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hoonieshoney · 1 month

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Synopsis: After Lee Heeseung got caught in bit of a legal scandal he is summoned to community service thanks to his father’s legal connections. Heeseung finds himself stuck for the next six weeks working at the local church, how lucky for him the pastors sweet daughter is there to keep him company.

Pairing: LeeHeeseung x afabNaive!Virgin!Reader

Warnings: “DARK CONTENT-ish”.Dub con, manipulation, religious themes, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), thigh riding, creampie, cum eating, masturbation (male and female), sexual use of a rosary, sexual scenes in a church, fingering, cursing, dirty talk, corruption kink, oral (male&female), hair pulling, slight spanking, slight mention of blood, slight choking, ??noncon??(I'm adding that tag because there is a moment of hesitation that could be viewed as noncon)

Word Count: 7.3k

Part of 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕮𝖔𝖗𝖗𝖚𝖕𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 𝕾𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 , but can be read as a stand alone!

Taglist: @deobitifull @iveivory

Author Note: Though this isn’t as dark as my normal content I’m still marking it as dark because it’s still manipulation and it has dark and religious themes to it (and I know people are sensitive to those topics), so to be safe and protect those individuals I’m just marking it as dark content. Not 100% proofread, if you see a mistake, no you didn’t❤️ I hope you enjoy it! ❤️I appreciate all comments/reblogs/likes ❤️ I love to hear your thoughts ❤️ Enjoy little ducklings!

Lee Heeseung is well aware of what he is. He’s a liar, a manipulator, an unreliable friend, an average college student, but above everything, what he takes the most pride in, is that Heeseung is an amazing hookup. He knows he’s hot, he knows girls talk about how great he is in bed especially about how well endowed he is.

He’s never had to fight for anything in his life, he’s always gotten what he wanted without hesitation, and yes, that includes women.

He loves women, more notably he loves taken women. The rush of having someone’s girlfriend underneath him compares to nothing else, especially if they're hooking up with the boyfriend nearby. He can’t explain it, he loves the rush he gets knowing they picked him, they’re risking it all for him.

And watching that same girl go up to her loser boyfriend and kiss him with the same mouth Heeseung just had his dick in has his chest swelling with pride.

But you. Fuck. You were the ultimate prize, the forbidden fruit, the one.

Six weeks of forced community service under the watchful eye of the most respected church pastor in town, your father. Heeseung was initially pissed knowing he’d be spending three days a week, including church service on Sundays, in a tiny stuffy room sorting through church donations. But then the most wonderful “miracle” happened, you.

He doesn’t know how it happened, you’re not the type of girl he goes for. You didn’t even spare him a second glance when he walked in on his first day. But fuck, your face, your modest clothing, your big doe eyes, everything he wouldn’t spare a glance at on a normal day had him aching to touch you. The silver cross necklace resting on your collarbones, the Bible you always had nearby with sticky notes and bookmarks sticking out, the white and silver rosary always nearby and that fucking ring…oh my god he almost lost all self control when he heard about it that first week of work.

“Are you engaged? You’re still in college, why would you want to settle down already?” He asks, tapping the silver band on your left ring finger.

You giggle and swat his hand away, “no silly. It’s a purity ring.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “what’s that?”

“It’s a promise ring to God basically. Meaning I’ll remain pure until marriage.”

His eyes nearly bulged out of his head. No sex until marriage? That sounds horrible.

“So you’ve never…”

“Of course not!” You say, like you’re offended by the assumption.

“Have you ever kissed anyone?” His interest now fully peaked.

“Nope,” you answer, popping the ‘p’ sound.

“So in a way...you belong to God?” He questions licking his lips.

“Yeah..until I get married, I guess you could say that.”

Fuck.

He barely made it outside to the church parking lot into his car with his hand wrapped around his cock jerking off to the mental image of your dainty hand wrapped around him instead, looking up at him with wide curious eyes like you usually do. The image of that little band on your finger had him spilling all over his hand in minutes, even managing to get some of his cum on the windshield.

He hasn’t stopped thinking about it. He never had any desire for virgins, they were way too whiny and he didn’t like how clingy they were afterwards.

But you.

You were completely untouched, completely untainted, so pure, he wanted to devour you. He wanted to own every part of you.

You were the grand prize..he loved fucking promised women, and when you said you “belonged to God” that was it.

He was on a mission.

He had to take you from him.

“What are you staring at?” You asked, breaking Heeseungs train of thoughts.

“Nothing..sorry angel, just spaced out.” He smiles watching you look up at him.

“Stop calling me that,” you mumbled at the nickname Heeseung bestowed to you since starting his community service at your fathers church.

“You like it,” he teased, flashing his signature side smirk. You did, but a part of you also didn't know if he meant it in a condescending way.

“Come on, we'll be late for the service.”

You clutched your bible and rosary to your chest and started to ascend the church steps with Heeseung trailing behind. You weren’t sure what exactly he did to end up here, but he’s been a big help to you with all the church donation organizing.

And he hardly complained, it even seemed like he was starting to enjoy coming to Sunday services and sitting in the pew with your friends and family. Taking your usual spots on the pew, you open your Bible and wait for your father to start the service.

Heeseung was so confused at what was happening, he couldn’t understand what your dad was preaching about, didn’t understand the songs, and didn’t know a single prayer. This whole thing was a fucking waste of his time. The only good thing about these Sunday services was being near you. Especially when you got on your knees during the service, when you would take the bread of Christ in your mouth and swallow it down with the sacramental wine, it had him imagining unspeakable things. The way you had your hands clasped together, looking up with big doe eyes as you took the offerings was such a sinful sight.

After the service you stayed behind with Heeseung to put away any new donations made by the churchgoers.

“Did you enjoy today's service?” You ask.

“Yeah, I definitely learned a lot today,” a sheepish grin adorns his face. He doesn’t even remember half of it.

There wasn’t any denying Heeseung was attractive. Everything about him was inviting. Sometimes your hands would brush or he would accidentally press up against you to walk around in the small donation room and it had a flushing sensation on your body.

You tried not to focus on it, you were also very well aware of the promiscuous reputation he carried on his back.

“That’s good, I’m going to miss having you around here when you leave us,” you admit shyly.

“Don’t worry angel, you can’t get rid of me that easily.” He smirked, leaning forward on the sorting table you both were working at.

“You’re such a flirt,” You shake your head. He can see the smile you’re biting back and the tips of your ears redden.

“Can’t help it when I’m around a pretty girl,” he shrugs.

You roll your eyes and focus back on sorting through the small donation pile. He’s a player, he’s a player, you repeat to yourself in your head, he doesn’t like you in that way.

Where am I?

A floral field surrounds you, kneeling on a blanket, clad in a typical dress you normally wear for Sunday services with your rosary clutched in your hands. What’s going on?

“Hey angel..” that voice, ah that velvet smooth voice that has your heart in your throat.

He looks beautiful, of course he does, sitting on the blanket next to you. His dark messy hair falling in front of his doe eyes, he’s in white slacks and a white button up, the sleeves rolled up.

He almost looks ethereal, “come closer to me.”

Without hesitation you move to him.

“Let me see,” he motions toward the beads in your hands. You hand them over and watch the mischievous smirk creep onto his face. He moves behind you on his knees and rubs his hands on your shoulders, massaging you. You hum feeling his large hands rub down your arms stopping at your wrists.

He wraps the beads around your wrists, binding them together behind your back. You look at him confused, but he just smiles and turns your body around to face him. He sits back on his bottom and pulls into his lap. Making sure to position you where you’re straddling his thigh, causing your dress to lift up slightly.

“H-Heeseung what are you-“

He stroked your cheek, cutting you off, “can you pray for me?”

“What?”

He rubs his hands on your exposed thighs. “Let me hear you pray. Recite the all father, for me, angel.” The nickname only makes you shudder under his touch. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears.

“Our Father, Who art in heaven,”

You suddenly gasp, feeling him grab your hips and rock your body back and forth on his thigh.

“Hall-hallowed be Thy N-n-name. Thy Kingdom co-come,” you gasp and try to move your hands from behind your back but he's restrained you tightly with your rosary. The friction from his pants against your drenched panties rubbing against your swollen clit is slowly becoming unbearable.

“Thy Wi-will be do-done, On-on earth as it is-is in Heaven.”

You cry out as he starts flexing his thigh underneath you, desperate to touch him you fight against the rosary keeping your arms bound behind you. He pulls you down harder on his leg making you rock against him faster. This is how he wanted you, completely at his mercy.

“Keep going angel…” His lips were on your neck sucking the soft skin between his teeth.

“Give us-us this day, o-our daily br-bread,”

He grabs your throat making you look up at him and watches you intently as you rock against his thigh sloppily trying to desperately chase your high. You pant with your eyes wide and glassy, your moves becoming more erratic as you struggle against the rosary.

“And for-forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who-who trespass ag-against us.”

You were soaking through his slacks. Your voice gets more breathy as you feel that knot in your lower belly ready to snap, closing your eyes trying to desperately keep the same pace against his flexed thigh.

“Don’t you dare look away….” He growls gripping your chin, your eyes snap open and he stares right into your soul. “Make a mess, angel.”

Your eyes stared into his dark ones and you moaned out loudly feeling yourself release onto his thigh. Your mouth dropped open but only choked noises were coming out, letting the blinding heat of your orgasm course through your veins. He lets you catch your breath while rubbing your trembling bottom lip, “finish it..”

“And lead us not into temptation.....but deliver us from evil.” you pant out staring at him still on your orgasmic high.

“Good fucking girl”

You shoot up from your bed, your body covered in a thin layer of sweat and a sticky feeling between your legs. Pulling the blanket off of you to try and let in cold air to your body you gasp at the sight of your gray sleep pants completely soaked through.

What the fuck..

Why did you just dream about Lee Heeseung..

And did you just cum completely untouched?..

Swallowing thickly you walk through the church parking lot to your designated donation table by your fathers side. Today was the church food drive, lots of people were showing up to drop off their canned goods. It was also the first day seeing Heeseung since your dream. Since that night you’ve felt the dull uncomfortable ache between your legs, and a part of you knew only he could fix it. Which only had you feeling disgusting for having such thoughts.

“Seungie!” A high pitched squeaky voice breaks you out of your concentration and you see a girl running toward Heeseung. The girl, only clad in short shorts and a small tank top, throws her arms around Heeseung giggling.

He’s smirking at her and obviously checking her out. An uncomfortable churn in your stomach makes you look away.

Why do you care? You knew he had quite the reputation, lots of the girls around you whispered about his escapades and how they so badly wanted to experience it for themselves.Why were you jealous?

Heeseung sees you from the corner of his eye, how your body tensed up when he hugged Karina and how you immediately looked away.

Fuck, how is he supposed to get you to trust him when these stupid girls are acting this way in front of you.

“Are you even listening to me, Seungie?” Karina’s shrill voice snaps him back to his reality.

“Sorry, I’m just super busy right now. Can we talk later?”

She scoffs and rolls her eyes, “so what? Now that you fucked me you don’t want to talk to me now?”

“Don’t you have a boyfriend to worry about?” He glares.

“We broke up..you said I was special. I thought we could be tog-“

He raises his hand and shakes his head. “I’m gonna stop you right there Karina. You were fun, but that hookup was all we’re ever gonna have. I never told you to break up with him.”

“So that’s it? We’re over?”

He wants to laugh, “Karina we were never a thing.”

“Fuck you, Heeseung.” He watches her stomp away with tears in her eyes.

He looks back at your table and sees your back is turned to him.

Ah fuck, were you mad? He watches you grab a box of donated food and walk into the small donation building you two work out of.

Perfect, he can talk to you alone.

✞

“Are you mad at me?” Heeseung asks, walking into the donation room startling you.

“Why do you ask that?” You mumble avoiding his gaze.

“You’ve won’t even look at me, angel.” He stands next to you as you place the food on the shelf. You look at him briefly and chew your bottom lip nervously.

“I'm just busy Heeseung, we have a lot of food to sort through.”

“I don't care angel, what's wrong?” He moves closer to you, caging you against the shelf you’re working on.

“Are you dating that girl that was all over you?” You blurt out before you realize. You feel the embarrassment wash over you. Way to keep it cool.

He studies your face before breaking out into a smug grin. You weren’t mad at him, you were jealous of Karina.

“Does that matter?” He asks, leaning toward you testing just to see how jealous you really were.

“I guess not, what you do with easy girls is your business.” You bite.

He barks a laugh, oh you were so fucking jealous and it was so fucking hot. He has never heard you talk bad about anyone before. But here you were, calling Karina easy because you liked him. He was already tainting you.

“I’m not dating her, angel.”

“She was all over you,” you whisper. He watched your annoyed expression turn into a pout and your eyes avoided his nervously.

Oh you poor sweet thing. If only you knew how much I wanted to fuck you, you wouldn’t be jealous of some slut.

“Aw, did my angel not like that?”He says with faux sympathy, caressing your cheek.

“Don’t make fun of me!” His touch only ignited that burning feeling in the pit of your belly.

“I’m not angel, you’re just so fucking cute when you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous!” You try not to melt into his touch but it’s hard. And he looks so inviting.

He was standing so close to you. His cologne overwhelmed your senses, you could feel the warmth of his body heat. He watches your face and smiles, noticing how your eyes keep dropping to his lips, having a hard time on where to keep your focus.

Time to test the waters a little further.

“Am I making you nervous, angel?”

“No,” you lie. He chuckles, he knows you’re lying, your body gives it away. He can see your pink cheeks, your clenched fists at your side and watches you rub your thighs together. He leans down and places his lips right on your earlobe and he inhales the scent of your floral shampoo. He feels you shudder against him.

“Does anyone else get your little body reacting this way?” His breath fans across your neck. You almost whine when he removes his face and stares down at you with hooded eyes.

He pushes a piece of hair behind your ear and runs his thumb along your jaw. Stopping at your bottom lip he rubs it softly, of course it’s soft.

The vivid images of your dream flash across your brain and your eyes widen remembering him doing the same thing after your orgasm. He sees your panicked gaze and he can feel his cock throbbing in his jeans. His gaze darkens, “you’re so fucking pretty, angel.”

His touch made your skin feel warm, it sent little shockwaves throughout your body and was leaving an uncomfortable mess between your thighs.

“I-um..have to go..” you push past him and quickly walk out of the little room. You needed to breathe, your body was going into overdrive and it felt like it was on fire. This wasn’t supposed to feel good. Your body isn’t supposed to react that way. These feelings..were sinful.

The donation drive was still busy and you didn’t want to be seen. Spotting the empty church you decide its best to put distance between you and Heeseung and try to ground yourself from these overwhelming feelings. You run in and look around the familiar space, you need to pray. You needed to beg for forgiveness. You needed to do something to stop these feelings.

Your eyes lock onto the confessional booth and you breathe a sigh of relief. That could work.

Shutting the door to the small confessional you sit on the wooden chair and try to calm your breathing. You never felt this out of control of your body before, with an uncomfortable tightening in your abdomen.

You hear the door to the otherside of the confessional open and close, only able to see the silhouette of the person coming in because of the latticed divider providing anonymity for the people who are using it to confess their sins to your father.

“Are you really hiding from me, in here?”

Of course it’s him.

“What do you want, Heeseung?” You try your best to sound stable but your voice comes out shaky.

“Why are you hiding from me angel?”

His voice was laced with more faux sympathy. He knows what he’s doing. He also knows you’re too naive to pick up on how he’s messing with you.

“You..you make me feel weird..”

“In a bad way?” He can’t help the smile that creeps on his face.

“In a way..I’ve never felt before..it scares me..I don’t know what to do..”

Fuck you sounded so good like this. So desperate, so ready to be molded into his little slut.

“Are you wet..”

He was feeling bold now.

“W-what..”

He can hear the trembling in your voice. He lowers his voice and presses his lips against the lattice screen so you can hear him clearly.

“Is your little pussy wet for me, angel?”

“H-Heeseung! We’re in the church! Don’t say things like that..”

He can hear the change in your breathing and whine in your tone. Oh, this was going to be a piece of cake.

You hear him fiddle with the buckle of his belt. “Put your hand in your panties, angel..”

“I can-can’t do that..” You gasp, was he serious? Was he really going to do such immoral things in the confessional?

“Yes you can angel, do it for me. It’ll make you feel good, baby girl, I promise.”

As much as he wanted to degrade and ruin you, he couldn’t risk you running out of this booth and telling your father. He had to play with you a little to get you wanting more of him.

“Touch yourself..tell me how it feels angel..”

His tone was soft and comforting, maybe..maybe just this once. And he was offering to help, you would be rude to not accept his help, right?

Slipping your shaking fingers into your skirt and into panties you feel the amount of arousal that has leaked out of you. “Wh-what do you want me to do..”

He groans, throwing his head back on the confessional wall. The question alone was enough to tip him over the edge. You really were an innocent angel, he was going to mold you into the perfect little plaything for him.

“Rub your pussy baby, just keep rubbing it for me.”

He spits in his palm and starts rubbing his weeping cock.

You slid your fingers between your slicked lips, lightly grazing your clit, making your hips buck in the air and a loud whimper escaping your lips before you could clamp your teeth on your bottom lip. You had never felt the need to masturbate before, this was all new to you. You find your clit again and rub your fingers faster against it, moaning out again, he presses his head against the lattice desperate to see you but can only make out the silhouette of your body and your arm moving. He fucks his fist faster to the sounds of your whimpers.

“I can hear how wet you are angel, fuck I bet you’re dripping all over the chair. Don’t you dare go inside, I’m the only one going inside of that virgin pussy.”

His dirty mouth only makes you whine and clench around nothing. You pressed your fingers to your entrance, you didn't slip inside, just teased the hole to get a feel for it, even more of your arousal was leaking out of you. You prop a leg on the chair giving you better access to your clit and your rub harder and faster against the swollen bundle.

“Cum for me angel, let me hear my angel’s sweet voice when she cums.” His voice is husky and you replay the images of your dream, mixed with hearing the sounds of his groans and the squelching of his hand around his cock send you into overdrive moving your hand faster. Your vision goes spotty and you moan out in ecstasy as your orgasm hits you hard and fast. Your head hits the wall as you whine loudly, your toes curling in your shoes. The sound has Heeseung’s eyes rolling into his head and he chokes out a gasp as his cum shoots out in hot thick ropes and coats his hand and part of the confessional box.

You sink into your chair and try to breathe, your body still convulsing from little aftershocks of your first ever orgasm. Coming down from your euphoric high you see the little cross above the door and feel the shame.

What have you done? It’s bad enough to act on such desires..but in a confessional. This had to be unforgivable.

Stepping out of the confessional box on shaky legs you look around the church and feel the shame overtake the high you were just on.

You're in a church, in God's house, and you just masturbated in a confessional box. The reality of your actions repeating over and over in your head.

Heeseung opens the door to his side of the box and immediately engulfs you in his arms, his mouth is on yours before you even have time to react; your first kiss.

It’s soft at first, both of his hands coming to cup your face but he gets hungrier by the second. Moving his soft lips against yours chasing every movement, you almost forget to breathe trying to pull away but his grip is tight on you. Sliding his tongue in between your lips and lightly massages your own causing a small groan to bubble within you. He smirks, feeling how cautious and uncertain your tongue moves against his. He pulls away, giving your bottom lip one last lick and pecking it one last time.

“We should get back out there, angel.”

Sunday approached quicker than you would have liked. You spent days replaying the events of what happened with Heeseung over and over. A part of you felt saddened by the whole thing, he didn’t talk to you about it afterward and he didn’t call or text and it seemed like maybe he just wanted to add you to the long list of girls he had. But another part of you was desperate for more of him, wanting him to do more, and wanting to be enough so that he wouldn’t need those other girls. The conflicting sides of you causing inner turmoil and questioning your place in the world.

You spent your whole life with a moral code, you never let anyone challenge that or try and change who you were. And now, you didn’t know where you stood. Because if Heeseung didn’t want to be with you, and he was just using you, that would mean you changed your core values for someone who didn’t respect you. And what respectable man would want you after that? After you easily give up your innocence to someone with a questionable reputation.

You shake the thoughts out of your head and wipe the tears on the back of your hand and continue to straighten up the church altar. Services ended an hour ago, everyone had gone home and you were left alone to clean up the altar and the mess of your life. Heeseung didn’t sit with you today like he usually did and it was his last Sunday of his community service sentence, he left right after service. So it’s safe to assume he's just gone and you were passing the time for him while he was here.

“What are you doing in here?” Heeseung asks, startling you. You turn around and watch him walk down the aisle to the altar he sees you cleaning.

“Just putting some stuff away,” you mumbled wiping the rag across the marble altar table.

“Where is your father?” He asks looking around making sure no one was in sight.

“The clergy have a lunch meeting together this afternoon, I told my father I’d stay behind to clean so he can attend.”

He hears the sadness in your voice and bites back a smile. He saw you the entire service staring at him with hopeful eyes trying to get his attention. He wanted you to miss him, to want him, to need him. And judging by the sad tone and watery eyes, his plan had worked. He had you right where he wanted you.

“Why are you still here? Isn’t today your last Sunday?” you ask, finally meeting his eyes.

“Is that why you’re sad, angel? Because you think I’d leave without my girl?” He smiled, stopping in front of the altar. You roll your eyes and turn back around to finish what you were doing.

“I’m not your girl Heeseung,”

“You and I both know that’s a lie, angel. Careful, God doesn’t like liars.” He taunts coming up behind you and rubbing his hands down your arms. He feels you tense under his touch, the goosebumps rise on your skin.

Dropping his face down to your shoulder he sighs softly, “you know, you look really angelic right now..standing here in this pretty white dress, all these candles lit, it's almost sinful how beautiful you look.” He whispers in your ear gently nipping at your earlobe.

You grip the rag in your hand tightly. “What do you want from me, Heeseung?”

“I want you,” He answers, kissing your shoulder.

“I don’t..I don’t want to be like other girls..” you softly admit.

He smirks against your shoulder rubbing his hands on your hips and turning you around.

“Angel, you’re nothing like the other girls.”

“Really…?” You look up at him with your wide doe eyes and he smiles.

Gotcha, angel. You’re mine now.

“Trust me baby, they don’t compare to you..”

The innocent smile on your face was going straight to his cock. He needed to work fast. Rubbing your cheek tenderly he kisses your lips, letting his tongue work its way into your mouth. He grabs your hand in his larger one and guides it down to the front of his jeans placing it right over his hard on. You gasp and pull away confused, but he chases your mouth with his and continues to kiss you while he “whines” to you.

“Angel..*kiss*..it hurts..*kiss*..it hurts so bad..*kiss*..please touch me angel..*kiss*..make it better..please..” The soft whine in his voice makes you want to help. You don’t want him to hurt, you have to help him.

You were too fucking easy to mold.

He unbuckles his jeans and lowers them just enough to release himself. Your hands are clumsy as you reach for him, he sees your nervousness and it only fuels the fire. Wrapping your small hand around his heavy length you look at him for guidance. He wraps his hand around yours and guides it up and down in a pumping motion. You watch his eyes close and hear him hiss, “Fuck…just like that angel..”

He lets you work on his length for a few minutes before he tests the waters again.

“Angel..I need more..I need your mouth. Can you be a good girl and get on your knees for me?”

You stop pumping him and look at him for a few seconds. You nod, and drop to your knees on the wooden floor and you finally fully take the sight of him. He’s long and thick, it bobs in the air, it’s two toned with an angry red tip and salty precum leaking from the slit. The sight had your mouth watering.

The sight of you finally on your knees in front of him was almost too much. He wasn’t going to last long.

You look up at him and grab his cock and lick a circle around the mushroom tip, suckling the tip to drink in his precum.

His knees almost give out instantly. This was already better than any prior sexual experience he had ever had.

“Angel..” He breathes out and makes a makeshift ponytail out of your hair. You keep his eye contact and take his length slowly into your mouth, hoping you're doing okay. Your tongue glides around his throbbing length and he moans again.

“Do you want me to guide you angel..”

You hum around him and the smug grin returns to his face. “Relax your jaw and let me take over.”

You obey and he hums stroking your cheek. The sweet affection only lasts for a second before he pulls your mouth further down his cock and you choke around him. The vibrations only added to his pleasure. Tears sting your eyes as he starts to fuck your face pushing your head down further and further on his cock.

“That’s it angel..you’re doing so well for me..”

His praises only fuel you to try and be good for him. You let him continue to pound into your throat, the chocked sounds around his cock pushing him close to his release.

Your tear eyes and mouth wrapped around him, having him seeing stars, he pulls out quickly. He was only going to cum in one hole today and it wasn’t going to be your mouth. He watches the spit and precum dribble down your chin and mix with your tears.

Fuck. He was so close to losing all self control.

“Fuck me angel, you look so good like this, what would God say of he saw you like this,” He teases wiping the mess off your chin.

“Don’t say that..”you frowned.

The pout..that fucking pout did it. It pushed him to the edge.

“Fuck…I cant hold on anymore I have to fuck you.” His eyes narrowed as he gripped you by your hair to your feet.

“Hee-Heeseung I can’t..” you shake your head and try to back away.

“You can and you will, angel.”

You stare at him with a confused expression, was he serious? He doesn’t give you time to take in his words because he's picking you up and leaning you against the marble altar you just cleaned. He places you on the altar, discarding the large Bible, and other items to the floor before sitting you down and slotting himself between your legs.

He grabbed the front of your dress and yanked it down with your bra exposing your bare tits to him, your nipples instantly harden from the cool air.

You truly looked sinful. Sitting on the church altar, bible discarded on the floor, lit candles around the both of you, the sun shining in through the stained glass windows painting you in red hues, if there truly was a God Heeseung was going to hell for what he was about to do to God’s favorite angel.

Your doe eyes were wide with anticipation as you stared at him waiting for his next move. Everything around you seemed to have blur out, no longer caring where you were. All you could focus on was Heeseung.

He takes one of your hardened nipples into his mouth and massages the other with his large hand, pinching the bud between his fingers. Your jaw goes slack at the feeling of his tongue, you arch into him at the new sensation.

While you're distracted he slips his hand under your dress and skillfully tugs down your panties, of course noticing how the entire front of them are completely drenched in your arousal. He bites down harder on your nipple and sucks harshly causing you to arch your back again and lean your head back further and he carefully slots the ruined panties in his back pocket while you’re not looking. A perfect reminder of today.

Pulling away he kisses your chest before standing up straight and looking down on you, he pushes you gently on your back, you shiver feeling the cold marble under your back. He pushes your knees up and places your feet flat on the altar displaying your leaking pussy to him. He licked his bottom dip, he wanted a taste of you, but time was a factor and he needed to get his dick in you fast before you got lost in your head and changed your mind.

He ran his fingers over your slippery pussy gathering some of your moisture and rubbed around your entrance and slowly pushed one of his long fingers inside. He watched your eyes flutter shut and mouth drop open. Fuck, you were impossibly tight.

You felt your walls clenching around him and he shoved another finger in. You moaned out at the intrusion.

You pushed yourself up on your elbows as you watched, he continued to scissor his two fingers inside of you to stretch you out.

“Does it feel good angel?” He whispers against your knee and kisses it.

You nod cautiously, taking your bottom lip between your teeth.

“You're so fucking tight I don’t know if my cock will fit in this little pussy angel.” He smirks feeling how you clench around his fingers at his dirty talk.

His long fingers explored you searching for that special spot. He taps a particular spongy spot and you drop back onto your back moaning loudly, and your hips buck into his hand.

Found it.

The amount of moisture leaking out of you was sinful, he dropped his head between your thighs and licked a stripe from his fingers to your clit to just get a taste of you. You jerked at the sensation and clenched harder around his fingers.

Fuck, he usually couldn’t be bothered about going down on women, but you tasted so sweet he was definitely going to have to spend an hour or two later just devouring your leaking cunt. Kissing the inside of your thigh he fucks his fingers into you faster, making sure to hit that spongy spot.

“Come on angel..cum for me..”

He latches his mouth back onto your chest leaving purple bites in his path. You groan the feeling of that familiar knot in your abdomen is back. Running your fingers through his messy dark hair you arch slightly more into his mouth, your hips stutter, and you release all over his hand crying out. His fingers stayed inside of you working you through your orgasm.

Watching you come down from your high his dark eyes flicker to the large cross above you and he chuckles softly, maybe he should thank the heavens for bringing you to him.

His smirk is devilish as he pulls his fingers from you and pumps himself a few times and pulls your body closer down to his awaiting cock.

He sees the apprehension on your face and smiles. “Don’t worry angel, I’ll make it fit.”

You nervously try to close your legs but he slaps the outside of your thigh harshly making you whine, “your pussy is mine, angel. Don't hide it from me."

You whine and let him spread your legs.

He grabbed his cock and spread your release along his aching length. He pressed his tip to your folds and rubbed it back and forth, from clit to your entrance making you writhe in overstimulation.

In a moment of slight panic realizing what was about to happen you brought your hands up to his chest to try and push him away.

“Wait Heeseung..I don’t think I’m ready..”

“Stop thinking angel, just let me think for you,” He smirks and you feel his mushroom tip stretching you as he pressed inside of you slowly. He lifted the bottom of your dress to your chest so he wouldn't miss the view.

You hissed and he went deeper, pushing a little at a time. He pushed your body down on the altar flat on your back as he pushed into your walls further. Your nails scraping the marble under you and tears filled your wide eyes as you felt him reach the thin barricade of your virginity. This was it, there wasn't any coming back from this. You took a shaky breath, your body was trembling underneath him, he moaned loudly as he ripped right past it and you choked out a sob when you felt it break.

God, forgive me.

You let out a small pained whimper as he continued stretching you to your limit, the further he pushed in the more painful it was. Finally, he reached the hilt inside your tight virgin hole. His pelvis pressed right against yours.

He stayed buried inside your heat as he leaned down and placed a tender soft kiss on your lips. Nipping at your bottom lip and slithering his tongue past the barrier and exploring your mouth trying to distract you from the discomfort. Your mouth was slack against his, the stretch was too painful to focus on anything else.

Breaking the kiss, he looked down at you grinning at the sight of the small bulge under your belly button where his cock was.

“You’re taking me so well angel,”

He pressed down on the bulge and watched you gasp out. “You feel that? God made you for me.” He whispered, wrapping his hand around your neck applying slight pressure.

You were shaking, the tears never stopped streaming down your reddened cheeks. He pulled out of you and you breathed a sigh of relief from the pain subsiding but he pushed back in you hard, causing another choked sob from your throat. He kept his thrusts at a fixed pace at first, easing himself in and out as you whimpered and writhed under him. He took a second to admire the way your body twisted against him. The more his cock filled you, the better it started to feel, the dull pain between your legs starting to fade into bliss.

He smiles proudly seeing you start to relax and let your body slowly start to rock against his.

“That’s it angel, fuck that little virgin pussy on me” He sped up his thrusts, moving his hand between the two of you and pressing his fingers down on your clit. Your back arches off the altar, “oh god!”

“Not God baby…say my name..scream it.”

You wrapped your thighs around him as he rocked into you harder. “Heeseung!”

Your eyes rolled back as your body was fully succumbing to the pleasure he was giving you. You could barely feel any pain anymore as he fucked harder and faster into you. Your hands went straight to his shoulders for leverage, “M-more…Hee-Heeseung, I need more..”

He groaned, watching you bounce against him, licking his lips, his pace picked up. “my angel wants more? You want me to fuck you harder baby?”

You nod, scraping your nails down his shoulders.

“Say it angel. Tell me what you want.”

He needed to hear it, he needed to hear the dirty words leave your mouth. He had to hear and see the vision of you he’s been so desperate to have.

Your wide teary eyes stare up at him, the silver cross necklace bouncing on your bare chest with every harsh thrust he gives only adds to the sinful sight.

“Fuck me..please fuck me, Heeseung.”

The sight and sound was better than anything he could have ever imagined.

He plunged into you without any restraint, no more holding back. You were like his very own fuckdoll now, your body was at his mercy. His fingers kept rubbing your clit, The noises escaping him were feral. He was lost to his own pleasure.

His thrusts grew even more ferocious as he hammered into you relentlessly. He grabbed a fistful of your hair and forced your head to look down where he was entering you.

“Do you see that angel? You’re all mine now,” he growled.

You clenched your jaw as you looked at the sight of his cock entering you at a fast pace. His entire pelvis was coated with your arousal, you could see a small hint of your blood along his cock.

He noticed it too, it only made him want to fuck your harder.

“Say it, say you’re mine,”

"I-I'm y-yours!"

You hugged him with your legs, clinging to his shoulders as you came again. Your walls squeeze him tight as you released yourself on his cock. "I’m going to cum, angel,” He mumbled against your open mouth. He threw his head back and you felt the spurts of warmth bloom within you. He let his head hang back for a moment before he looked at you and slowly pushed your body back down onto the altar. He stayed inside of you, looking down at your fucked out body. His hand glided over your trembling thighs. Leaning down on top of you he kisses along your collarbone as you continue to shake from your orgasm.

You both stayed in each other's arms panting for a few more minutes, his lips leaving soft kisses along your sweaty skin. He hears you sniffle and pulls away. Your face is tilted back as you stare at the large cross above the both of you as silent tears stream down your face. He only smirks, he won.

Your arms are still wrapped around him, he takes your left arm and removes it from him, breaking you out of your trance. Gently grabbing your wrist he brings your hand to his mouth and slips your ring finger into his mouth and uses his tongue to aid him in removing the silver purity ring. He holds the once sacred jewelry between his teeth with a cocky grin and spits it out. You cringe hearing the metal clink and bounce off of the marble altar down to the wooden floor.

“You definitely can’t wear that anymore, angel.” He rubs his large hands over your thighs and up to your stomach. “You don’t belong to God anymore.” He pulls out of you and smiles watching the creamy mess leak out of you and fall onto the sacred altar. You whine loudly when he dips a finger into your sore hole, he scoops a small amount of both of your releases and taps your lips. You open obediently and let him slip the mixture into your mouth. “You belong to me now.”

ੈ✩‧₊˚Yeah, this was def supposed to be more plot than porn but uhhh yeah that didn't really happen....oops. I have a perm taglist and my WIP is updated, let me know if you want to join 🫶🏼ੈ✩‧₊˚

#enha smut #enhypen smut #lee heesung x reader #lee heesung smut #heeseung x reader #heeseung smut #heeseung fanfic #heeseung #hoonieshoney #kpop smut #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hyung line #honeys dark content #I beg save me

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aaagustd · 2 months

Text

make it cute | jeon jungkook

title: make it cute

pairing: jeon jungkook x (f)reader

genre/rating: smut, pwp, 18+

summary: if jungkook loans someone money, he expects to be paid with just that. but tonight, he just might make an exception.

wc: 1.5k

warnings: infidelity, swearing, mentions ransoms and everything that comes with that (threats, m*rder, etc), pictures??, consensual g*n play (more like oral but yeah), sloppy bl*wjob/deep throating, consent bc it’s sexy, pet names, degradation, m*sturbation, facial c*m shot, dirty talk, slight power play, obedience kink, hair pulling, face f*cking, unedited, that should be all

release date: march 15th, 2024; 10:55pm est

note: idk why or how i came up with this trash lol. i was bored and wanted to take a break from writing my other stuff. i hope you enjoy. divider by cafekitsune.

inbox | m.list | join my taglist | read on ao3

“Keep going until I tell you to stop.”

Jungkook can feel his pants getting tighter with each second he stands there watching you slurp on the barrel of his gun. He’s done some sick shit in his life, but this—this was your idea.

“You’re deadass enjoying this, aren’t you?”

He can tell by how you’re rubbing your clit and pinching your stiff nipples.

“M-Mhm,” you choke out a moan as you devour the cold steel buried in your throat.

He can’t lie and say he isn’t impressed, or turned on. But this is strictly business. Your darling husband owes him a lot of money, and he’s going to pay it if he wants his little trophy home by dinner.

Otherwise, he’d be glad to keep you here in his bedroom.

With an ass like yours, Jungkook wouldn’t let you out of his sight if you were his. You’d be on his lap no matter the time or the place. You don’t let this kind of pussy off the leash in this world. This guy’s an idiot.

He can only imagine what those soft lips would look like wrapped around his dick. He’s twitching at the thought of it.

As if you are reading his mind, your hand leaves your soaking wet panties, and you place it directly on his Armani-covered crotch. A hiss pushes through his clenched teeth, biting back the urge to curse at you for your carelessness.

Your mouth filled to capacity, but he knows what you’re asking for.

“Hey!”

Jungkook isn’t a gentle man, but he’s careful to not snap your neck when he grips your hair and pulls your head back—removing your bruised lips from his gun. Your lungs suddenly become filled with air, leaving you desperate to catch your breath. Your coughs nearly drown out the sound of his own voice.

“Look at me,” he orders, and those blown out watery eyes find his face instantly.

Sexy and obedient. Yeah, he definitely has a problem on his hands.

“Are you sure this is what you want? I just want my money—”

“Fuck my throat.”

“Pardon?”

He heard you. Even though your voice is rough and hoarse, he didn’t miss a beat. He’s just stunned.

“My throat…Shove it down my throat, please.”

Please.

You didn’t have to add that part. He was already getting ready to take his dick out.

“Well, shit.”

Jungkook quickly places his gun on the dresser and starts unbuckling his pants. He steals glances at you waiting patiently on your knees like a good little slut. The sight has him fidgeting like a virgin.

Once he frees himself from the confinement of his trousers, his dick springs out and reveals itself to your expecting eyes. A smirk grows on his face as he watches you gawk over his size. Whatever you were expecting, he’s exceeded that.

“Bit off more than you can chew, huh?”

You seem offended by his assumption. The look you give him says exactly that.

“Not at all,” you reply, adjusting yourself to align with his midsection. “May I?”

He grants you permission to touch, and you waste no time wrapping your smooth hand around him. You stroke it as you marvel over the raised veins that climb up to the reddened tip, licking your lips like you’re sitting before a feast.

“Don’t fuck around, kay? I still got a bullet with your name on it, princess.”

You heed his warning and move closer, sizing him up to see how much you can actually fit in your mouth.

“Sorry,” you whisper, and he shudders.

That manners might get you on the winning team; if you play your cards right.

“No sweat, beautiful. Keep going.”

It’s probably the first time he’s said something that sincere, but honestly, he’s just trying to get gobbled up before he cums all over his freshly waxed floors. His men are probably wondering what the hell is taking so long. For all they know, you had to go to the bathroom.

Jungkook almost yells out when warm wetness surrounds his throbbing dick like a compress. His mind struggles to comprehend what to do. He isn’t sure if he should just let you take over, but he’s not able to thrust even if he wanted to. He can’t move. The way you’re slurping him up, he might even be able to walk after this.

“Easy,” he warns.

You look at him and raise your eyebrow, finally displaying a hint of cockiness.

Jungkook pulls himself together and finds his bearings because there isn’t a chance in hell he’s going to boost your ego anymore than he already has.

“Fine,” he grunts. “You wanna play rough, I’ll teach you.”

His hands venture to the back of your head, giving him full control of your intake. Your eyes stay glued to him as he harshly uses his grip to push your mouth into his swift thrusts. You begin to gag and choke, dripping spit all over his dick and the floor—but he doesn’t mind.

It’s not like he has to clean it up.

“Goddamn. Who’s training this throat, hm?” He buries himself in your throat, making your face collide with his crotch. “Your hubby?”

When he hears your gurgled reply he pulls away and allows you to speak. Through your panting, you give him a solid response. One he’s sure you’ve never shared with your husband.

“I’ll suck him dry every night before I let him cum in me.”

Jungkook nods. “Smart woman.”

But he doesn’t give a shit what you do with that pretty pussy. Right now, your services are needed elsewhere.

“Come here.”

Hopefully, you were able to take a breath because Jungkook’s dick can’t hold back anymore.

You two had a deal, and he’s going to uphold his part as you did yours. You complied, now it’s time to send your sweet husband some face shots so he knows Jungkook isn’t fucking around. It’s been a month since the funds were due.

It’s time to pay up. One way, or another.

“Fuck!”

He curses each time his cock hits the back of your throat, suddenly feeling his muscles tense up from the pressure building inside. The sweat building up on his forehead slowly starts to roll down his face, but he’s too occupied to wipe it off.

Your warmth has him hunched over and leaning on his toes, his mouth in an O-shape as he comes closer to release. While he’s pulling in and out of you, he catches a glimpse of your juicy cunt being filled with your fingers, your body squirming and seeking the same relief he’s chasing.

Both of your moans fill the room as you reach the peak of your highs. Your eyes roll back as your body stiffens. Jungkook knows exactly what’s going on with you, and as you’re riding out the waves of your orgasm, he waits for the perfect moment to pull out and paint you with his seed.

The time comes when you’re no longer able to control your breathing, and you’re desperately looking for air after you’ve finally come down. It’s not a second too soon because Jungkook cannot bear another dive into your wet mouth.

He removes his dick and gives it a couple of quick strokes before his cum begins to squirt all over your pretty face. You sigh delightfully as he covers you with a warm blanket of his cum.

It’s everywhere, but he kept his promise and didn’t get any in your hair.

“Ready?” Jungkook asks, still out of breath.

“I am.”

Jungkook slips his phone out of his back pocket and finds his camera. He positions it in front of your face, and he’s amused by your exhausted smile.

“Is my hair okay?” you ask him, and this time he actually has to chuckle.

Since you’ve made his night a little better, he does a quick job smoothing down flyaways and kinks. Honestly, he didn’t have to because you look hot already. Hair messy, tits out, with his kids all over your face and the expensive diamond necklace your husband bought you.

He can’t think of a more perfect image.

You pose provocatively as he takes a few pictures, and when he’s done, he finally guides you to the bathroom. He instructed you to take your time and take as long as you need to freshen up while he sits on the bed to make this official.

He opens his messages and finds the contact he’s searching for within a minute. A mischievous grin slowly begins to form on his face as he taps the latest images in his camera roll, sending his debtor a little message to stir the pot.

03:14 am Sent: img.788, img.789….

03:14 am Sent: at the spot fucking your bitch. bring my money and i might let you borrow her again.

He’s lying. You’re staying right here, or you can join your husband in the little bed his men made for him.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts fics #jungkook fics #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook fanfic #aaagustd.fics

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bitchlessdino · 1 year

Note

i just read fuck marry kill and it was sooooooo good gah i love it , idk if its rude to ask thos but can u make a mingyu wonu and seungcheol version of it too? they are my baises and i would love something like that !! u can alternate the setting if u please :>

tysm 💘

-💫

Pairing: fem!reader x ex!mingyu x seungcheol x wonwoo

Genre: smut

Word count: 5.6k

tags: poly, exhibitionism, voyeurism, degradation, pet names (princess), unprotected sex (except cheol), praise kink, spanking, clit slapping, fingering, oral (rec. and giving), u, pussy slapping, ass play, triple penetration

Summary: one dumb party game makes a comeback.

author note: tbh i initally wondered how someone could ask to replace some of the members in the original, but then I realized how grateful that it got the attention it did that another version was requested. these were honestly really fun to write and I'm glad to have found a way to tie in the last version and this one to make a spinoff!

“Fuck Cheol, obvious because he has the experience. Marry Wonwoo because he just seems like he knows how to treat someone well. And duh, kill Mingyu because he’s Mingyu.”

“You’re such a bitch.”

You glance back at the man you hypothetically killed, now giving you a cold dead stare, making you grin smugly before taking a swig from your beer. “Takes one to know one.”

He raises a brow, now leering at you, “I hope you’re alone forever.”

You slightly slam your empty bottle on the coffee table, “And I can already tell you’re halfway there.”

He scoffs, crossing his arms, “Oh yeah, remind me again who approached who?”

“Remind me again who also dumped who?”

Mingyu was baffled. It had been months since you both had broken up and you still used that to pull over his head. You had your reasons for ending things, he knew that but had hoped to salvage some of the good left in your relationship with him. Once it was over, you mutually agreed on being friends, willing to forget about all that’s happened because you were friends first, but he knew that better than anyone, that shit was never easy.

“Uh, guys?”

Wonwoo’s voice, despite being as timid as it was, asserted attention with two words alone. Mingyu and you look at Wonwoo, still angry at one another, but melt at their friend’s concern, putting aside their petty disagreement. You exhale in an attempt of calming your heart rate and pat Wonwoo’s hand reassuringly, “We’re good. Just how we are. Mingyu gets it.”

Wonwoo was never one for conflict. He was the glue to hold this entire group together. If it wasn’t for him, the terror couple would've never made up the way they did.

“Yeah, we’re just horsing around, but that does remind me,” Mingyu is quick to turn the attention to Seungcheol, a cheeky smile bright on the younger man’s face, “You promised to discuss the details of what happened after the birthday party.”

The eldest arches a brow, amused by Mingyu’s statement, and decides to entertain the idea, “When the hell did I promise that?”

“You didn’t, but you might as well after I caught that group chat,” Mingyu scoots closer to him, “Go on, tell us all about you having to share with three other dicks.”

Seungcheol clicks his tongue, already scolding him. “There were two other dicks, first of all. Secondly, it just happened. You can’t really plan a foursome.”

You peer over at him intrigued. “You technically can, but considering you just did it out of nowhere, I don’t know whether to be disgusted or impressed. I thought you’d be way more responsible and boring than that.”

His eyes shoot back at your assumption. “I am not fucking boring and you can be responsible in an orgy! We all knew what were doing, we all consented, and we were all clean–”

“Boring…get on to the part where three of your dicks were in her at once.” A flying head smack makes its destination to the back of Mingyu’s head and instantly he’s offended, glaring back at his assailant. “Hey!”

“Don’t talk about anything you’re uncomfortable with Cheol. It’s your dick, it’s your sex life,” You reassure.

“Well, it’s not just my story to tell so I’ll leave it at this.” All ears perk in his direction, even Wonwoo, who was quietly observing, couldn’t help but ponder on the rare experience Seungcheol had at that birthday party. “There is nothing more satisfying than seeing a pussy so full. I kid you not, I would do it over and over again just to see the look on her face.”

Not a dry eye in his audience. You hold your hand over your mouth in shock, Mingyu’s howling like the moon had just come out, and even Wonwoo was stunned at such an obscene statement, blinking into the distance like he’s in The Office. Seungcheol, filled with pride, picks himself off from the ground and dusts any dirt off. “I’ll be back. Too much beer. No one kill anybody.”

He ambles off to the restroom, closing the door behind him.

“Ah,” Wonwoo claps his sweater paws together, “there’s a game I was waiting to buy. I still have some time before then. Need to be first in line.”

He hurriedly gets up from the floor and rushes to his room, “I’ll be back! 20–30 minutes tops!”

You two are left alone and awkward silence fills the air. Things were never really the same since your relationship ended, but things weren’t ever really it when you were together either.

“Foursome huh?” You ponder. “Didn’t seem like his kind of activity but if he enjoys it.”

Mingyu scoffs, ready to start smth again. “What? Jealous he’s getting more action than you?”

“Not jealous, just worried. How can a human body take that much cock and still walk around all normally? Happy birthday to them,” you snicker.

“Don’t worry, you won’t have to worry about that many dicks wanting to be inside you.”

You glare at him, your teeth grinding behind your fake smile. “You sure talk a lot for someone as bitchless as you are.”

“Excuse you, I am fucking stacked with pussy right now, speak when you have your facts right, ‘mmkay?”

You let out a curt guffaw, “Please, you are so fucking lucky you had me when you did. No damn way in hell you could’ve gotten laid without me.”

Mingyu slouches, drawing his jaw open. “Wow. I get it now”

“Get what? How big of a loser you are?”

He shakes his head. “No...You miss my dick so bad.”

You make a show of yourself laughing, even physically doubling over. “In your fucking dreams, you human pandemic.”

“Admit it. You miss our sex. It’s why you’re such a fucking a bitch to me. To throw my game off.”

“Oh honey, you don’t need my help doing that.”

“Please! You got this territorial thing because we were each other’s first. You’re obsessed with me. I see that now.”

“Right, you’re drunk,” you pick yourself up from the ground this time and saunter off to the kitchen, “I couldn’t care less about who you sleep with. As long as it doesn’t involve me.”

“You’re such a liar,” he insults as he gets up to follow.

He positions himself by your side as you distract yourself in the kitchen, mindlessly looking for, well, anything. Why was every cupboard empty? You really have to remember to go grocery shopping with Wonwoo later.

“Am not,” You insist, no finding haven in the fridge, which also happened to be barren of things except half a dozen eggs, a carton of milk, and for some reason a box of m&ms.

“You can’t even look me in the eyes right now. Say it while looking at me.”

You scoff without looking, “I don’t have to prove myself.”

“Why? Because you can’t? Admit it.” His hand trails over your backside as you stall at the fridge, trailing underneath your shirt and sending chills.

You can practically count his breaths as his lips ghost over your ears, smiling against your skin. You almost let out a gasp at the close proximity of his hips pressed into your back, your heartbeat heightening, but immediately close your mouth shut, not giving him the satisfaction. That didn’t bother him though, your body language was enough. You were frozen under pressure, unable to fight back, let alone talk back, similar to how you used to get in the past only minutes before he gets you cum like the mess you were.

His hand slides over your bare stomach, feeling you tense it up as a result. “You loved when I ate out your dirty little pussy. You begged for it. Remember?”

You shudder at his touch, gripping the handle of the fridge for safety, “Mingyu—“

“Don’t think I forgot how you moaned my name either,” he finds the top button of your pants with ease, unbuttoning it and pulling the metal zipper down, “Tell me to stop. Otherwise, I’ll just keep going.”

When you grow silent, he takes it as a sign to keep going. He presses his lips to the back of your ear, hand falling to your thigh and cupping over your clothed cunt. You dip into the fridge’s cold, taming the heat in your body, while Mingyu makes that difficult to resist. Your back arch, fitting seamlessly to Mingyu’s figure, soft, yet desperate, sighs escaping from your lips.

“Mingyu please…”

“Mmh, just like that…” he nibbles against your ear, slowly and cautiously he sinks his hand down your pants and finds your arousal, a thin film of it already coating his fingers, “your voice was pretty just like that. Whining about how you need my dick inside of you or begging to let you cum on my fingers. You were such a sweet little slut for me. Tell me you don’t miss that.”

You’re shaking so much, you could feel your legs seconds away from giving out. You shut the refrigerator close and turn to face him, leveraging yourself against the appliance’s cool exterior. He pins himself against you, sliding his digits between your slit, making contact with the clit, and pinching it between his thumb and index. You can’t help but crack a small moan, only loud enough for him to hear, and he just chuckles. “There you are. Old habits die hard don’t they?”

He does his best in reminding you of the old times, even rubbing your pussy how he used to, getting your sweat pilling on your forehead, or your voice getting raspy as if you were left to die in a desert. Fuck him for still having that effect on you.

“Please…you’ll get us caught.” You plead weakly.

“You say that like you actually want us to get caught.”

He pulls out his fingers from your pants, sticking them in his mouth before sucking your juices from them. You watch in a hypnotized state, mouth gaping in envy, desperate to have his lips wrapped around you, your lips, your cunt, anywhere as long as it's your body. “Sweet. Just like how I remember.”

You gulp hard, staring back into his carnal gaze, and observe as he slowly pulls out his fingers and rests them against your cheek, parting your lips back with his thumb.

“Am I interrupting something?”

As an impulse, you push Mingyu several feet away from you, hiding your undone pants behind a kitchen counter. The taller man can’t help but suppress his boisterous laughter threatening to seep out and only glances back at his friend’s sudden appearance in amusement, feeling like the victor in the situation. Meanwhile, you made yourself physically small, tucking away in the corner of the kitchen where he can’t see you panic while fixing your pants but inevitably fail. “S-Seungcheol.”

Mingyu lets his smugness show. “I don’t know. Is he, Y/n? Is he interrupting something?”

“No, of course not. Just caught me a…rough spot.”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “Look, if you guys are going to have sex and get back together. No one is stopping you.”

“Excuse me,” you feel rather insulted at his assumption, it was condescending entirely.

“Come on, it was bound to happen eventually. Save us, the tittering and whatever.”

You push past Mingyu to walk straight to Seungcheol, shoving his heavy build. “What I do with my body and my life is not up to Mingyu or you, Choi Seungcheol. Fuck you.”

He leers down at you. “Don’t get mad at me because you know I’m right, you brat.”

“Oh, because you fuck with a few extra people, you think you know everything, don’t you?”

“More than your ‘only Mingyu having ass’,” he taunts.

If Mingyu was the ex, and Wonwoo’s the innocent bystander, Seungcheol, in your case, was a shit stirrer. He pushes your buttons about the same as Mingyu some of the time. He was supposed to be your closest friend, your longest friend. Somewhere that had changed. You used to tell each other everything and now he was getting into threesomes?

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, fuck you.” You push him back onto the couch behind him, having him collapse seamlessly against it before you’re straddling him.

Your lips latch onto him assertively, tugging and, no doubt, stretching his plain tee. If Seungcheol minded, he didn't seem to show it, and instead kisses you back, matching your aggression. Although initially startled, it doesn’t take him long to adjust to your pace. He handles your body as if he belongs to him, gripping you by the back of your neck as his other hand tucks around the shape of your ass, firmly squeezing it.

“You’re so, mmh, f-frustrating sometimes.” You manage to comment between your moans.

He snickers under his breath, hand running through your hair and pulling at its strands, tugging your head back, “And you can be a real bitch.”

Your blossoming attraction for him only made it all the more frustrating. You always did notice that he behaves a more particular way around you over the past few years. Somewhere between distant and insensitive. Whatever it was, you were gonna take it out on him, and maybe that’s what he wanted.

Scoffing, you grind against his bulge, harshly brushing it against your cunt. “I’ll show you a bitch.”

He grunts beneath your efforts, quickly returning your offense. His hands travel underneath your shirt, pressing into your flesh. His teeth bite down, pulling on your bottom lip, and you can sweet his smile as he does it. He thrusts up into you, rocking back at your core, waiting to fill out what you’ve been dying to entrust him with. The thought itself made you wet (as if you weren’t already from that little incident with Mingyu).

The man that previously had been watched was now the one watching. It was all face paced but it was like he watching in slow motion. He observes the placement of Seungcheol’s hands, and how they grabbed you possessively, even hearing the growl under the elder’s breath. Your moans grow louder when the man’s lips are suctioned around your neck, your nails noticeably digging as his hands slide lower to feel the bare ass beneath your jeans.

Mingyu sucks in his breath, repositioning the spot in his jeans. He impulsively licks his licks, unable to look away. “Didn’t expect that.”

“Me neither.”

Startled, Mingyu cups his erection as his eyes shoot up alert, finally noticing his four-eyed friend has emerged from his bedroom without so much as making a single wood board squeak. “The fuck? Did you come back from the shadow realm?”

Wonwoo shrugs nonchalantly. “The deed is done, and this is a thing now, I guess.”

Wonwoo just how Mingyu felt about you over the years despite the flaming misalignments with your personalities. He couldn’t imagine the thoughts running in his best friend's head right now.

He turns Mingyu in concern, seeing the man’s eyes glisten in the scene's direction. “You okay?”

Was he? He’s looking at one of his best friends furiously getting it on with his ex, neither of them giving a damn who watches and he should be furious. He should be enraged. He should be at least bothered by what’s happening, but no. Only one thing was furious.

“No,” Mingyu answers, “I’m horny.”

He leaves Wonwoo’s company to join you and Seungcheol on the couch, immediately taking your head back in a hungry kiss as Seungcheol finds solace back on your neck, finding weak weak points in mere seconds, and you can’t help but moan in Mingyu’s liplock. Wonwoo is at first confused about what to do, only able to watch at first until his curiosity piques.

In the midst of his observation, you’ve gone pantless, quickly followed by Seungcheol and Mingyu, and has quickly adjusted to double the attention. Seungcheol manages to pull out a few spare condoms from his wallet all too conveniently, handing one off to Mingyu, who was ready to whip his angry erection out any second. He then lays his eyes on Wonwoo, staring off in his direction, still suckling on your neck. He gestures to him to take the extra condom, nonverbally inviting him into the spontaneous mix.

The bystander hesitates, staring back at the silver wrapper as if it was a foreign object, unsure if he was really offered to join or had this situation become a common courtesy for a latecomer such as him.

“Take the condom, Woo. You’re gonna need it with what we’re about to do,” Seughcheol ushers against your flaming skin.

Wonwoo inches closer in baby steps, hand stretching out and grasping the plastic, and at the same time, you pull away from either man from the couch, turning your whole attention to Wonwoo. You grab him by his collar and smash against his lips. It’s strange, almost wrong at most, you were already occupying someone else’s lap, but in a strange way, empowering. His hand crawls up the side of your face to deepen the kiss, feeling your tongue explore his mouth just as you did the other two, while they were only able to watch.

Exhibitionism, let alone orgy, was never on his bingo card. Sex for him wasn’t even that regular an occurrence for him, but he could see now the taste of what Seungcheol was talking about. There was something satisfyingly carnal about sharing someone. You play into their hands as if your life depended on it, but felt all that same arousal anyone else in that group did.

With that thought in mind, it invoked something in Wonwoo. Shivers ran down his spine the moment your hand goes to cup the bulge of his track pants, feeling him grow bigger in size when you slip past the waistband and slid beneath his briefs. His eyes fluttered at the soft sensation of your fingertips, teasing the precum squeezing out of the head.

“You feel so big, Woo,” you gasp out as your grasp travels down his length, “let me suck on it, please.”

The man shifts in his seat, delirious to the point of being mute, only able to nod triumphantly as you begin tugging the pants and underwear off, collecting the fabric at his ankles.

“Princess,” Seungcheol beckons, “why don’t you lay your stomach on my lap to get closer to Wonwoo’s cock.”

You nod obediently, satisfied with your new pet name, getting off of Seungcheol’s lap to place yourself back on again, this time your ass in view for Seungcheol and Mingyu to appreciate. Mingyu’s teeth catch his bottom lip, groping himself through his briefs. “Fuck.”

He can’t help but land a full-handed spank against your cheek, causing you to flinch after your grip wrapped around the base of Wonwoo’s cock and he feels a tight squeeze around his girth and he throws back his head from the sensitivity, “Gyu, for god’s sake.”

“Sorry, dude, couldn’t help myself,” the younger man chuckles, “but she likes that. You like all our attention on you, don’t you?”

You let out a light chuckle, a smug grin stretching over your face. “Yes, yes I do.”

Seungcheol couldn’t help fixating on your ass pulling your waistband down to the curve and sliding a dry finger up your wet slit, groaning at simply how gloriously wet you were. “Shit. You’re fucking soaked. You can take my fingers right, princess?”

“Mmh, yes, Cheol. Give it to me…”

As you’re spitting into your hand, stroking handfuls of Wonwoo in your hand, you can feel Seungcheol fitting two digits in your moisture and hooking them in place. He goes easy on you, mildly prepping you, while you drop your head and wrap your lips around the tip of Wonwoo’s length, swirling circles on to lap up the bit of his precum, your soft giggles vibrating against the spectacled man.

His gaze softens at you, petting your hair and caressing your cheek. “So…pretty…”

“Thank you,” you reply, taking half his size in your mouth, and feel how he hugs your cheeks.

Wonwoo lets outs hushed whimpers, exhaling out of his nose, his fingers impulsively finger through your hair and take grip. Through his shut eyes, he can feel the nodding of your head, the vigor of your tongue, and finally the head of his cock hitting your uvula, bobbing back and forth. “S-shit, like that, yeah…”

He can feel himself physically shuddering, glancing back at the lure of your eyes as your mouth collects every inch, every vein, and moan that escapes his lips. His hand guides you, pushing you deeper around his cock and the sounds of your efforts were euphoric, especially how they were followed by Seungcheol’s work, who found himself slamming his fingers back into you like a jackhammer. You slightly jump, vibrating around Wonwoo as you cried out obscenities.

“Mmph, more, please,” you beg, bringing a smile to both Seungcheol and Mingyu’s faces.

Seungcheol used another hand to give spanks on either one of your cheeks, playing with you like a set of drums. They get tender in his grasp, making them more fun to squeeze and there’s that pleasant way your backside jerks towards him, knowing he’s doing everything right.

It was then Mingyu had an idea. While his other friends handled you their way, he had no choice but to find his own choice of sport. He pulls himself up from the couch, excited to spring back into action, and goes on to grab something from your room. He disappears as quickly as he returns, a familiar transparent squeeze bottle in his hand. He goes on a knee to your side, squeezing the cold sticky substance on your unpreoccupied hole, squirting circles around your quivering rim.

“Remember when you thought we wouldn’t use this again? Looks like now’s the time. Are you ready for that?” He asks with a Cheshire smile as he closes the cap and puts the bottle aside.

You moan a confirmation, nodding your head complacently. His chuckles are sickly sweet as he draws his lips close to your ear, teasing his digit from entering. The moment it enters you mentally prepare yourself for the sensation, know damn well you could never get used to that. Mingyu groans at how you swallow his middle digit as he churns it inside you, another hand coming against your tender cheeks. “Fucking slut. Like us filling all your holes, hmm?”

There is no way you can physically answer as you feel yourself gag as you reach your limit with Wonwoo, who at this point doesn’t hear others and uses your mouth with only the thought of getting off down your throat. You finally croak out a yes before two of Wonwoo’s hands grip your head and slam you down the base when you least expected him to. Tears run down your eyes, your cheeks hot, feeling yourself suffocated, you dig your nails into Wonwoo’s thighs, white crescents appearing on his skin.

He groans long and loud, jerking his hips as he’s dumping some of his load down your throat but pulls out from the overstimulation, having the rest shoot on your face. The translucent thick ribbons stain your cheeks and drip off your chin down to his thigh. Red face and a hot sweat beading from his forehead. Wonwoo finally collects himself enough to look back at you apologetically, visibly embarrassed.

“I’m so, so sorry, Y/n.”

Instead of letting him feel sorry for himself and you, you take Wonwoo’s hand and use it like a napkin, swiping his cum on his fingers. He’s stunned when he sees it, a quarry of your actions stuck and stopped at his throat until you take that hand and enter it in your mouth, your tongue catching his release. The man’s abdomen tense, letting your hand suck his fingers off clean and you hold them in there, filling your mouth with another body part of Wonwoo that day.

“Goddamnit, Y/n. You really can’t help yourself.” He comments blatantly lost in awe.

Your body curled up in Seungcheol’s lap helplessly, trembling, slick moisture seeping out of you at their mercy. The others can hear the anguish in your muffled voice, how close you get with fingers thrust inside you with only every passing second, only to have that ecstasy slip away as their fingers pull out. You whine in retaliation, their collective chuckles mocking you, even Wonwoo couldn’t help but find the scene amusing.

“Can’t have you cum that quickly, can we?” Seungcheol taunts.

He roughly tugs up your body until your back is toward his chest, feeling your perspiration against his torso. He shrugs off his briefs and your underwear is quick to follow, the tips of his fingers now rubbing your arousal all around your entrance, adding the slick substance to your already lubed up rim. You mewl at his fingers, your hands gripping against his forearm but lacking the willpower to have an effect. His teeth graze your eye, pulling you by the cartilage. “We’re gonna fill you out so nice, you’ll beg for more…perfect little holes for us to use…tell us what you want, princess.”

You let out a shallow breath, “I want…to feel full. I want you inside me.”

His hand lands on his cock, hard and naturally aligned at your rim, before testing Mingyu's prep work, “Good girl…feeling so perfectly tight…”

Seungcheol can’t forget how it closed around him while he takes a long gradual stroke inside. He groans loudly, filling you until your moans give out. His hands plant against the backside of your thighs to lift them and fold them against you, pushing his length in. Your eyes rapidly shake, the white of them visibly, and you welcome Seungcheol’s cock with his name on your tongue. “F-fuck yes…more Seungcheol…”

Wonwon doesn’t know what gets over him when he finds himself staring back at your glistening folds, looking at your pulsing clit like it was the last m&m. His flaccid cock now twitching upright in his lap, he licks his lips, not taking his eyes away from you. “Seungcheol spread her legs out more.”

The elder man gave a knowing smile and did as requested, and your pussy stretches open, your clit more evident than before. Soon Wonwoo has mustered the strength to put his face up to your entrance and suck on the bulging nub like a straw, watching your toes curling as soon as he does. You can feel his subtle smiles against your arousal, the curve of it pulling at your folds.

“Shit,” you whisper, throwing your head back against Seungcheol’s shoulder, panting against the man’s cheek.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Seungcheol teases, “You haven’t gotten enough just yet.”

Mingyu gets up from where he sits, stroking his cock in his hand. He comes to your side, the tip of his length angles at your lips, and you look up at him in anticipation. He mocks you, tapping himself against your lips. “Beg for it. Go on. Whore.”

You sigh defeatedly, “Please, Mingyu…I need your cock in my mouth…”

“Isn’t that nice? You can shut up.” He chuckles to himself.

He takes hold of your head, prodding your lips apart with the head of his cock inside, and sees how easily it slides in your mouth. You moan around his girth, as the jerk of his hips pushed himself deeper inside you. It's almost how fast it happens just as you don’t remember how it began. All you knew was it felt amazing nothing like you ever felt. You never knew you could want this–no, you never knew how much you needed this.

“Want to fuck you, Y/n? Can I?” Wonwoo asks politely against your core.

You nod with your mouth full, coughing out Mingyu’s cock given the opportunity. “Yes, Wonwoo, I want you…I want all of you…please fuck me full…”

Saying that out loud was enough of a motive to flip the script. Seungcheol, still inside, lays flat against the couch, head propped against the couch arm. Wonwoo gives Mingyu a knowing look, letting his friend go first. Mingyu scoffs, “I’m coming for you, Y/n.”

“Not yet, you are,” You retort.

“And you said I’d never get be inside you again. Things can happen.”

Mingyu lets his cock slip around your arousal before he’s reunited with your fluttering walls, a nostalgic hum leaving his lips. “Fuck, that’s good.”

“Mingyu—You both—ah fuck, feels so g-good…”

Mingyu and Seungcheol carry a mismatched pace, their uneven breaths fill the air as you take it, take them. Your voice sounds of agony but rather the opposite, you couldn’t feel more bliss. Wonwoo mentally and physically readies himself, his cock almost back to full power. He joins the party when he feels the fire in him, thanking himself for getting a big enough couch, and hovering on top of you.

You hadn’t noticed it before but something was missing from the man joining, and not his clothing. “Your g-glasses…”

“Ah,” he smiles, “put them aside, didn’t want them to break.”

“Hmm, it’s n-nice looking you in the e-eyes for o-once.”

“I’ll make sure to make it happen more often…Tell me if I’m hurting you. If any of us do.”

You hum a yes, finding his lips reattach to yours soon after. Wonwoo gives himself one last stroke before its mere centimeters away from Mingyu’s, finding the right angle to join his friend. It’s not an easy feat sharing space, but he finds a way, pushing through to stretch you wide and open, collective moans coming from all ends.

“Holy shit,” you screech, “so many c-cocks…”

“You’re taking us so too, Princess. I knew you could do it,” Seungcheol exclaims.

Mingyu was getting a thrill out of this, “Of course she can, Y/n is a bigger dirty slut than she makes herself out to be. She enjoys it, hmm? Say it.”

“I en—love it. I love the cocks in me so much…”

“Shit, you’re so pretty for that,” Wonwoo claims on your neck, pounding now faster, “say that again for us please.”

“I love your cocks fucking me…fucking my pussy and ass…”

Mingyu missed how you gave your everything during sex, groaning louder and louder the tighter you try to clench, how closer he realizes he’s getting. “She’ll say anything to cum…don’t let her.”

Mingyu’s hand comes up from behind Wonwoo to slap your clit, pinching to hear you whine. “You cum too soon, we’ll just fuck you over and over again. I want white to cover every inch of your body, clear?”

“Y-yes…sir…”

“Perfect little whore.”

You feel the rutting in and out of you like clockwork, overwhelmed by all the different energies your body accepts. Your moans, your screams, or your tears could never tell the full story of the euphoria of your feeling. Your arms embrace Wonwoo, latching on his hair and face, kissing him on his swollen lips, and feeling hot to the point you could confuse it for inferno, or that you were part of inferno yourself.

Seungcheol swallows back his drool, blind in ecstasy flowing through him and now reaching up to the surface. His fingers dig deeper into your thighs and the sounds of skin slapping drown out his moans. Seungcheol clutches you against him as he whispers, “you okay with me cumming in your ass princess, hmm, is that what you want?”

“Yes,” You answer in a hushed tone, “please I want you to cum in my ass…”

You feel his relieved sighs on your neck, slamming his body into you harder. You’re stretched like elastic, wearing down at their rough touch, until Seungcheol does as promised, squeezing his load and shooting it up in gradually staggering pumps until he’s empty and drops his rubber covered cock out to drip back onto the fabric of the couch.

That had been your final straw, feeling your climax erupt only immediately after Seungcheol. “I’m cumming, I’m cumming, I’m cumming…”

Wonwoo kisses your cheek in response but doesn’t stop. Mingyu on the other hand slaps against your clit harder repeatedly, reveling in the wretched noise you make. “Cum all you want…we'll take it…like you’re gonna keep taking us.”

Wonwoo grunts alone by himself, Holding you against him like it's the last, helping Mingyu keep his word and fuck you senseless. He was a good friend, he was good at helping his friends. That friendly nature makes you weak to the sensitivity after, whining under their touch, shaking on top of Seungcheol, as he tenderly fondles your breasts in his rest. It feels endless, not like you’re complaining, but a somewhat bit of relief is obvious when both of the remaining men cum in you simultaneously. Friends that cum together, stay together, you guess.

“You gonna take our cum?” Mingyu pokes, his cock ruts in you like a man with no control.

“Y-yes.” You choke out.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, yes, I can take your cum, please. Please. Cum in my pussy, I need your loads in me.”

“Wait condoms? You guys aren’t wearing any?” Seungcheol voiced out.

Wonwoo shakes his head as Mingyu aguishly blurts out a “no.”

“Aw, fuck you guys.”

“Mmp, mmph,” that was the sound of Wonwoo biting into your shoulder, his sweet white dispersing into you perfectly with Mingyu to follow. Ther loads meshed well together like they do, becoming one with your climax, dripping out of your brim like oozing honey: sweet, creamy, sticky. The perfect symphony to showcase the perfect vessel, capable of catching their cum.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit—”

Mingyu moans out his climax just as you remember, just as voluminous and rich. He’d laugh if he knew how much you would think about hearing it again. Your tired bodies part from each other, panting loudly inches away from each other, staring mindlessly into the space in front of them. You were the particularly spent and Wonwoo, the first to notice and care, picks up by your knees and carries you, fulfilling his duties as your designated roommate. “You’re okay, right?”

“Mm, I’m good, Woo.” you softly respond in his arms, you turn to the other two men fatigued on the couch, “I’m taking a shower first, assholes. Only Wonwoo can join.”

Wonwoo smiles with a blush on his cheeks, while the others roll their eyes.

“What? Why only Wonwoo?” Seungcheol questions.

“He treated me nicer. Think about it the next time we all fuck.”

Wonwoo looks back at you with a surprised look before taking you away to the bathroom. You leave Mingyu and Seungcheol to look back at each other, pondering on your response, taking all the world, space, and time to process your words.

Simultaneously. “Next time?”

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i-hate-accidents · 1 month

Text

i hate accidents: the beginning

femme!reader x benedict bridgerton, femme!reader & the bridgerton family, femme!reader & penelope featherington

summary: the adventures of a working class femme who befriends a fellow writer, a boisterous family, and a bewitching second eldest son

sections: I. the beginning / II. the between / III. the ball

y/n: bipoc, she/her, afab, nonbinary femme, queer, working class, of immigrant parents

content warnings: classism, mentions of financial survival, microaggressive sexism, microaggressive gender assumption, positive/supportive families, allusions to alcohol abuse in [I.viii]

word count: 13.9k (of 38.8k)

story context: everything in s1 and s2 of the tv series is canon for this story except for the s2 epilogue with the bridgertons. this story takes place leading up to and into the 1815 season.

additional notes: this story is incomplete. scenes that are not written are described in chevrons <> with third person pov or are delineated by isolated ellipses. additionally, the author has only watched s2! she has not watched any of s1 aside from clips, and they have not read the books aside from quotes used in edits. they have not yet watched queen charlotte. the author kinda knows the gist of an offer from a gentleman; they are familiar with sophie beckett (and are excited to meet her/them in the tv series!).

author’s note: this is the first time the author has written fanfic in 13-15 years. :) it is her hope that they have made some progress since her pre/teens. additionally, this fanfic has been written, on and off, over the course of two years. the author sincerely hopes you find some sort of joy in it, especially the readers who maybe hope to see themself a little more specifically in the world we so love.

reading tip: whilst the author is proud of it, she understands the intro to the first section is long. if you wish to get more straight to y/n and benedict's story, the author suggests jumping to [I.ii]. they won't be offended that you did heh.

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ I.i ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

you do not know how you got here.

well, that is not true; you quite literally walked from the markets and followed the directions that penelope had given you, but you did not think those directions would lead you here.

this is a mistake. i must have taken a wrong turn, gone up instead of down, made a left when i should’ve taken a right.

or perhaps this is a dream? yes! that has to be it! a dream! i must have lulled off and dreamt myself here, for whatever reason. once i close my eyes and open them again, surely i will be at home, or the markets, or the workshop even. surely!

so, you close your eyes shut.

you had been walking about the markets on your non-work day, some weeks ago, browsing the wares you wouldn’t (and couldn’t) buy, eavesdropping on any conversation of intrigue, observing the bustle of the crowd going about their day, mindlessly thinking of the next thing to write, daydreaming—when you had collided with someone. they had let out a squeak, their materials flying out of their hands, as you had fallen on your back, thankfully not hitting your head. in your periphery, you had seen how the person had crawled to your side and looked at you with urgency and concern.

“i am so sorry!” their voice was pretty. sweet and lovely. you lifted yourself up a bit to see the person you had collided with. they were also pretty— beautiful, red-haired, and hooded in blue.

their eyes widened.

“er, i meant,” they spoke again, but this time with an— irish accent? their voice was still sweet and lovely but very distinctly irish and distinctly different from their voice mere moments before. “are you hurt?”

“i am all right, thank you.”

“very well,” they said, still in their irish accent, “then i must be going—” and they shot themself up and turned, you assumed, to run away.

“wait! you’re a writer, yes?”

as you had hoped, the person in blue froze. they slowly turned to you again, apprehension and intrigue in their eyes.

“how do you know?” their voice was mangled between their two accents.

“unless you pluck birds for fun,” you stated as you collected the scattered materials they had dropped in the collision, “these are quills.”

you stood up, approached them, and held out their quills to take, offering a smile. the stranger took the quills and put them in their bag. they returned their eyes to you and returned your smile.

“thank you,” they responded in their english accent.

“i know how precious those are, so i am very glad to see they won’t go to waste. well, they wouldn’t have gone to waste either way; i would’ve taken them if you hadn’t turned around.”

that caused the person in blue to laugh.

“i assume you are a writer?” they inquired.

you don’t know what had overcome you; you don’t know why you had been so trusting of this stranger, especially with something such as your writing, but you had been. you reached for your then most recent, folded up quarto, kept between your bosom and your blouse, and offered it to the stranger to read. they took it, shifted their eyes from line to line, turned it to read the crossed lines, and then looked up at you, beaming.

“this is brilliant!— oh, forgive me; i did not even ask for your name.”

“y/n,” you extended your hand. “and you?”

the stranger seemed to stiffen but quickly relaxed themself, taking your hand in theirs and shaking them. they beamed still, but something of their smile had grown quietly mischievous.

“can you keep a secret?”

when you open your eyes, you huff out a breath in a poor attempt to assuage yourself from the reality of your situation: you are not dreaming. here you are—you—at grosvenor square.

you knew of your friend’s circumstances as she had shared it: she is a noble lady, a third sister of the featherington family, who has been writing scandal sheets of high society’s romps and happenings since her ‘debut,’ as she had put it (you hadn’t understood how she had used that word and became further confused upon her explanation of it), under a pseudonym called lady whistledown. penelope has been kind enough to let you read her sheets, and you find it ridiculous what these high society persons do for their lives and utterly brilliant with what wit, snark, and compassion even penelope commentates on that world.

but you did not ever, ever think that she would bring you to it, let alone into it. when penelope had said that you were to meet her most beloved friend, you had thought it would be in an obscure alley or a room hidden behind a bookcase in an unassuming shop—not the literal neighborhood in which she, and presumably her friend, lives! by your posture, by your clothes, by your very existence, it is blatant how much you do not belong here.

i should run. i am going to run.

and so you turn and start—

“y/n!”

—when you hear the sweet voice of your friend. you scrunch your eyes closed, inhaling and exhaling through your nose, and turn around and see penelope in a picturesque green dress, lifting up her skirt with gloved hands, scurrying down the pavement of her neighborhood towards you, beaming. despite the anxiety that rages within you at this very moment, your heart swells upon seeing your friend in such enthusiastic spirits, and you smile despite yourself.

“good day, pen.”

she takes hold of your bare hands in her gloved ones and gives them a squeeze. perhaps she can discern your nerves because you start to feel yourself calm ever so slightly by her gesture.

“i am so glad you are here,” she says.

“i am—— glad to see you,” you then lower your voice. you do not know why; it is not as if your lowered voice will help conceal your existence in this place. “are you certain i am permitted to be here?”

letting go of your hands, penelope swats at the question.

“the bridgertons and i care not about such things.”

“the— bridgertons?”

“yes!” she turns and gestures to the grand brick house with wisterias. “it is at their home, after all, in which we will be spending our time together.”

your jaw drops.

“we are staying inside the house? not simply meeting outside the house?”

this is not a dream. this is a nightmare.

penelope returns her eyes to yours, and it startles you with what tenderness she gazes at you.

“i understand that you are fearful, y/n. i had presumed you would not have come if you had known we would be here. but i would not have led you to bridgerton house if i did not think you would be safe here. the bridgertons are the most inviting, kindly family of the ton— of high society,” she amends upon seeing your confusion at the word ‘ton.’ their name for their world, it seems. “eloise has assured me that we shall be in her bedchamber for the entirety of our time together. and if you wish to leave, for any reason, at any point, i shall accompany you, and we shall leave together.”

with closed eyes you heave a sigh through your nose. you flutter your eyes open and offer penelope a weak, but sincere, smile.

“very well.”

penelope squeaks in excitement, taking hold of your hand once more, giving it another squeeze of encouragement, and leads you towards this bridgerton house as she so called it. she raps at the stately door thrice with great eagerness, seeming to knock in perfect tandem with your beating-too-quickly heart.

an elderly man opens the door, about to greet penelope and her guest, when a young femme shoves herself through the opening.

“thank you, giles!” she calls out as if the man is across the road and then looks at you, ferocity in her eyes. it ought to unnerve you, the whirlwind force of this stranger, but it doesn’t. you just return her gaze with a large, albeit a bit bemused, smile.

“penelope has shared so much about you,” the stranger states and takes hold of your hand. “let us get inside!” and yanks you into the house. she turns, looking straight ahead, and barrels forward, pulling you with her.

as the fiery femme seems to soliloquize excitedly to herself, you look back at penelope who merely wears an amused smile at her friend’s antics as she follows behind.

“oh!” the femme exclaims suddenly. she halts you both and sharply turns to you, still gripping your hand, grinning. “my name is eloise. eloise bridgerton.”

“y/n y/l/n.”

“excellent. now! with introductions all sorted—”

and she turns and barrels you both right, rather than heading straight ahead to the grand staircase as you had presumed she would.

“eloise—” eloise’s fervency had provided a reprieve to your anxiety, but the confusion in penelope’s voice puts you back ill at ease, “where are you—”

“it’ll take just a moment, worry not, pen!”

eloise leads you down a hall, noises and voices of all sorts coming from an entrance to a room, growing louder and louder as you approach until they reach the peaks of their volume as eloise halts you both once more, to your mortification, at the entrance of that very room.

“family, penelope, y/n, and i shall be in my bedchamber. we have much to discuss. please do not bother us,” eloise proudly announces to the entirety of the room.

silence falls. all eyes—and there are many eyes—are on you.

oh, my god.

you turn to penelope. her overall manner is calm and composed, but you can see the disquiet in her eyes. she peers into you, the apologetic look conveying, i did not know this would happen.

you turn back to the family.

a lady. a lady of older age. two gentlemen with a difference in age. a boy. a girl, the youngest amongst them.

how is it with a house this massive in the middle of the city that the entire family is present in this one room? well, the room is the size of the two floors of your home combined, if not larger, so in that sense it is sound—but your question still stands.

this has to be the entire family. surely. there are so many of them. this has to be the entire family. yes?

“no talking, no music playing, no fighting?” inquires a droll voice walking into the room, “has someone—”

you turn your head to follow the source of the voice and make contact with dumbfounded ocean eyes.

butterflies flutter in your stomach.

oh.

shit.

“y/n, this is my second eldest brother, benedict bridgerton,” eloise states. “benedict, this is my friend, y/n y/l/n. do not bother us once we are in my bedchamber.”

he stares and blinks at you but then assumes a gentlemanly posture and bows his head.

“it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, miss y/l/n.”

without any forethought you start to extend a hand to benedict until you hear penelope give a slight cough only you, she, eloise, and he can hear. receiving the hint, you retract your hand and pretend to swat at your skirt.

“err— yes. likewise.”

another cough.

“mis, ter?— brid… ger?—ton,” you articulate with complete and utter uncertainty of how this world’s introductions function.

he cocks his head and furrows his eyebrows at you, something like amusement playing at his features. he wears a lopsided smile that he is barely attempting to conceal. his expression should be infuriating. and it is. but, it is... charming, too. and welcomed.

you have never felt more embarrassed or more pleased in your life.

shit.

“before the three of you retreat to eloise’s bedchamber,” declares an authoritative voice, breaking your reverie. you turn away from ocean eyes and see the lady of the room approaching you. much to your surprise, she smiles. to an even greater surprise, her smile seems sincere. “i must insist that i introduce myself and the rest of the family to our guest.

“i am viscountess kathani sharma bridgerton, the lady of this house,” she curtsies with perfect elegance. “it is a delight to welcome you to our home, miss y/l/n.”

“thank you for having me— lady bridgerton. and you may call me ‘y/n.’ you need not use such, uh, formalities with me.”

“very well; then you may call me ‘kate.’”

you furrow your eyebrows. she had introduced herself as ‘kathani’ but now asks you to call her ‘kate.’ it makes you think of mama and papa; they shared with you once how they had chosen to go by different names upon emigrating to england. when you had asked why, they simply replied that it would be easier for others in this country to address them.

“may i call you ‘kathani’ instead?”

surprise flashes over the dignified demeanor of the viscountess. she regards you with softness in her eyes.

“yes. yes, you may.”

resuming her full composure, kathani guides you to the eldest of the gentlemen and introduces him as her husband, viscount anthony bridgerton, the lord of the house. he offers you a small smile with a bow of his head and greets you ‘good day.’ you try not to wince at his decorous use of ‘miss’ with your first name, but you suppose it is merely in these people’s natures.

kathani continues and leads you to the lady of older age, introducing her as dowager viscountess violet bridgerton. she dips into a lovely curtsy and, on her rise, gazes upon you with a gentle smile. you feel compelled to respond in kind, but it would certainly not be as graceful as hers, and worse, she may interpret your slovenly attempt as a lark. so, you refrain.

the viscountess next introduces you to mister colin bridgerton (you summon all your self-restraint to keep your countenance neutral—this is the boy who hurt penelope); then to mister gregory bridgerton (he bows so ceremoniously towards you, you cannot help but be endeared by his resolve); and lastly to miss hyacinth bridgerton.

“why are you dressed like that?” she inquires.

“hyacinth!” the dowager viscountess reprimands. she must be her mother. she sounds like a mother. it reminds you of how your mama reprimanded you and your siblings as little ones; the memory and the exchange make you hold back a laugh.

“what! what did i say wrong?”

you ought to feel self-conscious, your lower standing brought into further display to everyone in the room, but you detect neither malice nor judgment in the young girl’s voice. just genuine curiosity. so, you smile.

“my family and i have different means to clothes, amongst other things. i wear these when i work or go about my day. though,” you regard your attire and then— hyacinth?, feeling the glimmer in your eye, “it makes for running around and playing make-believe quite easy.”

“make-believe! gregory, do you hear that! miss!— miss—“ she turns to you with a cocked head.

“y/n.”

her eyes shine once again.

“miss y/n plays make-believe! we must play!” hyacinth latches onto your hand and, with remarkable strength for a child who cannot be older than two and ten, pulls and drags you towards the entrance of the room. “come along, gregory! wouldn’t want to be the last one there!”

“no fair! you cheated!” the second youngest shouts back, dropping all previous ceremonies, and scrambles towards the entrance.

“hyacinth! y/n is not your playmate! she is here with me and penelope!”

“plans do change, dear sister,” hyacinth retorts. eloise’s jaw drops, and the rest of the family bursts into laughter. the entire exchange warms your heart. in so many ways, they are so proper, so wealthy, and yet they are not all so different from your own family. they seem to really care for one another.

“when did you get so smug!” eloise shoots back.

“small wonder where she could’ve learned that from,” you hear colin, the traitor, murmur. turning your head, you see him give amused, pointed looks to eloise and kathani. the latter grins wickedly, and her husband beams at her with pride.

“there are only so many hours in a day!” hyacinth complains. you face her once more, still holding her hand.

“what about this? i will play with you and your brother for an hour, and then i will be with your sister and penelope for my remaining time here. i want to honor the wishes of each of my new friends.”

hyacinth considers this with much theatricality to her expression. she then grins.

“that is an excellent plan,” she remarks, looking to eloise for her thoughts. you follow her line of sight. eloise rolls her eyes and sighs, but a smile rests on her lips.

“very well, then.”

feeling peace restored, you smile in return and, in doing so, in your periphery, catch the ocean eyes of the second eldest brother. benedict. he is looking at you. why is that? you feel your cheeks flush and the tips of your ears heat. his gaze is somehow gentle and intense and indecipherable all at once, and the flutterings in the pit of your stomach grow, and intensify, and start to overwhelm you—

when you are tugged back to reality with a tug forward.

–

< hyacinth leads y/n through the house to the gardens with gregory by her side. y/n is both uneasy and in awe of the things she sees. eventually, they arrive in the gardens. y/n notices two swings hanging off of a large branch of an old tree and is utterly endeared by the sight; it confirms what she has been thinking: though the bridgertons are wealthy, they are warm and welcoming.

< just as hyacinth declares that she has found a suitable spot for make-believe, two male voices ask if they may join. hyacinth, gregory, and y/n turn and see benedict and colin approaching. colin shares that though y/n seems lovely, it would be unwise of the family to leave the two youngest with a stranger; though y/n agrees with his family’s caution, she refrains from wanting to strangle the person who hurt her friend.

< gregory whines and asks if they can begin before eloise complains. hyacinth agrees and says that they need to assign characters. y/n suggests that hyacinth should be a sorceress and gregory should be a knight; these proposals delight the youngest bridgertons. y/n volunteers herself as the villain and decides to be a banshee; she turns to the elder bridgertons and asks what they wish to be.

< before they have a chance to respond, hyacinth proposes that benedict should be the princess who has been captured. benedict indignantly asks why, and hyacinth simply states because he is the most sensitive of the family. sensing how the sibling argument is about to evolve, y/n intervenes and suggests that, like a sensitive princess, perhaps benedict is merely in tuned with his emotions, even amidst adversity; it is, in its own way, a compliment. benedict’s eyes become indecipherable upon the comment, but he wears a small sincere smile. gregory then proposes that colin is y/n’s changeling henchman.

< make-believe ensues, and it is very sweet and very silly. eventually, gregory is called in for latin tutoring and thanks y/n for the fun with a deep bow; hyacinth is called in for pianoforte lessons. >

hyacinth launches herself at you with a hug. pulling back from the embrace, she beams.

“we must continue when you return next!”

before you can even start to reply, she turns and skips off towards the house. you hear how gregory makes a comment about coming in first, and suddenly the youngest bridgertons are in a race against one another, shouting taunts and insults. you can’t help but smile.

“they seem to quite like you.”

your smile falls. you turn and face towards the two elder bridgertons, the traitor being the one to have spoken.

“colin bridgerton,” you begin, “yes?”

he smiles and nods. you surge forward and shove your finger into his face, his smile now wiped.

“if you ever hurt penelope again, i shall make certain that it is the last time you ever do. do i make myself clear?”

when he does not respond, you repeat yourself, and he slowly then quickly nods. satisfied, you turn towards ocean eyes and point your finger at him.

“and you look after him.”

“what did i do?”

“be a proper elder brother and serve as an example for your misguided sibling. understood?”

“i— yes. of course. understood.”

you smile again.

“wonderful. i am glad we three are in agreement. it was good speaking with you, gentlemen. good day.”

you turn away and start to walk towards the house.

“i quite like her too,” and you hear the restored smile in the third bridgerton’s voice. “what about you, brother?”

you hasten your steps towards the house. though mere moments before you had felt emboldened and brave, you fear hearing benedict’s response. you do not why.

–

< eloise, penelope, and y/n extensively discuss literature and writing; upon talking about women writers, y/n shares how she does not fully see herself as just a woman. >

“so, what are you?”

you wince. you have kept good on your promise and joined eloise and penelope in the former’s bedchamber, but you are swiftly wishing you had been able to stay with hyacinth, gregory, colin even, and benedict. you had attempted to explain an aspect of yourself to eloise but not to very much fruit, it seems. you want to hide and escape and run from this place—

“eloise.”

—when penelope comes to your defense.

“what? what is it?”

“perhaps you could have phrased your question with more tact and thoughtfulness.”

eloise looks between the two of you, concern flooding her eyes.

“did i— did i not?”

penelope turns to you.

“are you comfortable to answer?”

“i would prefer that i didn’t.”

you hope that your eyes are sufficient enough to convey the immensity of gratitude that you feel towards penelope in this very moment.

“y/n,” begins eloise, “i did not realize—”

“and what are you three gossiping about?”

you jump, penelope squeaks, and eloise growls a noise of exasperation. turning towards the voice in the doorway, you are visited, once again, by the third and second bridgerton siblings.

“and what makes you think we are gossiping?” demands eloise, “because we are w— people?”

you feel the corners of your mouth tug upward. at least she is trying. wanting to keep the attention on benedict and colin rather than yourself, however, and with genuine curiosity, you cock your head at the two gentlemen.

“do you two always come in a pair?”

“not always,” replies benedict. and he smiles at you, “today is merely a special occasion.”

stupid butterflies.

“speaking of such,” colin proceeds. “kate has requested that the three of you join the family in the drawing room.”

< the five of them make their way to the drawing room. kate shares that, on behalf of the family, she would like to invite both y/n and penelope to dinner. though at first honored to have been invited, upon hearing “dinner,” y/n realizes how late it has become and looks out the window: the sun is halfway set. she apologizes and says that she cannot stay because she resumes work the next day. her latter statement renders some of the people in the room confused, but kathani states how she understands and that y/n is welcomed to join dinner whenever she visits.

< seeing how confused y/n is, anthony shares that y/n is welcomed to visit their home whenever she is able and whenever she would like, and the rest of the family pipes in with how delighted they would be if she does. not knowing how she deserved such kindness from people who were mere strangers at the start of the day, y/n thanks the bridgertons and says that she would love to. penelope chooses to stay for dinner and says that she will see y/n next week. y/n affirms that she, and the bridgertons, will.

< kathani and benedict offer to escort y/n to the entrance. y/n walks down the steps and passes the gate but, before she goes, takes one last look at number five until next week and sees benedict still in the doorway. y/n notices, but reprimands herself for perhaps imagining it, that his smile grows when his eyes lock with hers. with flutterings in her stomach, y/n offers a wave. he gives a small wave back. she turns and goes, smiling all the way home. >

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ I.ii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

“benedict has been making more appearances as of late,” penelope remarks.

the three of you all look up—you and pen from your writing, eloise from her reading—to see benedict entering through the doors and heading towards the other side of the drawing room. he looks over at you— at you all and offers a smile before he plops himself down onto a chaise and begins to draw.

“yes, it is strange,” eloise considers to the two of you. “for so long he had been moping about, locked away in his bedchamber aside from mealtime or the occasional visit to the drawing room. he’s even picked up his charcoal again.”

“again?” you inquire, averting your gaze from the artist to your friend. “had he stopped prior?”

“he had entirely put it down after—” eloise sighs. whatever memory she has recounted, it does not seem to be a pleasant one. you look to penelope; you sense that she shares a similar sentiment by the sad look in her eyes. you are curious but you choose not to press.

“it has been quite some time since he’s last drawn. but now, whenever i see him, whether in his bedchamber or the billiards room or some other room in the house, he’s drawing. he frequently arrives to mealtime with charcoal stained fingers—much to the chagrin of mama and anthony.”

you all laugh. benedict looks up at you three, and from here you can tell he wears a curious expression, no doubt wondering what you are laughing about. when he exaggeratedly arches an eyebrow, eloise just makes a face at him. benedict rolls his eyes, smiling, and for the briefest moment, you feel as though he is looking at you. but you’ve always had an active imagination. when you blink, he has returned to his drawing, a smile still on his lips.

“i wonder what has changed?” eloise softly says, still looking at benedict. for all her fire and spirit, you see how deeply she cares for her second eldest brother.

“perhaps he has found a muse,” penelope poses rather than queries. you shift your gaze from eloise to penelope, and you’re curious about her expression. she seems... delighted? benedict finding his passion for art again does sound delightful; you know firsthand how difficult it is to pick yourself up from a slump. but that’s not what she seems delighted by. she just looks at you. with a soft smile. why? what does benedict have anything to do with you?

you feel your cheeks and the tips of your ears flood with warmth. you don’t know why, but penelope’s expression unnerves you, in a pleasant sensational way.

you clear your throat.

“i am happy for him,” you say, returning to your quill and folded quarto, haphazardly writing down whatever words come to your mind.

ocean. charcoal. smile. flutters.

shit.

it is not until what feels like an uncharacteristically long moment later that you hear penelope resume her writing and eloise resume her reading. you try not to imagine what they could have silently exchanged with your gaze averted.

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ I.iii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

you suck in a sharp breath and shoot out of your seat.

“you do not!” you shriek, hastening towards kathani, eloise, and the stack of books they have just settled onto the table. you had arrived early to the bridgertons’ home, at the invitation of kathani, so early that the rest of the family seems not yet to be awake.

(which is strange, you find, as it is nearing 8 o’clock. most mornings, at this time, you are already well into the bustle of work.)

kathani had prefaced, rather enigmatically, that she and eloise had a surprise they wished to share with you. you had your suspicions as to what it could be related to, and with each passing moment, you are suspecting, very excitingly!, that you are very correct.

“indeed, we do,” kathani grins and gestures to the stacks.

taking no hesitation to the offer, you grab from the top of a stack and open to the title page.

the dramatic works of william shakespeare. vol. 2: a midsummer night’s dream / the merry wives of windsor / much ado about nothing.

you shriek again, this time accompanied with hops of excitement, flipping to the final third of the book.

“much ado! this is the one i’ve read!”

dorothea, a fruit seller, had offered a copy of it to you (at a lowered price, she had emphasized) when she had learned of your liking to stories. she grandly stated that she had started to write down the dialogue during low-attendance performances at the theater and then brought her handiwork to be typed and printed at a not-to-be-named press. but if the pages’ handwritten annotations alluded to anything, you suspected that she had managed to purloin a performer’s copy of the script. you felt a bit of pity for the poor performer who misplaced it, but you respected, and still respect!, dorothea’s moonlighting.

you shoot your head up from the book and are greeted by the grins of your two friends. “which one has romeo and juliet?”

this past autumn you had overheard several candlemakers at the markets animatedly discussing the ‘incandescent’ portrayal of the titular character by an actress from ireland. a performance, described as ‘incandescent’ by candlemakers! embodied by a storyteller who has emigrated here! hearing all those wondrous things made you insatiably curious to one day read the text that made such wondrous things happen.

“i believe,” eloise says, pulling the second from the bottom of a stack, “it is this one.”

you twitch your fingers; you have to refrain yourself from snatching the book from your friend’s hand. when it is in yours, you open to the title page and feel your eyes, along with your smile, widen.

“it is, it is! oh, this is extraordinary!” you flip furiously to your desired page and, once you find it, start to read,

prologue. two households—

—when you hear kathani say, “we had thought of starting with that one.”

that makes you rip your eyes away from the words and look up at the two ladies.

“‘starting with’?”

“when eloise, penelope, and i learned of your eagerness to read shakespeare,” elaborates kathani. her saying that makes you flush; you had not realized with what apparent enthusiasm you had spoken of the poet. “the three of us had discussed that the four of us could read his plays together. if you would like, of course.”

your jaw drops. you cannot help the squeal that emits from your mouth. hopping once again in your excitement, you throw yourself at your friends and wrap your arms around them both.

“if i would like! i would be delighted!”

you pull back from your hug with the two ladies and are greeted by gleaming eyes and wide grins. you feel how your expression matches theirs. it has only been a little over a month of your friendship with eloise and kathani, and the rest of the bridgertons at number five, but they each have somehow found a way to carve themselves out in your heart. and if this most recent kindness by eloise and kathani indicates anything, perhaps you have found a way to carve yourself out in each of theirs.

(and you promptly ignore the thought of what that could possibly mean for ocean eyes and charcoal-stained hands, flutterings within you be damned.)

“how shall we allocate the book?” you say aloud out of genuine inquiry and a deep desire to revert your heart, mind elsewhere. “shall we read passages aloud and then pass it on to the next reader?”

< eloise makes a remark that indicates her confusion at y/n’s question. kathani, who is more privy to the situation, shares how she has her own copy as do eloise and penelope. the stack that they’ve brought is an extra set that the bridgerton house has that y/n can use. this perplexes y/n. she cannot understand how a household can have multiple copies of a book, let alone copies of a whole anthology of many books. before y/n can doom-spiral into thinking, penelope arrives at the entrance of the drawing room. reading of romeo and juliet commences.

< just as y/n finishes reading the scene in which romeo and juliet meet for the first time at the capulet ball and then kiss, y/n notices in her periphery benedict approaching the four. kathani remarks how unusually early he is to be awake and ready for the day; y/n notes to herself how there seems to be some sort of mischief in the viscountess’s smile. >

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ I.iv ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

“i shall be y/n’s teacher,” the viscount declares.

“you were adamant on her not fencing, and now you are insistent on being her teacher?”

“it would be hardly appropriate, colin, for two young unmarried men to be in such close proximity to a young unmarried lady, as proximity of teacher and student in fencing would require.”

“are you always this— antiquated?” you inquire.

that earns a snort from kathani. anthony, looking betrayed, turns to his wife; she merely shrugs in reply, mirth shining in her eyes. he turns back to you, eyebrows deeply furrowed and mouth fully frowning.

“and what do you insinuate by that!”

“are you so distrustful of your own brothers, the ones for whom you have served, and still serve, as a model, that you think they would take advantage of me in such a situation—”

you sense how the eldest bridgerton is about to retaliate and arch a severe eyebrow at him in response; you refuse to be interrupted.

“or are you so unbelieving in persons of feminine dispositions that you think i shall be compromised by the mere closeness of a body different from my own sex?”

there is a silence, and though you cannot see them as you stare down the viscount, you can feel how the others exchange delighted glances with one another and hold back their laughter.

“you have two choices, my lord,” you offer.

“neither of them are suitable! and do not call me ‘my lord’!”

“is that not the proper way to address you?”

“it is, but you—!” he huffs out air through his nostrils, like an indignant dragon in a fairytale; it is a very silly, very amusing sight. “we have not even begun the lesson and you are already the most exasperating student i’ve ever had!”

you turn to colin and benedict, grinning.

“you two must have been saints then.”

“would you expect any less?” colin grins back.

your wide smile remains intact until your eyes fall on the expression of benedict. you are entirely uncertain of what emotion he could be possibly feeling until he seems to realize where he is, and how you are looking at him, and breaks out into a brilliant smile with matching brilliant ocean eyes. you quickly snap your head away from him, ignoring the fluttering of butterflies summoned within you upon the shift in benedict’s expression, and turn to anthony.

“shall we begin, then?”

–

it turns out that you are quite the quick learner when it comes to fencing. after putting on a fencing vest that had previously belonged to benedict—

“because you are the shortest of the three of us, brother,” remarked colin after the second son inquired why it had to be his former vest that you were to wear. benedict scrunched his nose and eyebrows in displeasure. (perhaps you should have taken offense to his opposition, but it was truly of no personal consequence to you and the reaction it created in him was truly adorable.)

“i am not!”

“you are, indeed,” anthony deadpanned.

“prove it!”

and the three eldest sons of the esteemed bridgerton family stood next to one another, comparing their heights. you turned to kathani, eloise, and penelope.

“are they always like this?”

“idiotic?” eloise deadpanned, sounding remarkably like her eldest brother.

“indeed, they are,” grinned kathani.

—over your blouse, you are immediately put to lessons. anthony explains the basic concepts of fencing and then demonstrates elementary strikes and parries, occasionally adjusting your stances to the proper forms. noting how quickly you took to the lessons, he calls for a match between the two of you to observe how you would apply your skills in combat.

“you are retaining information exceptionally well, as well as executing the techniques rather impressively,” states your teacher as you deflect his strike. you try to hide your gladness in his praise as you smirk and push his blade away with the terzo of yours.

“ah, so my sex is not a detriment to my abilities; that is good to know.”

you hear snickers and snorts from around you.

“i said nothing of the sort!”

“did you think it?”

your opponent frowns further, slightly turning his head away from you to steal a glance at his wife. he turns back to you.

“i did,” he admits defeatedly.

“it takes a true man of honor to rise up to his folly,” you remark honestly, as you strike anthony’s arm with the tip of your sabre. loud cheers burst from the onlookers and an aghast but proud look emerges on the countenance of your teacher; you grin, “and a fool to leave his defenses so easily open.”

impressed by your display of sport, and seemingly overcoming his antiquation, at least for the moment, anthony decides that you will match against colin and then benedict.

“how are you to improve if you are to face the same opponent?” claims your teacher with his usual air of annoyance, but you detect his pride in your accomplishment.

it is also decided that the matches will end when one scores a point.

and so, you face colin. it is easy to keep pace with him, not due to lack of skill on his part but complete and utter determination on yours. you tried to convince yourself, in the beginning of your match, that the remnants of your anger towards the third bridgerton brother, and how he treated your friend, did not fuel your determination to score the point— but it did and does. and successfully so, as you strike colin in his left shoulder. perhaps you do it with too much force as the strike reels him off balance (and perhaps you are delighted that it has done so), but he quickly resumes composure and flashes you a grin.

“i see more and more everyday why you and pen are friends.”

that softens your heart. you should be dubious of his charming remark, but you aren’t; it is too sincere, as is he, and you begin to see, even if minutely, why penelope cares for him.

“she has good taste in the company she keeps, i’m learning.”

that makes him laugh, as it does the others, and you look over and see how pen’s countenance shines with joy. that is enough to put your anger towards colin at ease, and turning towards your defeated foe once more, you return his smile and bow your head. bowing his head in kind, colin leaves, and in his place arrives your next and final opponent; he is smiling like a boy.

“best for last?” he remarks as he prepares his starting position. you roll your eyes, ignoring the warmth that starts to fill the center of your chest.

“this shall determine that,” and settled in your starting position, you and benedict begin your duel.

you have observed something of the eldest bridgerton brothers in your matches against them. anthony struck like fire, bombastic and ferocious. colin stood his ground like earth, his guards resolute. and benedict—

benedict moves like water. free. fluid.

as if he is dancing while dueling.

both you and he have reached a stalemate. you have managed to parry every one of his strikes, and he has managed to deflect every one of yours. you can feel how those watching are holding their breaths, waiting for someone to land the point.

you try not to startle when you hear benedict’s voice as you guard against his strike.

“it takes quite an astonishing person to earn the praise of anthony bridgerton.”

“are you so surprised that i am such a person?”

“quite the opposite, y/n,” he catches one of your strikes and grins at you. “i think you are entirely perfect in that regard.”

you roll your eyes once again but cannot help the blush that you feel spread across your cheeks as you push back his sabre with yours.

“do you honestly think charm will win you the point?”

“do you find me charming?” you ignore the heat that creeps up your neck and the voice in your head that has already answered his question far too quickly for your liking. “no, i do not think so lowly of such a formidable foe.”

and he winks at you.

and somehow, without you realizing how you got there, benedict strikes the center of your chest.

“but a little distraction does help.”

his point earns a round of groans and bleats from the crowd. instead of looking offended, benedict just laughs and approaches you, gloved hand outstretched, a boyish smile once again on his face. despite your loss, you cannot help but smile too. you place your gloved hand in his.

“it was a pleasure to duel with you.”

“yes. likewise.”

perhaps you imagine it, but you feel his thumb swipe against the side of your hand. it is featherlight, hardly felt with both your and his hands gloved, but felt nevertheless. before you can process the sensation any further, he lets go of your hand. with another smile, he bows his head at you as the crowd of people approach you both, penelope raving about your matches, eloise expressing her wish to fence now, anthony already commenting on what you could do better in your next match.

and without you realizing it, you gently swipe against the side of your gloved hand.

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ I.v ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

"mama? papa?"

it is a rare occasion when you, mama, papa, and your sibling eat together, and an even rarer occasion to do so for a second meal, but this night was such a night. the three of them halt their conversation and look over to you.

"how did you know you were in love with one another?"

there is a small silence, but then, without looking at one another, they smile in tandem.

"it was at first sight, really, for me,” your papa says as he offers his hand to mama. “as trite as that sounds."

mama takes his hand into hers.

"i as well."

"when i looked into your mama’s eyes, i knew that something was different. that my life had changed."

"for the better, dearest?"

papa laughs heartily.

"no, actually. it has been misery ever since."

you and your family laugh as mama playfully slaps at papa’s hand. it warms your soul every time they do this, when they tease one another and are light because of the other. it makes you believe in love each time.

mama and papa lace their fingers together again, smiling, still gazing at one another. as if it is just the two of them in their own world. mama, turning her smile from papa to you, speaks again.

"the flutterings in my stomach wouldn’t quiet, and they only intensified as we approached closer to one another that day and grew closer to one another with time."

she looks nostalgic until something mischievous quickly overcedes her countenance.

"why do you ask, my dear? has someone captured your eye?"

"or, better yet, your heart?" papa tags along.

ocean eyes and charcoal-stained hands flash by in your mind.

"no!" you say too hastily. "no, of course not. it’s— for one of my writings, is all."

you repeatedly poke at your bit of boiled chicken to avoid any further inquisition from your parents’ gazes.

–

sat by your window, you stare up at the night sky when the voice of your sibling infiltrates your dreaming.

“it’s one of the brothers, isn’t it?”

you whip your head over to them. they don’t even look at you; they are preparing for bed.

“pardon me?”

“is it the artist brother?”

“what!”

fluffing their pillow, they smile.

“so i am correct.”

“i didn’t even say anything!”

“that is not true. you said ‘what.’”

“that reveals nothing!”

pleased with the setting of their bed, they ruin their work by plopping their bottom onto it as they finally face you in what you realize now is a confrontation.

“of course it doesn’t, the word on its own. your reaction, however? could not be more transparent of your feelings.”

“i have no feelings!”

“is that why you asked mama and papa about being in love? because you have no feelings and you need to be told what they are?”

“i!—— i am going to bed!” you lift yourself up from your seat at the window sill, turning away from the peace of the night sky, and crash onto your bed. you lay on your side, faced towards the wall, refusing to make eye contact with your sibling. you lift up your sheet with too much force and lay it over your body and head. “good! night!”

after some silence, you hear the creak of your sibling’s bed and, a moment later, feel a featherlight touch on your upper arm. you give it a thought, and perhaps against your better judgment, you lift off your sheet, turn, and are greeted by the gentlest of expressions from your sibling.

“i think it is wonderful, y/n. whoever it is, they are very blessed to have your affections.”

your heart swells. you love your sibling.

“how did you know it was the artist brother?”

“so i am correct!” they smile with a shrug. “i deduced based on how much you’ve been writing about paint and charcoal as of late.”

you almost shoot upright from your bed.

“you’ve been reading my writing?”

“well, if they weren’t to be read, why do you leave them spread out on the table?”

“because there is no other place to store them!”

“and how good that is, or else i wouldn’t be able to read your fantastical stories or have been able to discover who your beloved is.”

“you are impossible!”

they kneel next to your bed and place their head on your shoulder.

“i love you too.”

you exhale the last of your frustrations, adjusting yourself a bit so that your sibling can rest their head more comfortably. without realizing, you stroke their hair, just as you always have.

“i quite like the story about the mushroom family,” they state after some time. “i’m happy that the middle mushroom child befriends the peony and then the hyacinths. i am happy they are happy.”

you feel your eyes start to drift.

“his name is benedict, by the way.”

you hear your sibling’s need for sleep in their reply.

“that’s a lovely name.”

“he is,” you murmur as the peace of the night falls over you.

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ I.vi ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

“good day!— robert?”

“good day, y/n!” and robert holds the door of bridgerton house open for you to pass.

“pardon the confusion in my greetings—”

“no offense taken on my part!” the late adolescence beams. you grin back. with how utterly enthusiastic robert is all the time, one would think it is part of some ruse. but it is not; he is just that genuinely delighted by life, you’ve observed.

“i am grateful. i had expected to be greeted by giles, is all.”

robert frowns. you feel the corners of your mouth tug downward in response, concern starting to swell your heart.

“he is ill at the moment.”

“ill! with what?”

“i know not. i had admitted the doctor perhaps not even a quarter of an hour ago. but worry not too much, y/n! from what the viscountess has shared with the servants earlier this day, giles shall make a quick recovery. and lady bridgerton has yet to be wrong in anything!”

relief floods your body. giles is of elderly age, so it calms you to hear that his ailment seems not to be too severe. and you can’t help but smile not only by robert’s sunny temperament but also by his rightful faith in kathani.

“that is all good to hear.”

“shall i announce you to the drawing room?”

“oh god no. i am quite all right, but thank you.”

“understood! then i must pardon myself; i must retrieve miss bridgerton and miss featherington.”

“‘retrieve’? are they not in the drawing room?”

“i was informed by dowager lady bridgerton, who was accompanied by miss bridgerton and miss featherington themselves at the time, that they would be in the gardens until your arrival and to retrieve the young misses upon your arrival.”

“i see. well, i shall be in the drawing room then. thank you again, robert.”

“it is my pleasure, y/n!” he beams once more and takes off to complete his task.

how odd, you think to yourself. this day seems rather unusual to the ones you’ve had thus far at bridgerton home. and it is hardly even noon! you become lost in your thoughts as you approach the entrance to the drawing room—

when you are greeted by benedict, and benedict alone, lounging with his legs thrown over the arm of a chair, staring sternly at the page he draws on.

“oh,” is all you say.

benedict snaps his focus from his book to you, his countenance transforming from deep concentration to frustration to genuine surprise in a mere moment. he scrambles up from his seat, book in one hand and charcoal in the other, posture now proper, and he bows his head.

“miss y/l/n.”

never before have you been alone in a room with a man. a gentleman. a gentleman with a handsome face, charcoal-stained hands, and beautiful ocean eyes.

you roll your eyes.

“blimey, it is just me. there is no need to bow. and why are you calling me miss y/l/n?”

benedict smiles.

“all right. y/n.”

shit.

perhaps that was a mistake.

“where has your family gone?” you inquire as you go to sit in the chair parallel to his, ignoring the flutterings within your stomach. “it is uncommon to enter the drawing room of bridgerton house and not be greeted by talking, or music playing, or fighting.”

smiling, benedict falls back into his seat and resumes his drawing.

“hyacinth is with her reading tutor; gregory is with his fencing instructor; colin is eating some sort of pastry, i am certain, in town; anthony and kate are likely— preoccupied—”

you snort; benedict’s smile grows broader as he smudges charcoal with his thumb, a small furrow in his eyebrows now forming.

“and mother has managed to rope eloise into learning about the flowers of the gardens, and eloise, being eloise, has roped penelope into doing the same.”

“and what of you?”

“and what of me?”

“why have you chosen the drawing room as your whereabouts?”

benedict cocks his head towards his drawing.

“it’s in the name of the room, is it not?”

“ah, a man of wit, i see.”

“i am a man of many attributes, y/n.”

ignore the butterflies.

“such as?”

“what attributes would win your favor?”

“so that you may lie to me and say you possess them?”

“of course not; the list is merely too long and i shan’t bore you with a soliloquy.”

“so, a man of thoughtfulness.”

“oh yes, a myriad of thoughts.”

“name one.”

“how much i am enjoying our conversation.”

and benedict shifts his ocean eyes from his drawing to you, a smile on his lips. he is being playful, but you detect no deceit in his expression. it infuriates you, really. how charming he is. how endearing. how sincere.

you return his smile.

“as am i, benedict.”

you sit in comfortable silence a moment more until benedict breaks the gaze, returning his oceans eyes and smile back to his drawing. his smile, however, does not last for very long.

“this sketch, on the contrary—”

and he rips out the paper from his book, crumples it in his hand, and throws it onto the carpet of the floor, giving his deed not another moment’s notice. he puts his charcoal to a new page in the moment next.

your smile falls.

“do you know how much paper costs?” you demand.

benedict looks back up at you with scrunched eyebrows and a smile having returned to his lips. he tilts his head.

“why? should i?” he inquires. nonchalantly. delight in his ocean eyes.

as if you are making a jest.

as if this is amusing. as if this is nothing.

it reminds you of a recent memory.

eloise had generously given you sheets of paper. hitting a stride in your writing and wanting to continue, you had asked, after much internal deliberation, if you could have a ripped half of a quarto upon running out of all negative space on your current one.

“have a foolscap. have a whole lot of them, actually,” she said easily, taking a good chunk of her stack and handing it off to you.

“eloise, are you certain?”

“of course. it is just paper, after all.”

“right. yes— of course. thank you.”

eloise hummed affirmatively in response, returning to her passage, as you stared at the small stack of foolscap in your hand. that amount of paper would have been eight months’ wage, perhaps even more.

a gentle touch of a hand on yours brought you out of your clouding thoughts. you looked over and saw penelope looking at you softly. understanding her unspoken thoughts, you held her hand and gave it a squeeze.

thank you, you mouthed.

"i must be going,” you say aloud. “goodbye, mr. bridgerton.”

you stand, turn, and quickly exit the drawing room.

“y/n. y/n!”

you hear him scuffling up from his lounge and start to follow you. you hasten your steps towards the entrance.

moments before you can open the doors of bridgerton house to the respite of the outside world, you feel benedict take hold of your wrist, stopping you in your steps, and it infuriates you how gently he does it. how you can pull away from his touch if you want to, how you can just go if you choose to. but you do not.

it infuriates you how much you want him to hold you.

you turn to face him.

“please— wait,” he breathes. “what did i do wrong? what have i done to upset you?”

you look at him incredulously. then it dawns on you.

“please. tell me,” benedict practically begs. with such softness in his voice.

it infuriates you.

“i know money is of no concern to you, or your family, or fair ladies and pretty gentlemen. but it is for the rest of us. for the rest of us who have to work to keep the ones we love fed, clothed, warmed, sheltered. that is a fact with which i have been concerned since the very moment i could think for myself. and for you—of the male sex, of pale skin, of inherited riches—it is something to discard onto the carpet of one of your family’s many houses. the paper you threw to the ground would have paid for a month’s worth of warmth for the entirety of my family’s home. and you ask me what you have done to upset me?”

he says nothing. he just looks at you, damned ocean eyes and all. gentle. attentive. like he could care; like he does care.

you feel your nostrils flaring, your blood pounding in every vein of your body. you finally rip your wrist away from his loose hold, already missing his touch.

“i shall take my leave. please give my regards as well as my apologies to eloise and penelope. goodbye, benedict.”

you turn away from him, yank the door open by its handle, and step outside, walking composedly at first, then quickly, then sprinting, then running. to be as far away from number five of grosvenor square as you possibly can be. to be far away from crumpled up paper, charcoal-stained hands, gentle touches, and ocean eyes.

you rub your wrists against your eyes.

stupid bloody tears.

stupid fucking heart.

why am i so afflicted by this? why am i crying? why do i hurt?

because i love—

no.

you cannot fall for him. he is someone you cannot have, cannot want, cannot— cannot…

it cannot happen, the two of you.

and most likely of all, you are not someone he wants. not someone who he would love. not the way you—

you are a fool for getting this far. but these feelings, they will pass. somehow. you will forget them. you will forget him. this is not the fairytales you read, not the fairytales you write. daydreams, hopes, love for a gentleman— there is a reason you are a writer.

you write the things you can never have, the things that will never happen.

you and benedict will never happen.

this is the prayer you tell yourself that evening before sleep takes you. you pretend not to be affected by the tears that afflict you as you do so.

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ I.vii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

< y/n does not go to number five the next week on her non-work day as she had grown accustomed to. she had tried to write at her table in her home to preoccupy herself, but her teardrops were ruining what she had already written. she considers going to work to distract herself, but y/n knows her unexpected presence would be a detriment to her fellow workers’ established flow of day. she decides to go to the markets to try and get fresh air and a change of scenery and to do anything to interrupt her spiral of thoughts and emotions.

< while at the markets, y/n hears her name called and turns to see penelope in her blue cloak. y/n asks what penelope is doing here, and penelope gently replies that she can ask y/n the same thing. she shares with y/n how, the week prior, after she received news that y/n had left bridgerton house, she left to find y/n in the markets and at her workplace but to no avail.

< their conversation continues. penelope shares how y/n was missed last week; by her, by the family, by benedict. y/n tries to dismiss her words and how the past few months have been a mistake and that she shouldn’t be there with pen or the bridgertons, that she’s not meant to be in their world.

< with patience and empathy and grace, penelope gently encourages y/n to return to bridgerton house next week, and y/n, though her heart aching and reluctant, agrees because she misses them. >

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ I.viii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

you sigh deeply.

have courage, y/n.

and you rap your knuckles twice against the stately door of number five. a moment later, the door opens, and you are greeted by a beloved grin.

“miss y/n! i have not seen you in weeks!”

you cannot help but smile back.

“good day, giles.”

“oh, where are my manners!” and the elderly doorman bows at you. you huff out a laugh, feeling how your face contorts with distaste.

“blimey, please don’t. i am not a lady, giles.”

“you could’ve fooled me, miss y/n.”

you shoot him a severe look; he merely continues to grin.

“you know of my feelings towards being called ‘miss.’”

“i am getting older; my memory frequently fails me, miss y/n.”

“and yet you’ve recalled how we haven’t seen each other in two weeks.”

“three.”

you grin.

“precisely.”

“well, it was quite the surprise when I fell ill the following week!” then giles frowns. “and it was an even greater surprise to have not seen you when i had returned the week following that.”

you look at the ground, unable to face the inquisition in his sad, kindly look, but when you bring your head back up, you manage a smile.

“it is no matter. i am here now. that is most important, yes?”

the elderly man smiles.

“yes, i suppose you are right, y/n,” and he holds the door open for you to pass.

“aside from bouts with ailment, how have you been, giles?”

“still standing upright, still opening and closing doors,” he beams without a bit of sarcasm. “and what of you? how have you been?”

“i’ve been—— well. and the family?” you say quickly, wanting to move the conversation away from you and your feelings.

“the same as is to be expected. though—”

concern starts to swell in your heart. what has happened in the fortnight you have not been present?

“mister benedict has been absolutely despondent.”

“oh,” is all you say. giles’ gentle joviality transforms into solemnity, and it makes your heart ache even further.

“on the rare occasions i do see him now, he is leaving for the gentleman’s club in the bright light of day and coming home at an ungodly hour, drunk as a wheelbarrow, wreaking of what smells like every available spirit in london. he had stopped dipping rather deep sometime ago, much to my relief, so it was an utter shock to return to my station and to see him back on the cut, and deeply at that,” the elderly man sighs. “i wonder what has happened for him to be so…” he unexpectedly turns to you, his countenance sanguine, “do you happen to know?”

you swallow as you ignore the sensation pooling in the pit of your stomach.

“no, i— i do not.”

“i see. well, whatever it might be, it is clear how much it deeply afflicts him,” and giles offers you a small, sad smile. “you know mister benedict; he has always been the most sensitive of the family.”

i do.

i do know benedict.

you clear your throat.

“do you happen to know where eloise and penelope are at this moment?”

giles cocks his head at you but is kind enough (you thank the heavens) not to press your change of topic.

“the last i had seen them, they had spoken of viewing the art gallery. do you know the way?”

“i am unfamiliar.”

he smiles again, and it makes you smile in return.

“then i am most glad to escort you there.”

–

giles opens the doors to the gallery, and ahead, in front of a portrait, you see the turnings of penelope, eloise, and—

“y/n,” he utters.

“benedict,” you breathe.

and he looks just as surprised as you are.

you look to giles, his eyes wide and mouth agape, and then to eloise and penelope. upon seeing their expressions, you feel your eyes narrow.

“ah, penelope!” shouts eloise. everyone else turns to stare at her. “with y/n’s arrival, i must change out of my, my art gallery viewing dress! and— and, into my... drawing room! sitting— dress...”

eloise scrunches her entire face in displeasure, confused by her own poorly concocted excuse. that does nothing to deter her, however, from clamping onto penelope’s wrist and barreling forward towards the doors of the gallery.

“come along, pen!” she calls out to the friend she is pulling right behind her. as they pass you, eloise gives you a strange and strained smile bearing all teeth, and penelope offers apologetic eyes and an encouraging smile.

giles looks to you, to benedict, and to the two escaping ladies. mouth still agape, all he manages is,

“i suppose— i shall see to that— miss bridgerton and miss featherington arrive to miss bridgerton’s bedchamber... safe—ly…?”

he mouths, i’m sorry!, at you before quickly bowing his head at benedict, fleeing the scene with remarkable speed for an elderly man who has recently recovered from illness, and leaving you at the entrance of the art gallery.

closing your eyes, you deeply inhale through your nostrils as you place your hand to the space between your eye and your temple. on your exhale, you wipe your hand hard against the side of your face and open your eyes, whipping your head to look at the second eldest bridgerton brother. it seems that he has been staring at you this entire time, stupid (stunning) ocean eyes and all.

“would you like to paint a picture?” you snark. “you are the artist in the room, and it would certainly last longer. or perhaps you have run out of paper?”

he does not respond, indecipherable expression unchanging, and it unnerves you how guilty you feel at goading him, at taunting him, and he merely takes it. you sigh again and cross the gallery to where he stands. resisting the urge to look at him again, as you feel his gaze still on you, you instead look at the painting ahead of you.

it is a portrait of a gentleman. with dark chestnut hair and mutton chops. he wears a blue jacket, a darker blue vest, a cream cravat, green breeches, and brown boots. a watch on a ribbon hangs from his vest; it looks familiar. he looks familiar. a benevolent smile rests on his lips.

you look at the plaque at the bottom of the gilded frame.

edmund bridgerton, the 8th viscount bridgerton.

you look back up at the painting, captured by a particular feature.

“you have his eyes.”

“his are gray; mine are blue.”

you roll your eyes but smile despite yourself. (you try to ignore the flutterings that bloom upon hearing his voice again.)

“yes, but that’s not what i was referring to. they peer into you— not with scrutiny, nor judgment, but with kindness, curiosity, compassion. an eagerness to learn about you. pools of welcoming. cool tones that radiate warmth.”

you cough, ripping your eyes away from the portrait to inspect the scuffs of your boots. you feel embarrassment spread throughout your entire body as heat creeps up your neck.

“the painter is excellent at their craft. it is as if i know him, your father.”

silence falls in the expansive gallery, the calm and kind eyes of viscount bridgerton looking down upon you and his second eldest.

“i’ve missed you.”

you snap your head up to look at benedict, your eyes making contact with his ocean ones. welcoming and warm. honest and... hopeful?

i’ve missed you, too.

“benedict, it has only been a fortnight since we saw each other last,” you respond aloud, your voice coming out so much softer than you had intended. you offer him a small smile, an olive branch of sorts. something of relief starts to fill his ocean eyes, but his demeanor does not change.

“i behaved arrogantly, and you did not deserve to be the recipient of such behavior. no one does, and i am so— i am so sorry, y/n.”

and you know he is. you resist the urge to touch his cheek, to comfort him with your caress, to selfishly have your skin touch his. instead, you look on at him.

“i do not ask you to grant me your forgiveness; i know i am unworthy of it. i just— i just wanted you to know how i felt, and feel still. and how i shall work on myself to be better, to do better.”

the butterflies in your stomach flutter maddeningly. you emit an exhale from your nostrils. the urge to touch him intensifies, and you feel yourself flex your hand to let go of the sensation. you huff out another breath, and smile brightly, sincerely, at benedict.

“well,” you begin, “with our friendship renewed, care to show me what other paintings you love in this gallery?”

benedict’s ocean eyes beam with relief and joy, a brilliant smile lighting up his face, and it takes all your self-control not to drop all discretion and wrap your arms around him in a crushing embrace.

“i would love nothing more, y/n,” he declares.

you try not to flutter your eyes closed at the words ‘i,’ ‘love,’ and your name in the same breath from benedict’s lips. at the pleasantness and home you feel in them. you smile on.

“where shall we begin, then?”

you and benedict walk together as he approaches a miniature in a wooden frame ornately carved with floral motifs. he admits that he has not the slightest clue which bridgerton ancestor this is, and that makes you snort. grinning, he points out how adeptly the artist portrayed the translucency and fluidity of the lady’s veil and how particularly impressive it must have been to accomplish such effects in paints during the early 1600s, if the remnant dating of the artist’s signature is correct. you remark how particularly impressive it is that a painting has endured two hundred years of existence, details still intact, and benedict responds simply that rich people have a way. that makes you snort again, and that makes benedict grin again.

he then leads you to a portrait of kathani and anthony, the viscountess sat in a chair with the viscount stood behind. you marvel at the painting—how much it looks like them, how much it captures kathani’s confidence, how much it captures anthony’s conviction, how much it captures their love. excitement coloring his voice, benedict imparts to you how he was given the opportunity to observe and assist the painter on the days the latter was commissioned to portray the viscountess and the viscount. he also shares with you how impossibly difficult they were as models, always giggling and kissing and looking away from the painter and talking to one another, being overall sickeningly saccharine. you chortle and share with him how that does not surprise you in the least bit. despite his annoyance upon recalling the memory, an incredibly fond smile rests on benedict’s lips. turning from his lips back to the painting, you remark how in love they are, and he remarks that, indeed, they very much are—and turns his fond smile from the painting to you.

coughing, you walk over and ask about the landscape of an enormous building. benedict names it as aubrey hall, the ancestral home of the bridgertons. you recall how you had heard of it early on in your friendship with the bridgertons; you had been unable to see them one week as they were preparing for kathani’s first ball as viscountess at the home. you also recall how the usually collected and confident kathani was anxious and uncertain during that time. benedict, beaming with pride, says how, of course, she absolutely excelled and how all of the ton—he rolls his eyes then and you guffaw—enjoyed themselves at the event. while kathani had done an unsurprisingly resplendent job, the ball was not very entertaining to benedict. he much more enjoyed the annual bridgerton game of pall mall leading up to the event. after announcing how kathani had won—much to the contradictory disappointment and delight of her husband—and answering your questions about what sounds, to you, like a very silly, very fun game, benedict suggests that you join them next year. you laugh, finding it impossible to imagine yourself at a home such as aubrey hall, particularly for the entirety of three days, but your heart swells at the invitation and the sincerity in his voice, and you say aloud how you would love nothing more.

your spontaneous tour eventually comes to an end, and the two of you make your way towards the entrance, still discussing the various art you had seen. as you and benedict walk out of the gallery, a thought crosses your mind.

“none of your work is on display.”

you notice how benedict stiffens. you feel your smile tug into a frown.

“ah, yes. i do not think my work is— up to snuff— with the work on display here.”

“horse shit.”

benedict’s jaw drops, his face aghast and regaled in reaction to what you assume is your choice of language. you merely shrug.

“you have not even seen my work!”

“i do not need to see your work when i can already see how harsh you are being.”

he scoffs, and it aggravates you.

“fine— i will show you, then, and prove to you my point.”

“fine, then! show me, and i will prove to you my point!”

–

“you are full of horse shit!”

you and benedict are in his bedchamber, where all his works are hidden away. he has shown you canvas after canvas, sketch after sketch, charcoal drawing after charcoal drawing, his palette of color ideas— and he still has the audacity to say that his work is not “up to snuff” for the bridgerton gallery.

benedict looks aghast again, perhaps by your language, perhaps by what you are (very rightly, very correctly) insisting. he shakes the canvas that he holds in his hand in your face.

“look at the proportions, y/n! they are entirely off!”

you roll your eyes, swatting his arm away, and begin to rummage through his other work. you pull a sheet and hold it up to benedict’s face.

“look at this sketch, then look at the canvas. there is a very clear, marked improvement, and with only a—” you look at the dates at the bottom right corners for confirmation, “—a difference of two days!”

“what does ‘improvement’ mean if the improvement is not even good!”

“it is good! and! improvement is everything, benedict! it is progress!”

“what—”

you and benedict jump back from one another by the sudden new voice. you had not realized how close the two of you were as you were shouting at one another, how close your faces were to one another, how close your lips were to—

a blazing heat creeps up your neck, at the tip of your ears, and across your cheeks as you turn from benedict’s flustered face to the scowl of the eldest bridgerton sibling in the doorway.

“—are the two of you doing?”

“brother! i— i was merely showing y/n my work.”

you vigorously nod your head. anthony’s glare remains unaffected.

“alone? together? in your bedchamber?”

your heart almost leaps out of your chest, your eyes about to bulge out of their sockets as you look around the room, suddenly aware of where you are. you are in benedict’s bedchamber. alone. together.

“i—” you start, very pathetically. “i—— we—”

anthony curtly bows his head at you.

“y/n, i would like to have a word with my brother. in private. please.”

“of— of course, right— of course!”

you hastily put the sketch on a nearby table and walk towards the door, pass anthony as he steps in, and are about to run down the hall and away from the scene when—

you turn and steal a glance at benedict, mustering up all the apologies you can convey through your eyes. despite the peril of his current predicament, his ocean eyes soften immediately, and a thousand butterflies erupt in your stomach and flutter around viciously. he offers you a slight smile, one that is sincere and unregretful. you offer one back, just as sincere, just as unregretful, before anthony gives you another bow of his head and closes the door.

–

“are you pleased by the results of your consorted trickery?” you state blandly upon seeing the young ladies that you thought were your friends sitting in the drawing room.

eloise looks up from her pamphlet, beaming at you, as penelope wears a wide and proud smile. well, at least they have answered your question.

“trickery?” eloise feigns. you roll your eyes; their expressions answer honestly, but their words continue their game. “i have no idea what you are referring to. pen and i were merely keen on viewing the art gallery today, and i thought, my blue-deviled of an elder brother ought to stop moping about; what better to get him to leave his bedchamber than by way of his favorite topic?”

“and his other favorite topic,” penelope adds. eloise chortles, and you feel the tips of your ears heat.

“what is that supposed to mean!”

eloise waves a dismissive hand at you.

“benedict knew nothing of your arrival, as i am sure you deduced by his surprise,” but the second eldest daughter grins wickedly. “though, from the sheer amount of time you have spent together thus far today, i am also sure the surprise was very welcomed, indeed.”

“by both parties, it seems.”

you promptly ignore the flush you feel on the apples of your cheeks. your friends are lucifer incarnate split into two.

“well, then you must be delighted to know that your shared plot has led to punitive action against him.”

that surprises them. (good. you are relieved to finally have some sort of an upperhand in this conversation.)

“‘punitive action’? by whom? for what?”

“by—”

the three of you hear a set of footsteps. you look to where the sounds are heard and see the two eldest bridgerton siblings enter the drawing room, the elder approaching you with conviction and the younger trailing behind him like a pet that has just been reprimanded. the sight would make you laugh, if you weren’t the one to have instigated the current conflict between the two brothers.

anthony stands before you, posture perfect and chin held up high.

“y/n, thank you for your patience. please allow me to apologize most ardently on behalf of my brother for his complete and utter lack of propriety. it will not happen again as i shall be more vigilant in tracking his every deed. i do hope this incident of my brother’s disrespect does not taint the beloved friendship between you and our family.”

and he deeply bows his head at you.

your jaw drops. benedict shuts his eyes tight and scrunches his face. penelope bops her gaze amongst the three of you. and eloise just howls, causing anthony to break the gravitas of his decorum and shoot a glare at her.

“it is no laughing matter, eloise!”

“it is harmless fun, brother! a pursuit of intellect exchanged between two creatives, who also happened to be by themselves. i have never heard of a baby being conceived from sharing some art.”

“ELOISE BRIDGERTON!”

you have now entirely hidden your face behind your hands; no one needs to witness the deep crimson that you are certain is spreading very rapidly across your countenance. an absurd hope also blooms in you that if you cannot see the others, then the others cannot see you.

“what ever is the matter in here?”

your eyes shoot open upon hearing the much needed voice of reason. removing your hands from your face, you see kathani enter the drawing room, a confused expression worn on her face.

“my dearest,” anthony begins, “i have offered my deepest apologies to y/n for benedict’s disgrace.”

“disgrace,” scoffs eloise, crossing her arms.

“disgrace!” reiterates anthony with increased fervor. kathani’s confusion does not lighten. she looks to benedict, whose eyes are scrunched closed again (his nose looks adorable this way), and then to you.

“are you all right, y/n?” she inquires gently.

“i—” you had intended to say, am well, but that would be a lie. you are utterly mortified. so, instead, you state the truth.

“benedict has been a gentleman. he has treated me with the utmost respect, and when he has done wrong by me— which! which has nothing to do with our being in his bedchamber!— he—” you steady your voice, determined to say this right, as you know and feel it with and in your heart, “he has corrected himself and bettered his words and thoughts and deeds.”

“you hear that, brother? no harm has been done.”

“eloise, you were not even there!”

“i believe what eloise means, anbe, is that you are being dramatic.”

“dramat— they were in his bedchamber, kathani! together! alone!”

kathani rolls her eyes, her attempt at diplomacy entirely gone.

“speak louder, anthony; just a bit more and the entire country shall hear you.”

the viscount pouts grumpily at his beloved, emitting a huff of air through his nostrils.

“you must trust y/n by her word,” the viscountess states.

“or do you not trust someone of feminine disposition to speak for herself?” eloise inquires.

“pen!”

you all snap your gazes to the entrance of the drawing room and see colin making his way to your friend in blue, followed by—

“y/n!” shouts gregory and hyacinth as they run towards you.

“y/n, penelope!” remarks violet and approaches you both. “how delightful it is to see you! you—” she says, reaching out for your hand, gently taking it in hers, and smiling kindly at you, “—in particular. it has been a moment, y/n.”

it melts your heart, really. the sincerity of affection that flows so easily from violet bridgerton. you recall the kind eyes and benevolent smile of her late husband. it is no wonder you so easily fell in love with this family; true, real love is woven into the very fabrics of each of their beings.

you look at them. hyacinth and gregory cling onto your slides, holding you tight. kathani and anthony are engrossed in debate, affection in their eyes despite the heat in their words. colin and penelope speak with and blush around one another as eloise, unknowingly (and, in your opinion, frustratingly, endearingly), butts into their conversation. and benedict. who, with the gaze of the entire room no longer on his so-called indiscretion, is looking at you. softly. with those damned, wondrous, bewitching ocean eyes. a smile on his lips that makes the flutterings in your stomach unbearingly, wonderfully unyielding.

you truly, really love this family.

you love the bridgertons.

“though,” the dowager viscountess starts.

shaking yourself out of your thoughts, you see how violet looks at the others in the room as half of them now pointedly avoid eye contact with the matriarch and the other half share a similar sentiment to her.

“is everything all right?” she turns to you, peering curiously into your eyes. “has something happened?”

you cannot help the laugh that bubbles out of you. violet seems taken aback by your reaction, as are the others in your periphery, but her eyes, as well as theirs, shine on.

“i think,” you say, smiling, “it is just another day with the bridgertons.”

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onigiriico · 7 months

Text

Mikoto audio drama (t2) - English TL

[ links: Spotify | YouTube ]

Mikoto-ing again 🫡 I know I say this like every other post, but I 100% recommend listening to the audio alongside the translation! On one hand the VAs just did an amazing job on this, and on the other hand I also feel like it'll. probably make the switches more obvious than I can convey in text lol

Little disclaimer about the way I translated the DID terminology here: I know the correct term in English is "alter", but in the JP audio they're consistently referred to as "personalities" (人格 / jinkaku) while the closest Japanese equivalent to "alter" seems to be 自我 / jiga, from what I could find. I generally try to stick as closely to the JP terminology with my translations as possible, so I mostly went with "personality". I really don't want to offend anyone here so I hope that's a somewhat okay choice ahshbsdj

Okay. Okay that got lengthy. As usual, if you find any mistranslations, have questions, etc etc feel free to send me an ask or hit me up on Twitter where I drop by, like, once a month 😅 And now without further ado:

⬇️ translation under the cut ⬇️

(Es enters)

E: Mikoto…

M: Ah… Hi, Warden-kun.

E: You… are Mikoto, right?

M: Uh… What are you talking about? It really feels like it’s been a while, doesn’it? How have you been? – Huh? What’s that…? Chains? Oh, no. Take them off!

E: I refuse. You’re too dangerous. Physical restrictions are necessary.

M: Umm… (laughs) What are you saying, restricting someone who can’t even hurt a fly?

E: You really aren’t aware, huh…

M: Well, I mean… I do get it. I… go out of control while I’m asleep, right?

E: …

M: The others told me about it. How I got into a fistfight with Koto-chan and whatnot.

E: Seems like it, yeah.

M: I wonder if it’s like… some kind of sleepwalking…? After all, I’ve been losing sleep more and more often recently… Man… It’s really troublesome, isn’t it?

E: Mikoto…

M: The others are all scared of me. I can tell by looking at the way they act. Because I read the room.

E: …

M: It’s pretty tough, isn’t it? (laughs) Ever since I came here, so much has been happening that I don’t understand…

E: … You really… do laugh when you’re suffering, huh?

M: Huh?

E: You don’t get angry. You don’t scream. You laugh, like it’s a minor inconvenience.

M: Ah… I guess so. I might have that kind of trait.

E: …

M: Usually, if you just laugh and pretend, things work out in the end, right? I’m pretty good at that. Making things work out to the best of my abilities.

E: Is that so…

M: (laughs) …But… it’s not coming to an end. All of this. With things I’ve never even heard before, the whole ti—

E: …

M: —the whole time… I have to make all these irritating experiences…!

E: You came out, huh.

M: Hey. Looks like you haven’t gotten a beating yet, Warden brat.

E: …!

M: Hah? What, are you scared?

E: Like you didn’t get beaten by Kotoko…!

M: Hah. That was just because she caught me off guard. We went at it again while you were asleep, and it’s not like I lost there.

E: Multiple personalities… Am I right with the assumption that the you I’m talking to right now is another personality of Mikoto’s?

M: Well, I guess that’s about right.

E: I see. What do you want me to call you?

M: Huh? You’re accepting this pretty readily, aren’t you. Wouldn’t the whole multiple personalities thing normally raise some eyebrows?

E: Yeah. I also didn’t think it was real, at first.

M: Figures. If it wasn’t me, I wouldn’t believe it either. I’d just think it’s a lie someone came up with to get away with murder.

E: But Milgram acknowledges that [it is real] in your case. I simply accept that as the truth, and develop my thoughts from there. So? What do you want me to call you? Your name.

M: No clue about that. Just call me whatever.

E: … For convenience, I’ll be calling you John.

M: Sounds like a dog’s name.

E: It’s derived from John Doe, the name given to unidentified bodies. Do you like it?

M: Can’t say I’m very fond of the way you’re flaunting your knowledge.

E: … Anyway. You’re acting pretty calm today, aren’t you? I thought of you more like a monster of some sort. I wasn’t expecting to have such a proper conversation with you.

M: Don’t get cocky! If not for these chains, I would’ve beaten your face in by now, brat.

E: Ohh, scary, scary.

M: Hmph.

E: John, you are not a prisoner of Milgram. The fact that Milgram’s usual restraints are ineffective against you is more proof for that than anything. Milgram has judged that Mikoto is the prisoner, and you, as his alter, are an exception.

M: Huhh, I see. So that’s why you believe that there’s multiple personalities.

E: That’s why I thought I would try and talk to you as a key witness today. I’m rather glad that you’re being cooperative.

M: But, you know… This isn’t a good thing, probably.

E: What do you mean?

M: I (boku) might be trying to disappear.

E: …

M: Evidently, the time I (ore) have been fronting has been getting longer, so this “me” has been able to stabilize. Isn’t that the reason we can talk properly?

E: …

M: If I had stayed a monster… maybe that would be better.

E: …

M: What?

E: You’ve turned out to be much more rational than I expected… I’m surprised.

M: I’m a university graduate, after all.

E: (sighs)

M: As for alters… Why do you think they’re born?

E: In precise terms, it’s called dissociative identity disorder – generally speaking, [it refers to] when a person experiences severe pain or stress, and a new personality is created to try and isolate [the original personality] from the resulting trauma.

M: Yeah. I… probably come out to ease the stress Boku experiences. The fact that I come out for longer just means that Boku is constantly under extreme stress.

E: Stress… Namely the environment of Milgram, right?

M: Right. Especially the fact that you judged against forgiving Boku is causing a lot of stress. That’s why he’s entrusting me with his heart.

E: I see.

M: Not like I can blame him. From his point of view, he’s being blamed for a crime he can’t even remember.

E: If that’s the truth, then… you’re the one who committed the murder?

M: Yeah, it’s me. I killed them off.

E: …

M: So Boku really didn’t do it.

E: Can I ask… why you killed them?

M: They annoyed me.

E: Who did you kill?

M: Just someone who was walking around nearby.

E: … How many did you kill?

M: Can’t remember. I was first born back then, you know. It’s kinda fuzzy.

E: How can you talk about that so calmly?

M: (sighs) According to the law, how would this go for Boku?

E: With a psychiatric evaluation, there’s a chance of a reduced sentence, but depending on the number of victims… the death penalty might be inevitable.

M: …! I– I’m the one who did it! Boku was just sleeping!

E: Is this really something that works that conveniently?

M: Just put yourself in Boku’s shoes for a moment! He was bottling up all his stress! He kept dealing with it all by himself the whole time, until it exploded! It’s not like he just decided that he wanted to hurt somebody!

E: …

M: He’s not the type of person who could do stuff like that! He always looks out for others, always reads the room, always tries to get along with people around him! He can’t do stuff like that… He was on the verge of exploding! That’s why I was born. It’s obvious, isn’t it? Boku didn’t do anything!

E: Even if that’s true… Even if it wasn’t what Mikoto wanted – someone’s life was still lost.

M: …!

E: Even if it was you, John, who was in [your body at the time] – there’s no way for you to prove that. At the very least not in a way that would be accepted in court. It could still be judged that you’re pretending—

M: You…!! What do you think?

E: I…?

M: I’m the one who did it! Boku didn’t do it! You know that because of Milgram! I don’t care about the law, I want to know what you think!

E: …

M: Please… forgive Boku. I’m the one who did it.

E: … I can’t… judge that right away. It’s not something that I can easily decide to forgive. In fact, Mikoto’s mental footage was so violent… it’s unforgivable. That’s how I judged.

M: That could also just be a fake or owed to the multiple personalities, right?! Boku really isn’t at fault! I’m the one who killed them!

E: …

M: Are you really satisfied [with the unforgiven judgment]? He turned into a murderer overnight!

E: What you did could still be considered a sin, though!

M: …! … I think… I might be the person Boku wishes he was. The person who stubbornly stands his ground, who doesn’t cry himself to sleep from stress, who gives people their payback. If I, the “ore” personality, hadn’t been born, I’m sure Boku would have reached his limit and fallen apart.

E: John… you…

M: It’s true that I was the one who wanted to destroy everything… and the weakness of Boku, who couldn’t stand up for himself all alone, might have been the origin of that. But… that’s all there is to it. Is that a sin?

E: I’ll be considering that after this.

M: After talking to you, I get that you couldn’t forgive what I did. And I’m fine with that.

E: …Yeah. That’s right.

M: The one Milgram is supposed to judge is Boku – Mikoto, right. He’s not me – so, not John.

E: Precisely.

M: Please, forgive Boku. If you don’t… I’m sure he won’t be able to deal with this any longer.

E: “A sin committed by another personality isn’t a sin”... you’re telling me that’s how I should judge?

M: Yeah. If you forgive Boku… I’ll disappear.

E: …

M: That’s right. I’ll have to disappear eventually, anyway… Disappear, and take all of it with me. I… was born to protect Boku, after all.

E: You were… born for it…

M: Yeah. If it’s for Boku, I’ll… do anything.

(machinery whirrs, bell rings)

E: John…

M: W…what? A dog’s name?

E: Mikoto…?

M: Warden-kun, you own a dog? What breed? No, wait, let me try guessing first– A toy poodle? Actually, maybe you surprisingly prefer the ugly-cute kind… like a French bulldog!

E: … No…

M: A pug, then?

E: It’s not the name of a dog!

M: Ehh… Then what…?

E: … It’s the name of your… friend.

M: (laughs) I don’t know anyone like that~

E: … I bet you don’t.

M: Huh…?

E: Prisoner no.9, Mikoto. Sing your sins.

#milgram #milgram music videos #mikoto kayano #milgram mikoto #milgram es #translation #fan translation #I'm crying can't every Milgram vd be this quick to translate /hj

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webslingingslasher · 1 month

Note

I’m on my period and my cramps are kiiiilling me. Like legit so bad I threw up. And ofc I can’t stop thinking about nerdy!peter, and how much better he would make me feel rn:((((

So if you have the time, I would really like to request a blurb of nerdy!peter taking care of reader that has a more intense period lol<3

(ALSO I need to say that I love you so much!! And I literally read everything you write hehe. Thank you for feeding my tasm addiction!! <33)

*cleaning out my inbox.*

this but you're also not trying to make him feel bad so you're trying to hide it but peter keeps noticing you wincing or awkwardly shifting and he knows it was a planned meet up but:

'do you want me to leave?'

'huh?' you sit straighter and ignore a stab in your lower stomach. peter doesn't sound the least bit offended either. 'you seem a little off. if you don't want to hang out today we can do something tomorrow?'

no, you can't lose your only lifeline. 'i want you here, i promise.' peter knows you get a period but you haven't really talked about it and you're not about to start crying to him over cramps and a headache.

'then are you feeling okay?' the back of peter's hand rests on your forehead, the light touch has your shoulders releasing unnoticed tension. 'no. yeah. sorry, yes.'

peter has an amused look, 'care to explain, ma'am?' a pretend microphone is held under your chin. you lean into it, 'tummy hurts.'

your boyfriend acts like he's been shot. 'my girl is hurting on my watch, i've failed.' then looks up at you from your bed, 'what can i do? do you need a snack, or a sprite? what about chocolate, don't girls like that when they're on their period?'

you freeze, 'period?' peter's eyes widen, he might've just messed up big time. sitting up, he does his best to not make it worse. 'i'm so sorry, i thought you were on your period but i should never make that assumption. i'm sorry, i love you and i am ready to repent.'

shifting and tugging at your sweater you look at the ground, you feel a little embarrassed. 'why do you think i'm on my period? have i been mean or something?'

peter coos and shakes his head while tugging you halfway over his lap. 'you're never mean to me, why else would i call you my sweetheart, hm?' peter softly cups your face and pouts. 'i said that because you always have a tummy ache this time of the month. and maybe a little hangry.' another breath, 'you also cry more.'

he knows you better than you thought. 'you picked up on all that?' it's a little warming, he notices everything. peter scoffs at the assumption that you thought he wouldn't. 'it took a couple months. i said something to may one day and she looked at me and said something like 'c'mon, peter. put two and two together and get her some chocolate.' so i brought you m&m's and you cried. so, yeah, i kinda figured it out then.'

you remember it. peter showed up and said he stopped for something at a corner store and saw them by the register and thought you'd like them. the memory sends tears stinging at your eyes. 'it was just so nice. you thought of me and spent money on me.'

peter laughs a little, 'i did.' you nod, as if his answer explained your tears. 'peter?' he lights up, 'yeah?' you give him puppy dog eyes, you're praying for his sympathy. 'i have cramps and they really hurt.'

it's all you needed to say for peter to jump into action, for a moment you regret not saying anything sooner. you've been missing out on cuddles and forehead kisses and unwavering attention. 'my poor baby. what do you need from me?'

#i'm so sorry guys- i just haven't liked anything i've written recently and i don't know why #i miss you all #nerdy!peter

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reysdriver · 1 year

Text

Baby Furniture | J.P.

James tries building a crib without magic — james x pregnant!reader fluff

warnings: reader is pregnant

words: 0.5k

"That's a lot of parts, are you sure you don't want to use magic?" You asked your husband as you both looked at all the pieces to assemble the baby furniture.

"Hundred percent sure." James answered. "I can't have my kid finding out I built their furniture the easy way instead of with my hands."

"We could just not tell them." You suggested, even though you knew he was set on building it himself.

"We have to tell them. I want my kids to be proud of me. Besides, this'll probably be a piece of cake once I get started."

You bent down a bit to kiss him on his bird's nest of hair. You gave it a tousle as you stood back up, and he gave you a grin.

"Trust me, my love, I've got this. And if I don't, I'll just ask Sirius for help when he comes over tomorrow."

You sighed, and went into the next room to read in bed while he started putting the crib together. Only, he didn't put the crib together. For a whole half hour, he cussed to himself about the confusing instructions, the tools he was using, and the stupidly similar screws.

As comical as it was, you felt bad for him. You put your book down on your nightstand and walked over to the next room. He put down his hammer at the sight of you in the doorway.

"How's the crib going?" You asked, despite the obvious answer on the floor. He only had a few pieces of the frame put together, and you couldn't even tell what part it was supposed to be yet.

"Not too bad." He lied. "I'm really getting the hang of doing things the Muggle way."

"That's great. Well, I'm gonna have a nap because this little one likes making me tired at two in the afternoon. Maybe I'll get to see the finished product when I wake up?"

"Of course. You're gonna be so impressed."

You two exchanged smiles before you left the room and crawled into your bed. Looking down, you lovingly whispered a few words to your baby bump. "Your dad is a stubborn one."

You fell asleep too quickly to hear much more of James working, but your assumption was that it didn't go well. So, when James gently woke you up and told you to come look at the crib, you weren't sure what to think.

He opened the nursery door and revealed an actual crib. The whole thing was perfect and it looked just how a crib was supposed to look.

"Ta-da! Aren't you impressed with me?" James asked you. "I bet you had gone to sleep thinking I wouldn't be able to make it, but here it is."

"You used magic, didn't you?"

He looked at you with an exaggeratedly offended expression. "You don't believe I could have made that with my own two hands?"

You tilted your head and raised your eyebrow. You both knew what had happened in order to get that crib together.

"Yeah, I used magic." He admitted. "But, I'll do it the Muggle way for baby number two."

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #james potter imagine #james potter fluff #dad!james potter #dad!marauders #marauders era #marauders fluff

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goldenpinof · 2 years

Photo

versatile king

#daniel howell #basically i'm gay #12:41 #reading your assumptions and getting offended #5:29 #my edits #dystopia daily #dd 2

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haechwrites · 1 year

Text

wingwoman - L.MK

mark x fem!reader ft. jaemin

synopsis: mark has trouble pulling girls. he also has trouble understanding girls. this makes sense when he asks the best friend of his crush for help when it's blatantly obvious she's actually in love with him.

wc: ~9.5k

warnings: none??? unrequited love. mark is clueless. reader is a coward hehe. based in college. i say fem!reader bc they use she/her pronouns and refer to her as a "wingwoman," but honestly can be read as gender neutral?? ORIGINALLY WRITTEN IN FIRST PERSON, so ignore mistakes pls

A/N: my first published work woot woot i've had this written and sitting for so long. i love unrequited love and angst. this isn't that angsty but maybe if i get sad enough, i can write an angstier one! okay byeee

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“You like him, don’t you?”

The mayo from your sandwich made a cartoonish splat onto the plate at the end of his question. Your head snapped over, looking at Jaemin incredulously for his unexpected inquiry. You were in the middle of a lovely meal with Mark in between classes. When Jaemin sat down to join halfway, You didn’t expect him to have an agenda in mind. You placed your sandwich down and checked to see how far Mark had gotten before you could speak. He had lost a round of rock, paper, scissors and was sent to buy drinks.

“What are you talking about?” You cleared your throat of whatever was left of your lunch. You knew exactly who and what he was talking about but you prayed it was something else. You didn’t want to have this discussion. Things could be laid out on this table that you're not yet ready to process, and not with Jaemin of all people. It’s not like you and Jaemin aren’t close. You're just both the same kind of person, the type of person who doesn’t like to express their feelings. So it was odd that Jaemin was even asking about your personal life.

“Mark. You like him, right?“ He raised a single eyebrow, tempting you to deny his claim. How could he admit your feelings so easily when it’s something you've been struggling to grasp for a month?

You wiped the crumbs off your hands onto your jeans, and maybe some nervous sweat too.

“No. I mean. He likes Jenn.” You stated it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, trying hard to make it seem like that fact didn’t bother you. You automatically looked down and start picking at the crumbs.

Jaemin hummed, “I asked if you like him. Not who he likes. I know who he likes.”

The last statement felt like a stab in the chest, because, of course, you do too. Mark likes your roommate, your friend since high school. That was the only reason you were sitting at this table, the only reason you were able to have this conversation with one of his best friends. If he didn’t reach out to you during your Anatomy class together about helping him get with your friend, you wouldn’t even be here in this situation right now. At first, you were honestly offended by his request. However, after seeing the charm he very much lacked, you understood why he was desperate. It was a pitiful acceptance, but you wish you never agreed. Being reminded of your purpose in his life always tore you apart because Jaemin’s assumption is right; you do like Mark.

Maybe that slight bitterness in your heart is what pushed you to confess to Jaemin, one of Mark’s friends and not the man himself. You took another quick glance at Mark to see him fumbling with his change at the vending machine to get you a drink. You couldn’t help but smile fondly at him and quickly realize how screwed you are. Jaemin followed your eyes and smiled to himself knowing he was right. It wasn’t difficult to figure out. The only person that didn’t know was Mark, and maybe Jenn.

You sighed and turned back to him, a month of feelings bursting at your lips.

“Okay, fine. I like Mark. But I swear to you, I’m not going to do anything. It literally doesn’t matter. He likes Jenn and I’m helping him pursue Jenn. I know I’m an idiot for getting my feelings tangled up in all of this, but I really care for Mark, so I’m not gonna let something as stupid as this get in the way of that. I’m gonna keep helping him and if I get to continue being his friend after they get together, great! But if our relation-friendship ends there, then that’s also fine. It-“ You hesitated, looking at the pity and confusion on Jaemin’s face. “It’s completely fine,” You said quieter, the weight of your ramble finally hitting you. You didn’t realize how pathetic this whole situation was till your thoughts left your head and were actually voiced.

Jaemin made a sound of disapproval, getting ready to speak before a can of Milkis was placed in front of your plate.

“What’d I miss?” Mark asked, swiftly sliding his body onto the bench. “I cleaned the top already,” He says, tapping your drink.

You smiled with gratitude, before quickly snapping back into wing woman mode. Like it was second nature.

“Jenn wants to catch a movie this weekend, wanna come? Maybe bring Jeno or Jaemin,” your eyes flickered to the man that just watched you word-vomit your inner thoughts. “So it’s less sus, you know?”

Mark’s eyes lit up immediately, the smile on his face lifting his cheekbones to match the pure joy in his eyes. The green in you only faltered your smile slightly. When has he ever smiled like that for me?, you thought.

“Jaem, what do you say? Wanna come?” Mark asked.

Jaemin looked at you as you avoided his eyes. He took a big bite of his food before saying, “I’d rather not.”

Mark instantly pouted and slapped Jaemin’s arms multiple times, whining that it’d be fun. Jaemin continued taking bites of his food, unfazed by Mark’s slaps and silently refusing. You giggled at the sight, but something in your stomach felt uneasy now that Jaemin knows.

Everyone continued finishing up their meals and Mark asked you about this weekend and what movies Jenn likes. You took a sip of your drink and let the carbonation burn your throat. Hopefully, your abrupt confession helps you in this predicament. Having at least one person know would be good, right?

You peered up at Jaemin and his eyes were trained strictly on you, sending goosebumps down your arms.

Maybe not.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

A month has passed since your confession to Jaemin and two and a half months have passed since Operation Jump Jenn began — name courtesy of Haechan, objectively not his best work but you got outvoted. Ever since you started hanging out with Mark and helping out with his love life situation, your friend groups began to merge and you all grew extremely close. It feels like you're known the boys since birth, despite meeting only this year. Due to this and because everyone is all in on Operation Jump Jenn, a camping trip was planned together — more like “glamping” because tents were swapped for a nice cabin. The goal was to get Mark and Jenn some alone time whether it be on a hike or by the campfire. Haechan said they should go as far as making them share a bed, but he quickly earned a smack in the head from Renjun.

The crew had just arrived at the cabin this morning and scurried into the rooms they self-assigned, or should you say argued over, in the car ride up. You obviously got put with Jenn and your friend, Sumin, while the boys fought over who could sleep with Renjun. Surprisingly, Jeno came out victorious.

“Okay, I’m done! I’m gonna go help the boys figure out groceries,” Jenn got up and brushed the dust off her pants.

“Oh, you’ll need backup,” Sumin laughed and trailed after her, leaving you alone in your shared room.

You took your time unpacking just because driving partially took a lot out of you. The bed was looking extra nap-able. Your body soreness also probably came from craning your neck so much to look at Mark and Jenn in the backseat. It was torturous, but you couldn’t look away. It was like self-sabotage.

A light knock on the door caught your attention and you told the person to come in. It was Mark.

Not even trying to hide the immediate smile on your face, you got up off the floor.

“Hey, did you unpack already?”

“Haechan owes me for something, so I made him do it for me.” He sighs happily before plopping onto the bed, basking in his zero responsibilities.

You scoffed and smacked his thigh, “You’re wearing your outside clothes!” You log rolled him over to his side but he quickly positioned himself back.

“All we did was drive,” he whined. “I think our clothes should be relatively clean.” He patted the empty spot next to him. You obviously obliged.

You leaned over to him and jokingly sniffed, “Yeah, but you smell a little.”

Mark mocked offense and grabbed you by the shoulders to pull you into a tight hug, laughing evilly at your cries.

“Then get a gooood smell,” He trapped you in, shaking you around. You pretended to cough on his odor and he gasped. Mark pulled back to look at your face and you were already laughing.

He gave a light flick to your forehead, “Jerk.”

You simply smiled, shoving him away from you before the butterflies in your stomach could get even worse. You had to take a deep breath just to calm down and remind yourself of your place.

“When we have to grocery shop later, you should volunteer with Jenn. She’s already making the list so I’m sure she’ll wanna take over the shopping part as well.” With your eyes trained on the ceiling, the advice just flowed naturally out of you like always. You laid there expecting him to jump up at the idea.

Mark propped his head up with his elbow and looked at you from the side, “I’m kinda tired.”

You rolled your eyes, “You’re stupid. You gotta take every opportunity you can get. Jenn’s a little tough to break through and get to know. She’s shy, remember?” You poked his nose and he scrunched at you.

“True,” he pouted. Mark reached over to grab a strand that came loose from your bun after he practically strangled you. He gently brushed it aside and you felt your whole body freeze. Two attacks in one day? Your poor heart.

You cleared your throat and shot up. You grabbed his hand and yanked him with you, to which he instantly groaned.

“C’monnn, let’s goooo,” you pleaded, shaking his arm. “I don’t have the energy to pull you up.”

He used both hands to grab your arm and pulled himself up, leaving you both face to face. You instantly took a step back, frazzled once again. Mark was never good at hiding his facial expressions. It was what made getting close to him so easy. You felt like you could read his mind, and sometimes you dive deeper than he expects. He looked at you a little confused by your distance and you simply gave his arm a squeeze, not wanting to look too suspicious. He smiled.

Mark naturally wrapped his arm around your shoulders to pull you closer and walked the two of you out of the room, “Let’s gooo.”

If he could read you the way you read him, you're sure he’d push you away.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Scrubbing hard at the dishes, you cursed myself for being so bad at rock, paper, scissors. Yes, it’s a game of luck, but you must have the worst luck in the world to always lose to Lee Haechan. You could hear him snickering at the dining table behind you, smacking on the marshmallows they were about to roast.

“Haechan! Stop snacking and bring those outside,” Jaemin snapped, coming in to bring in more dishes from dinner.

“Yessir!” Haechan mocked a salute and scrambled outside to where Mark and Jenn were setting up the campfire. Jeno and Sumin were looking for more firewood and Renjun went to take a post-dinner nap.

Jaemin bumped you with his hip, scooting you over as he started rinsing your dishes.

“You’re helping?” you asked, shocked that someone would willingly wash dishes.

“Should I stop?” He smiles, threatening to let go of the plate.

“No! No. No. I appreciate the help.”

Jaemin laughs, “That’s what I thought.”

You both stand there quietly washing what felt like millions of dishes. Spending time alone with Jaemin was never uncomfortable, but there were always moments when your mind gets in the way and you think about what he knows.

It’s like he can read your thoughts because he suddenly asks, “Is this trip gonna be okay for you?“

Suddenly hyper-focused on the crust of the pan, you didn’t dare make eye contact with him.

“What do you mean?”

Jaemin takes the pan from you and starts scrubbing himself. You instantly occupy yourself with another dish.

He sighs, “I mean, usually when we set the two up, we’re never actually there to witness how it goes. It must suck to watch them laugh and be happy like that.” His words burn.

You hiss at the realization and almost drop the cup you were gripping. Jaemin tuts and grabs the cup from your hand. His hand on your wrist is tight, begging you to look up. You chew on your inner cheek, hesitantly lifting your eyes to match his.

“It’s only the first day, but we have a whole week. If you ever need to get away from all of this, you find me, okay?” The brown in his eyes is warm and inviting, and his facial structures soften when he’s talking to you. He’s chewing on his bottom lip and you could see how nervous he is for you. You slowly release his grip from your wrist and you hold his hand lightly.

“Thank you, Jaem. But I’ll be okay. I’ve made it this far,” You meekly smile. Your eyes darted to the side of his face to look outside the window where Jenn is throwing marshmallows up in the air for Mark to catch. He looks so happy. Maybe even in love. And that look wasn’t for you. The ache in your chest returns and you hope Jaemin doesn’t catch on. You don’t know what it is that made you so sensitive in this moment, but your vision blurred slightly with tears.

“You sure about that?” He teases, wiping the tear that managed to slip.

“You’re gonna get soap in my eyes,” you scowl, but laugh at how pathetic you're being. He gently blows the suds off your face and you could feel them being replaced with a peachy rose tint on your cheeks.

“C’mon, let’s hurry. They’re gonna eat all the marshmallows and your terrible scrubbing is slowing me down. Jesus, Y/N, I’m finding so many missed food spots.”

Your jaw dropped and you scrubbed harder, “It’s dark in here and my arms are tired from driving! Leave me alone.”

Jaemin looks at you from his peripheral to see you practically scrubbing the varnish off the plates and he smiles. He hopes you'll be okay, but also a part of him hopes you'll seek comfort in him if needed. Was that too much or too selfish to wish for?

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

For the rest of the glamping days, you're unintentionally glued to Jaemin’s side. Every activity planned for this trip ended up with you being paired up with him: paddle boarding, hiking, cliff jumping, grilling, and so on. Every partner assignment was decided by rock, paper, scissors, and somehow the two of you kept doing the same one. Some would say it's fate, but Jaemin would call it cheating. He was lucky that Renjun hasn’t caught him changing his hands last minute to copy yours. Truth be told, Jeno noticed a while ago, but decided to let his best friend have his fun.

The universe likes to play its games too. And that’s how you ended up being partnered with Mark for canoeing. You almost fought it till you saw how happy Jenn was to canoe with Sumin. Mark simply shrugged and grabbed two life vests for you guys.

He offered to strap it in for you and you were looking at everything but his face. Unfortunately, you could still feel the steady rhythm of his breath catching up to the racing of your heart.

“I feel like I haven’t talked to you in ages,” Mark said to break the ice. It was true though. Your wing woman duties on this trip were basically minimal as the group joined efforts to get the two together at all costs. It took a lot off of you and you were happily distracted by Jaemin.

“I bet you got a lot of talking done with Jenn though.” you gave him a closed mouth smile, trying to find the positives of your distance, for his sake and yours.

Mark looked at you with anything but happiness. Shouldn’t he be happy? At this rate, Jenn and he are close to making it official.

“I just missed you,” Mark stated like he was releasing air from his lungs. You had your shield up and you were ready to combat it with another sentence about how well his love life is looking. But you saw the look in his eyes and the way his body looked defeated. You tightened the strap on his life jacket and patted over his heart.

“I missed you too,” you replied. It was something you weren't letting yourself admit this entire week. Like fireworks, a smile instantly erupted on his face and he grabbed your hands from his straps, giving your palm a swift kiss before dragging you to your boat.

Your insides screamed at his gesture and your legs failed to move as you stumbled after him. It was like you were in a Mark drought and he was the single drop of water you needed to beg for more.

The remaining of the afternoon was spent paddling in circles and laughing till your throats were dry at your horrible rowing skills. An oar was even lost in the process. Mark also clumsily fell in while trying to reach for a duck. Being the good person you are, you jumped in after him so he wasn’t alone. Admittedly, it looked more fun than sitting in one place on the canoe.

Mark cackled at the life jacket forcing you to bob up and down in the water, making you look like a little kid drowning.

“You look so stupid,” he says in the middle of laughing, accidentally swallowing some lake water.

“Jerk!” you splashed him and he’s sputtering, trying to get the taste out of his mouth. His jaw drops when he realized what you did and he looks at you so seriously. Your hands are ready to splash him again and the water fight begins. You're hurling water toward each other for a good five minutes before he concedes, whining about potentially losing a contact.

You swim towards him, grabbing his face to check his eyes. His contacts were very clearly still intact. You're about to call him out for lying when he suddenly spits water onto your face.

“Marcus Lee.” you threaten him, still holding onto his face. Your eyes are shut in disgust.

You wipe the water off your face and open your eyes to see him grinning evilly.

“That’s not even my name,” Mark giggles.

“‘Mark Lee’ doesn’t have the same impact,” you shrug, moving your hands to his shoulders to stay afloat.

He smiles fondly, holding onto your elbows lightly. The feeling in his chest felt as good as the sun resting on his backside. The warmth of the sunset reflected off your lake-soaked cheeks, plump from laughing, and something stirred in his chest. Something a little too similar to the feeling he was forcing when he was with Jenn. It was the feeling Mark had wished he felt when with her.

Scared of this new emotion, he let go of you and scrambled to climb back into the canoe. He quickly mumbled about wanting to get back before it got dark. You floated there a little confused by his urgency, but followed suit anyways. He tossed you a towel and out of nowhere gained the skills of a professional rower and got you back to the shore in no time. Without even looking back, he trudged towards the cabin, leaving you with the setting sun, cold and confused.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“So he just left you there?” Renjun asks, scrolling through Netflix to pick a show to watch. It was just the two of you since the rest were too tired from today’s activities.

“Mhmm. It was so weird.”

“I can check up on him in the morning since he’s asleep now. But he probably just had the shits. You know Mark.” He finally settled on an episode of New Girl.

You took a sip of your hot cocoa and pondered the chances. “Mmm true.”

Renjun laughs at your agreement and grabbed a blanket for the both of you.

“But you both had fun, right?” He asks, not really paying attention to the show at all. It seemed like he just wanted to talk and you were fine with that.

“Yeah, I mean we didn’t spend much time together this trip which is pretty rare for us. But you know, The Operation takes priority,” you took another sip to clear the knot that suddenly formed in your throat.

“You probably missed him a loooot, huh?” Renjun hid his smirk behind the mug.

“A normal amount… what are you grabbing at?“ you narrowed your eyes at him and leaned back, surveying his body language. He looked like he was holding something in.

“Oh my god,” he bursts. “Can you just tell me already?” He sets his cup down and grabs your forearms.

“Huh? Tell you what?” Where is this coming from?, you think. You set your cup down too out of precaution.

“I’m not stupid, Y/N. I know you like him, so I need you to confirm it so we can talk freely,” he waved his hands in the air like he was a therapist trying to get you to spill. You almost laughed at how ridiculous he looked.

Your hand slapped against his mouth and you did a quick look around the room. No peeping heads.

“How did you figure it out?“ you whisper-screamed. You could feel the very foundation of Mark's and your friendship crumble.

“Imph phnot phstupidmph,” He muffles out.

“Huh?” You question stupidly and he glares at you, sharply pointing at your hand. “Oh, duh.”

Renjun clears his throat, “I said I’m not stupid. And considering how much time Jaemin has been spending with you, I’m guessing he knows too.” You look at the wall behind his head, feeling guilty.

“I don’t know why you would tell him before me though. We were lab buddies first before you met Jaemin. Not fair, Y/N.” He huffs, crossing his arms. If the security of your love life wasn’t falling apart at this very moment, you would’ve found him endearing.

“Do you think anyone else has figured it out?” you ask.

“No, I’m like the only smart one,” Renjun scoffs.

“Wrong!” A voice booms from the hallway. Haechan walks in yawning, fully decked out in a matching set of pajamas. He takes a swig from Renjun’s hot cocoa, earning him a smack.

He sits down to your right and smiles, “I found out like 2 weeks after you and Mark met.”

“Damn, you found out before Jaemin did,” You admitted. Not even shocked or worried that a third person knows, You sat there dumbfounded.

“Yesss!” Haechan pumps the air and proceeds to take another sip but this time from your cup. You tsked and gave him a flick before grabbing your mug back.

“Okay, so now what?” Renjun asks like there was more to this.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “What do you mean ‘now what’?”

Haechan doesn’t even look surprised but Renjun is staring at you like you offended him.

“You’re just… not gonna do anything? Ignore your feelings?” Haechan nodded along with Renjun’s questioning. The angel and the devil on your shoulders, or should I say devil and devil.

“Renjunie, that’s what I’ve been doing, I don’t know if you’ve noticed. I’m the wing woman. I’d be betraying my duty.” You said this like a mantra, a mantra you're been telling yourself for the past few months.

“What about the duty to your heart?”

“Gross,” Haechan chimes in. It earned a scrunch of your nose and a weird look.

“I regretted it the minute I said it,” Renjun slouches defeatedly.

“Look, I appreciate the concern. Jaemin gives me these talks all the time, and trust me, it won’t change my mind. I love Mark too much to get in the way of his happiness. And all for what? Because I have these feelings? That’s ridiculous.”

Haechan and Renjun looked at you with even more pity in their eyes, which is more than you usually see from Jaemin.

“What?”

“It’s worse than I thought,” Haechan whispers.

“You love him.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

On the morning of the last day, you notice Mark is avoiding you at all costs. He’s even avoiding Jenn. Everyone was packing up the car and he completely took over, not letting anyone touch the luggage or the car. You tugged Renjun to the side to ask what was up and he simply shrugged, saying he doesn’t know what was going on.

When you all make your first pitstop, You and Jaemin are buying snacks for the group. You see Mark staying in the driver’s seat, claiming that he can go the whole way. Both of you give each other concerned looks and Jaemin says he has an idea.

His idea ended up being you switching places with Haechan to sit in the passenger seat, much to his complaints about getting car sick. He does not get motion sick, by the way, especially as the man who has ridden all the rides at Six Flags not once, but twice in one day.

The only time Mark looks at you is to see you climb into the passenger seat. From then on, his grip on the wheel is tight and his eyes are trained on the road. You even offer to do directions for him, but he immediately declines. His cold behavior leaves a weird feeling blooming in your chest and you almost feel sick, regretting the decision to buy a gas station hot dog.

A few hours passed and Haechan and Renjun are knocked out from their endless karaoke and the rest of them followed suit after finally getting some peace and quiet.

“Hey,” you whisper to Mark. “Mark.”

His eyebrows perk up, maybe not expecting you to initiate conversation. “What’s up?”

“Are you good?”

He nervously twists his hands around the wheel. “Yeah, dude. I’m fine.”

You looked him up and down, not believing him at all. “Then are we good?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?” He says with a hint of offense. You grip the sleeves of your hoodie a little tighter. He’s never talked to you this way.

“I-I don’t know. You just seem a little off today, that’s all.” You half confessed. He’s more than just a little off. His behavior was making the air tense and you wished Jaemin didn’t convince you to take the front seat. You chose to stare out the window instead.

“Y/N, there’s nothing wrong. I’m just missing my space, okay?” Mark says sternly, giving you the affirmative sign to leave him alone. Tears instantly prick the corner of your eyes at his tone. Mark has always been a cheerful presence in your life so for these words to be spat at you like this… It felt horrible. It felt like his bad mood was your fault. You tug the hood of your jacket up further and you turned away from him even more, not wanting to make it worse.

“Sounds good,” you managed to mutter, popping in your headphones so you didn’t have to hear any more from him.

Mark spares a glance at you and his eyes instantly soften. Something in his chest twists at the way you're turned away from him, in his favorite hoodie. Jaemin is looking from the seat behind; he’s been watching. He sighs and reminds himself to switch places with you at the next pitstop.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Finals season hits the minute you all get back from your trip and the only time your group meets up is to study in the library. Mark, who is usually a huge advocate for group studies, is suddenly a solo studier. You haven’t seen him in a week and when you sought out Jenn, she reports the same thing.

Thankfully and unfortunately, your finals were extra rough this semester and you essentially had no time to worry about him. Occasionally, you'd send him texts with your class notes to check up on him, but all you'd get in response is a simple thumbs up.

Jaemin decided to change the scenery and study at a cafe near campus. He had two more exams left, but you only had one so you were definitely more relaxed than he was. You ordered a slice of cake and a pastry and munched away as he tackled his workload. You occasionally fed him bites here and there.

An hour into the study session, the food settled in your stomach as well as the repressed feelings about Mark. You twirled your straw as you stared at Jaemin typing, trying to decide if now was a good time to bother him.

“You’re staring,” He says, continuing to type.

“Yup.” you say, popping your lips.

“Is my handsomeness not blinding?” He smirks, eyes still on his screen. He wiggles his eyebrows teasingly.

You gag and shove a spoon of cake into his mouth. “Nevermind, no more talking. I don’t wanna throw up the food I paid for.”

He laughs and finally lifts his hands off the keyboard. Jaemin takes a sip of his deadly concoction with eight shots of espresso to wash down the cake and raises his eyebrows.

“You can ask, you know?”

You roll your lips in and tap at the table, suddenly too shy to ask.

“Okay, then I’ll just assume and answer. Mark is… weird. Mark’s not really acting like himself right now if I’m being completely honest,” Jaemin admits. He’s lazily poking his ice with the straw, waiting to see your reaction.

“Hmm,” you pretend to ponder his words, suddenly struck with worry. Even though you're still hurt by his actions from the ride back and his sudden desire to avoid you for a week, you can’t help but care. It was almost annoying how much you want to text him, despite his lack of interest in you. It annoyed Jaemin more.

“Why do you do this to yourself?”

Your eyes perked up, shocked by Jaemin’s change in tone.

“He dismissed you on the car ride back. He’s ignored you this entire week. He doesn’t even say thank you when you send him your notes. Why-” He shakes his head, aggravated. “Why are you still worrying about him?”

“Jaemin… you know why.”

“Listen, I love Mark like a brother. But he doesn’t deserve you. You’ve done so much for him with this whole Jenn situation, it’s just not fair to you.” Jaemin says this so seriously, you feel frozen in my spot. You’ve probably heard these words leave his mouth a million times, but today it felt different. His words weighed differently.

“I don’t know what else to do, Jaemin. This is the only thing I can do. It’s the only thing I know how to do.”

“He’s not even appreciative of it!” Jaemin pushes further, growing more desperate to have you hear his words, praying they stick this time. “You don’t need to put yourself through this for his sake.”

You're flattening a piece of the cake with a fork as you actually consider his words. With Mark distancing himself, your mind feels a little clearer, more room for thoughts.

“I wouldn’t be friends with him in the first place if I didn’t agree to be his wing woman. It’s why I’m in his life in the first place. I’m… I’m too scared to risk it.”

Jaemin decides he’s had enough and shuts his laptop, too angry to work. “You’re an idiot if you think he’s only keeping you around because you’re close to Jenn. Why do you value yourself so little? Do you think we’re just friends because we’re both in Operation Jump Jenn? No, Y/N. We’re friends because I like you.”

Jaemin sucks in his breath, at his poor word choice; he looks like he’s in pain. If only she knew I meant it differently, he thinks to himself.

He continues, “So why would Mark, after all this time, not think of you as more than just a wing woman?”

The area around your eyes sting and you could feel yourself fighting back tears. Your lips tremble, choking back a sob. Jaemin’s eyes widen and his hands twitch wanting to hold yours, but he pulls himself back.

“I still can’t tell him. Things won’t be the same.”

The look of pity Jaemin usually gives you is replaced by frustration, and maybe some disappointment. You fidget under his stare, tightly wrapping your arms around your waist. He shakes his head.

“Mark doesn’t deserve you if he leaves you after finding out how you feel. You really think he’d do that? Do you think that lowly of him?” He rests his hands on the table and he looks at you, urging you to try to defend yourself. But his words sink deeper. He’s right, do you really think that lowly of Mark?

You sighed in defeat and in exhaustion. You were at a loss for words, having your thoughts psychoanalyzed in front of you. You don’t think lowly of Mark at all. Shouldn’t you have more faith in him? In us?, you think.

“Why do you have to be so smart?” you glare at Jaemin. He immediately relaxes, smiling in return. He was staring at you for so long, trying to figure out what was going on inside your brain. He was on the edge of his seat, terrified that you'd drop him for his candor. Or that you caught on to his little confession.

He shrugs in response, “Pre-med.”

“You’re annoying,” you laugh, giving his foot a kick. Jaemin laughs with you and opens up his laptop again. You both work for another minute before he stops to look up at you again.

“Hey. I’m sorry if I went too far.” Instead of grabbing your hand, he traps one of your legs with his two. He swings it back and forth with a pout on his face, begging for you two to be okay.

“No, no, I needed that. Thank you for looking out for me.” Your chest warms, knowing that you have someone as lovely as Na Jaemin on your side.

You lean forward and pinch his cheek, “How’d I get so lucky with a friend like you?”

His face falters for a second before snapping back into a smile. He playfully licks your hand and you pull it back in disgust.

“You got me for life unfortunately.”

“Mmm, unfortunately,” you fake pout.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

After your talk with Jaemin, it took you embarrassingly two days to figure out what to do next. Mark still isn’t talking to you and as much as it pains you, it’s actually given you the space to think. You finally decided to do something you should’ve done months ago.

“Do you like Mark?”

Jenn chokes on her sandwich and you scramble to hand her a glass of water, patting her shoulder lightly. Maybe you should’ve timed that better.

“Huh?” There was something swirling around in Jenn’s eyes. Confusion. Pure confusion. It was not what you expected at all.

“I don’t know, do you like Mark?” you repeated, bracing yourself for her answer.

She looked at you and did a quick once over. Jenn realized you were serious and brushed the crumbs off her hands before settling in her lap.

“Mark’s cool. He talks a lot. The only reason we hang or talk is because of you and the boys. That’s kind of what it feels like for me and Mark. I don’t know… sometimes his behavior towards me feels forced. I thought he was just acting this way because I’m your best friend.” She took a sip, looking up and thinking about what more she could say about Mark Lee.

“Wait. What do you mean by that?” The pit in your stomach appears. Did she figure out The Operation?

“Isn’t he just getting on good terms with me because he likes you? I don’t like him, by the way.” Jenn let those words flow out of her mouth as if it was the only thing to say. Like this is how she felt for months.

“Huh?!” It was your turn to be confused. Never in your friendship with Mark have you considered your feelings being returned. You also never expected it to be implied by the person Mark is literally crushing on.

“Wait. Was that not obvious? Every time Mark and I hung out, it just felt… like he was looking for something in me. It was strange. I just assumed it was because he wanted to look good in your eyes like ‘Hey! I’m buddy buddy with the bestie of my crush!’” She waved her fork in the air as she spoke and finally stabbed it into a potato wedge for a bite.

“This is insane.” you sat there, appetite gone. Jenn never reciprocated feelings towards Mark. Jenn thought Mark liked me?, you thought. It felt like your efforts and feelings from the past few months were tumbling down. You were a step away from a spiral.

“What’s insane is that you thought I liked Mark. Don’t you like him?”

You suddenly started choking on your spit and Jenn was quick to hand you a glass of water.

For the rest of the meal, you explained everything to Jenn. From Mark approaching you in class, Haechan coming up with the horrible operation name (to which she gagged), and Jaemin’s talk with you from the other day. She was taken completely by surprise. To be fair, Jenn has always been pretty and has had people of all genders try their hand at flirting with her. She’s always been numb to it, so it’s not surprising that Mark and his loser-like charm didn’t come across as romantic. You use the word ‘loser’ in the nicest way.

At the end of it all, Jenn is furious.

“I can’t believe he’s ignoring you. And for no reason? After all you did for him? Albeit, it didn’t work, and I hope you never try to set anyone else up with me ever again.” At that, you gave her a guilty smile and offered to buy her boba.

“Deal. Anyways, that’s fucking ridiculous. What’s his problem?”

“I don’t know,” you said, picking at your fries. “He asked for space so I’m just gonna give it to him.”

Jenn nods and you avoid her pity stares.

“Jenn… I don’t know what I’m gonna do if I lose him, even as a friend. I-I really like him and I’m so so scared. Like the only two ways I can see this going is him continuing to ignore me and we drift or… or I listen to Jaemin and be honest with him about how I feel. And then he decides to stop being friends with me.”

“Okay, the second one is bullshit. You know Mark wouldn’t do that. He’d freak out, yeah, but he wouldn’t cut you off for that.” She scolds you, before taking another bite of your fries.

“I know. I knooow. But it’s still a fear I have. I’m telling you I’d rather be his friend and make a permanent home in this one sided love affair if it means I can still be in his life. That’s how insane my mind is.” You plop your head in your hands and let out what felt like a four-month-long repressed groan.

“Y/N. You are probably the worst person for yourself.” Jenn clicks her teeth before hand-feeding you a fry, which you sadly munch on.

You sigh, “Yeah…”

“Yeah,” Jenn winces, before pulling you in for a hug.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Mark Lee is spiraling.

“No because when she looked at me when we were out on that lake, I swear my heart was on steroids. I felt like my whole body was covered in tiny hearts and they were all beating at the same time. It was insane.”

“Uh huh,” Haechan mutters another one word response for what felt like the hundredth time today. He flipped through another page of the magazine before tossing it and reaching for Mark’s Nintendo switch. He shook it in Mark’s face as he paced back and forth.

“Huh? Oh yeah, go for it. Anyways, and when we drove home that day, dude, you should’ve seen the look on her face. I hurt her so bad, but it was like my body was on auto-pilot. I didn’t know what to do with myself. Like my brain and my heart were so confused. Because I like Jenn. I like Jenn, right? But why don’t I get those tiny hearts with her?”

“I don’t know, man. Damn, I can’t catch this stupid spider.” Haechan curses, twiddling his thumb on the remote trying to find joy in Animal Crossing.

“And now I’m not talking to both of them. But it doesn’t feel like I’m avoiding Jenn, but I can feel that I’m avoiding Y/N and it’s killing me.”

“Then. Talk. To. Her.” Haechan enunciates every time he hits a button on the switch.

“Who?” Mark asks, dumbfounded. Mark has had this same exact conversation with Haechan at least twice a day for the past week. If he wasn’t studying, he was bribing Haechan with food to come to his apartment to ramble.

“Stupid spider,” Haechan slams the game on the couch cushion. “And stupid you. How many times do you have to circle around these same thoughts before you figure it out? Do I really have to say it, Mark? I’m trying to save you the embarrassment of admitting something so obvious.” He leans back, crossing his arms to assert some dominance in this situation. It’s ridiculous how many times Haechan has been tricked by food and games to be trapped in Mark’s apartment for the second time today.

Mark just blinks, mouth slightly agape.

Haechan tilts his head, poking his cheek with his tongue. He raises his eyebrows, urging him to think just a little harder.

Mark finally looks up, as if a new thought crossed his mind. He gasps softly.

He covers his mouth as he mumbles, “No way…”

Haechan rolls his eyes at his dramatics, “Yes way.”

Mark pokes himself hard in the chest, “Do I like Y/N?”

“And he figures it out!” Haechan sarcastically cheers, clapping his hands. “Now can you buy me some actual food please?”

“No no no. Sit down. Because now we need to discuss this.” Mark starts pulling at his hair, even more stressed out than he was before.

“Oh my GOD,” Haechan screams. “What is there to discuss? You like her! Go tell her!”

Mark’s eyes bugged out as if Haechan turned into a mythical being. “Are you insane? No, scratch that. Am I insane? I started talking to her because I liked her best friend. I asked her to help me get close to her best friend. Our entire relationship is essentially built on this crush and you want me to tell her that I like her? Oh god, she has to hate me. She definitely hates me.”

Mark stopped pacing and dropped to the ground in a squat. He’s full-on gripping his hair and Haechan is just watching. He forgot that Mark technically doesn’t know she likes him back and he pities him for a second before thinking he’s stupid again for not noticing. Everyone noticed.

Mark finally raises his head and his face is left with tear trails. Haechan gets up immediately and wraps his arms around Mark’s shoulders.

“Oh, Marky,” Haechan sighs.

“Shit.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Mark (anatomy): hello!

Mark (anatomy): hi

Mark (anatomy): hey

Mark (anatomy): oh God sorry. I didn’t know which one to send and i accidentally sent them all

Mark (anatomy): HAHAHAH uhhh…

Mark (anatomy): can we talk? I wanna apologize in person.

You couldn’t help but laugh rereading Mark’s texts from this morning as you waited for him at the park. It took you an hour on your own and a 30-minute encouragement session with Jenn to work the confidence to agree to meet him. As nervous as you were to hear what he has to say, you missed him most of all and just wanted to see him. You sat on the second swing on the right, the same one you sat in when the two of you met outside of class the first time.

“Y/N?”

“Oh! Hi,” You got up from the swing to greet him, feeling a bit awkward. You could sense he felt weird too.

You and Mark are simply classmates. You've been paired up in group projects a couple of times in class and when you see each other on campus, you both timidly wave. But most of the time, you're staring at the back of his head in class, wondering what it’d be like to sit next to him and talk.

So when he asked for your number and texted to meet at the park, your heart felt like it was about to jump out of your chest. Could he see you boring holes into his head or does he look at you the same way?

You wiped your hands on your dress and clasped them in front of you as he stood in his spot, about two feet away.

Why did I wear a dress?, you thought. This is so embarrassing. I look like I’m dressed for a date.

“You look nice,” He says, smiling to break the ice and simultaneously ridding you of your fashion doubts.

“Oh. Thanks,” you force a laugh, also trying to break the ice. “Um, why did you ask me to meet at a park?”

His eyes lit up and he chuckled, “I thought it’d be a good place for some scheming. You know, like in the movies.”

You blinked a few times, not quite catching on. “Scheming?”

He took the swing next to you and sat down. You copied his actions, twisting to look at him. He kicked up to catch some air and swung slightly.

“Okay, this is going to be weird, because I know you barely know me.” Not true, I thought. “But I wanted to ask you a favor. Half of my friends think I’m a dick for this and the other half say that you look understanding, so maybe I should give it a shot. Jaemin was super against it though, so I feel like I’m about to pee my pants right now. I thought about it for like two days and decided, you know what? It wouldn’t hurt to see how you felt, so here I am.” He used his feet as breaks as he finished his ramble to look at you, to seriously look at you.

Your grip on the swings tightens and you can smell the rust smearing on your palms. You can’t believe you get to see your crush this close to your face and he wants to ask you a favor. Your chest feels bubbly with anticipation. You nod, asking him to continue.

“I like Jenn.” The bubbles pop.

“O-oh,” you say. Your mouth has gone completely dry and the wind picked up to blow strands in your face. You quickly brush them away and swallow.

“You… you like my Jenn?” I tightly tuck the strands behind your ears, trying to compose yourself. He giggles and picks up a loose one to help. Mark Lee, what are you doing to me?, you think.

“Yeah. I wanna get closer to her and I know you guys are friends.”

“Best friends,” you clarify, hesitantly.

“Right, right. I know this is insane and I’m like completely using you. So feel free to say no to helping me. You can probably see how desperate I am, but I also can take rejection pretty well! I think.” He tousled his hair with his hand and reoriented himself.

Clearing his throat, Mark admits, “I’m not… I’m not the best with girls. My game is off completely and I think I really like Jenn. So I thought I’d try. I wanna try. I just don’t know where to start. So I’m sorry if I’m going the wrong way about this or if I offended you.” He huffs. The boy-next-door charm you always see him carry around campus fades and he looks defeated. Despite the slight crack I feel in your heart, it swelled looking into his eyes. He must really like her.

“I’ll help you.”

Mark perked up, his whole body shaking the swingset. “What? Really?” His toothy grin returns and your heart lurches knowing it was partly because of you.

You nod, “Mhm. You seem nice, I think Jenn would like you.” I like you, you thought.

He gets up and tackles you on the swings with a hug. You fall backward and he quickly catches the back of your head before it hits the ground, eyes wide in fear.

“Oh my god, I almost killed you,” he laughs in disbelief. You’re gonna be the death of me, Mark Lee.

“Y/N!”

You almost drop your phone, looking up to meet the eyes of the boy that avoided you for almost two weeks. You thought you'd be overcome with anger, but you weren't. Instead, you felt exactly the same way you felt the first day at the park. Nervous.

“Hey,” you smiled slightly, not getting up from your spot. Mark falters slightly noticing your cold front. He stumbles on the woodchips as he walks over to the swing next to you.

You two swing slightly in silence and you're beating yourself up in your head for not having the courage to curse him out. Jenn prepared you to go off on him and you can’t even open your mouth, you whine to yourself. The more you two sit here, honestly, the angrier you get. Shouldn’t he be saying something? He called you out here in the first place. Before you could utter a word, Mark finally clears his throat.

“I’m sorry.”

You lift your head to look at him, the first look at him since you took some time apart, and your heart already races when you meet his eyes. You know you're doomed when all the anger suddenly dissipates. You almost want to laugh at how silly this situation is. You still don’t say anything, waiting for him to continue.

“You’re probably confused as to why I’ve been avoiding you. At first, I didn’t know why either. And I know that ignoring you without telling you why wasn’t the move, but it helped me figure it out.” He broke eye contact with you and he started to fiddle with the rings on his fingers. His eyebrows are furrowed and he looks frustrated.

“I did it because I was scared. I was scared because I don’t like Jenn anymore. I’m starting to think I never did.” Mark confesses and he looks upset with himself. You get a good look at his face and you notice the eyebags, the pallor, and his chapped lips. He looks exhausted. You wonder if you look the same.

He sniffles. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I literally put you through all of this just for me to realize I don’t even like her. I used you. And I feel selfish because I still want you in my life.”

“Mark…,” you finally speak, your throat feels rough as if it’s been days. “I have to tell you something.” Your voice came out like a whisper, but it was all the strength you had.

He looks up, a signal to continue.

“As shitty as it was for you to ignore me for over a week, it let me do some thinking too,” you sigh, not wanting to say what comes next. “I don’t think we can be friends right now. And-and don’t worry, it’s not because of the whole 'you befriending me for Jenn' thing. I don’t want you to feel guilty for that because I honestly feel so grateful to have been your friend. I hope, I guess, you feel the same way. But, uh, it’s actually because… it’s because I like you, Mark.”

His jaw drops slightly and his eyes widen, almost like he forgot how to function. It was almost cartoon-like.

“Yeah,” you awkwardly laugh. “I’ve actually liked you from the start, and I’m not saying that to make you feel guilty. I just thought you should know — to help you understand. Anyways, I realized how hard it is for me to be friends with you when I have these feelings for you. It wouldn’t be fair to me, and I’d be dishonest to you if I continued being friends with you under the guise of purely platonic intentions, you know? I really, really hope you understand.”

You let out a breath, half relieved and half anxious. After rehearsing that a few times with Jenn, you didn’t expect the words to come out so smoothly. Especially when he’s staring at you like this. However, your pride fades as you wait for his response, a response that determines the future of your relationship.

“I don’t understand,” Mark says firmly. He’s shaking his head trying to wrap his mind around all of it. It feels like a rejection.

“Mark,” you whine, not wanting him to finish his thought -- to spare yourself the awaited pain.

“No, I don’t understand because… because I like you too.”

Heat immediately flushed throughout your chest as you heard the three words you never expected to come out of Mark’s mouth. Your mouth is itching to smile, but a part of you feels doubtful still, weighing down the corners of your lips.

“Are-are you sure? Like are you sure your mind isn’t tricking you into thinking you like me because you realized you don’t like Jenn?” You lean in, close to falling off the swings. You look at him with so much seriousness, but he meets you with a giggle.

“If my mind was tricking me, it’s awfully persistent. I think… in trying to get Jenn to like me, I started to fall for you,” Mark says as if he’s putting the last piece of the puzzle down.

“The image I had of Jenn wasn’t what I expected and I think, while in denial, I was forcing it onto her. I was trying so hard to have real feelings for her, but I think I was also still trying because it meant I got to be with you. Our friendship was contingent on me getting with Jenn, so I guess I was subconsciously scared of losing us… But at the same time, deep down, I wanted more than just a friendship with you.”

Mark looks at you and he offers the widest smile like he found his answer. A smile that ignites the fuzzy fire in your body even more. Your heart is racing so loud you can’t even hear your thoughts.

“Marcus Lee, I didn’t know you had those words in you,” you giggle, trying to soften the conversation.

He shrugs, “Dude, I didn’t think I did either. I just really like you, Y/N. And to be honest, Haechan helped a little.”

As quickly as the happiness came, it washed away just as fast. No matter how ecstatic you were to hear Mark say he likes you back, you couldn’t stop the disgusting doubt that lingered in your mind. You’ve always been in wing woman mode around him, and trying to imagine another scenario where you're the girl he wants is harder than you thought.

“Mark?” you turned to look at him.

“Yeah?” He looks at me with a different light in his eyes.

“I want to believe you, but... I can’t. I can’t really wrap my head around it, I’m sorry.” you clasp your hands together out of nerves.

He dims only a little, “No, I get it." He nods as if gathering the courage to say what's next.

"I can see how it’d be hard to believe. But I’ll prove it to you…

I won’t let you doubt my feelings.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

A/N: ahhh thanks for reading if you did!!! the only proofreading i did was to change from first person to second person. sorry about the mistakes but thank you for enjoying it if you did <3

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