his lopsided grins.

“I am looking forward to it.” Benedict took hold of your hand and pressed it to his lips once again.

However, this time, his lips lingered on the fabric of your glove. His eyes meeting yours as they did.

You hadn’t noticed you’d stopped breathing until the man lowered your hand.

“If you will excuse us, Mr Bridgerton but I have some business to take care of this afternoon so I’m afraid this call will have to come to a close until tomorrow.” Your mother stood and held her hand out towards the door.

“It’s been a pleasure, Lady Winslow. Miss (Y/l/n).” Benedict bid himself adieu leaving you and your mother alone.

“If anyone callers arrive then do not grant them access until I am back.” Your mother left the room, assumably to use the chamberpot with the amount of tea she’d been drinking that morning.

You wrapped your arms around yourself as you looked down at Benedict’s flowers once more.

You felt yourself yawn as you suddenly realised just how tired you were.

“Being the most desired girl in the ton can be exhausting, can’t it, Miss (Y/l/n)?” A familiar voice startled you as someone entered without being announced.

“Lord Bridgerton!” You clutched your chest as you caught your breath.

“Miss (Y/l/n).” Anthony smirked.

“How did you get in?” You asked, looking past him to where Killian should have been standing.

“Your butler answered the door and then there was a crashing noice and he pointed me to this door and so here I am.” He explained, opening his arms to show himself.

That’s when you noticed the bouquet. Not one. But two.

“Here, there are for you and your mother.” Anthony offered you the bouquet as he watched you spot them.

“We shouldn’t be here unchaperoned.” You suddenly felt panicked for some reason.

“The door is open. I’m sure your mama won’t be long.” Anthony took a deeper step into the room and place the bouquets on the table.

“They’re beautiful. Thank you.” You examined them from a careful distance.

“I believe I saw my brother leaving here from up the street.” Anthony told you as he placed his hands behind his back.

“Ah.” You nodded, “Yes, he was here but moments ago.”

Anthony cocked his eyebrow with an amused look on his face.

“We were just talking about your mother and your sister. Your mother has invited me for tea and I told Benedict to tell your mother that I’ll be round to see her as soon as I can.” You found yourself rambling.

“You are welcome in Bridgerton house any time.” Anthony extended the invitation as the Viscount.

“Thank you.” You nodded politely. “So what has brought you to visit me today?”

It was a stupid question but anything to fill the silence.

“Well after tonight, I rather felt like seeing you again.” Anthony rocked on his heels as he spoke, scrunching his face as if he’d just thought of it.

He was teasing you and you knew it.

“Is that so?” You tilted your head up slightly with a smile. “It’s not often, I hear, that Anthony Bridgerton visits any lady of respectability after spending the night with her.” The words had come out before you could stop them and Anthony found himself laughing as you tried not to blush.

“That is where you are wrong. I do not spend my nights with any respectable ladies.” Anthony knew you were playing a game. He would never had responded this way unless he wanted to push your buttons.

“Ah yes. Opera singers, actresses and such, isn’t it? At least that’s what I hear from Whistledown nowadays.” You thought yourself cheeky.

“So you believe everything Whistledown writes?” Anthony asked, stepping closer to you again.

“Everything she has written so far has been correct.” You defended your answer.

“From the look of this room, I fear she may be correct about one thing at least.”Anthony gestured to all the flowers.

“And that is?” You followed his gesture.

“That you are the seasons incomparable. Perhaps the incomparable of any season thus.” Anthony’s compliment made you catch your breath in your throat.

“Ah! Mr Bridgerton. I hope I hadn't left you waiting too long.” Your mother interrupted at just the right time.

“Unfortunately, Mrs Winslow, I must be off now. I only came by to give these to Miss (Y/l/n) and yourself.” Anthony picked up the bouquet and handed to your mother before allowing himself to approach you.

Your eyes met his as he handed you the flowers.

His finger touched your own as he passed the bouquet over and you broke eye contact to retreat slightly. Not that your mother had noticed.

“Good afternoon, Mr Bridgerton.” You said quickly.

“Good afternoon, Miss (y/l/n).” Anthony kissed your hand like he had before as has his brother.

And then he left.

(PART 3 HERE)

#benedict bridgerton #Benedict Bridgerton x reader #Benedict Bridgerton imagines #Anthony Bridgerton #Anthony Bridgerton x reader #Anthony Bridgerton imagines #Bridgerton imagines #Daphne Bridgerton #Colin Bridgerton #Jonathan bailey #luke thompson #imagines #series #reader insert

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the-overanalyzer · 2 years

Note

deep sigh. gotta do it to you, man. either batfam specifically or dc as a whole. perhaps even both separately. your choice.

Oh, you know me well enough to know I'm gonna do both. I'm drowning in opinions and need very little provocation to share.

For the Batfamily:

blorbo (favorite character, character I think about the most)

Tim Drake. He and I have been around for about the same amount of time, he was the Robin I grew up with, he's got more issues than Us Weekly...love you, boo, hope you get a new name and costume soon <3

scrunkly (my “baby”, character that gives me cuteness aggression, character that is So Shaped)

Colin Wilkes!

He's a bit like if Captain Marvel's origin story involved kidnapping and medical horror instead of magic. I really hope he starts appearing in things again at some point (and that they finally admit he's Hush's kid).

scrimblo bimblo (underrated/underappreciated fave)

The cast of Gotham Central. Aside from Renee, it seems like they all just disappeared after the book was canceled :(.

glup shitto (obscure fave, character that can appear in the background for 0.2 seconds and I won’t shut up about it for a week)

The Carpenter

One of my favorite things about how prolific the Batman books are is all the little side characters that go into keeping Gotham's crime economy running. So you've got the evil carpenter, the evil real estate broker... Jenna's not all that villainous, she's strictly in it to get paid. She'll happily join the Wonderland Gang to rip off an armored car, and she'll just as happily renovate your kitchen, money is money.

poor little meow meow (“problematic”/unpopular/controversial/otherwise pathetic fave)

Ulysses Hadrian Armstrong (Rebirth version)

I've always had a soft spot for Post-Crisis Ulysses as the eight-year-old George Patton-cosplaying gang leader (comics! :D), but I recently reread 'Tec Rebirth and it has rekindled my love for this teenage dirtbag. From the moment he showed up on the Colony's ship I could not stop laughing. He's the homoerotic adversary for Tim that we deserve and I want him to continue being exactly this creepy and annoying forever.

horse plinko (character I would torment for fun, for whatever reason)

It's a bit basic, but nobody in Gotham suffers like Bruce Wayne, whether it's because of criminals, his kids, his teammates, his exes...in all ways, and with nothing but love in my heart, hit him again.

eeby deeby (character I would send to superhell)

Tarantula, and the great thing is, I'm pretty sure that's exactly where she went.

#so i married an ask murderer #razielim #batfam #general dc later #ask game

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apatheticanvas67482 · 3 years

Text

Even When You Hide

Happy @starrynightdeancas celebration day to @firefly124! I got really busy over the last couple of weeks, so its not as good as I wanted it to be for you, but I hope you like it anyways. (also I had to abandon my sketches and normal art style today due to technical difficulties, so the art is a bit rubbish, sorry, if i get round to finishing the other one in my normal style when i get home to my computers, I will send it your way) BUT ANYWAYS I hope you love it (the fic not the art, hides) and I think Sophie is the dopest for putting this whole thing together.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Castiel

Tropes: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss

Based: Somewhere after 10.03, when Crowley give Cas grace and Dean is cured of Demon-ness, and 10.18, when Cas gets his grace back. I did not mention the Mark of Cain though.

Song: I See You - Missio

Word count: 2.2K

I see you when you're down And depressed, just a mess I see you when you cry When you're shy When you want to die I see you when you smile It takes a while At least you're here I see you

It had been 25 minutes since Dean had sent Cas to pick out the paint for his room. He put down all the sheets and lined the sockets and skirting boards with tape and was now sitting at the foot of the bed, tapping his foot to a silent beat.

Dean hadn’t known what to get the angel from the store so there were currently 12 pots of paint, all different colours, sitting on shelves in the garage. He chewed on the inside of his cheek absentmindedly, picturing the scrunch of Cas’ eyebrows and the tilt of Cas’ head as he scowled at the cans.

‘Dean. What does it matter if the room is winter blue or baby blue?’ Dean could almost hear him ask it - the gravel of Cas’ voice rumbled in the back of his mind. Dean shook his head, smiling, and headed to see what the hold-up was.

What he found was a mess.

“Fuck. Shit!” Pots of paint were scattered across the room. Most were broken open, stripes of paint led away from a large metal cabinet that had toppled over onto the Impala and cast the tins in all directions.

“Cas!”

Dean ran forward, holding his breath. The cabinet had smashed right through Baby’s windshield, fracture lines spanned what was left leaving chunks of glass suspended in the laminated frame. The bonnet had been completely crushed, practically folded in half, and the corners had torn into the paintwork. Dean would be seething except he couldn’t breathe. He threw his weight behind his shoulder, forcing it under the shelves and straining until black dots danced in his vision.

“Cas!” Dean collapsed, his efforts futile. “Cas! Where the hell are you?!”

And then he heard it – the quick and broken, but quiet sobs of an angel. Dean whirled around o fast his neck cracked and then he crawled, actually crawled on his hands and knees, towards the sound.

Behind the impala, Cas was perched on the balls of his feet with his trench coat pooling around him. Dean had never seen him cry before, not like this. There was a streak of paint that ran from just under his left eye to the corner of his mouth. Where his tear tracks converged with it, the drops turned blue and fell to the ground like grace. Dean watched, transfixed for a moment, before scrambling closer.

“Cas.” Dean’s voice louder than he meant it, startled Cas out of his fugue state. His hands, which had been moving, stilled instantly as he looked back at Dean with wide shiny eyes.

“I don’t want to go, Dean.” The cracks in Cas’ voice tugged at Dean’s soul. He didn’t understand.

Dean shook his head. “What?”

Cas’s eyes only grew larger as the hunter reached out, “Dean, please don’t make me go.” His arm hung in the air, terrified of doing the wrong thing. He knew Cas couldn’t fly anymore but it had never stopped feeling as though their conversations were timed, except Dean couldn’t see the numbers on the clock. He was always waiting for Cas to vanish. “I want to stay.”

Bile rose in the back of Dean’s throat and his hand dropped like dead weight between them as he realised what Cas was saying, what he was thinking. He thought back to months before. ‘You can’t stay.’ He’d said, the same bile rising in his throat as now. He looked at Cas in his human clothes, that goddamn hoodie., and watched as Cas’ heart broke. Watched as the hurt played openly on his features, defences down. And then, he’d looked away. Dean remembers looking anywhere but into his best friend’s eyes, knowing that if he did his resolve would surely crumble. Now, all he wanted was for Cas to look at him, but the angel had gone from a deer in the headlights to refusing to lift his head higher than his shoulders.

“I can fix it, I promise.” Cas’s hands started moving again. His fingers shook as he tried to slot several pieces of broken glass back together. Small cuts littered his palms, bleeding freely as Cas worked.

“Cas. Cas, why-” Dean swallowed around the lump of panic still tuck in his throat, “Why aren’t you healing? Is it the grace? Is it failing?” His hands had found there way between them again. They hovered uselessly over Cas’ own. Cas was shaking his head, but Dean wasn’t sure if it was in answer to his question.

“Cas?” Dean didn’t know what to do, until he did. Taking a shaky breath, he allowed his panic to consume him for one second more before he tabled it.

“Cas,” His voice was gentle but solid, “Cas, stop it. Please,” - Dean stilled Cas’ hands with his own. He turned them palm up and, careful not to catch any of the cuts, unfurled the angel’s trembling fingers with is thumb – “Just stop.”

Cas was still refusing to meet his eyes, but he’d stopped shaking his head. He stared down at the pieces of glass and Dean followed his gaze. He recognised them as the broken remains of a small glass statue of an angel. Sammy had presented the thing to a few years ago after he’d nabbed it from some rogue crossroad demon’s second-hand shop to bully Dean with. ‘A guardian angel to save me from your moping when Cas is away,’ Sam had said, and Dean had shoved it deep down inside Baby’s trunk. That was until they moved into the bunker and Dean had felt some strange compulsion to place the glass angel atop the recently toppled shelves. Cas had been there, tilting his head at him. ‘Present from Sam,’ He’d practically growled before running away.

“Hey,” One of Dean’s hands left Cas’ in favour of poking him gently in the cheek. Cas jerked backwards slightly, finally meeting Dean’s eyes. He was still crying but less so. Dean nodded, “I need you to listen to me. You. Are. Not. Going. Anywhere. Ever. Again.” He waved his free hand at the mess around him. “All this, none of it matters,” Dean moved his other thumb in circles, steeling himself. This moment is what all his years watching chick flicks in secrecy had been preparing him for. “You, Cas, are what matters. To me.”

Dean held his breath for one, two, three seconds. Cas hiccoughed, blinking one, two, three times as the last of his tears fell from his cheeks.

“Why aren’t you healing?” Dean whispered into the space between them, a little afraid of anything louder.

“I didn’t want to waste m…” Cas looked lost, “It.” Dean waited.

“When Metatron took my grace from me, he left me human. Except I’m not human. Jimmy though, Jimmy was human, fragile. Without my powers, I’m,” Cas struggled with his words, he looked away. “I’m a baby in a trench coat.” Fuck. “I am nothing. And I can’t go back to that. I can’t keep steeling my kin’s grace from them, reducing them as I have been reduced. I can’t.” He dropped his head to his chest once more. “But I also don’t want to die.

“Castiel.” Dean swerved back into Cas’ eyeline as he spoke, “You are not nothing,” Cas stared at him, not believing.

“You are not human. You’re not Jimmy. But you’re not your grace either.” Dean was going to make him understand how wrong he’d been sitting in Eve’s diner. “You’re not your vessel and you’re not your powers. When I look at you-” The hunter swallowed, “When I look at you, I just see… you. I see you, Cas.”

He looked down at their hands, feeling dizzy. He couldn’t believe how mushy he was being or how much he didn’t mind. He felt like Colin Firth. “As for the rest of it, we’ll figure it out. We always do. The grace situation… Well,” Dean smiled, small. “We’ll make it up as we go.” Dean lifted Cas’s hands to his lips and pressed a kiss into a single cut. After a moment, grace began to shine beneath the skin and the wounds pulled themselves closed. Beaming now, he leant back and ran his thumb over the soft new skin, turning their hands so their finger interlocked.

“Dean, I-”

“I made a mistake,” Dean interrupted, “I have made so many mistakes. But, kicking you out like has to be one of the worst. No explanation, no assistance, no nothing. It’s the wrongest I’ve ever been in my life. Gadreel gave me an ultimatum but that’s not an excuse. Doesn’t even come close to justifying what I did. I should’ve told you what was going on. Maybe if I had tried, for even a second, to communicate, we could have avoided a lot of pain. I should’ve – I should’ve done a lot. But I didn’t, and that wasn’t good enough.’

“Dean, it’s okay.”

“No, no it’s not.” Dean broke eye contact then.

“Okay, well” Cas squeezed his hands, “I forgive you then. How’s that?”

Dean huffed out half a laugh. His next words caught in throat as he looked back at Cas. He was so close to him. Dean supposed he always was. Dean’s eyes caught on Cas’ mouth where he had worried at his bottom lip. It was red and sore and wasn’t healing. Before Dean knew what he was doing, he was tipping forward, eye slipping shut. When they met in the middle, he barely felt it. He touched his lips to Cas’ like he had to his hands, his heart pounding against the inside of his ribcage. Dean didn’t realise he hadn’t been breathing until Cas’s lips moved against his own and he gasped for air. He leant against Cas’s forehead breathing far too heavily for such a chaste moment. They sat there just breathing in each other’s air for one, two, three seconds. Then Dean surged forwards, pushing of his feet so he was kneeling up over Cas. He dropped the angel’s hands in favour of holding his head in his own, pressing desperate kiss after desperate kiss to Cas’s mouth. Cas leant backwards under him as they kissed, moulding to fit the curve of his body. His dropped hands had twisted their way into Dean’s flannel, pulling him closer.

As Dean’s lungs screamed for breath, he pulled slowly away. Cas’ head dropped to rest against his sternum and Dean allowed himself to bury his face in his hair. His hands had settled at the base of Cas’ neck and began tracing nonsensical patterns into the skin there.

“C’mon,” He leant back and pulled Cas with him. Leading him by hand past the impala and a few scattered paint cans. He stopped by one - one of the only ones not broken open - and leant down to pick it up. ‘Dusty Cyan’. Perfect. He tucked it under his arm, and flashed Cas a smile.

I'm alone with you You're alone with me What a mess you've made of everything

I'm alone with you You're alone with me And I'm hoping that you will see yourself Like I see you

The next day found them huddled close together leaning over Baby as Dean taught Castiel how to hammer dents out metal without causing more damage and replace a windshield.

“D’you want to know something?” Dean cracked open his beer. Cas hummed from where he was bent over working a dent out of the open bonnet. He was wearing one of Dean’s ratty old Bon Jovi shirts, damp with sweat and motor oil and chewing on his lip distractedly – and distractingly. “Sammy got me that angel to tease me about you.”

Cas looked up then, “About me?”

“Yeah.” The hunter coughed, wondering what had possessed him to open his mouth and start yet another chick flick. Maybe he should be worried about how much of a sap he was becoming. It was Cas’ fault, obviously. “Cuz I always complain when you’re gone.”

Cas turned around and leant back on Baby, his shoulder brushed Dean’s. “You may want to begin coming up with some alternate topics of conversation.”

Dean laughed, “You think so?”

“I have been reliably informed that I’m not going anywhere.” Cas looked at him. “Ever. Again.”

Dean shoved his shoulder, smiling wide when Cas shoved back pressing him back into the Impala’s frame and leaning into his space.

“It’s why I put it up there in the first place instead of shoving in the back of some cupboard.” He poked Cas in the ribs. “Because it reminded me of you.”

“Me.” Cas echoed.

“You,” Dean smirked, “Dumbass.”

Cas growled and silenced him with a kiss for the ages. Dean let himself be taken over by the angel, surrendering the kiss to him and just basking in the feeling of Cas pressed up against him. He didn’t need some glass statue, he already had his guardian angel exactly where he wanted him, and he had proved to be far from fragile.

I see you in the dark At the dawn of something new I see you

#dean winchester #castiel #destiel #hurt/comfort #cas is hurting #dean is there #i hope this wasn't too angsty and had enough comfort in there for you #fanfic #kat scribbles #literally in this case #userstarry #writing challenge #mentions of death #feelings of worthlessness #baby is also there haha #fuck #not literally in this case #first kiss #starrynightdeancas gift exchange

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merlinmyrddin · 3 years

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Hello!

Can you recommend me some very underatted gay movies? (I prefer comdey or happy ones if it's possible)

I recently came to realize i am a 23 man who happens to be gay. I don't know what took me so long.

Hello! I am sorry for the time it took me to answer you, but your ask has been playing constantly in my head now for weeks and I had to go down nostalgia lane film-wise...!

I'm also sorry for how long this answer is, I got carried away!!!

So first of all, I am damn proud if you. I know it sounds like empty words but whether you're 13, 23, or 45, being able to say you have found your inner truth is always something to be proud of! And what took you so long? It didn't. We are living in times where people want you to believe you are meant to have your sexuality and/or gender figured out by 18 when in reality, I know more people doing their coming out in their 20's/30's. Because when it comes to being gay, lesbian, bi, trans and queer : this last decade has seen some major changes. But it's ok for people born late 80's and 90's to come out "just" now. We grew up in a time where homosexuality was still taboo in most places. And when I say taboo, I mean that "homosexual" was barely pronounced, sometimes only whispered. A time where "gay panic" was a legitimate defense in court. (Talking from a Western European point of view here again. Many places in the world, including the USA still consider the murder of an homosexual or transgender victim as a legitimate act. And these last years has proven that there was not only the "gay/trans panic" crippling our streets, but also a "black panic" and more recently, an "Asian panic". Short aparte here : "gay panic" doesnt mean "omg, that person is making me question my identity!?" nor is it a term used when thirsty over an actor/actress when openly gay such as "[actor name] oh wow...*gay panic intensifies*... this term is a serious concept a murderer can use in court as a defense when taking the life of someone from the community. This is the law enabling hate crimes.)

To any younger people reading this right now : gay marriage has been legal in France since 2013, in the UK since 2014 and, allegedly, in the US since 2015. This is recent history. People who are mid-20's are historically closer to the HIV/AIDs crisis than of the legalisation of same-sex marriage.

As such, we are made to believe than coming out in our twenties or thirties is doing a late coming out. No, it's not. We are a generation who suffered through systemic homophobia in our formative teenage years. When we were trying to figure who we were, people were marching in the streets calling us names, and trying to defend the idea we did not deserve basic humans rights. (As a side note, I am not implying that such issues are not currently happening. This is mostly western European centred again as I am, well, European. This is also targeted towards sexuality orientations, excluding any gender talks as this is still currently a very real societal issue for which the fight has only just begun. Double side note : I'm not yet fully caffeinated. But hopefully you get the general idea despite my flagrant lack of eloquence on this fine morning.)

Alright, let's move on to films then!

I searched for a long time for happy / comedic films but then I realised I was definitly not the right person to answer that. On a general basis, I enjoy dramas. That's my thing.

So instead, I thought I would list you the first LGBTQ+ Films I ever watched, hoping they'll find you well.

-Stonewall (1995). Not my favourite film, but as a kid, it was great first jump into lgbtq+ history. Sad note : The director of this film died of AIDS shortly after.

-Another country (1984) Based in the 1930's in a public school. Starring Rupert Everett (who just a few years ago came to direct "The Happy Prince", a great take on Oscar Wilde and Alfred Douglas, casting himself as Wilde, and Colin Morgan as Bosie...fantastic film, highly recommand), and starring Colin Firth. Teenagers discovering themselves, from homosexuality to politics. (The parralele made is quite interesting as both young men are misfits...one for being gay, one for being Marxist.) Great watch, but a heavy one.

-Maurice. (1987) God, I love this film. It explores not only coming to term with your sexuality but also what it means to be homosexual for the people around you and the impact it can have on your life, depending on your social background. Starring James Wilby, Hugh Grant and Rupert Graves, this is an other drama which leaves you feeling almost raw. I always had an affinity for British film because of how...real they feel. Best example would probably be Danny Boyle himself. You know what I mean... you grow attached and you feel for these characters. And Maurice does just that. Memorable quote : I am an unspeakable of the Oscar Wilde sort. (And you might think : "Oscar Wilde? Again??" And oh boy, yes. Oscar Wilde again. Yes, he is one of the most well known author, mostly because of The Picture of Dorian Gray, but he is also a major part of Queer history. After all, "queer" has been used as a derogatory term for homosexuals for the time...directed at Wilde during his trial for posing as a somdomite. (No typo there.) Being an unspeakable of the Oscar Wilde sort is an other one of the euphemism like "being a friend of Dorothy") And talking about Wilde...

-Wilde (1997). Biopic, Stephen Fry as Oscar, Jude law as Oscar's lover : Bosie. Incredible. Superb film. I can not find words.

-An Englishman in New-York (not the Sting song. Actually yes, kinda the Sting song. Because both the film and the song are about the same man : Quentin Crisp). Biopic. An artist, writer, actor, Quentin Crisp has always bothered. Painting his nails, wearing make up, criticising the royal family. He was a character. John hurt is magnificent as Crisp, who he had already played in 1975 in The Naked Civil Servant, an other great watch.

- A Single Man (2009). With Nicholas Hoult and Colin Firth. This film was a slap in my face. And it has, in my opinion, one of the greatest speech of all time, during a scene in the classroom :

"[...]Let's leave the Jews out of this just for a moment. Let's think of another minority. One that... One that can go unnoticed if it needs to. There are all sorts of minorities, blondes for example... Or people with freckles. But a minority is only thought of as one when it constitutes some kind of threat to the majority. A real threat or an imagined one. And therein lies the fear. If the minority is somehow invisible, then the fear is much greater. That fear is why the minority is persecuted. So, you see there always is a cause. The cause is fear. Minorities are just people. People like us."

-Pride (2014). [TRAILER] Bloody hell, that film. When we talk about lgbtq+ history, we often thing about the pink triangle and the holocaust, Reagan, Stonewall, AIDS and... fucking Maggie. Margaret Thatcher, the Iron Lady. Again, funny how the past is closer than we think, as I still have friends of mine talking to me about that period in British history that they lived through. The minors strike. The poverty, the crisis of the working class and the HIV crisis. But if you are looking for a film full of hope, from tears to laughter, this is the one. Bread and Roses. Bread, and Roses. And a message, which I believe is the essence of our community to this day : solidarity forever. After all...there is power in a union.

If anybody has other films to add, you are more than welcome to do so.

Love you all xx

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durmstrange · 4 years

Text

Drifting Off - Fred Weasley

Hello and welcome to another Fred blurb! This one takes place after the way (so obviously, Fred lives) and is pretty hurty but ends okay.

Warnings: Anxiety, PTSD from war, throwing up, breakdowns.

Word count: 1,203

Fred noticed a change in you before you had. It was little things in the day that made him realize how much you were struggling after the war.

It had been two months and you still woke up every night, sweating and breathing heavily. It had been two months and you still would throw up at the sight of blood. It had been two months and you still flinched when someone mentioned the name of a fallen friend, student, or stranger you didn't even know. It had been two months and you still couldn’t sit still for more than twenty minutes without drifting off in your thoughts. It had been two months and you still duck for cover at a loud noise.

You hadn’t realized your behavior was out of the ordinary. In fact, it felt like a new normal to you, and you forgot that you once didn’t have these habits. Over time, as it became your new normal, it worried Fred more and more. He knew you were not okay, and quite frankly, he wasn't either, but he knew you would never reach out for help, like he has. In fact, Fred had recently become accepting, has been able to sleep through the night, and was returning to normal. But you were getting worse.

Fred had come to the conclusion he would talk to you about it. In the last two months, you walked away from Fred whenever he tried to talk about the war, tears forming in your eyes. He hated to push you, but knew you far better than anyone else on the world, and he knew you needed to talk. You needed to put your feelings into words, something you’ve always done to alleviate your stress and your mind.

In the middle of the night, Fred woke up as he felt the bed shift, and he reached over to you quickly, but you were out of reach and already on your feet. He could hear you hyperventilating, and he sprung from the bed, taking long strides to get to the other side of the bed. Without a word, he wrapped you in his arms, pressing a kiss to your forehead and holding you as you calmed down.

Your skin was clammy, and your eyes were tearing up and Fred’s heart ached. “(Y/N), we need to talk about it,” Fred murmured as he stroked your hair, which was damp with sweat.

“I can’t, Fred,” you sobbed then, a full breakdown coming to peak. As much as Fred hated to admit it, your breakdown was a good sign. You bottled up your emotions frequently, until you held them in so long that they spilled over into one big breakdown. He hoped and prayed this would be the night to ease your mind.

Fred pressed kisses to your forehead and cheeks, wiping away the tears that spilled down your cheeks like little rivers. “Love, you can do it. We need to talk and you know it. Tell me how you feel, and don’t leave a bit out of it,” Fred insisted as he sat you on the edge of the bed, taking the chair from the corner of the bedroom you shared with him and sitting it directly across from you.

Fred placed his hands on your knees as you sat on the bed across from him, sobbing and struggling to breath. “Fred, every time I try to sleep, I dream of those we lost. I dream of Lavender being devoured by Greyback, I dream of Lupin and Tonks, I dream of Colin Creevey - everyone. I dream of them and again and again, I can’t save them. I hear their names and I feel like I'm going to vomit, I hear talk of the battle and I feel weak, I sit at my desk at work too long and I can’t hear my own thoughts. Fred, I’m falling apart and I don’t know if I will ever be okay!” Your sobs continued, louder now, and your body shook as you tried your best to breath.

Fred’s heart broke. There was no other way to put it. The love of his life was in front of him, taking far too much responsibility for the deaths of those lost in the Battle of Hogwarts, tearing yourself apart for it. Without thinking, Fred stood, nudging your knees apart so he could stand between them, and took your face into his hands. “(Y/N), my love, listen to me closely,” Fred insisted.

Your eyes still cried huge, emotional tears, but you nodded as you sniveled and sobbed. “None of that is your fault. I know you see it as your own, but you cannot and will not save everyone. If you could do it all again, you would not be able to save everyone, and that’s just face. Tearing yourself apart and drifting away from reality will not change a thing about it and it will only hurt yourself and others around you. Love, you’re worrying the life out of me,” Fred paused as his voice became shaky, and his own tears welled up in his eyes. He cleared his throat before he could continue. “You’re allowed to be sad, hell, you’re allowed to be absolutely devastated, but you are not allowed to blame yourself for those lost. There was not and is not a thing you could have done to change the outcome. In fact, you saved many lives fighting.” Fred paused, closing his eyes tight as he pictured the column falling towards him, only to be blasted to bits by an incredible spell he hadn’t even realized you knew. “Including my own. (Y/N), what I’m trying to say is, you did far more good than you’re taking credit for. In fact, you’re blaming yourself for something you could not have helped.”

Fred’s words bored into your mind, and your sobs slowed to minor snivels. You still struggled to catch your breath, but you were calming down. Putting your thoughts into words, telling Fred about how you felt, truthfully made you feel better, but Fred’s words lifted a weight from your chest that was suffocating you for the last two months. “Does it ever stop hurting, Freddie?”

Carefully, Fred kissed your forehead. “It does, over time. But not if you keep bottling it in to yourself.” Slowly, you nodded and leaned into his hand, your eyes flutter shut.

“I’m a right mess, aren’t I?”

Fred smiled gently, wiping your tears with the edge of his sleeve. “No, you’re just hurting is all, love. I’m here to alleviate as much pain as I can.”

Slowly, the saddest smile Fred had ever witnessed formed on your face. You leaned forward, placing your forehead against Fred’s chest and sighed quietly. “After I shower, will you hold me?”

Fred’s smile grew wider. “Only if I can join you.”

For the first time in the last two months, you laughed. A true, natural laugh. A laugh that Fred missed far too much. The sound of it brought tears to his eyes, and he held you closer as you giggled further. “Fine,” you finally mumbled as you took his hand and stood from the bed, leading him to the shower.

#fred weasley #Fred Weasley imagine #Fred Weasley fanfiction #Fred Weasley fanfction #Fred Weasley one shot #Fred Weasley oneshot #Fred Weasley fluff #Fred Weasley fanfic #Fred Weasley preference #Fred Weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #hogwarts #hogwarts fanfic #hogwarts fanfiction #harry potter #Harry Potter fanfic #Harry Potter fanfiction

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moldisgoodforyou · 3 years

Text

lost time (chapter 7.5)

hi!! here is a bonus mini chapter that I never included but found in my drafts and thought was fun. enjoy!!

wordcount: 1.4k

______

“Hey, Rafe.” Sophie interrupted Rafe’s reading.

They’d taken to studying together if they had extra work to do outside of the work for just their class, and always reserved the same study cubicle, falling into a habit. They traded off with who brought the coffee each week - she hoped he hadn’t noticed that when it was her week to buy, she got the cheapest thing possible for herself and his usual order. Every time it was his turn, he’d surprise her with something new, ranging from a new kind of latte to try or a scone in addition to her order.

“Yeah?”

She started tapping her foot, a little anxious, and carefully worded her question. “If, hypothetically, you were to be asked out to a date party, how would you want the girl to ask?”

He lifted his head from his book slowly. “You’re asking someone out?”

Sophie immediately grew defensive, especially at the way he raised his eyebrows. “It’s none of your business, but yes, for my date party on Friday. His name is Daniel. He plays baseball.”

Rafe couldn’t ignore the tinge of jealousy he felt as she blushed. “Daniel Miller?”

“Yeah.” She cocked her head, intrigued. “You know him?”

He nodded, treading carefully. “He’s in a couple of my classes.”

“What do you think about him?” She perked up a little, clearly interested.

He smirked, leaning closer across the table. “I thought you said it was none of my business.”

She crossed her arms, leaning back in her seat. “I’m just...curious.”

“He’s nice.” Rafe didn’t give her any more. He was exactly that, just nice, but in his opinion, Sophie deserved more than just nice. Someone more interesting, someone that could hold an argument against her, someone -

“Rafe.”

“Huh?” He snapped out of his reverie, giving her a sheepish smile. “Sorry, distracted.”

“What could you possibly be distracted by?” She furrowed her brow, glancing around their small study cubicle.

He blushed, shaking his head. “Nothing. You had a question?”

“Oh! Right. You think it’s fine if I just text him, right? We only met a couple months ago and he gave me his number, and I never even did anything with it - stupid, I know -”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. Just text him.” He cut her off, not wanting to discuss her date any longer. She nodded, giving him a grateful smile. “Cool. Thanks.”

“Any time.” He forced a smile back, though it came out as more of a pained grimace.

“Is it too eager to text him today? It’s only Monday...” She pondered out loud.

“Yeah, wait. ‘Til Wednesday, at least.” He turned his attention back to his book, frowning, and Sophie nudged his foot under the table after a couple minutes. “Rafe?”

He looked up, a little exasperated. “What, Soph.”

“Just...thank you. I’m glad we’re friends.” She told him, a little shyly.

He relented, nodding with a real smile. “Yeah. Me too.”

_______

Later that night, Rafe came back to his room with a sour expression and a huff when he let the door slam shut behind him.

“Fought again?” James asked sympathetically, preparing himself to talk about Sophie for the next hour. This had been a recurring theme over the semester, and he was accustomed to it by now.

“No, worse.” Rafe flopped onto the couch next to Colin, who handed him a video game controller. Rafe was absolute shit at video games, so it was rare Colin let him play - a true gesture of pity. “She’s asking Daniel Miller out.”

“So?” James pushed.

“So, that’s - she’s my -”

“Your study partner.” Colin finished. “That’s it.”

Rafe scowled, feeling uneasy. “She’s my...friend,” he settled. “She’s my friend, and I don’t want her to get treated poorly.”

“I like Daniel, he’s cool. Don’t you remember we did that group project last year?” Colin countered, confused at why Rafe was so thrown.

James was a bit more sensitive to Rafe’s feelings, having been in a relationship himself. “When’s the date?”

“It’s Friday.” Rafe perked up a little. “Wait, hold on. What if I set him up with some other girl on a date, and then he wouldn’t be able to go?”

Colin shot him an incredulous glance. “You’re gonna do all that just so your friend can’t go out with him? Man, I didn’t think you had that big of an issue with him.”

James threw a pillow at Colin’s head. “Shut up, dumbass. Bad idea, Rafe.”

“No, no. Not a bad idea at all, she’ll never know.” He argued, already pulling out his phone.

“Maybe not, but what’s the point? She’ll just find someone else to go with.” Colin pointed out, then paused as he realized. “Wait, Rafe, no.”

“Exactly the point, buddy.” He grinned, and both boys rolled their eyes. “She’s not going to ask you,” James pointed out.

“But there’s a chance. Or I offer to be her date, since Daniel is too busy. It’s golden.” He was already typing out a text to a girl he was friends with from class that had flirted with him a couple times, hoping to redirect her attention.

Colin grabbed the phone out of his hands quicker than he could hit send. “No. This is embarrassing, dude, check yourself.” Rafe clambered for it, shoving at Colin while he shoved back, trying to wrestle the phone out of his grip.

“Fall invitational!” James exclaimed.

Both boys paused. “What?”

“They have the fall invitational this weekend, their exhibition game to show off the new stadium. He’ll be busy anyways.” James explained eagerly. “Win win. You don’t mess with her, she just doesn’t know he has something going on.”

“Oh.” Rafe sat back, satisfied. “Good call.”

“You need to get a grip, Cameron.” Colin told him, shaking his head.

______

“Hey, Soph.” Rafe acknowledged, sliding into the seat next to her in class and handing her a coffee. Just having him near made her feel overwhelmed - his knee was practically touching hers and his cologne was nearly overpowering, it felt hard to concentrate.

“Cameron.” She nodded politely. She’d just received a text back from her almost-date, a rejection. Her shoulders were slumped and she kept clicking her pen anxiously, surely annoying every single classmate around her. “Is that for me?”

He reached over and placed his hand on top of hers, forcing her to still. “Yeah. You good? Tired, or something?”

“Oh. Thank you. Um...” She trailed off, unsure how much she wanted to divulge, but something in Rafe felt like a comforting presence for her. (He always had been, she realized, even when he drove her up the wall.) “You know how I told you about that guy, Daniel? That I was going to ask out?”

He cocked his head, pretending to not know. “Kind of remember, yeah. Did he say yes?”

“No, he’s busy.” She sighed. “Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but. His text was kind of short with me, he said something came up. I guess he wasn’t interested.”

“Oh.” Rafe drummed his fingers on the table, biting the inside of his cheek so he wouldn’t smile. “That’s too bad, I’m sorry. When’s your party again?”

“Friday, now I have to find a date in two days or go alone.” She wrinkled her nose.

“I don’t have weekend plans.” He offered, hopeful.

It went right over her head. “Sounds like I’m not going to either. I just wanted to dress up and dance with somebody.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, disappointed she didn’t pick up on his incredibly subtle hint. “Yeah? Sounds fun.”

“They are.” She sighed, resting her head in her hand, propped up by her elbow on the desk as the lecture began. “Plus I was kind of hoping to get laid.”

Rafe nearly choked on his sip of coffee he had just taken, drawing attention from the professor. “Alright, Mr. Cameron?”

“Christ, um, yes. Yes ma’am. Sorry.” He apologized, stiffening when Sophie brushed her hand against his knee under the table, whispering, “You good?”

He nodded quickly and turned in his chair away from her - unable to think about anything but her for the rest of the class.

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